Greatswords - Arknights: Endfield Database

A weapon commonly seen in the frontiers. No one knows who came up with the basic designs. This particular piece can be easily produced by common industrial machinery.

Though this wasn’t the first time they talked about Bander Scavs, I never really saw one myself.
People can’t really appreciate how difficult life could be out there on Talos-II. Band cities and neighborhoods must work closely together to survive, yet many Banders chose to leave the city behind to live as a nomad or prospector in the frontiers.
I myself wasn’t too surprised by this. These people had lost too much. I interviewed around a dozen refugees last week from a disaster-stricken neighborhood that ran out of food. They had no other choice.
However, there were also some who refused to live in a world of law or were simply sociopaths. These individuals preferred a life filled with constant violence and danger.
Regardless of their intents, no Bander nomads could truly give up the touch of civilization. Also last week, I saw them craft weapons with a scavenged machine tool. I was extremely curious how they managed to get their hands on a working lathe. The answer was simple. They got lucky with a scavenging run through a Bander city dumpsite. These landfills provided for their every need.
Turned out that Bander Scav was a pretty accurate name for these people.
If you’re reading this, tell that little Bander journalist to stop stalking me. People who complain about sleeping bags do not belong in the wildlands. She should get back to her cushy Bander place and stick to being a celebrity tabloid writer.

The latest standalone product from Mieszko Industries. Designs were based on a relic unearthed by the Cabal of Tranquility. The weapon itself was furnished with highly classified technologies, allowing it to cut through almost anything with ease.

I refused to agree with Henry’s ideas.
The RAYTHEAN motto of making practical products is mere escapism. The form of a weapon is a conclusive result of both traditions and experience. Nature has granted us intuitive senses to differentiate between things that work and things that don’t. Elegance and harmony are the unspoken answers for perfection that we arrived at thanks to the countless years of our history and hard-earned experiences.
And I must seize this bid just to prove this point.

I got 9 ways to achieve the level of destruction desired by the client, but none of them should be used by a weapon of this size.
I also heard that Henry decided to test out his flash-burn impulse technology. Laughable. The client specifically requested a sword, not a cannon with a hilt welded to it.

Weapon performance failed to meet the desired specifications.
Henry had a short discussion with me. His team was also out of ideas. I didn’t know what the client might think if they saw this private meeting of weapon designers from 2 competing companies.

Their specifications were impossible. Why did the boss agree to take on this contract?
Even if the dude took the sample prototype to HQ and wanted something with the exact same performance, he would just get another strange artifact unearthed by another bunch of weirdos. We now have more than reputation to worry about. These untested and strange devices pose a threat to our very lives.

I received a flash of inspiration during shower that might just help us meet the minimum specs. I knew bathroom opera would work.
A stack of 4 core armor slabs of armored vehicles? Hmph. My solution could go through that in a single slash. I doubt if RAYTHEAN has a better alternative. Physics is a hard science with hard limits. We may have our differences, but both of us should acknowledge this truth.

The Cabal of Tranquility re-activated the prototype.
It went through … a stack of 16 armor slabs. The Cabal intends to run another test with a stack of 32 once emergency repairs for the ceiling is complete.
They even proposed a diagonal cut from corner to corner.
Maybe I should talk to the boss about this.

A special limited-release weapon from the Witching Hour. The appearance of the greatsword is probably based on an ancient legend. It seems capable of ripping wails of anguish out of the realm of dreams.

The Sarkaz was a mountain. He picked me up with one hand and stomped towards a less conspicuous place in Seš’qa.
The children nearby pointed at us excitedly. They jabbered to their parents about what they saw and probably mistook this altercation as an audience moment featured in the “Parade of the Royal Courts”. I was the “lucky” guy who got to interact with the Kings of the Royal Court.
I was also just as excited when my old man brought me to this flying theme park for the first time.
But now, it felt as though I was about to be executed by this emotionless and silent Sarkaz warrior.
“SORRY! I should’ve bought a ticket!”
“…”
I didn’t know if I would end up like the victim shown in the oldies. I could not remember its title, but the poor lad was completely drained of all his blood by an elegant Vampire to fill his dinner goblet.
“I … I had fun at this place when I was a kid! ‘Errant’s Grand Adventure’ was my favorite attraction! I just wanna relive my childhood again!”
“…”
I wondered if I would end up like the guy shown in super popular “Records of the Kazdelian Wars” manga. The dude was chopped to pieces by a sword as long as the dude himself, thrown into a furnace for fuel, and burned to raging hot ash that scattered to the winds!
“NO! PLEASE! I CONFESS! I pick-pocketed parents distracted by screaming kids when they crowded up at the ticket booths! I’M SORRY!”
“…”
That did not work. Perhaps my real intent was already foretold by a Cyclops who secretly dwelt in this City of Witchcraft. That would be the end of me! To hold on to dear life, I decided to spill everything!
“STAAAAHHHP! I’LL TELL YOU THE TRUTH! I’m completely broke! And I’m a … a damn criminal! I might have schemed to steal a creator-signed ‘Sundered Prince’ from the Witching Hour flagship store just before Seš’qa Open Day ends! But that’s just an evil plot! You caught me right after I stepped into Seš’qa! None of my plot ever happened! I PROMISE! I SWEAR!”
“Here’s the guy. A real squealer this one.”
I crumpled to the floor with a resounding thud. The room was dark. I carefully opened my eyes and found myself upon a soft and well-fashioned sofa instead of the cold, hard floors of a dungeon.
“Welcome back, my brave adventurer.”
A Sarkaz recited the classic line of Errant’s Grand Adventure as she took the seat behind a simple stone table. She was decked out in a fine business suit, leather shoes, and a parade mask.

“Mr. Maxim from Asphalt Roundabout. Sixteen years have passed since you last visited Seš’qa. Nevertheless, we have held on to your prize.”
Wait. I thought the host of the “Errant’s Grand Adventure” was supposed to roleplay as a mysterious diviner witch wearing an ancient courtly dress. Before I could sort out my confusion, a load of bad memories that I had always avoided suddenly surged within me.
I completed the “Errant’s Grand Adventure” and could finally exchange my winnings for the final “Treasure from the Lord of Fiends” — a most intricately crafted toy sword. It was my childhood obsession. But I missed the final window for prize exchange when the bells tolled and signaled the end of the Open Day. My old man tried to comfort me and said we’d visit again when the flying city of Seš’qa returns.
But our days at La Fantoma didn’t last till the return of Seš’qa. My old man told me that we were broke and gotta head to the Asphalt Roundabout to “dodge the collectors”. Of course, I never became a fearless adventurer. Instead, I turned into a petty thief, a dirty smuggler, and a scummy fraud… I only revisited this place because I thought there was a killing to be made.
The Sarkaz then removed the cloth to reveal the prize under it. It sure wasn’t a toy sword that blinked and flickered when you pressed a button. It was an actual “Sundered Prince”! An authentic blade painstakingly fashioned by the witch-crafters! Not only that, the Sarkaz manifested a pen out of thin air and signed the weapon for me.
“Are … are you sure? That prize I missed sixteen years ago… It can’t be a weapon of such immense value!”
“I am quite certain. A weapon of a true adventurer, just as revealed by the divination.”
“A divination…? Could I … beg you to divine another reading for me?”
“I’m listening.”
“Will my life … ever get better?”
The Sarkaz looked at me and said something, but the only sound that filled my ears were the tolling of bells that signaled the end of the Open Day that I had not heard for sixteen long years. When I returned to my senses, my legs once again found solid ground. People crowded around me. Everyone, children and grown-ups of every race, looked into the air and waved their goodbyes at the Seš’qa amidst the erupting fireworks. I felt like a young boy again as I gripped my blade. I hoped that the bells tolled a little later. I wanted a sword that flickered and shone when I pressed a button.
But no. I received something that I wanted and I knew exactly what to do.
My grand adventure was about to begin.

A high-end product of Northmarch Support Hub. This chain cutter was designed with older technology. Though no longer mass produced, the weapon continues to prove its reliability in the field.

Dear Klamath Bob
I received your message. Though I desire to have this discussion in person, my convoy must depart for the Northern Front in 10 hours. It was with some hesitation that I decided to pen this reply. Do be aware that I will have difficulty contacting you via conventional comm devices once the convoy sets off.
I understand your concerns and I’m very well aware of the sadness and disappointment experienced by your team. As your mentor, you must understand that my decision was nothing personal and must cater to the bigger picture. My opinions alone would not sway the strategies of our marketing department. The fact that your technical blueprints earned no small amount of approval is a testament to the outstanding performance of your designs. You should be confident about that.
Just two months ago, I was shocked when engineers from the fringe tech department released a working example of a miniaturized centrifugal Originium generator. It shattered the theoretical limits of energy conversion ratios for such devices and would certainly usher in the next revolutionary change for the very foundations of power generation. Even I would have brushed it off as mere hypothetical fantasy just 12 months ago but the truth proved otherwise. I was trapped in a comfort zone that blinded me from the scientific advancements that was within our reach.
So, don’t let this setback dishearten you or keep you from learning. You are young and your choices are many. Though conventional Originium power generation remains a field with great potential, science and technology are always changing. It is difficult to accept failure, especially after so many years of hard work. But remember that you are an engineer. Do not let emotions affect your objectivity.
Based on my own experiences, there will be a protracted period of time before the new tech becomes fully adopted. Stories from the Age of Terra often describe noisy old engines with abysmal Originium energy conversion ratios. Despite their poor performance, these engines offered advantages that the latest generators could not hope to provide — reliability and ease of maintenance. The world still has a place for the legacy workhorses and it will be long until they are completely phased out.
Regardless of what I’ve said, your product design remains an outstanding work of engineering. I have faith that you and your team will quickly find a new direction.
I look forward to hearing more about your progress in the future.

Your friend and mentor,
Willem Sinclair

A specialized weapon manufactured by Endfield. The flamberge was furnished with interlaced Originium circuitry to enhance essence performance. This setup was inspired by various phenomenon observed on Talos.

She saw it more clearly than anyone else.
Stepping through the gate was a journey that was a tad quicker than she had imagined. Her eyes saw illusions and indescribable colors while her skin felt unreal sensations brushing against it. There were flashes of dizziness, bursts of murmurings, and fragments from the past. These were quickly followed by a bitter cold of winter trailing into something even more frigid. Everything felt so real to her.
She immediately asked everyone around and they gave her different answers. Some said it was over in a blink of an eye. Others panted with exhaustion and claimed that they were trapped in a stasis for days.
She was curious about the things she saw, for curiosity was part of her nature. She spent hours memorizing the patches, lines, and irregular hues of color that covered them. Yet all of them remained ephemeral and meaningless like the whimsical daydreams of spring.
Then she saw a gossamer-like beam and a clear glimpse of the starry skies unhindered by the Barrier.
She witnessed Talos.

Time did not bring sunrise to the polar regions of Talos-II. The huge, new world dominated everyone’s view and it gripped her soul with a power that far exceeded the Arts of the Witch King himself. She could not avert her gaze. She could not have imagined how this natural-occurring astronomical entity enraptured her just as knowledge and wealth had seized her every attention. In fact, she was not sure if this view of the Universe could be classified as a natural phenomenon.
She took her time to inspect Talos. It was a massive yet almost motionless orb veiled in pale blue and decorated with rings that resembled the fringes of petals, like lovely ribbons that she only saw from her aunt’s sewing machine. As she looked on, she realized that the “motionlessness” of Talos was a visual trick it played on her. It moved at an almost imperceivable pace and shimmered ever so gently. She could hear the wind.
However, the motions stopped quickly and Talos became an unmoving giant once more. Her heart raced as irregular explosions of thoughts, memories, and ideas surged through her mind. She remembered handing in her first Arts exam when she was still a girl and the moment when she completed her advanced studies at the Spire. She saw her parents, her mentor, the hand that reached out from the devastated ruins, and the flowing sands in the far distance. The last things she saw as she steadied her gait by the dark coastline were her own face, the skies of Leithanien, and childhood friends who counted the stars with her. All of them wore her own face.
For the first time in her life, she felt the powerful impulse of passionate love. Her heart yearned for Talos and she would do anything to touch the giant.
It was her belief that the giant celestial body was the knot that tied everything together.
And these ties made the Originium flowing within her whisper into a chorus.
That was the day when she stopped changing. She must become a long-lived one, like the world she had hopelessly fallen in love with.

A standard greatsword made by Fort Forgefane. Although very few have mastered this weapon, the weapon is easy to wield and has been the most popular choice amongst raw recruits for many years.

“…I know what you’re thinking, flakies. Why, by Talos, is this old feline so cold and unreasonable? Why would he send fresh meat with barely two weeks of training to kill some buggerloids? BECAUSE I ORDERED IT! The only blightery I wanna hear from your pie holes are “SIR! YES, SIR!” Do you friggin’ UNDERSTAND?!”
“Or do I have to emphasize this once more? I am your drill instructor! I am the smelter and the quencher! My job description has but one line, and that is to hammer this idea into your empty heads Fighting buggerloids isn’t the same as make-believe Saturday afternoon tea with Miss Applecrumbs!”
“I don’t care if you hate me, because sooner or later… you will appreciate my edu —”

“— CUT!”

I got back to my senses and knew I messed up on the same line again.
Director Luther rushed over to my face, lividly. He pointed at my nose and roared
“Mr. Hudson! Did a burdenbeast stomp on your mouth? You have FLOPPED three attempts for this simple line! If you fail to deliver this properly one more time, I want you to instantly REMOVE your majestically clumsy turdmaker OUT OF MY STUDIO!”

……

I returned to the lounge. Dennick, my agent, was frowning. “Lukas, what were you thinking? I thought you’re a top graduate from the New Wrankwood Academy of Performing Arts!”
I remained silent and took out the script that was already filled with my personal notes. I drew a circle around the name “Guy Crerar” — An officer serving the Order of Steel Oath and the character I was supposed to play.
“Guy Crerar is an Oathkeeper known for his incorruptibility and sense of justice. In the prequel of this movie, he’s a benevolent instructor who would stand up for his recruits when they are mistreated, and question his superiors when they give unreasonable orders.”
“But what’s happening here? Guy has turned into a conceited, self-centered jerk who treat recruits as expendables beneath himself, and under-performing youths as sub-human trash…”

“…What are you trying to say?” Dennick did not seem impressed. In fact, he seemed disinterested in my opinions.

I sighed. I tried to convey my ideas as truthfully and formally as I could to the man who once called himself my biggest “fan”.
“I’m trying to say that this script has serious issues with the portrayal of this character. We already have an Iron Banner trilogy. The key character of its sequel shouldn’t be handled in such a crude manner. Guy is also supposed to convey the image of the Oathkeepers in the story. Maybe we shouldn’t —”

“Come on, Lukas. Let’s ease off the sentimentalities already. We’re not studying in drama school anymore.”
Dennick interrupted me out of frustration. He then looked at me with this sour look on his face. A look I knew very well, but never expected him to show it.
“You need a clearer view of this entire thing! This isn’t Acting 101. You’re not in school!
“All that stuff on character portrayal and script quality is NONE of your concern. We have the director, scriptwriters, and producers in charge of that!
“And that stuff about the ‘image of the Oathkeepers’… Don’t you know how many recruits we’re getting them with this series? I don’t see anyone objecting to this!
“Look around you! New Wrankwood doesn’t need an actors who can’t even find his proper role!
“You must sort out this nonsense quickly! And please! Try to deliver that scene perfectly!”

I looked at Dennick. The things he said were irrefutable… He was making plenty of sense.

And I was also fresh out of drama school with hardly any say on the important things.
The UWST city of Triglava was the furthest place I had been to. I only saw Oathkeepers on screen and in posters.
None of the Aggeloi, Northern fortresses, and Oathkeeper spirit had anything to do with me once I take off my costume.
— And wouldn’t that be the truth?

But they told me they found a retired Oathkeeper to check on the accuracy of the costume. It was even made out of the same fabrics of an actual officer’s uniform, and they embellished it with the conspicuous Expeditioner’s Medal.
I could not help but feel something seething deep within me.

And thus I raised my head and calmly faced my first and final agent.
“I’m sorry, Dennick. I suppose you’re right.
“This place probably doesn’t have a proper role for me…
“And this is why I’d no longer fit as the local rendition of Guy Crerar.
“— Take care.”

And with that, I left my agent, the termination agreement, and the fine at the lounge.
Then I left the studio on my own.

……

Two weeks later, having settled all of my affairs and packing my personal belongings, I went to the largest long distance coach station of New Wrankwood and bought a ticket to the north.

— What happened next?
I came to this place and completed an application for enlisting in the Order. After several rounds of testing and training —
I finally earned my place to stand before you, sir.

One of the standard-issue operator weapons manufactured by Endfield Industries. This weapon is designed by Endfield Arsenal Engineer Darhoff. Its designs offer a viable option for those taking part in assault operations.

We believe that a task force composed of 12 operators must include at least 2 to 3 heavy melee weapon specialists. These operators must be extremely competent combatants with great mental fortitude and extensive combat experience. These operators would perform dangerous roles that include assault of hostile positions and strong points. Given the increasing threat posed by the Aggeloi to Endfield facilities, we must establish new training standards, raise the levels of our combat simulation programs, and restructure our field operator teams. The following is a proposal to achieve these objectives…

A standard greatsword developed by Hongshan Swordmancers. The weapon is furnished with a new specialized coating that offers excellent protection, even if the weapon were to be used in extreme and hostile environments.

“Still couldn’t match the test data?”
The research assistant’s head was bowed as he felt his mentor’s judgmental gaze fall heavily upon him.
The gaze was quickly followed by an even heavier sigh.
“Hooo. Ziyuan, help me with my memories. Was it three years ago when I made you the RA to the Xiranite Power Conversion project?”
The RA nodded and gave more details in a low voice.
“Yes. Three years, four months, and eight days.”
“Then what about your senior in the lab next door? And then there’s Mingshu who’s also working on Xiranite. Heard anything about their research progress?”
“Yeah… I did.”
“I’m afraid I got nothing much left to say. Perhaps you can … consider your next steps. I’m still your mentor, so I’ll gladly reserve a recommendation for a project transfer.”

The hour was already late when the RA left the research building. The last classes had ended and he could see groups of young apprentices along the streets.
The RA took the usual way to Fangxing Avenue. He turned at the second corner and took around seven to eight steps before arriving at the tiny noodle stall.
“Braised meat noodles. No scallions.”
The RA took his usual place and ordered his usual noodles. And as usual, the stall owner served the bowl of noodles without a word.
The RA took a bite and frowned. The noodle was too tough, and the meat too greasy.
“The flavors changed… What happened? Did you hire another chef?”
The stall owner glanced and smiled. He responded, a rare occasion at that.
“Boy, everything in this stall, from the noodles to the toppings, are made by me. And I made that bowl from yesterday as well. Perhaps it wasn’t my noodles. It was you who changed… And if you’re no longer interested in the noodles, why bother coming at all?”
The RA remained silent and then shook his head.
“You don’t understand, sir… I spent three years on one thing… I kept at it for three whole years. They may have drew the curtains on it, but I’m not going to miss any step of the process… Plus, the noodles from yesterday were better.”
“Hah. You’re real stubborn, kid, you know that? You just couldn’t give it up, so you tried finding issues with the noodles.”
The RA gave a bitter smile and chose not to continue the argument.
“Maybe I couldn’t give it up, but what could I do…?”
“The other RAs made significant progress in just a few months. They ventured in the dragon’s lair and found its pearl… As for me… I’m still stuck at the same place after slogging at a single project for three years…
“I better switch to another project before this gets any worse.”
The RA did not care if the stall owner understood how research works. He unloaded his pent-up bitterness and complaints that he dared not mention to his mentor or fellow RAs.
The stall owner stopped smiling and looked at him with a serious expression on his face.
“So you want to quit because you couldn’t find the pearl.”
“I…” the RA was speechless and could not respond to the question.
“You look like material scientist… Do you remember how many sets of experimental data you’ve gathered in these three years? How many alternatives you tried? And the number of references you compiled?”
“I think I did … 353 runs, 172 material alternatives, 561 papers — Wait. No. 562, including the latest,” he remembered the figures with some difficulty, but listing them suddenly gave him a sense of relief.
“Impressive. That’s a lot of data right there. I’d say you’ve created quite the treasure.”
“The results might be important, but the lessons learned along the way are just as vital as well…”
The RA was a little taken aback by these words, and exclaimed these words rather thoughtfully
“I’ve been a Tianshi disciple for nearly eight years, but it was your simple words that helped me realize something so simple… Thank you very much, sir.”
The stall owner shook his hands and looked as though he recalled something from the past. His gaze looked into the great distance.
“That’s enough flattery, lad. Nobody likes that here… I just feel bad when I see a fine youth such as yourself think it’s the end of the world, especially when it’s obvious that there are many wonderful years ahead of you…
“My disciples are different. They actually did run into a solid wall. But still they persisted on charging through and carving out their own path…”
A smile suddenly creased across the stall owner’s face, but it quickly disappeared like the hot steaming fumes given off by freshly-served noodles.
“But luck wasn’t on their side… Ten years ago, those cheeky brats had the galls to tell me ‘We’ll submit the graduation theses once we seal that rift, sir.’ None of those blighted little punks ever came back…”

“Ten years ago…? What are you talking about…? Wait, you can’t be that…?”

“I’ll ending the story now… Just some sad, stupid tale from a stupid time.
“Hey, kid! Stop gawking at me and finish your noodles, damn your eyes!
“If the noodles drink in all the soup and goes soggy, you’ll know!”

A special Mieszko Industries weapon with a limited production run. This was the final design of the collaborative project pursued by the arms company and the Knights Major expert Cromwell.

“The Black Knight’s imposing stature and awesome technique let her defeat other contenders without Originium Arts. Her attacks might look like powerful swings performed without much thought, but every strike was aimed at her opponent’s weakness. The Black Knight always had an advantage in a frontal confrontation due to her superior footwork and balance. Several had claimed that this greatsword was not the Black Knight’s favored weapon. There are tales of her defeating over a thousand enemy soldiers with her dual swordbreakers at Kjerag. Those tales would prove my hypothesis.”
“The Blood Knight was even stronger and his tactics were widely studied. Unlike the Black Knight who preferred besting her opponents with a single deadly strike, the Blood Knight wielded Originium Arts to his advantage and manipulated his opponents to attack at a place and time that he desired. He was literally a one-man army who dominated the field.”
“As for the battle records of the Radiant Knight … words alone won’t suffice. There was no question about her impeccable technique but everyone knew she owed her success not to the battle itself. Anyone armed with such levels of conviction could step onto the field with different weapons and tactics and become like the Radiant Knight herself. Of course, such levels of faith and belief would be impossible to learn.”
……
“This Knight… wait. He’s a knight, right? When and where did they make this recording? No … I’m not sure… I can’t recall this one at all. The video is choppy … and it showed all sorts of enemies, but the knight is strong. I don’t know why I have a feeling that his true battlefield should be … in the oceans. Just look behind him… His stance and poise made my heart swell with excitement. When compared to his Arts, his raw power and fury was a symphony of the waves. Yes! The song! What have I been doing all this time? The truth, the links… Oh dear, it’s so bright… I’m thirsty … so thirsty… I need —”

“That’s it?”
“That’s where it ended. I know it’s incomplete, but he suddenly passed out when he reached this line…”
“Is this draft really okay? The man did pass out halfway through his work, you know.”
“You’re overthinking things. This is our mission. Put his hand back on the table and let’s get out of here.”

A strange weapon released by Witching Hour. The blade body is chiseled out of an ordinary-looking block of ice, but its surface is infused with a special form of Originium Arts that made it literally indestructible.

The Nachzehrer crumpled to the ground. His greatsword laid before him.
He roamed the wildlands for days. He thought about those who fell by his sword and the pair of despair-filled eyes that stared at his horns. The Sarkaz was already used to the gaze of hate, the bitter spite against the entity that inevitably ended their lives. The Nachzehrer needed only to devour the haters to soothe his pain.
His legs were swollen and felt so hot that he thought they were melting off. Without knowing it, his spine curled together due to pain of hunger and unending rot. When he took the sword of frost from his fathers, he swore to treat it as dearly as his own life. But now, his only wish was to find an inhabited place and trade his old friend for some clean water and food.
However, the abandoned village had none of those. The Nachzehrer was about to leave when he heard crude, mocking ridicule.

“Oi, Sarkaz. That sword for sale?”
“…Who are you? Mercs or breakers?”
“Hur. Does it matter? If you’re good enough, we’ll buy you too, devil horns.”

The exhausted Nachzehrer did not refuse. He gently clenched his hands into fists and checked his arms for their remaining strengths. “What do you mean by ‘good enough’?”
“See that boulder over there? Cut it in half!”
“Sure. Watch.”
The boulder was large enough that it might take two of him, with arms open wide, to fully embrace it. It seemed to have spent a few years in this village as it was covered with children’s drawings and a few words that were no longer legible. The Nachzehrer studied it for a bit and measured his approach.
The Nachzehrer stood straight, and raised the sword up high with the entirety of his strength. When the dust settled, he was surprised to find a cave right under the boulder.
Pairs of eyes looked back at him from the cave. They flickered with unease and fear. They were far weaker and filled with even more despair than he was. The mob behind the Nachzehrer laughed loudly and approached.
“Hah! That’s more than good enough. You’re ours, devil horns. Got a price? Spit it out.”
“I’m a merc, not a butcher.”

After the momentary silence, the mocking ridicule erupted once more.
“Not a butcher? HAH! This one calls himself a non-butcher! You Sarkaz might have made your fortune, but you’re still in the business of killing. Spare us the sermon, devil freak!”
The mob was right. Mercenary work was never clean. He had killed before, and he had no excuses for what he did.
But the eyes that gazed out from the cave stared hard at his horns. They were so quiet that it began to hurt.
When he walked through the Cosmic Gate over a decade ago, he thought he no longer had to see these eyes again.
“This sword isn’t for sale.”
The Nachzehrer took one deep breath and raised his great weapon into the air.
“This Sarkaz isn’t for sale either.”

……

The exhausted and famished frame of the Nachzehrer continued to trudge into the distance.
Talos-II was not yet at a state where a Sarkaz must sell his weapon.

A quality greatsword manufactured by Hongshan Swordmancers. When compared to other greatswords, this one is lighter but just as deadly.

Not everyone’s heart was mine to touch, but I could read my own like a book.
In this very instant, my heart is filled with nothing but fear. Our science station, the “observatory” we constructed to defeat the boundless Very Large Rift, has been engulfed by the Blight and despair did likewise to my mind. Will the Xiranite succeed? Is the entirety of our efforts completely meaningless? The Æther made us realize how insignificant we are. It will devour Wuling and everything in existence. How are we supposed to oppose this astronomical phenomenon?
……
A canal must be constructed. Although rescue work of victims from the disaster site is top priority right now, this canal is of utmost necessity. It will prevent the aquifers from contamination by the Blight Tide seeping into the soil. But this is ultimately futile. It only delays the inevitable death of everything upon this land.
……
My hands are covered in blisters. Though I’m just a worker at the production floor with zero knowledge on construction, I have been assigned to a building crew… We must fight off the disaster until reinforcements arrive from our HQ.
……
I got a cut in my hand. I unearthed a broken dagger from the canal construction site. How long has it been buried here? A century? By Talos, take a good look at your bleeding hand! To hell with glory and sacrifice! Why am I still alive? Why do I want to be alive? Why should I be alive at all? WHY?
……
Blighted hell. I’ll off myself tomorrow.
……
I chose the night. At the construction site. Good place. Perfect weather, with pouring rain that soaks everything in the friggin’ mud. Losers like us deserve to die and get buried in the mud.
The rain-swollen torrents tore through the last unfinished section of the canal. I spotted a metallic sheen in the freshly exposed mud. I don’t know why I walked over to the glint and scooped out the mud with my bare hands. I unearthed the thing buried beneath — a rusty valve.
That was it.
Ours was an ad-hoc rush job with neither infrastructure map data nor verification. And as chance would have it, we completed the canal that our predecessors failed to finish.
My view of the thoroughly rusted valve transformed at once. It was my father’s will, my mother’s portrait, the paper flowers offered to my grandparents’ grave…
…and me… I saw my reflection in the muddy water.
That was it.
Someone always wanted to survive. And someone always survived.
The heavens and earth are not without boundaries. Fear itself could disintegrate completely.
With that, I stopped thinking about death.
I but extend the facet of survival and persistence, the never-ending cycle that has endured for since time immemorial.

A standard weapon produced by Endfield Industries. Design is provided by the Creative Prototyping Team founded by Senior Arsenal Engineer Opero. The weapon can be furnished with various modules according to the needs of actual battle.

“…We’re leaving. From what Director Qin said, it’s just the usual. R&R aboard Dijiang while we wait for future assignments.
“Everyone wanted to take this opportunity and send you back to Kjersch… But Kuhn told us something you said to him, how you preferred a warmer place away from the foot of a snowy mountain.
“So, we submitted an application to the UWST — They’re more than happy to do something for you. They left you a good spot at this public cemetery… According to the Workers United, you’re a true hero of Valley IV.
“Don’t worry. We’ve sorted out the movie ticket stubs too. We’re going to mail it to that Baker friend as per your instructions.
“He really cares about you. Kept asking us if ‘Theatre12’ started working at a different place. That made me realize that your ‘backup’ plan is being a script supervisor at New Wrankwood… Yeah… That is indeed the type of work you’d like…
“Just look at you. Got it all figured out. Ten movies lined up at the booth, free crispy drumsticks at the canteen for the peeps, flashy new weapon at the Arsenal Engineer…
“But why did you just … you know … charge straight at them without thinking? Sheesh…
“All of the refugees you saved are doing well. We also delivered those supplies for you…
“That mighty explosion you pulled off blew that cluster of buggerloids to bits… The UW crew mates took care of the rest.
“I just wanna say that … your sacrifice really paid off. Rest well, friend. The rest of us will visit every time we pass this place…
“Oh, and we left the greatsword for you… I ran the paperwork and moved it from ‘emergency requisition’ to a proper asset under your name…
“It’s the deal that you always wanted, right? Never knew how you came upon it from that pile of supplies… Maybe that’s what people call Fate.
“And it really stuck around in that explosion… Might as well let it stick around some more with you.
“Gotta say you’re made for each other. Tough as nails … and you took it all.
“I’ll let you keep each other company. Keeps the loneliness out, you see.”