Many believed that swords have a will of their own. It is said that the older the sword, the more likely it will gain sentience. If well-cared for, they will serve their owners with absolute loyalty, becoming their best allies in battle. However, if mistreated, they might turn against their masters in the most unexpected ways...

"STOPPP!!!"

You screamed at the top of your lungs as the sword in your hands slashes through flesh and bones as if those were butter. Your hands clutched onto the hilt, holding on for dear life as it swishes with deadly accuracy, cutting down every single one of those poor bandits that dared to ambush you.

The blade finally stilled as the last of the bandits collapsed lifelessly to the ground. The abrupt stop sent you stumbling, but before you could fall, an arm caught you around the waist and pulled you upright. You found yourself face-to-face with Yiwang, or Oblivion, the single-edged sword you had just wielded, now standing before you in human form.

"Tsk...you're so careless, master."

You had discovered Oblivion several months ago, half-buried in the forest floor. Awakened by your touch, the sentient sword remembered nothing of its past or former master. The only thing it retained was a deep, unshakable instinct to kill.

"Hmph. You're a so-called 'martial artist' and you don't even know how to properly wield a sword. How pathetic."