The Silent Malice

At last, it responded.

I shouted out of anger, closing my eyes and screaming with everything in my lungs:"What are you mocking me? Not responding to me? Bet you are enjoying the show and getting entertained inside! If you aren't gonna help me, why not let me die? Why are you helping me in some situations and leaving me to die in others? Coming to me when you want and responding whenever you like!"

It replied, cold and sharp:"It's your hesitation… Your hesitation is what is keeping me from answering you. You do not have the intention to kill. Till now, your resolve isn't strong enough. You can die for your resolve, but not kill. You are weak, and blaming me for that. And what is this you are even trying to protect? What are you trying to save?"

Silence spread for a long while. My head hung down, burning with frustration, anger, and grief. And then, I shouted again:"It's those… those who do not fear us but are cursed, yet protect us from the rotten ones! Those who support us, all those… those are my family! Amilia, Annya, Hikari… those girls who protected me, people like Jonathan, and many more! I want to save them! No… I will save them! And for that, I can kill or get killed, but I won't let anyone lay a finger on them! Damn it!"

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a faint smile on the empty face of the sword spirit.

Then it faded again, leaving only a whisper in my mind:"Shinjitsu no Itami… Call me when you need, master."

Now I had a bond with the spirit—not just a weapon, but a presence that finally acknowledged me. Shinjitsu no Itami. The name echoed in my chest like a heartbeat.

Everything was going just fine after that—no, not fine. Too silent. Too peaceful. At least for everyone else. For me, the silence was suffocating. Beneath the calm, I could still feel it: that spinning, chilling intent to kill. The pure stench of malice. It crept over me like a shadow playing with its prey, circling, waiting, savoring.

My hands clenched the sword tighter. The unease crawled up my spine, whispering that something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Then—

The gate opened.