The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 37 A Glimpse of Fate

A Glimpse of Fate

The evening's faint light cast long shadows across the mountain, but Vera's heart remained as heavy as the steel in her hand.

"An interesting duel..." she murmured, gripping the hilt of the Falling Blossom Sword. The weapon was a relic, its blade dark and enigmatic, etched with the constellations of the Thirty-Eight Heavenly Stars. Her father's legacy had been entrusted to her with this very sword and a weathered book of techniques. His final words echoed in her ears:

"You will fulfill my dream, Vera."

Memories of his rough, warm hands brushing her hair were still vivid. Every night, the images replayed in her dreams—her father kneeling, head severed, and her mother's charred body, crumbling like ash. The fire of vengeance burned in her chest, consuming her.

"This isn't interesting at all..." Vera whispered, biting her lower lip.

The Black dragon stirred within her core, its energy surging through her Eight Meridians, amplifying her energy. The pressure of its power coursed through her veins as she channeled it into her blade. The constellations engraved on the sword began to shimmer faintly.

"This is far from interesting!" she shouted, as tears streaked down her face. They weren't ordinary tears—they were tears of blood, leaving trails of crimson along her pale cheeks.

The weight of her fate pressed heavily upon her. The Black dragon growled, sensing her anguish, and wrenched her consciousness away.

When she awoke, cool droplets dampened her cheeks. She was inside her Inner World, standing before the immense form of the Black dragon, curled protectively around her. Its mournful eyes reflected her turmoil.

"So, you dragged me here again," she said, rising to her feet.

The Black dragon tilted its head, but its sorrowful gaze did not waver. It was a guardian, pulling her into this inner sanctum whenever her emotions threatened to overwhelm her and lead her to ruin.

Her hand brushed her cheek, realizing the tears weren't tears but blood. Even here, within the sanctuary of her mind, the weight of vengeance tainted her.

"If I kill the Lord of the Martial Unity, Theron will come after me, won't he?"

The Black dragon didn't nod nor shake its head; it simply stared with those sorrowful eyes.

"None can rewrite the stars," Vera whispered. "The Celestial Blade Star isn't something I can escape. This fate... this chain of vengeance... it will never break."

Her gaze fell upon her small hands, so frail and insignificant compared to the weight of her destiny. Yet, her resolve did not falter. If she had been cursed to bring blood and ruin, she would wield her strength for her revenge.

"Even so..." she murmured, stroking the Black dragon's enormous head. Its horn brushed against her cheek, and it emitted a low growl of approval. Then it leaned forward, resting its massive forehead against hers.

Her vision dimmed. When it cleared, she was confronted with a vivid and horrifying scene: a grand pavilion reduced to rubble, consumed by flames. Her left arm was severed, her vision blurred from a deep gash across her left eye.

The celestial point shattered the mighty sword aura of the Sword Sovereign, scattering it like shards of porcelain. But as the star's brilliance extinguished, so did her strength, and she collapsed.

Zephyrion Akrest stepped down from the air, his feet touching the earth. He approached her, speaking words she could not hear. His gaze, however, was not one of hatred but a complex mixture of unease, relief, and envy.

His lips moved, forming words she would later remember as clearly as her own thoughts:

"If you had awakened a week earlier, you might have been able to cut me down."

And with those words, her vision faded to black.

"Hah...!"

Awakening with a start, Vera gasped for air. Was it a dream? Or perhaps some vivid vision of the mind?

She glanced at her hand, still clutching the Falling Blossom Sword. The blade was as it had always been—an enigmatic mix of five hues, its surface engraved with the Thirty-Eight Heavenly Stars.

Calmly, she slid the sword back into its scabbard. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, the early morning sun casting faint rays of light into her room.

"What could it mean...?" she murmured.

The Black dragon had shown her something. As an ancient guardian spirit bound to her through the Harmony Mirror Energy, it was likely a glimpse of a possible future—or a warning of inevitable consequences.

Her thoughts drifted back to the stars etched upon her sword. The Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper framed the celestial constellations. The last point that had shone on her blade... it was akin to the light of the Breaking Star, the harbinger of revolution.

To overturn the world. To bring death to the undying. To end the reign of even the most impervious sovereign.

"...A star," she whispered.

Just as a dragon must seize its pearl, the Black dragon sought the light of a star. Only by transcending the earthly, by achieving the impossible, could she grasp that light.

Sliding the Falling Blossom Sword into its sheath, she stood and reached for another blade—a sword longer and thinner than her current one. Its dark blade shimmered like the night sky, promising power beyond her understanding.

"...Stars only appear in the night sky," she mused.

To reach them, she would need to go beyond human limits. Only when everything else had fallen away—when even the last petals of the cherry blossoms had scattered—would she be able to summon the star.

Only then would the Black dragon claim its place among the stars, bearing their radiance in its jaws.