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ArabicChat Group Crossover: My System Simulates Infinite Anime Worlds — Chapter 50
Chapter 50: You Are a Sword Jerk
Nagumo stared at the five talent options presented before him. Three of them, he noted, were distinctly related to the sword.
A wry thought surfaced; he could already guess what kind of title these would synthesize into. It wasn’t as if he’d never played a game like Honor of Kings. The logic was simple. For a character like the game’s “Green Drunken Master,” the “Poet” talent was clearly the core; add any random sword-wielding trait, and you were practically guaranteed to get Li Bai.
Similarly, the Blacksmith talent could easily synergize with sword techniques. Nagumo’s mind drifted to a certain iconic figure—a man in a red coat who spoke of his body being forged from blades, a certain heroic spirit who was, in truth, a jaded old man.
After a moment of deliberation, Nagumo made his selection: Sword Intent, Sword Bone, and Sword Heart.
Sometimes, the most straightforward path was the best. He reasoned that dedicating himself wholly to the way of the sword might, paradoxically, allow him to live a quiet, undisturbed life.
Besides, Nagumo was keen to improve his practical combat experience. While the enhancement from the Perfect Realm and his own accumulated years of fighting were substantial, he felt it was time to master a specific weapon. Truth be told, his first preference was a saber—a weapon with no frills or fancy maneuvers. There was an elegant brutality to it: just charge forward and swing, relentlessly.
[Sword Heart, Sword Bone, and Sword Intent have created a cooperation. Congratulations, Host, you have obtained the title “Man and Sword as One”.]
[Man and Sword as One (Purple)]: “You are the sword, the sword is you… and you are a Sword Jerk!”]
Nagumo’s expression soured as he stared at the virtual screen, his gaze fixed on the final two words. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been played, that the system was taking a jab at him in its own unique, roundabout way.
Still, it was a path he had chosen. With a sigh, he resigned himself to walking it, even if he had to do so with tears in his eyes.
Nagumo lay back on his bed. As his vision faded to black, he plunged once more into the world of the simulation.
[You awaken to find yourself in an utterly unfamiliar environment. Your eyes focus on a ceiling of dark, carefully carved wood, its style reminiscent of the antique architecture of some long-forgotten dynasty.]
[A weary groan escapes your lips as the same old complaint forms in your mind. “Damn it,” you mutter, the words tasting like ash. “Did I transmigrate again?”]
[A quick mental check confirms your fears: vast swathes of your memory are simply… gone. A deep sense of helplessness washes over you, and you can only let out a long, resigned sigh.]
[“How many times does this make it now?” you murmur to the empty room. “Reincarnating without any memories… Ah, forget it. Since I’m here, I might as well make the best of it. Just live a good life.”]
[Even as you say the words, a part of you desperately hopes that, for once, your new identity is just that of an ordinary person. You feel an overwhelming need to simply rest.]
[Your gaze sweeps across the room, landing on a device at the head of the bed that looks suspiciously like a mobile phone. Next to it rests a small, official-looking token.]
[You pick up the device. It’s cool to the touch, shaped like a jade pendant, but after a moment of fiddling, a screen illuminates its surface. It functions exactly like a phone.]
[After some time spent browsing…]
[You finally piece together your location. You are aboard a massive, interstellar starship, a city-sized vessel known as the Xianzhou Luofu, part of a sprawling cosmic civilization.]
[The name strikes a chord deep within your fragmented mind. You slap your forehead, a sharp, stinging impact, but the jarring sensation fails to dislodge any concrete memories.]
[Continuing your search online, you learn of the godlike Aeons who preside over the universe, and their powerful observers, the Emissaries, who can obliterate entire star systems with ease. Those who follow the philosophical tenets of these beings are called Pathstriders.]
[All of this information feels hauntingly familiar, yet the specific details remain just beyond your grasp, like a word on the tip of your tongue.]
[You do, however, recognize the image of a colossal insectoid Emanator. A vague, phantom memory surfaces—of a time before one of your many deaths, when you believe you might have slain such a creature.]
[Pushing yourself up, you begin to properly inspect your surroundings. You pick up the token from the table and notice a small, folded note tucked behind it.]
[Reading the note, you learn your current identity: you are a freshly minted Cloud Knight, having recently passed the rigorous assessment. The note also informs you, much to your dismay, that your personal account is completely empty.]
[Your immediate reaction is a wave of deep exhaustion. What a hassle. A powerful, demotivating urge to just slack off, to lie flat and find a comfortable corner to exist in forever, washes over you.]
[This thought, so deeply negative, seems to connect with something in the cosmos. Perhaps it was your own bleak outlook, or perhaps it was an echo of the countless deaths you’ve comprehended. The scene around you shatters without warning.]
[You are no longer in the room but adrift in the silent, star-dusted expanse of the cosmos. Before you hangs an entity of impossible scale—a colossal, ovular shape of absolute blackness, absorbing all light and hope.]
[Two ‘eyes’ open upon its surface—one vastly larger than the other, both shimmering with a cold, indifferent light. They fix upon you for a single, eternal moment before closing once more, plunging the universe back into its perfect, silent dark.]
[Amidst a peal of disembodied laughter that rings through your very soul, you snap back to reality.]
[You find yourself back in the room, heart pounding. A strange new awareness thrums within you—two peculiar, nascent powers you didn’t possess moments ago. Lying on the nightstand, where it certainly wasn’t before, is an ornate mask. The instant your fingers brush against it, a sliver of information floods your mind: with this, you can enter a special place known only as the Tavern.]
[You pick up the jade-pendant phone, now identified as a Jade Abacus, and a quick search helps you understand what you just experienced.]
[Your deeply negative attitude, it seems, caused you to connect with the Path of Nihility. But… why?]
[All you wanted was a good, long rest. Why on earth would that simple desire connect you to the embodiment of cosmic oblivion?]
[You are utterly bewildered. The mask, you learn, is an artifact associated with the Lord of Constant Joy, whose influence is known throughout the universe as the Path of Elation.]
[A single, panicked sentence flashes through your mind: “What the hell, don’t tell me this is another Four-Aeon Choice.”]
[The moment the phrase “Four-Aeon Choice” materializes, you realize you have absolutely no idea what it means. Yet, for some reason, the very concept fills you with a powerful sense of dread, hinting at deeply buried, painful memories.]
[You still yearn for the simple life of a slacker, but you’re forced to confront a universal, inconvenient truth: even lying flat requires a foundation of financial stability. In short, you need money.]
[After careful consideration, you drag yourself to the Cloud Knights’ training grounds.]
[After all, aside from the inherent danger, the salary and benefits offered by the Cloud Knights are quite generous.]
[It shouldn’t be a big deal, you think, trying to reassure yourself. Now a dual-Pathstrider, you feel a nascent sense of power. You watch the other Cloud Knights sparring in pairs, their movements crisp and disciplined.]
[After observing for a while and seeing no other lone individuals, you calmly walk over to the weapon rack.]
[You select a standard-issue longsword, the weight familiar and comforting in your grasp. Finding an unoccupied corner of the training grounds, you begin to move. You cycle through the fundamental forms, one after another: thrust, hack, point, lift, hook, collapse, intercept, cloud, block, and sweep. The motions are basic, repetitive, yet perfect.]
[As you continue to swing the blade, you gradually lose yourself in the rhythm. A surprising sense of enjoyment blossoms within you. You feel refreshed, invigorated, as if you have finally found something you were always meant to do.]
[You think back to the mission you were assigned at the Mission Hall earlier. Suddenly, the job doesn’t seem so difficult to accept.]
[You can’t help but wonder what on earth you did in your past lives for your very soul to carry such a heavy, negative burden.]
[On the second day, you practiced the sword and completed your patrol missions. On the third day, you practiced the sword again. By the fifth day, after finishing your patrol, you returned to the training grounds to practice the sword. You find that if a day passes without it, your entire body feels strangely out of sorts.]
[This routine continued for half a year. In that time, you engaged in several brutal skirmishes with the Borisin. You transformed from a green recruit into a hardened veteran, your eyes now carrying the weight of battles fought and won. More than that, you witnessed the true horror of this long war, watching with your own eyes as comrades—friends—succumbed to the affliction of the Mara-Struck, their minds and bodies twisted into monsters.]