Three relics emerged from the treasure chest, slowly rotating around a central point, each emitting its own unique glow.
On the left was a thick, black spellbook. The cover was made of rough leather, embroidered with runes in dark golden thread.
Next to the book was a note of its effect: [Book of Mana Source], passive effect, increases cost by one each turn, but adds one turn of ‘Vulnerability’ to every battle.
In the middle was a still-beating heart, about the size of a fist, deep green in color, its surface covered in knotted blood vessels. [Troll Heart], passive effect, restores 8% HP after battle.
They were all good, but Sovinia’s gaze fell upon the one on the far right.
On the right was a longsword. Its blade was slender, with a silvery-white sheen like moonlight. Faint light flowed along the blade, as if forged from moonbeams.
The note beside it read: named [Moonlight Blade], a fine magical longsword that amplifies the power of Elemental Magic. The blade never dulls. As for any deeper abilities, those must be identified through a magic appraisal.
It’s beautiful.
Sovinia’s gaze was almost instantly drawn to the [Moonlight Blade].
An uncontrollable image appeared in her mind: a silver-haired elven girl, slender and graceful, waving this longsword beneath the moonlight, the blade shining like a river of flowing moonlight…
This one, then.
No.
She immediately cut off that thought.
As the cold-blooded Kimi, First Heavenly King under the Demon King’s throne, how could she decide based on something as useless as “beauty”? That would be ridiculous.
***
It must be this body. In just a few hours, it’s caused some significant and subtle damage to my great, steadfast, and cold thinking as the Heavenly King.
Too terrifying, [Bottle Genie], too terrifying, this malicious wish engine [Monkey’s Paw]. Fortunately, my male head is bound to return to me soon.
So now I must consider the tactical value and think carefully about what I need most in this western fantasy world.
I need a weapon. This body is far too weak, and that Demon Standard Sword is heavy and clumsy—not suitable for me at all.
To be sure, or perhaps to prove something.
Sovinia tried to twirl the Demon Standard Sword in her hand, but the sword was broad and heavy, its center of gravity forward—a typical demon armor-breaker. The twirl turned out completely misshapen.
Yes, it really doesn’t suit me. Sovinia thought, looking at the [Moonlight Blade].
At a glance, this longsword was the agile and nimble type, and longswords in general were highly versatile. The [Moonlight Blade] even more so.
It could be used in close combat, and also amplify the magic I might obtain in the future. Although I don’t know any Elemental Magic right now, in future battles… I already have [Fiery Blade], so I can fight, I can fight in any way.
Therefore, this is a purely tactical decision.
Yes, that’s right. And this body is only temporary. Once I find my own head and regain my strength, all these feminine frills can be tossed away.
So, choosing it is the option with the highest tactical value for my current situation.
After this round of “cold-blooded analysis,”
Sovinia felt her decision was even more well thought out. She stretched out her finger and tapped the phantom of the [Moonlight Blade].
***
Wohard was squatting nearby, busy with his own things. He happened to look up and saw Sovinia’s dazed expression, and muttered to himself in pity, “Her first battle was so intense, she must be hallucinating. That’s normal.”
And as Sovinia’s finger tapped down—
The phantoms of the spellbook and troll heart instantly vanished. The longsword’s phantom transformed into a streak of light and shot into her body.
Everything returned to normal—no treasure chest, no relics.
However, just then, a flash of light pricked the corner of Sovinia’s eye, and she immediately looked over.
The light came from another heap of remains not far away—the Slime King’s other pile of leftovers. Many half-digested corpses still lay within. The glow was faint, but in this dim cave, she still caught it with her keen senses.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward in her knee-high boots, heading directly toward the stinking pile mixed with green slime and flesh.
***
Meanwhile, Wohard was squatting on the ground, inspecting his scorched longsword.
The blade was severely corroded, the edge chipped in several places. The battle just now had taken its toll. He shook his head, a helpless look on his face.
He looked up, just in time to see Sovinia walking toward the mess.
Her long silver hair flowed like moonlight in the dimness, and her white sleeves looked completely out of place in this filthy environment. Her slim figure formed a stark contrast with the surrounding corpses.
Like a jasmine flower fallen into a heap of bodies.
Each of her steps landed on rotting matter, her boots making soft sounds, but her expression remained unchanged, her gaze focused as she searched the filth for something.
Wohard stood up, slime dripping from his body as he moved.
“Sovinia, don’t bother. There’s nothing left down there—I already checked. I guess those demons stripped everything valuable off the ‘losers’ before tossing them here.”
Sovinia ignored him. She searched beneath a corpse, under a backpack, until her fingers touched something cold.
With a sharp tug, she pulled a longsword with its scabbard out from the slime and splintered bone.
The scabbard was brownish, also etched with silvery vine patterns. She gripped the hilt and slowly drew the sword. The blade was identical to the phantom she’d seen in the treasure chest. Not a speck of filth clung to the moonlit blade—it still shone with a gentle light.
The rewards always materialize on the battlefield. Sovinia was already used to this golden finger mechanism.
Wohard looked at the sword, his emerald eyes full of surprise. “How could there be such a fine sword here?”
“Just luck.” Sovinia sheathed the sword and fastened it to her belt with smooth motions.
Wohard came over, looking at the sword, then at Sovinia.
Sovinia worried this dumb dog might see through something, and was about to make up a lie.
“This… this must be your sword!” Wohard said, full of certainty. “You must have always carried it before the demons caught you. It’s fate’s guidance—you’ve found it again!”
As expected of a dumb dog.
Sovinia said nothing, just nodded. Such a stupid explanation suited this dumb dog perfectly.
Wohard looked at the broken sword in his own hand, sighed, and turned to rummage through the pile of weapons. In the end, he picked up a single-bladed battle axe from beside a Minotaur corpse.
He hefted it, slung it over his shoulder, and then used a torch to ignite Barte’s body. Flames rose, flickering shadows through the cave. He stood before the fire in silence, watching.
After a while, he picked up a Boar Insignia and said to Sovinia:
“Let’s go.” Wohard turned away, his voice a little hoarse.
Sovinia nodded, turned, and started leading the way. Before long, they reached another slope.
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