Chapter 418

Chapter 418: Sword of the Horn King

“Mr. Midi, what do you think of these?” Fortlin asked in an uncertain tone.

As a merchant, he was naturally skilled at reading expressions, and Midi’s face still showed no sign of satisfaction.

Yet Midi couldn’t outright reject the offer again.

After being led upstairs and shown these rare, carefully stored weapons, Fortlin’s sincerity was clear. Further nitpicking would cross from demanding quality into outright provocation.

Midi had come to purchase, not to make enemies. Though doubts lingered, he kept them to himself.

Perhaps I should pick one of these three swords?

Midi silently weighed his options.

If even Mososbury City’s top weapon shop fell short, others would fare worse. Rather than waste time hunting elsewhere, deciding here made sense.

Another option was abandoning two-handed greatswords for axes or hammers—those might offer the weight he needed.

As Midi deliberated, Fortlin cleared his throat. “Mr. Midi, there’s another sword that might meet your weight requirements.”

The gray dwarf felt uneasy. The human’s dissatisfaction was obvious yet unspoken.

But as owner of Mososbury City’s premier “Dragon Spear” weapon shop, Fortlin’s pride demanded action. Letting a customer choose unsuitable gear for the shop’s reputation? Unthinkable. How could he face future clients?

Gritting his teeth, Fortlin gambled again.

“Another sword?” Midi glanced at him, surprised.

“Yes.” Fortlin sighed, meeting Midi’s gaze. “But I’ll warn you—it’s a damaged greatsword with unclear origins. Only its weight fits your needs. Don’t accuse ‘Dragon Spear’ of deception.”

Essentially, Fortlin refused responsibility for its quality.

This intrigued Midi. “Naturally. The final decision remains mine.”

“Very well. Bring it out!” The gray dwarf gestured.

Four burly clerks lugged a massive two-handed sword from the second-floor storage.

True to Fortlin’s words, the greatsword was battered. Its surface bore numerous gashes and rust-like corrosion patches. The blade’s edge had degraded into jagged teeth—a fatal flaw worse than mere dullness. It appeared used against impossibly hard materials or mishandled by an unskilled master.

“This was found in a dragon fortress,” Fortlin explained.

Dark Dragon City stood as the Shaded Realm’s greatest heritage. Beyond it lay dimensional ruins steeped in the Black Dragon’s aura—fragments believed to have once shared the same small realm as the city before their separation. These ruins earned the name “dragon fortresses.”

“Decades ago, Mososbury’s major families launched a grand expedition.” Fortlin continued. “They retrieved this massive thing, thinking it valuable since no blade could damage it. They hauled it here to ‘Dragon Spear’ for repairs.”

“Which failed?” Midi guessed, eyeing the sword’s condition.

“Yes! It couldn’t be repaired at all!” Fortlin shrugged, frustration clear on his face. “We tried everything—hiring alchemists, even the chief magician and a black dragon priestess, using magic arrays. But we couldn’t fix the chipped blade, let alone remove the rust-like marks! Eventually…”

“Eventually?” Midi glanced at him curiously.

“It became Dragon Spear’s shame. My predecessor had to buy it as a reminder.” The gray dwarf sighed. “But that year, Dragon Spear weapon shop expanded aggressively and became Mososbury City’s largest.”

“An uplifting tale,” Midi said flatly. “Now, let me examine the sword.”

He stepped forward and gripped the broken greatsword’s hilt with both hands.

A violent surge of power flooded into Midi’s body through his palms!

_What’s this?!_

Shocked, Midi tried to release the hilt, but his hands clung to it as if glued. The raging force from the sword resonated with the Dragon’s Blood in his veins.

“Understood,” Rot’s voice cut in. “Relax—this is harmless.”

“It’s invading me,” Midi retorted coldly, still struggling uselessly against the flow.

“Not invasion—resonance,” Rot explained. “Like how even strong magic resistance can’t block a healing spell. Your Dragon’s Blood _wants_ this power. Resistance is pointless.”

“Is this frenzy… the Black Dragon’s aura?” Midi realized.

“Couldn’t tell by appearance,” Rot admitted. “But through touch, I sense it—this weapon was forged from the twin horns of a Two-Horned Dragon, a Black Dragon descendant.” His tone held faint approval.

Two-Horned Dragons, though sub-dragons, surpassed even Sea of Clouds wyverns in strength due to their dense ancient dragon bloodline. This power concentrated in their unbreakable horns.

A weapon from such horns naturally resonated with Midi’s diluted Dragon’s Blood. The sword’s rich ancient power flowed into him, compensating for his weak bloodline—like water seeking lower ground.

“This is the one,” Midi thought, excitement rising. The sword’s weight met his needs, though the unrepairable cracks worried him.

Rot clarified: “Magic can’t mend those. Only Dragon Breath nourishment and your living Dragon’s Blood can revive the sword’s dormant power. Wield it while channeling your Dragon’s might, and both blade and bloodline will strengthen.”

_Three benefits at once—training, weapon repair, and bloodline enhancement._

Midi’s eyes flashed. Muscles straining, he hefted the massive blade.

“Heavy!” he gasped.

No wonder—forged from Two-Horned Dragon essence, its density dwarfed common steel, rivaling costly secret silver. Even damaged, its strikes would be unstoppable.

The weight stemmed from unfamiliarity, Midi knew. Once he mastered its balance and swing, wielding it fluidly would come naturally.

“Your thoughts, Mr. Midi?” Fortlin asked nervously. “Remember—weight alone doesn’t make a weapon!”

“It suits me,” Midi stated. “Name your price.”

Though surprised, the shrewd merchant quickly quoted a mid-range figure—fair, not discounted.

Midi shook his head. “Too low for my chosen blade. I’ll trade this.” He produced a processed Black Dragon Dust Crystal—a flawed leftover from Galantis’ Dragon Breath Potion, yet valuable enough.

This wasn’t wealth-flaunting. Recent alchemy profits had dwindled after the potion and this crystal. But securing ties with Dragon Spear and its backers, the Death Scorpion family, justified the cost.

“One last thing,” Fortlin added. “The sword lacks a name.”

Midi paused. “Call it the Horn King Greatsword.”