The students were gathering. Sunlight sliced through the dusty courtyard of the Academy's training field, shimmering against steel blades and eager, sweating teens.
Then he walked in.
Six feet of discipline, authority, and daddy issues waiting to happen. Dark hair. Sharpened cheekbones. Cold golden eyes that could melt any woman or sentient weapon.
Elara's voice practically purred through Aiden's mind.
"Oh… mama likey."
Aiden's eyes widened. "Nope. Nope! Don't you start."
"Gods. You could thrust me into him any time—"
"GROSS! What the heck?! You're a sword!"
"Exactly. Perfect for stabbing… or being held firmly by those hands."
Aiden visibly recoiled, clutching her hilt like she might say something worse.
The man stopped in front of them, gaze cool and unreadable.
"You're Aiden?" he asked, voice smooth like danger.
Aiden nodded, a little too fast. "Y-Yeah. I mean, yes, sir."
"I am Instructor Neil."
Elara made a noise that was half deflating balloon and half dying cat, "Instructor Ruin-Me"
Aiden: That's Instructor Neil. Be respectful.
"That man is not a Neil. That man is Instructor Ruin-Me, Devourer of Panties, and I will not be disrespected by calling him anything less."
The teacher gave a slow nod. "Draw your weapon."
Elara gasped.
"Ohhh, baby, he wants to see me. Say less."
"I swear to every god in the sky, if you moan when I unsheath you—"
"Make it slow."
Aiden ripped her from the scabbard.
"WHEEEEEEEEE!"
She let out a triumphant screech as her blade gleamed in the light, fully extended and deeply inappropriate.
The other students stared. The instructor blinked once. Aiden died inside.
"I hate my life," he muttered.
"I love mine."
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Instructor Neil stepped closer, eyeing Aiden with the cool detachment of a man who's watched far too many overconfident kids cry during warm-ups.
"Let me see the blade," he said.
Aiden hesitated. "She, uh… she kind of—"
He extended his hand expectantly.
Aiden sighed and placed Elara in the instructor's palm.
Silence.
Instructor Neil turned her over, inspecting the glowing runes. He squinted.
"Strange," he said, brow furrowed. "Your system's not responding."
He tapped the edge of the blade. Nothing.
"Is it… defective?"
He handed her back.
The second Aiden's fingers touched her hilt, Elara screamed in his head:
"FUCK!"
"I can only be heard when you touch me?! Your grubby little boy-hands?!"
Aiden winced. "Ow—stop yelling!"
"I WANT THE HOT INSTRUCTOR! RUIN ME DADDY!!"
Aiden blinked. Why am I alive?
"Yeah, well so does half the class!" he hissed under his breath.
"Give me back to him! He had calluses! He knows things!"
"You're a weapon, not a desperate wine aunt."
"Wrong. I am a weapon of passion, and I demand to be handled by Zaddy Sensei, not Captain Anime Side Character!"
Instructor Neil raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?"
Aiden forced a smile. "She, uh… screamed the last time I drew her. It's a new feature."
He slowly resheathed her.
"You're dead to me, Aiden. You ruined everything."
"You made that noise in front of thirty people!"
"FOR HIM! IT WAS A PERFORMANCE!"
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Instructor Neil nodded toward the training dummy set up across the field.
"Your task," he said, "is to demonstrate synergy with your weapon and execute a clean cut using a basic slash technique. It will be graded on form, control, and precision."
Aiden stepped into position. "Okay. Let's do this."
Elara sighed so loud it echoed through his molars.
"Let's not."
"What?!"
"You heard me. I'm not feeling it. I'm in mourning."
"Mourning what?!"
"My soulmate. My one true handler. My glorious instructor zaddy who cast me aside like yesterday's cursed salad!"
Aiden swung.
It was fine.
Not great. Not terrible.
The blade connected with the dummy, leaving a shallow, unimpressive slice.
Somewhere, a cricket chirped. Another student yawned.
Instructor Neil made a note. "Adequate."
"Ugh. Adequate? I don't do adequate. I'm a Boss Babe System! But fine, if that's the vibe—let's tank your score, scrub boy."
Aiden gritted his teeth. "Could you at least pretend to help?"
"Nah. I'm emotionally unavailable until further notice."
Then Instructor Neil turned to the girl next to them, watching her execute a textbook-perfect slice.
"Good girl," he said, nodding approvingly.
Everything froze.
Elara's blade pulsed like it had just been plugged into a car battery.
"...Excuse me?"
"Oh no," Aiden muttered.
"Did he just—call her—GOOD GIRL?!"
"Wait—Elara, don't—"
"DRAW ME, YOU USELESS FLESH SACK, WE'RE GOING TO WAR!"
Aiden barely got her unsheathed before Elara activated full system override.
Her blade ignited with pure spite and unfiltered rage. Sparks flew. Runic symbols glowed. Birds fled the sky.
The training dummy in front of them was reduced to splinters in a single slash.
The next one exploded into fire without even being touched.
She turned, cut down three dummies at once, ricocheted off a stone wall, and somersaulted in midair with Aiden flailing behind her like a ragdoll.
Then she smashed through a literal stone wall, leaving a perfect sword-shaped hole, and embedded herself halfway into the next field's target dummy.
Silence.
Then:+5 to Sword Mastery+3 to Ruthless Spite+1 to Property Damage
Instructor Neil blinked. "...Impressive."
The courtyard was silent.
Smoke curled from the remains of obliterated dummies. A single training post was still spinning from the sheer force of Elara's last hit. Pebbles rolled. Birds didn't dare return.
Aiden stood in the center of the destruction, blinking through the settling dust, still holding the sword that had apparently just ascended to godhood out of pure jealousy.
Then, before he could stop her—
Elara's voice echoed—loud. Projected. Through the blade. Clear as day."CALL ME GOOD GIRL, COWARD!"
Thirty heads turned. Aiden's soul left his body.
The instructor froze mid-step, eyebrows raised just slightly.
Instructor Neil blinked. "...I don't get paid enough for this."
Aiden let out a long, low groan. "Why are you like this."
"I have needs."
One of the other students coughed. Someone else giggled. Booger Picker whispered to his friend, "Bro, I think his sword's into the instructor."
Aiden wanted to fall into the ground. Crawl inside the stone. Be buried in shame until his next reincarnation.
"Can I get a different weapon?" he asked, voice cracking.
"You'd be lucky if your future children got a weapon half as spicy as me."
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The smoke had barely cleared when the instructor turned back to the group, completely composed.
"Class is dismissed."
Students scurried out of the training yard like rats fleeing divine judgment. Some whispered. Others avoided eye contact with Aiden like he was contagious.
Aiden just stood there.
Motionless.
Emotionally obliterated.
His mouth hung slightly open. His eye twitched. His entire life flashed before his eyes, and all of it sucked.
He was still gripping Elara, the katana of chaos, who hummed contentedly in his hand like she'd just returned from a five-star spa and decapitation package.
"I regret nothing," she purred. "Gods, I feel so powerful. And slightly aroused."
"Stop talking."
The courtyard emptied, but Aiden didn't move. Couldn't.
He was paralyzed by shame.
Then—
Footsteps.
Then instructor Ruin-me approached quietly, stopping just beside him.
He leaned in, voice low. Smooth.
Cool enough to chill Elara's molten thirst for a single breath.
"…Good girl."
BWAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Elara let out a sound like an airhorn trying to do an anime fangirl scream.
"OH MY GODS DID YOU HEAR THAT?! HE SAID IT!! HE SAID IT!!!"
She glowed. She literally glowed. The blade vibrated in Aiden's hand like a cellphone possessed by lust.
+5 to Horniness+3 to Delusion+1 to Life Span Decrease (Aiden)
Aiden dropped her like she was cursed lava and walked away without speaking.
Not a word. Just vibes.
Shame vibes.
"Wait! Where are you going?!" Elara called from the ground.
"…Therapy," Aiden muttered.