Ron slowly let go of the hilt of the "Blood Oath," feeling a wave of dread from the deep-rooted hatred.
Even a brief contact had Moghan’s obsession trying to take root in his heart, seeking a seed of anger to latch onto.
"How do you feel?" Uther’s apparition floated to his side, silver eyes full of concern.
"More... direct than I imagined."
Ron rubbed his temples, striving to clear the lingering foreign emotions from his mind:
"This level of will imprinting has already surpassed the scope of enchanted weapons."
"A correct assessment."
Uther nodded with satisfaction:
"A true Master Sword will gradually integrate the owner’s soul imprint over long use.
They are no longer inanimate objects but living entities bearing memory and will."
The old professor’s apparition floated to the next display stand, where a longsword bathed in sacred light hovered:
"This is ’Purge,’ once belonging to the paladin Selas."
The blade is as transparent as crystal, with golden brilliance flowing within.
Even through the protective barrier, Ron could sense the pure and intense sense of justice.
The hilt was carved with intricate holy emblems, each detail exuding a sacred majesty.
"Paladins..."
Ron mused:
"I recall records in history stating they were a religious force meant to combat the Abyss?"
"Yes, and Selas was the most outstanding among them."
Uther’s tone carried a mix of emotions:
"He used this sword to purify countless abyssal creatures, once hailed as the ’Bane of Darkness,’ ’Embodying the Light.’"
But then, the old professor’s voice grew heavy:
"Unfortunately, even the purest light struggles to maintain eternity in this world."
Ron noticed that although the sword still radiated sacred light, there was a faint hint of eerie darkness deep within.
The darkness spread slowly like ink drops in milk, small yet unsettling.
"Selas eventually uncovered a harsh truth."
Uther’s voice was like narrating a sorrowful parable:
"The ’Holy Light’ he believed in was actually a parasitic will from another dimension. Those so-called divine forces were essentially no different from the abyssal erosion."
This revelation sent a jolt through Ron’s heart.
He recalled his fears about the origins of the "Star Eater’s Ravings."
The cultivation method connecting with higher-dimensional beings was inherently fraught with uncertainty.
"How did Selas discover it?" he cautiously asked.
"During a purification mission into the depths of the Abyss, he encountered an ancient being."
Uther’s apparition grew dimmer:
"The being told him that what was called ’Holy Light’ was just another form of control.
Followers thought they were doing good, but were actually collecting souls for an exotic will."
"Selas was unwilling to believe, but as he delved deeper into investigations, the truth he uncovered proved far more terrifying than imagined."
The old professor’s voice carried deep sympathy:
"The souls of those he ’purified’ did not find liberation but were sent to the source of the ’Holy Light,’ becoming nourishment for some higher-dimensional being."
Ron gazed at "Purge," in his "Extraordinary Recognition" sight, that hidden darkness slowly wriggled, like a living parasite.
"The pain of shattered faith is more brutal than any physical torment."
Uther sighed:
"Selas ultimately chose self-imposed exile, taking ’Purge’ back into the Abyss, never to return."
"This sword recorded the entire process of his faith’s collapse."
The old professor warned:
"Anyone who comes into contact with it will feel that despair and sense of betrayal.
For those strong in faith, it’s an almost fatal spiritual shock."
Uther moved forward to the fourth display stand.
Here, a longsword of extreme eerie appearance hovered, its blade a deep crimson, with liquid slowly flowing on its surface.
"This is ’Blood Drinker.’
Uther’s tone became unusually serious:
"Its former master, Blood Knight Macar, was one of the most controversial magic swordsmen in history."
Ron closely examined the sword.
The flowing liquid was discovered to not be ordinary blood, but some highly active life essence.
Inside the blade, countless tiny blood vessels seemed to pulse like a giant heart.
"Macar’s philosophy was simple—to live by the sword."
Uther explained:
"This sword could draw the bloodline essence of slain enemies, converting it into the user’s power.
Theoretically, by continuously fighting, one could gain endless enhancement."
"Sounds indeed tempting."
Ron objectively assessed:
"But such a way of power growth surely comes with a corresponding cost."
"You’ve guessed right."
Uther shook his head with a bitter smile:
"The crafting of ’Blood Drinker’ is extremely complex. Macar infused it with the bloodline essence of hundreds of different species, including dragon species, magical beasts, and even abyssal creatures."
"This fusion endowed the blade with great adaptability, yet laid down hidden dangers."
The old professor’s voice turned warningly stern:
"As the kinds of absorbed bloodlines increased, the chaotic factors inside the blade would gradually affect the user’s spirit and body."
Ron activated "Extraordinary Recognition," immediately stunned by the scene before him.
In his special sight, ’Blood Drinker’ was simply a living bloodline reservoir.