CHAPTER 68: INTERACTIONS WITH THE NIGHT PART 27

Inside his office, he tried to set the blade on the table. But to his surprise, his hand wouldn’t let it go.

"What the fuck!" He pulled at it, hoping to break free, but it felt as if the weapon had fused with his grip.

On the third try, a thick, viscous substance leaked from the hilt.

The inky substance coiled up his arm until it stopped below the elbow.

"Goddammit," Luck hissed, flexing his hand, only to watch the tendril squeeze tighter.

"First sign you’re sentient, I’m selling you back to the online store!"

The sword vibrated, almost in protest.

"Fuck! Don’t tell me you’re from some parasite planet, and you’ll start whispering corny jokes in my head. Please don’t. I already have that covered."

A sudden jolt of pain surged through him, like an electric shock that ignited every nerve ending.

thud!

He dropped to the floor, panting. The sensation changed, feeling like countless needles stabbed into his pores.

"System, can you do something?" The words came out as a forced plea for help.

[Negative]

"Tsk, you’re really worthless when it matters."

With no aid coming, he clenched his teeth and braced himself for the worst.

Minutes after, the pain slowly subsided. It wasn’t so unbearable anymore.

"What’s happening now?"

Suddenly, the blade melted into a dark tattoo that spiraled down his arm, intricate patterns swirling like a tempest.

He flexed his fingers, testing the connection, and found himself mesmerized by the tattoo’s pulsing rhythm.

Before he could understand what this change meant, a system notification echoed in his mind.

[Owner, you have officially bonded with a cursed item. Not just any cursed weapon—this is one of the missing variants among the Seven Deadly Weapons]

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

[Both. The weapon you are holding is called Gluttony’s Fang.]

[It is a sword that devours both enemies and its master to grow stronger. It was known as the fastest growth type among it’s peers.]

[But if the owner will power fails to become strong enough, it will also consume the user’s mind, turning them into a mindless killer.]

"Wait, all I’m hearing are the bad parts."

[Gluttony’s Fang can boost your power temporarily. It will cloud your thoughts, but all your stats will rise depending on how much it has consumed.]

"Still not a fair trade. I want this off my body!"

[Negative. A cursed weapon can only be transferred when the user dies. Since this is Gluttony, you must feed it regularly or it will start giving you nightmares.]

"Motherfucker. No wonder I got this thing for such a cheap price. Whoever sold it to me was a total lunatic. This should be locked in a vault, chained up, and dropped in the ocean."

This time, the system stayed silent.

’Forget it,’

’At least the tattoo looks cool,’

Accepting his fate, he tested summoning and unsummoning the sword.

It responded fast. The tendril-like effect around the blade made him look like a badass anti-hero who merged with an alien symbiote—minus the nonstop chatter.

’It also fits my hand perfectly. I wonder if I could change its length,’

Right then, it morphed and turned into a dagger.

Luck’s eyes went wide.

This was a game changer.

He started testing how far it could go.

When fully extended, it stretched out to 60 inches. The usual length sat at 40, and with a thought, he could shrink it down to just 5 inches, small enough to hide in his sleeve.

’I should keep this ability as a last resort,’

Such strategy would let him surprise an enemy, take advantage of the adjustable reach, and land a killing blow when it mattered most.

’This is good enough for now,’

He left it at the normal 40-inch length and hung it at his side.

"I wonder if my grandfather ever used a weapon like this,"

[Your grandfather only used the best kinds of weapons in the universe. A cursed weapon like this was beneath him.]

"Yeah, yeah. He’s good, I’m bad. No need to rub it in my face every single time."

With time to spare, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes to catch his breath.

On the outside, he looked fine, but the ache lingered under his skin. It felt like having a fresh tattoo that still burned and stung.

’Shit. Because of the system, now I can’t stop thinking about who my grandfather really is. I doubt I’ve met him—I’d remember.’

Slowly, his eyes grew heavy.

What was meant to be a short rest turned into a full nap after his body gave in to exhaustion.

.

.

.

.

.

"Wake up, nap time is over," a sweet voice called right by his ear.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to get up yet. His mat felt warm, and he loved how the blanket smelled.

But the voice kept pestering him.

Slowly, he stood up and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Teacher, why do I have to wake up at the same time as the other children?" he protested, his voice small and annoyed.

This was Luck back when he was only seven years old. His parents had insisted he shouldn’t skip grades too soon, and that was why he was stuck here.

"We have to follow the schedule and start our lesson," she explained in gentle a way.

"Why? I’m way smarter than all of them combined... I’ve already beaten every chess champion in the country."

"Even if you’re really smart, it doesn’t mean you don’t have to follow the rules."

"Why not? Isn’t it normal to get more benefits if I’m better than everyone else?" he asked, his young mind honestly confused by her reasoning.

"Being part of the group teaches you patience, respect, and how to work with others."

She knelt beside him so they were eye to eye. "Those things matter just as much as being smart."

"But what if I’m ahead of everything?" His brows pulled together.

"Listen... Sometimes it’s more important to appreciate life and connect with people. When you get older, you’ll start to understand."

He still wasn’t convinced, but he took her words to heart and made an effort to socialize more with his classmates.

Soon, he started to change under her constant encouragement.

3 months later.

Luck ran down the corridor, excited.

It was Valentine’s Day, and he planned to give his teacher some obligatory chocolate to thank her for being a positive role model. It wasn’t anything special.

Most of his classmates did the same thing. He only held back during class because he was too embarrassed.

But as he reached the classroom door, he stopped. Voices came from inside.

He stepped back and decided to wait until it was over.

20 minutes later.

click!

The door opened, but instead of his young, pretty teacher, a man in his fifties wearing a black suit stepped out.

He looked dignified, with gray hair and a neat stubble that made him look more sophisticated.

In his right hand, he carried a black walking stick topped with a golden handle shaped like a snake, though he didn’t seem to need it.

"You have very good genes. You’re very lucky and blessed." the man said with a soft chuckle.

"My mother told me never to talk to strangers, so I’ll go now. Don’t follow me. I know kung fu!" Luck stepped back carefully, while maintaining eye contact.

"Is that chocolate? Planning to give it to your dear teacher?"

"It’s none of your business."

The man shook his head and let out a long sigh.

"I didn’t know you like her that much. My bad. Well, don’t worry—there are more women in the universe than there are grains of sand on this planet, so there’s that."

"What did you do to her?" He narrowed his eyes, his small hands curling into fists.

"Nothing she didn’t like. I’m confident in my abilities—proven and tested, five stars on all reviews," he declared with a smug grin.

His words only made Luck more worried and angry. There were levels of being shameless, and this old guy was definitely at the very top.

Fortunately, before things could get any more complicated, another voice echoed down the hall.

"Mom!" Luck turned around and ran to her.

"Let’s go, Mom. That man is weird and scary. We need to call the police!"

However, instead of running, she knelt down and gave Luck a reassuring smile.

"Your father is waiting outside. I’ll talk to this man. I know him, he’s your..."

She stopped midsentence.

He wanted to protest, but the look in her eyes left no room for arguments. This was the first time he had ever seen her this angry.

That afternoon, she returned to the car without saying a word. Luck didn’t ask many questions either.

The next day, he was happy to see his teacher looking fine.

In fact, she seemed to be glowing, and her skin looked like she just had a facial.

"Teacher, I forgot to give you this yesterday,"

"Ohh, you’re too sweet," she kneel down as she took the chocolate with a smile.

"Luck, I have something important to tell you."

"What is it ?" he asked, looking up at her.

She paused for a moment, then motioned for him to follow her to a corner where no one else could hear them.

"Remember when I told you it’s alright not to be the best at everything?"

"Yeah, you told me it’s not that important,"

"Well, I was wrong..." She began patting his hair, leaning in close enough that he could catch her scent.

"You’re very special. You should always be the best. These kids? Everyone around you? They’re just background characters—pawns for you to use."