Amidst a snowy landscape, whiteness extended as far as the eye could see, although it was partially hidden by a dense fog that enveloped the surroundings.

The frigid wind blew, carrying with it snowflakes that swirled in the air, creating an inhospitable and mysterious atmosphere.

The land, covered by a thick blanket of snow, seemed to have lost all life and color under the influence of the fog.

Only a few trees, barely visible through the mist, stood in that desolate place. Their bare branches, covered in frost, bent under the weight of the relentless cold, creating a desolate image during the dense fog. They were silent witnesses to the hardships of winter and the constant struggle to survive in that violent snowy climate.

Among the few people who dared to walk through that fog-shrouded place, a young man was walking with a sword in his hands.

The sword, almost entirely black, seemed to blend with the shadows that the fog drew around it.

Its blade, barely perceptible through the mist, reflected faint glimmers through the ice and snow. Although the dark metal predominated, small red details stood out on the hilt and guard, highlighting amidst the surrounding fog.

Conscious of the inhospitable environment they were in, the sword enveloped the young man with a soft, warm aura, protecting him from the cold and fog that threatened to hinder his progress.

As the young man advanced with determination, his worn-out but resilient clothing clung to his body, offering some protection against the icy climate.

His once elegant coat now showed patches and tears, evidence of the adversities he had faced.

His rough leather gloves and boots also showed signs of prolonged use and wear.

Over his head, a hand-knitted cap covered him, providing some shelter against the fog that enveloped his surroundings.

With the combination of these garments and the warmth emanating from the sword, the young man managed to remain relatively comfortable in that hostile environment.

Soon, the voice of the sword resonated in his mind.

"Pick up the pace. You need to reach them now."

Without hesitation, the young man increased his walking speed.

In a matter of seconds, the young man emerged from the fog and found himself face-to-face with a group of barbarians.

Their presence was intimidating; dressed in animal skins, they were armed with axes and spears.

Among them, a small, trembling, and frightened child clung to the legs of one of the barbarians.

"What do you want?" 

Said one of the barbarians who seemed to be the oldest of the group. He stepped forward to the young man with the sword and waited for his response while looking at him firmly.

"Where is your village?"

"I can't tell that to a stranger."

Both gripped their weapons tightly, as it seemed they would not come to any agreement.

"Attack!" 

Commanded the sword to its candidate, but he didn't obey.

A child was watching.

"They have my sister, won't you speak?"

"Rules are rules."

"Watch out!"

The voice of his sword made him pay attention to his surroundings, and to his surprise, there was a crouching barbarian with a bow. As soon as his eyes noticed him, an arrow was shot at him.

Dodging back thanks to his reflexes, he soon had to use his sword to face the attack that the barbarian he had spoken to was launching at him.

"Use fire magic! If you kill several at once, you'll break their fighting spirit," the sword instructed.

The candidate began to use his fire magic to launch the attack, but...

He stopped.

That little child reminded him of his deceased younger brother.

Multiple attacks from the barbarian started to reach him as he did his best to dodge the arrows shot by the archer.

"They're surrounding you! Why aren't you using magic?" his sword asked.

At this rate, his candidate would be in serious trouble.

Why was he limiting himself so much?

For now, his candidate limited himself to responding to the attacks while counterattacking with rather weak strikes.

It seemed like he didn't want to kill them.

Why?

The fight was dragging on for too long, and it seemed that the advantage was increasingly in favor of the barbarians. 

They had the unknown man completely cornered!

Forming a circle to surround him, the only barbarians who remained outside the formation were the archer and the barbarian with the trembling child clinging to his leg.

If he wasn't serious, he would truly die.

He seemed tired. In the eyes of the barbarians, they could soon kill him and take his belongings.

"The sword he carries looks valuable..." one of the barbarians surrounding the young man whispered.

"The clothes seem of high quality. Could he come from some expensive city? Those will fetch a good price."

The boy took a deep breath, and everyone thought he was going to plead for mercy, but to their surprise...

"Surrender! Just tell me where the village is!" the young man, holding his sword, said.

"Kid, I don't think you're in a position to demand anything. Just die. You lost," said the barbarian he had spoken to earlier.

Raising his left hand, the boy pointed at the child.

"Cover his eyes."

Everyone fell silent, but within a few seconds, they laughed at the boy's suggestion.

"What an idiot."

"Why should we take orders from you?"

"Let's kill him. He's an idiot."

Breaking formation, one of the barbarians attempted to attack the boy from behind, but with surprising speed, the boy shattered his weapon with the impact.

Right... I can break their weapons if I apply enough force in my attacks, the boy thought as he prepared to attack the others.

Everyone was impressed, but assuming that the boy had used all his strength in that attack, they all went to attack him at once.

His attacks had to be fast and precise. He skillfully dodged the attacks aimed at his body and then swung his sword forcefully to shatter each of their weapons.

When he broke the second one, they considered it luck.

Maybe their weapons were old, and that's why they were breaking!

Then he shattered a third weapon.

Could it be that his sword was too hard?

After that, he went for the fourth weapon... the fifth, and when he was going for the sixth...

Was his sword unbreakable!? Several of the barbarians thought as they watched the fight from a distance, enraged since they were left without weapons.

Only one-eighth weapon remained, along with the archers who had run out of arrows.

The boy looked tired, but he was stronger than any beast they had fought so far!

How was he able to destroy their weapons with such ease? It was as if he was breaking cookies into small pieces!

"Will you surrender?"

In this dangerous environment, there were also hidden monsters. If he were to break all their weapons, they would be defenseless, at the mercy of chance.

Under normal circumstances, he would have easily killed them all or left them weaponless without any remorse, but that child...

Every time he saw him, it reopened a painful wound from the past.

Right now, he had to focus on finding his sister!

The barbarian he had spoken to initially sighed.

"You're a strange one."

"Where is the village?"

Hearing this question now held a different weight, as the barbarian was aware of the power possessed by the young man.

He could have killed them all, but he chose not to.

The others around, seemingly unable to comprehend this, insulted the boy who now stood still, waiting for the response from what appeared to be their leader.

Putting his axe on his back, the barbarian began to explain the location of the village the boy was searching for.

Within a few seconds, the boy retreated and continued on his way, following the instructions he had been given.

The sword observed all of this silently.

Only after several hours did the candidate realize something.

He had been lied to.

Seeing the candidate's face filled with helplessness, the sword began to speak to him.

"Do you see? If you had at least killed several of them, the probability of them telling you the truth would have increased. You could have even brought one of them, carrying them on your back, to see if they really hadn't lied to you!"

His sword tried to teach him a lesson, but the boy's face had a lost look.

He had been through this so many times.

He was tired.

His sword always gave him advice, but sometimes it was just annoying.

He had thought this time would be different.

5 years.

He had been unsuccessful in finding his little sister for 5 years, and it seemed that with each passing day, his hopes of finding her faded away.

Was she even alive?

It was 4 years ago when he found out that his sister might be in this place that seemed abandoned by God's hand, but...

What if that information was false?

"Eleonora... Do you think my sister is still alive?"

Eleonora was the name he had given to his sword.

Eleonora thought for several seconds and replied: "Of course. She is my candidate's sister after all."

"You said the same about my mother... and she's dead."

"I told you how to prolong her life! I didn't expect her to be killed while... you weren't around."

"The same thing happened with my friends."

"They... brought their own deaths upon themselves."

"What if I have no one left?"

"You have me."

This response made Eleonora's candidate let out a small laugh.

Was he really going to spend the rest of his days with a weapon that only killed people?

He still remembered the faces of several people he had killed. It was horrifying to kill, and he didn't enjoy it, but in this world, almost everything ended in a fight.

Why couldn't he have a peaceful life?

"Eleonora... How old am I?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Just answer."

Eleonora didn't understand the reason for this request, but since it was her candidate's plea, she began to calculate the time they had been together.

"145 years, although it's an approximation. It could be more."

Eleonora was good with the notion of time. She even felt proud of it at times. Among her sisters, she was the best in that aspect.

While Eleonora felt content for successfully fulfilling her candidate's request, he, on the other hand...

Felt empty.

He had already lived for too long, yet his body still appeared as young as it was when he was young.

"How long... did candidates used to live, Eleonora?"

"As long as you don't die, you'll be fine."

"Eleonora... How long will I live?"

"It's difficult to answer that question..."

If Eleonora spoke those words, there were two possibilities:

Either the time was excessively long.

Or it was unknown to her.

Could he endure another year under these conditions?

Hi! This story is being rewritten starting today, and there will be a daily chapter until the end of the week. See you tomorrow!