Beneath the torrential black rain, the armored figure slightly twisted its wrist. Fine raindrops struck the blade, producing faint, delicate hums. Whenever the dreamlike crimson blade swept through the air, it left a winding trail of red that lingered like a bleeding wound that refused to fade.

There was no trace of violence or ferocity coming from it, yet simply staring at that pure crimson hue was enough to send a chill through the bones, as though one had been plunged into an icy abyss. 

Deep within the fortress, the corner of Frederick’s eye twitched involuntarily as he held his breath. As the largest arms supplier in the far north, Northwind Workshop produced everything from top-tier Supreme Benevolence control platforms to alchemical bullets and armor. Unlike many other craftsmen, they had never rejected modern firearms, and their development of such weapons had never ceased. 

However, the true foundation on which Northwind Workshop had built its reputation was the forging of weapons. That was precisely why Frederick felt a level of horror and dread far beyond what anyone else could have experienced.

Where the fuck did that thing come from?!

Since ancient times, the fastest, most effective, and most immediate way to increase the power of a weapon had always been something...