It was a short walk south to their destination. Gust quickly recognized the small, square cabin as the place he saw both Christos and Ephraim on his first night. The two of them spoke of sending Gust inside, just to see whether he would survive.

Gust’s survival wasn’t important, however. They made that clear. Instead, they were interested in a sword, and anything else they might find which belonged to his father. Gust didn’t plan on simply giving his father’s treasures away, so he knew he had to be careful.

The two elders arrived just a few steps before Gust and turned to face him. One face friendly, the other deadly serious. They had stopped several yards away from the entrance and kept glancing in its direction as if the house might attack at any moment.

He was about to ask, ‘what are we doing here?’ but Gust thought better of it. Deep down, he was sure he already knew.

As Ephraim opened his mouth, Christos barked, “Stand at the ready when attending your superiors! That means hands clasped by your waist and eyes down.”

With gritted teeth, Gust did as he was told.

Ephraim cleared his throat and waved a hand toward the cabin. “Does this place feel strange or familiar to you?”

Gust knew his father had lived here, and he felt drawn to it in a way, but he shook his head. “No, not at all.”

“It was the Swordsman’s home, for the short time he was with us. The man left a defensive aura behind, however, which has prevented us from entering for these past few decades. We suspect your coin is the key. Take a few steps closer.” Ephraim urged. The two masters stepped aside and watched closely.

Gust did as he was asked, but slowly. He distinctly remembered the phrase, ‘cut to ribbons,’ and his chest felt tighter with every inch he advanced. When he didn’t feel or sense anything, he just shrugged and peeked back.

Ephraim was poised with one hand under his chin. “Good so far. Do you think we should wait until he reaches the second stage? Christos?” He said the man’s name after he didn’t react, then looked over at him.

The elder’s face was a deep red and held a scowl that looked chiseled into his features. He abruptly shook his head. “Let’s see how far he can go.” There was a bitterness in his tone and Gust knew this man wanted the worst to happen.

With an amused shrug that made his braided beard bounce, Ephraim waved Gust on. “Why don’t you step inside?”

Gust paused and looked back at the two elders studying him. One angry, commanding him to keep going, the other friendly, almost sounding as if he were inviting Gust in. Neither cared about his safety. Gust had no illusions there, but he couldn’t understand Christos’s anger. Gust didn’t think he’d done anything offensive, but he didn’t think that before either.

Gust noticed that the two Masters hadn’t moved any closer since they arrived. Even their postures subtly leaned away from the cabin. Gust took another step and saw Christos’s teeth clench tighter, Ephraim’s eyes open wider.

The aura didn’t just prevent them from entering, it attacked anyone who tried. Everything about the conversation Gust overheard finally made sense.

This home was deadly, but it was also abandoned. His father had been far more powerful than these people, and so they wondered what kind of riches or artifacts he left behind. Gust resisted a wry smile as he thought of the years Christos and Ephraim spent sitting outside this building, hoping that they could get inside, but injuring themselves whenever they tried.

They couldn’t match Seth Perry, nor Saith Zakir. Whatever his father’s name was, Gust felt proud in that moment.

Not sure what else to do, Gust walked up to the door and pushed it open. When he turned to look back at the men, he almost laughed.

Ephraim’s jaw had dropped. His eyes were wide as if they were trying to take in every little detail. He nodded slightly and Gust got the idea that the man wanted him to step inside.

Christos’s teeth were bared slightly and his scowl even deeper than before. His eyes displayed what Gust thought could only be… fear.

But he shook that thought off quickly. These men could demolish houses with their hands, what would they have to fear from out there?

When Gust pulled open the door, a thin layer of mist was revealed, blocking the inside from view. Not from his view, but from everyone else’s.

Both elders tried to penetrate the mist with their considerable mana senses. Other than the Matriarch, there was no one within a hundred miles that could match them.

Still, both failed. The backlash sent sharp pain through their skulls and threw their cultivation into chaos. Both men fought desperately to calm their racing meridians and return to their controlled cycling. For fear of their own safety, they stayed where they stood and waited for Gust to emerge.

When he stepped inside, Gust didn’t notice the veil that hid him. To his eyes, the elders suddenly looked shocked and frustrated as they started muttering to each other in low voices. He did feel a strange pull that was like a pulsing awareness urging him upwards, though.

Getting more confused by the second, Gust looked around. It was a simple home with few more amenities than his own. It was larger, had a small kitchen and bathroom, a bookcase. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his eyes, so he continued up to the smaller, second floor.

As soon as he looked into the room, his eyes were drawn as if by a magnetic force toward the massive sword leaning against the wall. Even to Gust’s untrained eyes and senses, the weapon appeared to emit a strange aura. It was like the wavy lines that appeared in the air on hot days. Light bent around this sword, and it drew Gust closer.

From tip to hilt, it was at least a foot taller than he was, with a dark black blade that was as wide as Gust’s torso and as thick as his arms. Shadowy, black streaks resembling lightning ran down its length as if they had been folded into the metal.

A smile crept onto Gust’s face as he recalled this sword’s name. “Subtle Blade?” he mused. “The thing’s as big as my house.”

As incredible as the blade was, Gust didn’t get any sense of danger from it. It was just a sword leaning against a wall, after all. How dangerous could it be?

After everything Gust had seen and heard, he expected his father’s rooms to be filled with magical treasures or long-lost spell books, piles of mana gems or a portal to yet another world.

When all he found was that sword, he felt oddly disappointed.

Sighing, Gust tried to figure out how he would even lift the damn thing. It looked like the kind of sword a cosplayer might use, but this one was sure as hell not made out of Styrofoam.

Gust reached out and ran his fingers up the blade. It was slick as if wet with a thick substance, but his fingers came away clean.

Then he closed his hand around the hilt and the strange pull he’d been feeling grew a thousand fold. His hand suddenly pushed through and disappeared, as if the sword were only an illusion, and Gust tumbled toward the flat of the blade.

And right into it.

Gust passed through the surface of the blade as if it were a calm ocean, then abruptly changed directions and fell onto his back with a hard thump.

“Who are you?” A furious voice asked before he even opened his eyes.

Gust coughed and sat up, finding himself in the middle of a vast room that he assumed was a library. There were countless shelves filled with books, pedestals with objects hidden behind panes of glass, an ornate chandelier, and several doors leading out to yet more rooms. The only wall that wasn’t covered in books held a huge window that stretched from wall to wall. On the other side, a storm raged in an endless abyss and rain pelted the glass.

A thin blade appeared just beneath Gust’s chin. “I won’t ask again. Who are you?”

Gust started turning his head to see the man whose fierce voice had him worried for his life, but the blade pressed slightly deeper into his skin; just enough to draw blood.

“Achh, I’m Gust! Augustus Perry!” He spread his hands out in front of himself to show he wasn’t armed. “Please don’t kill me, I don’t even know where I am!”

The sword’s tip remained pressed into the flesh by Gust’s artery, but the man slowly walked around into the front of Gust’s view.

He looked… familiar, but it was several seconds before Gust could place the features. The grey eyes were the same, but sharper. His body was the right shape, hair the right style, but he seemed fuller than Gust remembered. There was a fierceness in his expression and a power in his stance that was entirely new. One look told him that this couldn’t possible be who he thought it was. And yet…

“Da…” Gust caught himself and realized this man didn’t recognize him. “Saith?” he whispered.