Chapter 46: Axiom Blade Grimlord

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[ Axiom Blade Grimlord ]

Rank: Mythic

Class Level: 1

—Active Skills—

> Grim Harvest (Mythic)

> Blade Veil Counter (Mythic)

—Passive Skills—

> Reaper’s Stride (Mythic)

> Grimlord’s Blade (Mythic)

> Axiom Severance (Mythic)

```

’Five skills, and I get a new one every five levels. Awesome. Let’s see what these actually do.’

He started with the first one.

```

[ Grim Harvest ]

Any being whose HP is less than 15% is visible to the user regardless of obstacles, within a 1 kilometer radius. When a being’s HP drops to 10% or less, and the target is within that same radius, you can execute the target instantly.

```

Logan’s mouth fell open.

’Holy shit.’

"What? What? Tell me too, brother." Romen’s eyes lit up. "I want to know what a Mythic-rank class’s skills look like. Must be powerful."

Logan chuckled. "I think I’ll pass. I’m not handing my information to a merchant."

Romen clicked his tongue. "Fair enough. I could’ve made some good money off that."

Logan ignored him and checked the second skill.

```

[ Blade Veil Counter ]

Swing a blade to create an arcane veil around yourself for 1 second, capable of deflecting any attack. A successful deflect grants a 200% damage boost to your equipped blade-type weapon for 3 seconds.

```

’Awesome. A defensive skill that turns straight into offense.’

’Next.’

```

[ Reaper’s Stride ]

Every time you swing a sword, you can move up to 10 meters instantly in any direction. Every time your sword connects with flesh or another weapon, you gain a 10% movement speed boost lasting 10 seconds. Duration refreshes per trigger. No stack limit.

```

’Holy crap. This is insane.’

His heart was already racing. He swung the sword in his hand and felt the passive trigger, a faint afterimage of himself flickering into place ten meters out in whatever direction he’d been looking.

Swoosh!

In a blink, he was standing there instead.

During a real fight, this passive alone would be terrifying.

’Reaper’s Stride. Fitting name.’

He moved on to the next one.

```

[ Grimlord’s Blade ]

Grimlord’s Blade is your class weapon. It can absorb any other weapon to permanently adopt its stats and effects. Grimlord’s Blade has 5 slots that can permanently store the effects of any weapon fed into it.

```

Logan blinked, then summoned it.

It came into being as a monstrous thing of black steel and dark gold, long and elegantly curved like a crescent forged into the shape of a predator’s fang.

Its broad body tapered toward a wickedly hooked tip, the entire edge lined with enormous, uneven serrations, each tooth curved backward like a talon. It looked built not to cut, but to tear through whatever it struck.

The upper section swept forward dramatically before curling into a razor point, giving the whole blade the silhouette of a gigantic black fang. One side ran serrated. The other stayed thin and razor sharp.

No wasted ornamentation anywhere on it, just layered metalwork, engraved patterns, and thin gold lines following the natural curve of the steel. Pitch black against aged gold made the whole thing look ancient and impossibly refined at once.

’Freaking cool.’

He fed the Mythic-rank sword he’d already been carrying straight into it without a second thought.

```

[ Grimlord’s Blade ]

Attack: 225

-- Perks --

> Slash Damage +100%

> Pierce Damage +100%

-- Effects --

> Blood Spores: Inflicting a bleeding wound applies a stack. Each stack grants 2% lifesteal against that target.

> Sanguine Bloom: Attack increases by 5% every time the blade opens a bleeding wound.

> Gore Barrier: Creates a barrier around the user equal to 20% of damage dealt.

```

’All the perks and effects of that Mythic sword, and this thing bleeds targets open easy.’ Logan ran a thumb along the serrated edge and grinned.

"You look awfully happy." Romen snorted. "Come on, tell me. That looks like a class weapon. You got a skill like that, huh?"

Logan dispersed Grimlord’s Blade instead of answering. It was a passive. He could summon it back whenever he wanted.

’Last one.’

```

[ Axiom Severance ]

50% Omni-Penetration.

50% Critical Damage.

```

Logan’s eyes went wide.

Short description. Said everything it needed to.

’Holy crap.’

He’d read the critical damage guides before, knew the fatal points on a person by heart already. Heart. Temples. Brain. Carotid arteries and jugular veins. Windpipe and larynx. Upper cervical spine. Aorta. Lungs. Liver. Spleen.

Critical only triggered on a strike to one of those, and only against players. Monsters had their own fatal points entirely, ones he’d still need to learn separately.

’Maybe I’ll get a class skill that identifies those later.’

He took a breath and reined the excitement back in.

He closed the skill list and let the quiet of Romen’s clearing settle back in around him.

Everything had changed in the last few hours. A Mythic-rank class. A weapon that could swallow other weapons whole and keep their edge forever. Skills that finally made him look something like what his own summons had already become.

None of it meant anything if he just sat here admiring it.

Logan looked out past the treeline, past the pond, toward every direction the map stretched in at once. Mountains he hadn’t climbed. Players he hadn’t found. Dungeons and bosses sitting out there untouched, waiting for someone to actually go looking.

He’d spent most of this match reacting. Raiding bases someone else built first. Chasing daggers someone else hid. Answering threats someone else started.

Not anymore.

’It’s time to sweep the map.’

```

[ Personal Quest Created: Sweep the Map ]

Eliminate all players. Kill all bosses. Clear all challenges and dungeons. Clear everything.

```

Twenty-four hours later, the match didn’t look anything like it had when he’d started.

```

[ Players Remaining: 27 ]

```

He’d woken up fourteen hours into that stretch already moving, a Mythic-rank dungeon cleared before he’d even properly stretched the sleep out of his legs.

The summons were working all around the clock.

Crucible had a hand in what came next too, converting enough raw material for one of the other production Mythics to build him a full set of armor to match, plate that moved like it weighed nothing at all despite looking like it could stop a mountain.

He was fully geared up. Not for battle. Nope.

For war against everything on this map.

Everything after that blurred into the same rhythm the last day had already settled into, base after base coming apart, monster after monster falling, his own class climbing steadily toward something that finally matched the rest of him.

One full day passed by in the blink of an eye.

```

[ Your class, Axiom Blade Grimlord, has reached level 10. ]

[Select a new class skill from the three options.]

```

’Later.’

He had saved both skill selection options. He wanted to choose properly because once selected, he wouldn’t be able to change it.

Somewhere in the middle of all the grind, he’d started wearing a mask too, plain and dark, covering everything from the bridge of his nose down.

Nobody from his class had ever managed to find out who Player L actually was. He intended to keep it that way, even from a distance, even by accident.

The trail that led him to Uorop’s base wasn’t hard to follow. Word traveled fast about a player who’d been clearing dungeons and bosses almost as aggressively as Logan had, and that kind of reputation always pointed back to a location eventually.

Logan arrived with fifty Mythic units at Uorop’s base, twenty built for offense, fifteen for defense, and fifteen more for keeping everyone else standing through whatever came next.

Uorop’s base sat in a wide clearing, walls thrown up steadily, weapons mounted in all six towers. An army stood arranged in front of it that would have looked genuinely intimidating to anyone who hadn’t spent the last several days fighting things far worse.

```

[ Uorop’s Army: 158 Combat Summons ]

Legendary: 7

Epic: 32

Rare: 48

Uncommon: 42

Normal: 29

```

Uorop stood at the center of it, ten separate exotic armaments already hovering around him, ready to reshape into whatever the fight demanded.

’This one is from another world.’ Logan looked him over. ’A dark elf, I guess.’

Sharp features, skin the color of wet slate, ears that tapered to points beneath dark hair.

’Looks tough. Is that his talent?’

Uorop felt the pressure a full second before Logan’s army finished settling into position, and it wasn’t just the fifty Mythics doing it to him. They were the source of it, plain and simple, enough to make him feel utterly helpless.

But it was also Logan himself. Something about the way he stood there, calm and unhurried, mask hiding everything except a pair of eyes that didn’t look remotely worried about the number of summons arrayed against him.

’Damn it.’ Uorop’s jaw tightened. ’This is crazy.’

"Sup." Logan waved his hand, smiling.

Uorop said nothing for a moment.

He took a deep breath. "This isn’t making sense. Why are you able to do this? This many Mythics is absurd. It should be against the rules."

Logan blinked. "I don’t think so. I think players have a lot more potential than anyone gives them credit for. Heck, they can even turn a Normal-rank class into a Mythic one. And a Mythic-rank class and Talent are just that strong."

"I know." Uorop paused, then smiled wryly. "I know I’ll be able to shred your Mythic army eventually. Once I properly develop my own Mythic-rank Talent."

Logan’s eyes glinted. "Mythic-rank Talent. What is it?"

"Tell me yours first."

"You first."

"No, you."

"..."

"..."

Neither of them said anything for a second.

After two seconds of silence, Uorop pointed one of his Prime Construct armaments forward, an exotic white-metal lance patterned with crimson and purple neon lines.

"Let’s have a duel. I’m losing this fight anyway."

Logan grinned. "Perfect. I want to see what five years of training my own way with a sword actually looks like with this new class behind it."