Mixarnt casually strolled back to where the sword lay, plucking it from the ground as if it were a common stick. He gave it a little twirl before turning to the towering guardian spirit, his expression utterly unimpressed.
"Hey, guardian spirit," he called out, waving the legendary blade like a child showing off a toy. "How do you use this sword?"
The ancient golem stared down at him, its glowing eyes flickering in what could only be described as pure disbelief. The Sword of Sylphara was a sacred relic, forged by the first elves, bound by blood oaths, and meant to reject any unworthy hands. And yet, this human was holding it like it was nothing.
"That sword does not belong to you," the guardian rumbled, though even its voice carried a hint of uncertainty. "You are not worthy." Internally, the golem was struggling. 'How is he holding it?! Is the sword broken?!'
Mixarnt tilted his head. "I see. So, what does it do?"
The guardian spirit exhaled, if it even needed to breathe, and began its rehearsed speech.
"The Sword of Sylphara is known for slicing through barriers and illusions. But its true power lies in severing the fabric of dimensions themselves. This very ruin exists in a pocket dimension, cut off from the mortal realm. To claim the sword, one must first prove their worth by—" It stopped mid-sentence. Because Mixarnt had already walked away, completely ignoring it.
The golem's eye twitched. "…Are you kidding me?" it muttered.
Meanwhile, Mixarnt trotted back to Aelries, who was still frozen in shock, her mind struggling to process the sheer blasphemy of his actions.
"Hey Aelries," he said cheerfully, "that golem said we can just exit if we cut through dimensions."
Aelries's eye twitched.
"That's impossible," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Even the greatest elven heroes of the past had never unlocked the sword's full potential. The idea that some careless human could just do it was..." Aelries trailed off.
"Huh? What do you mean?" Before she could retort, Mixarnt lazily swung the blade in front of him—
SHIIINK!
A seven-foot tear in reality itself ripped open, shimmering like fractured glass, revealing a sunlit grassland beyond.
There was silence.
The guardian spirit's jaw dropped.
Aelries's soul left her body.
Mixarnt blinked at the rift, then grinned. "Oh. Neat."
"Y-YOU! HOW?!" Aelries sputtered, her voice cracking.
"You just have to put some heart into it," Mixarnt said with a shrug, as if he'd just explained how to boil water. Then, without warning, he grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's go!"
"W-WAIT!" Before she could protest, it was too late. He yanked her forward, and the two tumbled through the dimensional rift, landing in a sprawling, sun-drenched grassland, the ruins nowhere in sight.
Aelries lay on the grass, staring blankly at the sky, her mind utterly broken from the experience.
Mixarnt stretched, yawning. "Well, that was fun. Wanna get lunch?"
Aelries made a noise that was half-scream, half-sob.
Somewhere behind them, the guardian spirit was still standing in the ruins, staring at the spot where reality had been sliced open, questioning its entire existence.
"…What just happened?" It said in disbelief.