Chapter 12: Phantom Mode
They stood frozen in their tracks, entirely confused about what had just happened right in front of them. None of them had seen a weapon move, and none of them understood how a level-three porter could have possibly defended himself against Bort’s hardened attack, let alone sever his arm in the blink of an eye.
The remaining party members subconsciously moved away from Leon, their feet shuffling backward against the dirt in sudden, defensive panic.
All of them rapidly drew their weapons from their inventories.
Leon simply stood there, completely unbothered by the weapons pointing in his direction. A slight, mocking smirk finally broke across his face, replacing the fearful mask he had worn just a moment ago.
His fists were firmly clenched and positioned forward, his posture aligned exactly like he was holding something like a heavy sword. But to their bewildered eyes, his hand was entirely empty, gripping nothing but the open air.
After staring intently for a long while, trying to make sense of the invisible threat that had just maimed his warrior, Orat noticed a faint, strange smoke swirling delicately around Leon’s right hand.
It was quite long, stretching out several feet into the space between them, and it flowed downwards smoothly like a stream of dark, heavy mist trailing toward the grass.
Orat’s eyes widened to their absolute limits as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He pointed a trembling finger forward and stammered, his previous confidence completely shattered.
"W-what..." Orat choked out, his voice cracking with rising dread. "What the hell is that?"
Leon clicked his tongue with a cold, dismissive sigh, shifting his stance. He raised his arms and pointed the smoky, invisible sword directly at Orat’s throat, the subtle movement causing the mist to ripple through the air.
"You’re right," Leon said, his tone flat and icy as he met the captain’s terrified gaze. "I did get something from the dungeon. If you really want it... try taking it away from me first."
As he spoke, he briefly glanced to the side, looking at the glowing system tabs floating silently before him in the air.
[Name: Holy Sword(Excalibur)]
[Grade: Legendary]
[Description: The sword of King Arthur Pendragon, blessed by three goddesses(fire, light, and lightning), and was used to vanquish the demons terrorizing his kingdom. A holy sword that only chooses those of pure heart and spirit.]
[When equipped, STR: +1200, AGL: +1500, VIT: +2500, MANA: +3000, END: +1000]
[Modes: Normal, Phantom(active)]
[Note: when in phantom mode, all effects and skills power level will be halved]
[Skills: Crescent Slash(A-rank), Tornado Fury(S-rank), Radiant Ascension(SS-rank), Holy Severance(SS-rank), ???(SSS-rank)]
[Note: You haven’t been fully accepted by the sword. Earn the full acknowledgment of Excalibur, and unlock its full power.]
Looking at the detailed description of the sword alone, one could easily tell it wasn’t an ordinary weapon.
The sheer magnitude of the stat boosts and the high-ranking skills made it fully worthy of its legendary grade, a relic capable of turning a level-three porter into a powerhouse.
The reason Orat and his terrified party members could only see a barely viable smoke instead of the magnificent golden blade of the sword, was because it was currently in phantom mode.
The weapon was actively hiding its true majesty, keeping its immense power masked beneath the swirling mist as Leon prepared to finish the fight.
He looked at the system window floating in his vision, his mind wandering for a split second despite the tense standoff.
He thought to himself, ’I still don’t get what that note below means... earn the acknowledg—’
His thoughts were abruptly cut out by Orat, who shattered the silence with a loud, frantic shout that echoed through the trees.
"So I was right?!" Orat yelled, his voice a chaotic mix of realization and manic excitement. "You did get a treasure from the dungeon... and from the looks of it.... A very good one..."
As the captain spoke, his eyes shone with a sickening amount of greed and envy as he looked at Leon. The fear that had gripped him just a moment ago was rapidly being replaced by an overwhelming desire to possess whatever power the trash porter was holding.
Since he couldn’t properly see the sword due to the stealth effect of the phantom mode, he naturally assumed that the light smoke itself was the real, final form of the sword.
He had no idea that a legendary weapon was resting in Leon’s grip, completely hidden from his view.
Orat stared intently at the swirling mist, his mind racing as he evaluated the situation. He thought to himself, ’what kind of treasure is that... a skill... or a weapon? Either way, it’s sure to be at least Rare-grade!’
To a player of Orat’s level, a Rare-grade item was a massive fortune.
Finding a rare-grade weapon in a low rank dungeon like a D-rank zone was a very rare occurrence indeed, but it certainly wasn’t entirely impossible if a party happened to get exceptionally lucky with the final drops.
A cruel, confident smile slowly crept back onto Orat’s face as he re-evaluated the numbers on his side. He looked at Leon, his posture relaxing as he tried to regain control of the confrontation.
"You think you have the upper hand here?" Orat asked, his tone dripping with mock pity. "Let’s be reasonable. Just hand over the smoke sword right now, and I’ll be generous enough to let you leave here alive."
Leon did not waver under the demand. He simply stood his ground, a calm and steady expression on his face as he shook his head slowly.
"No," Leon said, his voice completely flat and devoid of any fear. "Why would I do that?"
Orat gnashed his teeth in sudden fury, the rejection instantly fueling his anger as his face contorted with rage.
"Ohh really?" Orat hissed, his fingers tightening painfully around the hilt of his own weapon. "You think you actually have a choice in this matter? Look around you, there are six of us left uninjured, and only one of you... think you can take down all of us by yourself?"
