Ren stepped forward, eyes locked on the weapon as if he were being pulled by some invisible rope.
The Bloodthirsty was beautiful in the way a volcanic eruption or a collapsing star might be—raw, dangerous, and utterly irresistible.
As his hand closed around the blood-red handle of the scythe, a jolt ran up his arm like someone had slapped his soul.
It was unreasonably cold and heavy. No, stupidly heavy. His arm dipped immediately under the weight, and he almost dropped the thing then and there.
"W-What the hell?" he muttered, bracing himself as he hauled the full weapon off its pedestal with both hands.
The scythe blade glinted under the overhead lights, a brutal half-moon of sharpened death that practically dripped menace.
Even the curved neck of the weapon looked like it was made to snap bone. But it wasn't just the blade that was giving him second thoughts.
The thick chain that extended from the end of the handle was long—longer than any he'd ever seen in weapon reference books—and made of some strange red metal that shimmered with a faint pulse, like it was breathing.
The spiked club attached to the other end was just as bad. It looked like someone had fused a medieval mace with a bear trap, and then dipped it in crimson steel.
When Ren reached out to touch the chain, it whispered to him. Not metaphorically—literally.
The moment his fingers brushed the cold links, a thin hiss slithered into his ears like a thousand dying voices murmuring in unison.
"Feed me!"
Ren yanked his hand back.
"I heard that," he whispered. "Nope. Not making that up. That was real."
The grey spirit floated up beside him like a disapproving aunt who just caught him trying to stick a fork in an electrical socket.
"I must advise against this selection," the spirit said in its usual flat tone, though there was an almost motherly hint of concern.
"This is not a standard chain sickle. It is a heavy chain sickle. Double the weight. Triple the danger. And ten times the complexity."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, how bad can it be?"
"The enchantment—Bloodsucker—feeds off your blood to generate a blood aura that enhances power and speed.
"That aura is also tied to your emotions. The more pain you're in, the more rage you feel, the stronger the effect. If you're reckless…" the spirit trailed off, then added grimly, "you will literally bleed to death mid-fight."
Ren blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then muttered, "Huh. So it's a vampire weapon with anger issues. Neat."
He hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking between the weapon and the nearby exit. Any sane person would've put this thing down and backed away slowly.
Any normal person would've gone with the fancy double sabers or the electric whip that didn't actively try to drink their blood.
But Ren… Ren was no ordinary person.
He was a reincarnated scientist with a curiosity problem and sometimes, zero impulse control.
With a stubborn grunt, he carried the heavy weapon to the center of the hall and set it down with a thunk that echoed like a war drum.
He took a deep breath and slowly lifted it again, testing the feel, the balance, or rather, the complete lack of balance.
The weapon was a nightmare. The weight was completely off-center, the chain wanted to drag the club end wherever it pleased, and the blade side kept dipping dangerously low like it wanted to take out his knee!
"Okay, yeah. This thing hates me," Ren muttered, stepping back as the club nearly bounced off the floor and came swinging toward him in a lazy arc.
He flinched and grabbed the chain before it could fly off and kill a bystander. Like himself.
He didn't dare swing it. Not even a little. He knew very well that this was the kind of weapon that, if you messed around with it, it would absolutely mess back.
The heavy club could bounce wrong and come whipping around to cave in his skull. The chain could wrap around his own leg, trip him, and leave him helpless.
And the scythe? That thing had guillotine energy. Just holding it made his shoulder ache.
But—and this was a huge but—there was something strange. Something incredible.
When he gripped it with purpose, when he tightened his stance and tried to move with it, he swore the weapon got lighter.
Not completely. But noticeably. His body felt warmer, stronger. Like the weapon was syncing with him.
Not in the friendly "Let's be partners" kind of way, but more like, "I'll let you wield me… if you impress me."
Ren narrowed his eyes.
Fascination ignited in his mind. This wasn't just a weapon. It was a riddle. A puzzle. A death trap he wanted to reverse-engineer.
He pictured combat in his mind. If one mastered this heavy kusarigama—even the basics—they would be a walking disaster on the battlefield.
The sheer range of motion between the sickle end and the club was ridiculous. You could slash up close, swing wide, keep enemies at a distance with the chain, even use the weight to pull opponents off-balance.
One strike from the club would break bones. One clean cut from the blade would end fights instantly.
And if he truly mastered it, if he could weave between the strikes, control the flow, and anticipate the chaotic momentum?
He could fight multiple enemies at once. Suppress, harass, dominate. A single wielder could lock down an entire battlefield if he was bold and smart enough!
He smiled.
"I'll take it."
The spirit gave a long, tired sigh that seemed to echo across time itself. "Very well… I hope your regenerative ability is above average."
The spirit floated ahead of him and opened the glowing doors.
As they stepped back into the main corridor, it handed him a black leather-bound book titled Basic Mastery of the Heavy Kusarigama (Beginner's Curse Edition).
There was a bloodstain on the corner. Ren wasn't sure if that was part of the design or not.
"And the final price," the spirit said with a gentle, almost apologetic tone, "is one thousand Achievement Points."
Ren's smile cracked.
His heart shriveled.
"One…thousand?! That's highway robbery!"
The spirit just stared.
Ren grumbled under his breath and pulled up his status menu. Watching his precious AP vanish in a flash of red light was like watching a part of his soul get slapped.
His balance dropped to a depressingly low figure. And it was bound to get even lower soon!
"Fine. You win. Take my AP, you bloodsucking capitalist spirit."
…..
Ren stepped out of the Weapon Lane, his arms cradling a black-steel box that looked like it belonged in a forbidden temple or the basement of an evil overlord's mansion.
The moment the spirit sealed the Bloodthirsty inside, the temperature around the box dropped by a few degrees, and he could swear the faint sound of breathing came from within.
Not normal breathing, either. It was the kind of slow inhale that sounded like someone sharpening a knife with their lungs.
Ren grinned, not in fear, but in anticipation. The dangerous kind. The kind that said, "I'm about to do something stupid—and I'm going to enjoy every second of it."
Don't blame him. Scientists were weird people!
He picked up the pace, weaving through the streets of the Side Block, practically gliding with excitement.
In his head, plans were already unfolding faster than a military strategist on caffeine. He couldn't afford to waste time.
With only two weeks to prepare before his duel with Mirabella, he needed power, precision, and results. Fast.
Training the old-fashioned way wasn't enough. So, he cooked up a plan so genius, it almost made him giggle like a maniac.
"First, train with the Bloodthirsty like a madman," he muttered under his breath. "Push my limits every day until my arms feel like they've been replaced with wet noodles. Then… Evolution Forge. Evolve the muscle memory. Boom. Progress without needing to nearly kill myself daily."
Yes, it was a bit of a cheat. Yes, it was kind of horrifying that he'd be evolving bodily experience like some kind of cyborg with a magic upgrade button.
But hey, if it worked, it worked!
Every day of training would be condensed and reinforced like steel folded over and over by a master blacksmith.
He wouldn't just get stronger, he'd engrave the skill into his very being. And that was just the start.
"Next step…" he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he turned a corner. "Find the right weaving technique."
This part required more finesse. Now that he had a weapon, he needed a rune and a weave that complimented his skill set.
But not just anything. Since he'd chosen to reveal his public affinity as Space, he couldn't pick a fire rune or wind weave without looking suspicious.
But more than just fitting the theme, it needed to work well with his heavy kusarigama's chaotic, flexible fighting style.
"Restraining types would be ideal," he muttered as he passed a floating orb selling jelly popsicles.
"Something that could trap or anchor my enemy in place… then bam, scythe to the spine, spike club to the skull. Clean finish."
He smirked to himself, already visualizing the combo.
Space manipulation was tricky at Beginner stage, but a rune that could warp space slightly, slow down movement, or create minor dimensional anchors could work as a trap or a delay effect.
It wouldn't just help him land a killing blow—it'd cover for the Bloodthirsty's major weakness: unpredictability.
If he could lock someone in place or control a tiny zone of the battlefield, the kusarigama would become the hammer to his spatial nailgun.
By the time he reached Rune Lane, he was already thinking happily to himself.
The place was practically a twin of Weapon Lane; same type of long cobblestone road, same endless lineup of glowing shops, each one with a colorful plaque and a floating rune above the door.
But this time, instead of blades and hammers, the signs showed glowing runes, magic circles, or flashing symbols that shifted from one language to the next.
Ren slowed to a stop, eyes twinkling. "If it wasn't for me spamming riddles for AP like a madman…" He laughed to himself, shaking his head. "There's no way I'd be able to afford all this crap."
Honestly, most prospectives could barely afford a basic Stage 1 rune, let alone splurge on a top weapon and rune package in the same day. But Ren had gamed the system.
Every night, he'd spend hours in the evolution forge solving riddles he had picked up from the school libraries.
Although insanely difficult to normal prospectives, for Ren who had the evolution forge, it was too easy!
If anyone found out, they'd probably strangle him.
"But I deserve this," he grinned, patting the box at his side. "Besides, if I ever run low on AP, I'll just turn on serious mode. I could earn back this whole thing in a day."
He stepped toward the nearest rune shop, drawn in by the bright neon-green glow and the scent of burning mint leaves.
Before he even touched the door, it swung open on its own and a bubbly green spirit popped out like it had been waiting just for him.
"WELCOME TO RUNE-FLARE EMPORIUM!" the spirit yelled, throwing magical confetti in the air.
"I sense greatness in your aura! Destiny in your bones! How would you like a rune so powerful it could make your instructors weep tears of shame at your brilliance?"
Ren blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then burst into laughter. "Oh? You guys giving out cheat codes now?"
The spirit chuckled and spun in the air like a drunk fairy. "Only for the right buyer! Come, come! I'll show you the God-Tier Runes! Only ten remain! First come, first ascended!"
It was the most obviously fake sales pitch he'd heard in his life.
Still chuckling, he followed the spirit inside. The shop was weirdly shaped like a library, but with floating scrolls instead of books, each one humming with energy.
After a quick walkthrough, he browsed the runes, ran a few quick analysis checks, and after fifteen minutes… walked back out with a sigh of disappointment heavier than the Bloodthirsty itself.
"Sweet-talking piece of green fluff," he muttered. "Not a single decent rune in there."
He adjusted the black box under his arm and looked up the street. The road was still long… way too long.
Dozens of rune shops, each claiming to have the best of the best. But now that he knew the game, he wasn't falling for the charm anymore. He'd be smarter. Sharper. Systematic.
He cracked his neck and stretched his arms. "This might take a while. Good thing I'm not scheduled for orientation classes today…"
His stomach grumbled.
"…Though a snack wouldn't hurt."