CHAPTER 10: THE ROAD TO ATLAN CITY

Chapter 10 – The Road to Atlan City

The forest air was calm, broken only by the whisper of leaves rustling above. Michael leaned against the trunk of an old oak, its shade shielding him from the harsh afternoon sun. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breathing still ragged from the ordeal. Across his lap lay the sword—the sword that had nearly killed him the moment he’d claimed it.

The Drakran Sword.

Its obsidian-black blade shimmered faintly, lines of crimson mana glowing across the surface like veins. The hilt was wrapped in worn dragon-hide, warm to the touch, almost as if alive. Its weight was perfect in his hand—too perfect, unnaturally balanced.

Michael swallowed. It’s beautiful... and terrifying.

He had been staring at it for nearly an hour, unable to shake the lingering dread from when he first grasped its power. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. This was a Divine Weapon, one of the rarest artifacts in existence—sealed, corrupted, and yet undeniably potent.

Finally, with a hesitant breath, he placed his palm on the blade and pushed mana into it.

The reaction was immediate.

The crimson veins flared, pulsing like a living heart. A surge of icy coldness stabbed into his veins, racing up his arm, piercing into his mind. His vision blurred, and a voice—not words, but an overwhelming will—pressed against his consciousness. It was deep, commanding, suffocating.

Submit.

His body stiffened as shadows coiled around his arm, seeping up toward his chest. His heartbeat thundered. The blade wasn’t just reacting—it was trying to take him. His thoughts frayed, fragments of alien whispers filling his skull.

Then—

[ Drakran Sword is Corrupting the Host ]

[ Error Detected ]

[ Error Code: xxx122xx ]

[ System Forcefully Interfering with the Sword ]

[ System Blocked the Drakran Sword Spirit ]

[ Drakran Sword Neutralized ]

The shadows shattered like broken glass, retreating instantly. The crimson glow dimmed, leaving only the faint glimmer of runes etched into the blade.

Michael collapsed back against the tree, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for air. His hand trembled violently as he pulled it away from the hilt.

"Damn..." he whispered hoarsely. "It wasn’t just cursed... It has a will."

The sword had tried to seize him completely. If not for the system—his mysterious second chance—he would have become a hollow puppet for whatever spirit resided within this weapon. The thought alone twisted his gut.

But the system had intervened. It had neutralized the sword’s spirit, blocking it from taking hold.

Relief washed over him in waves. He looked down at the Drakran Sword again, still gleaming faintly in the light. Dangerous, yes. But his now.

"Looks like you’re mine," he muttered, though a shiver followed his words. "For better or worse."

Now that I have Sword I should do Training here in the forest.

---

Two Days Later

Time slipped by quietly.

Michael spent the next two days in silence near the forest’s edge, away from prying eyes. He trained lightly, restoring his strength, practicing his mana control, and meditating to stabilize the cracks that battle had left in his core.

Every so often, he glanced at the Drakran Sword. He kept it sheathed, refusing to feed it mana again. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.

But the knowledge lingered in the back of his mind: this was a weapon that could make him or break him. A blade forged from dragon marrow and god fragments, sealed by a Saint-ranked dwarf blacksmith... and now, bound to him by fate.

On the evening of the second day, he packed his belongings. His body was restored, his spirit sharpened. The Academy Entrance Exam was only one day away.

And so, he left the Black Forest behind.

---

Ironshade Town – Train Station

The station bustled with noise, a crossroads of adventurers, merchants, and ordinary townsfolk. Steam and mana exhaust hissed from the great engines of the magic trains, sleek carriages of metal and crystal designed to run along enchanted rails.

Michael walked through the crowd calmly, his cloak concealing the Drakran Sword strapped across his back. He had no intention of drawing attention to himself. Not here. Not yet.

He bought his ticket for Atlan City, East Block. The clerk handed it to him without much fuss.

"Carriage three, seat number thirty-five."

Perfect. A single seat near the window, away from the noise. Michael smirked faintly. He wasn’t making the same mistake twice. No chance encounter with a certain sharp-tongued alchemist this time.

Or so he thought.

---

The train whistled sharply before gliding forward, the enchanted wheels humming as mana conduits along the tracks lit up. Michael settled into his seat, resting against the window as the scenery began to blur past forests giving way to open plains, plains giving way to distant cities, each connected by shimmering veins of arcane rail.

He let his thoughts wander as the rhythm of the train carried him forward.

Soon, he would step into Atlan City. Soon, he would see faces he recognized from the "game":

Leon Lionheart, the destined protagonist.

Aiden, the fiery warrior.

Lyra , the prodigious mage.

And so many others.

He knew their strengths, their fates, their potential. He knew the paths they were destined to walk.

But this wasn’t a game anymore. One wrong move, and he could die.

His hand brushed the hilt of the Drakran Sword beneath his cloak. He had power now. But power was meaningless without control.

---

30 minutes Later

The train slowed at the next stop. New passengers boarded, voices filling the carriage for a brief moment before the doors slid shut again.

Michael barely paid attention until someone sat down across from him. Seat 36.

He glanced up casually, only for his eyes to widen slightly.

Aurelia Miller.

Her presence was unmistakable. Light blue hair tied neatly, eyes like polished crystal, posture graceful yet radiating pride. Even here, in a simple traveling cloak, she carried herself like nobility.

Michael quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. The last thing he needed was another awkward conversation.

But Aurelia noticed him. Of course she did. Her gaze lingered on him for several seconds before she finally spoke.

"So, you’re also heading to the Arcade Academy Entrance Exam."

Her tone was flat, not curious more like an observation than a question.

Michael exhaled softly. "...Yes. I am."

Aurelia tilted her head slightly, studying him as though measuring his worth. After a moment, her lips curved into a faint smirk.

"Maybe you’ll reach Class D. If you’re strong enough." Her voice sharpened slightly, dismissive. "If not... you’ll fail."

Michael’s brow twitched. The arrogance in her words wasn’t unexpected—this was Aurelia Miller, after all, the genius alchemist with a hidden Warlock class and ties to one of the world’s strongest guilds.

But he didn’t rise to her bait. Not this time. He simply leaned back in his seat and replied evenly, "We’ll see."

Her smirk faded into indifference. She turned her gaze out the window, clearly uninterested in pursuing the conversation further.

For the rest of the ride, silence settled between them.

-----

Arrival at Atlan City

Three hours later, the skyline of Atlan City rose into view. Michael leaned forward slightly, unable to help his awe—even after all he’d seen.

The city was massive, a sprawling metropolis of futuristic high-rises, glowing mage towers, floating platforms tethered by chains of light. Mana cars zipped through the streets below, while massive crystal arrays projected shimmering advertisements into the sky.

The train slowed as it entered the East Block station. The doors hissed open, releasing a flood of passengers into the bustling city.

Michael stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder. He spared one glance at Aurelia—already striding ahead, her head held high, eyes set firmly on her goal. She didn’t look back.

Good.

He didn’t want attention from her. Not yet.

Instead, he stepped into the crowd, blending into the flow of bodies until the sound of the train faded behind him.

By evening, Michael found a modest inn tucked into one of the quieter streets. He paid for a room, climbed the stairs, and set his belongings down.

The Drakran Sword leaned against the wall, silent and ominous. Michael ignored it for now, pulling a chair toward the window instead.

Outside, Atlan City pulsed with life. Lights shimmered from towering skyscrapers, arcs of mana streaked across skybridges, and the distant glow of the Academy towered over the skyline like a beacon.

Tomorrow, the exams would begin. Tomorrow, he would step into the story he once only played.

But this time... the outcome would be his to shape.

Michael leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with determination.

Tomorrow... the real game begins.

---