The Mercenaries of Mayhem were back home, lounging around their mansion. Derek sat in his usual spot, adjusting the broken sword now strapped to his belt—not as a weapon, but as a decoration and souvenir.
Then, Bob burst into the room, grinning.
"Guys! News just dropped!"
Jim raised an eyebrow. "What, did someone finally post wanted posters of us?"
Bob waved his hand. "No, no! The Sword Graveyard portal disappeared!"
Derek looked up. "Already?"
Bob nodded. "Yep! And get this—only five people got a sword."
Jim blinked. "Wait. Only five?"
Bob grinned wider, pointing at Derek. "And that includes you!"
Derek sighed. "You do realize what I got, right?"
Bob ignored that. "Buddy, you're part of history now! The swordsmen who obtain weapons from the Sword Graveyard always become legends!"
Derek crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, not me. No one's gonna care about a guy who walked out with half a sword."
Jim smirked. "Still, only five people? That's kinda crazy."
Bob nodded. "Yeah, but one of them's already causing a scene. Some guy got a Hellfire Blade, and apparently, it's insanely powerful."
Derek's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ah. So he survived."
Marcus looked over. "You know him?"
Derek sighed. "Not personally. But I saw him in the graveyard. He was the one who actually pulled a sword, and, well… everyone tried to kill him for it."
Jim whistled. "Well, if he made it out alive, he must be seriously skilled."
Derek nodded. "Yeah. After all, he got chosen."
Then, absentmindedly, Derek's hand brushed against the broken sword at his belt.
Bob clapped his shoulder. "Hey, don't sell yourself short, man. Only five people got a sword, and you're one of them. That's a big deal!"
Derek smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I'll just tell people I chose a broken sword for aesthetic reasons."
Jim grinned. "That actually sounds believable."
Derek exhaled. "Honestly, I'm just glad I'm not attracting attention. Noone comes after me because of this."
Marcus nodded. "Yeah, and fame attracts problems."
Derek glanced at his sword. "Exactly."
As the conversation continued, Anna silently observed from across the room.
Her crimson eyes flickered toward Derek's broken sword, an odd unsettled feeling creeping over her.
It was nothing special—just a shattered blade with no aura, no power, no visible magic.
And yet… something about it bothered her.
But she didn't say anything.
She didn't even know why it felt off.
So she kept quiet.
That night, Derek slept uneasily.
A dream took hold.
He stood in a vast, endless field, swords stuck in the ground like graves. The sky above was golden, a soft glow covering the world.
And in front of him…
A man stood.
Tall. Regal.
A crown rested upon his head.
His face was calm, smiling, knowing.
He looked right at Derek.
As if waiting for him to understand something.
Derek stared, confused.
Then—
He woke up.