【The… star… chooses…】
【…】
A voice mixed with static brushed past his ears.
Is this what the afterlife feels like?
That fleeting thought passed through his mind as a burning sensation suddenly ignited at the nape of his neck.
Pain in death? How absurd.
But something felt off. It was as if his eyelids were forcibly shut, like being trapped in a sleep paralysis state.
‘I could probably open them if I tried, right?’
That thought was secondary. Whatever it was, his neck felt excruciatingly hot. Too hot.
“Argh!”
Unable to endure it any longer, Uldren let out a scream and bolted upright. He grabbed a bottle of water from the elegant table nearby and poured it over the back of his neck.
His clothes were drenched, but the cold water brought some relief to his expression.
What on earth was causing such burning pain?
“Uh, huh?”
The moment the pain subsided, Uldren’s voice betrayed his confusion.
He could see.
What he thought were his final moments had now given way to a vivid view of his surroundings.
A luxurious room, a sword mounted on the wall, and…
“…Pentanium.”
The crest of Pentanium—a sword piercing a dragon’s neck—was engraved on one of the blades.
Could it be that the direct lineage of Pentanium saved him as he lay dying?
With a slight headache, Uldren stood up. For some reason, his body felt heavier than usual.
Though frail by nature, he never neglected physical training. It seemed like his muscles had weakened, as if he’d been bedridden for a long time.
‘Did my height shrink a bit too?’
It felt like his legs had melted and been reattached.
As he staggered forward, he caught sight of a mirror in the corner of the room.
Yet for some reason, his reflection was nowhere to be seen.
Feeling something was amiss, he hurried over to the mirror.
And there he saw a man he didn’t recognize.
‘Who the hell is this?’
Black hair long enough to cover his eyes, unkempt as if untouched for years.
The face of a boy, seemingly in his mid-teens.
Though it might have been handsome originally, dark circles and puffy cheeks ruined it.
It was a face Uldren had never seen before.
Shock washed over him.
Where was his own blue hair and moderately decent face?
Instead, a stranger’s visage stared back.
“…But it does feel oddly familiar.”
As he touched his cheek to confirm the face was his, he froze.
Though he hadn’t been in many direct battles, Uldren had survived countless life-or-death situations amidst the World’s Corruption.
His instincts, honed to rival those of a wild animal, screamed a warning.
Whoosh!
A blade whizzed past his head from an unseen corner.
Uldren ducked just in time, the premonition saving him from a fatal strike.
Something felt unusual—his body was much lighter than expected.
Under normal circumstances, he would’ve braced for an injury, yet his body responded with uncanny swiftness.
“Tsk!”
A click of the tongue echoed near him.
Despite his disorientation, Uldren knew survival came first. He grabbed the sword hanging on the wall for self-defense.
Yet oddly, the grip of the sword felt strangely familiar.
Though he had deemed this body undertrained just moments ago, it now felt as though he was wielding a well-tempered blade himself.
Something was different.
Something was definitely different.
But this wasn’t the time to reflect. He needed to deal with the assassin before him.
“Who are you? Why are you targeting me?”
“You don’t need to know, Third Son.”
The assassin’s curt reply only deepened Uldren’s confusion.
Third Son?
He was the eldest son of Sodran.
Then did this mean the target wasn’t him?
That face he saw earlier…
Why had it felt so familiar?
A brief glance at the mirror again revealed the black-haired man standing opposite the assassin.
Uldren’s eyes widened.
‘Of course, it’s familiar.’
How could it not be?
Though swollen and unkempt, that face bore an unmistakable resemblance to someone he knew.
The head of the Pentanium family.
One of the Celestial Four Stars.
‘Sword Emperor Pentanium Lacrode.’
And judging by the assassin’s words…
‘Third Son, Pentanium Cerys.’
The disgraceful third son, overshadowed by even his youngest brother in swordsmanship.
Uldren found himself inhabiting none other than the body of Pentanium Cerys.
This made no sense.
Why had he, thought to be dead, suddenly found himself in the body of Pentanium Cerys?
What’s more, Cerys was the same age as him.
At 34, Uldren couldn’t possibly have a youthful face anymore.
‘Not to mention, Pentanium Cerys…’
He had died 19 years ago.
Aged only 15, suffocating on his own vomit after a night of heavy drinking—an end befitting his reputation as a wastrel.
So how could he now be inhabiting the body of someone long dead?
‘There’s too little information.’
If he was to understand this situation, he needed to escape first.
Ignoring the sweat forming on his grip, Uldren steadied his breathing.
Even as a disgraced son, this body belonged to the direct bloodline of the Pentanium family, renowned for their unparalleled swordsmanship.
Though Uldren’s original body had been frail, he’d trained tirelessly to overcome it. Those efforts had honed an understanding of optimal muscle usage, a memory he now called upon.
Instinctively, his posture shifted into a familiar stance.
“…Clear Sky Ghostblade.”
A stifled gasp escaped the assassin.
Though unintended, Uldren had assumed the basic form of Clear Sky Ghostblade, the signature swordsmanship of the Pentanium family.
Renowned across the continent, this style alone was enough to make the assassin hesitate.
‘This should keep him in check, but…’
It wasn’t enough to win.
As Uldren contemplated his next move, the assassin made his.
His figure blurred, and the blade aimed for a vital spot.
Uldren dodged by twisting his body, narrowly avoiding a fatal wound.
Again, the blade aimed his heart and throat relentlessly.
Danger loomed.
Though his reflexes kept him alive, one slip would mean death.
The assassin vanished into the shadows again, a clear sign of mastery over a unique technique.
He was faster, and the limited visibility only made it worse.
Rolling to evade another strike, Uldren’s ragged breath filled the room.
The assassin had the upper hand.
At this rate, he would lose.
‘What options do I have?’
Only the Clear Sky Ghostblade stance and the body’s natural resilience remained.
‘…Wait.’
Were those truly his only options?
In that moment, Uldren’s eyes widened in realization.
‘I’m not Uldren anymore.’
This body belonged to Pentanium Cerys.
Which meant the curse that had plagued him for life… no longer existed.
‘There will be no death by Geumgang Janwol(Golden Strength, Lunar Radiance).’
This was certain.
Cerys made up his mind.
Whether the Sodran family star would respond to Cerys’ body was uncertain, but at the moment, there was no other way.
‘Oh, star.’
In that instant, a faint starlight settled quietly at the nape of his neck. The star rapidly sought a place to anchor itself within him.
‘It’s working!’
Cerys’ eyes quivered subtly with suppressed excitement, unnoticed by the assassin.
For Cerys, the secret arts of the Sodran family had always been a bitter regret—
A forbidden fruit he could never taste, a source of his endless frustration.
But now, after decades, he had finally reached entry-level mastery of Geumgang Janwol, at the first star.
A thrill coursed through him, yet he quickly regained focus.
Even if he had broken this long-standing regret, what he had now was merely the first star of Geumgang Janwol. It offered little more than slight reinforcement of his physical resilience.
‘I can’t match that guy’s speed. If so…’
The dual hues of Cerys’ eyes gleamed with the resolve of a gambler who had seized the decisive moment.
Meanwhile, in the same room, the assassin lurking in the shadows began to notice the shift in Cerys’s demeanor.
Had he found some trump card?
The assassin readjusted his grip on the dagger.
It didn’t matter. His opponent was still the infamous lazy third son.
The third son who hadn’t held a sword in over two years.
There was no way a professional assassin, trained and active in a clandestine guild, would fail in their mission now.
‘The next strike will kill him.’
The assassin’s killing intent sharpened.
In the blink of an eye, he struck again, slithering out from the shadows like a venomous snake.
His blade darted for the left side of Cerys’s neck, but Cerys narrowly dodged by tilting his head.
‘I avoided it!’
Barely evading the strike, Cerys countered by thrusting his sword toward the assassin.
Whoosh!
At that moment, the tattoo on the back of the assassin’s neck flared with an ominous light.
A sudden darkness enveloped the room, and the assassin vanished.
When he reappeared, it was on the opposite side—precisely the side Cerys hadn’t defended.
The assassin’s eyes gleamed as he spotted Cerys’s unprotected right flank.
‘It’s over.’
The blade, shimmering faintly under the moonlight, slashed forward with lethal intent toward Cerys’ exposed flank.
‘This will tear through his side and pierce his heart in one strike!’
Thunk!
But as blood sprayed crimson, the assassin’s eyes widened in disbelief.
‘What the…?!’
The blade, which should have cleaved through flesh and bone effortlessly, barely penetrated halfway.
Not only that—the sword refused to budge, as if held by the fingers of a massive invisible hand.
Meat resists, but bone strikes.
Cerys had intentionally sacrificed his flank. In exchange, he locked the assassin’s blade between the unyielding muscles of his abdomen.
An outrageous tactic only conceivable with the trust he placed in Geumgang Janwol.
And it worked. The assassin faltered, visibly shaken.
This hesitation lasted only a fleeting moment, but in life-or-death combat, a fleeting moment was all it took.
As the assassin struggled to decide whether to let go of the blade and retreat, Seris had already raised his sword high above his head.
“I’ve won, you bastard.”
Then came the gale.
Geumgang Janwol.
Ruinous Strike.
The most brutish, unrefined blow imaginable cleaved through the assassin’s neck in an instant.
Crunch! Slash!
The assassin’s head tumbled to the ground, severed with devastating simplicity.
There had been no elaborate swordplay, no finesse—only raw, overwhelming force.
Yet, for the assassin, it was more than enough to seal his fate.
Cerys collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Damn, that hurts.”
Despite the pain and sweat pouring from his body, a grin spread across his face.
The joy of awakening Geumgang Janwol and his hard-won victory coursed through him.
However, he had no way of knowing.
That night, a new star rose in the heavens, sending celestial observers into an uproar among noble families.
Nor was he aware that a black star—heralding a new World Erosion—had appeared alongside it.
These Two technique are the technique of Mc’s previous family :
Golden Strength, Lunar Radiance(Geumgang Janwol) : This was their strongest technique which made them famous but was lost throughout history.
Golden Strength, Protective Qi (Geumgang Hogi) : This was the technique they created to replace the lost technique but they only receive backlash for it.