I Refused To Be Reincarnated

He reopened his eyes on his soul sea's lush plain.

Instantly, they darted left and right in a frantic search to find the unwanted sword.

Before he could, ominous whispers filled his ears.

"You can enter your soul sea? Interesting."

He shot back through gritted teeth, masking his anger under a genuine tone.

"Where are you? I can show you an incredible place filled with mana. It's nearby. I'm sure you'll like it more than this huble plain."

His eyes narrowed in focus as dread's icy fingers caressed his spine.
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Gaston's cursed eyes locked him in an endless battle that lasted for four years. And it was just a tier-two material. Unlike it, the great sword was a complete item of the seventh tier or higher!

Just the idea of having this ticking time bomb resting in him sent uncontrollable shivers course through his frame. But he wouldn't accept it.

"Easy, boy."

The sword's whispers reverberated again, insidious and... amused?

"I like this nature-filled place very much. But it lacks my realm's ashes and fire."

"Don't you dare burn my soul, cursed bastard! Come, fight me instead!"

Alarmed, his anger burst out of control. He would die anyway if the sword acted on its words. Therefore, he dropped the polite facade.

Stunned, the cleaver fell silent. When did someone ever dare to insult it? People only crawled to its pommels with compliments, hoping to wield it.

A tense silence followed, intensifying the dread taking root in his heart.

Then, a scoff reverberated, shattering it before the lush plain rumbled in the distance.

Tender soil flew toward the blue sky as a profound pit appeared. Green flames danced above it, shaping themselves into a colossal, scalding entity. The air distorted under its heat before melting into a dripping liquid.

"Come here, rude kid!"

Its voice dripping spite, its hand blotted the sky before his eyes as it scratched his frame like a newborn kitty.

Instantly, his mana circuits almost exploded as he flooded them with mana to protect himself.

His frame turned pale white as a layer of frost encased it. Then, in a fierce assault, it expanded towards the menacing flames, trying to freeze them solid. The ambient temperature dropped dangerously, steam billowed in the sky, and the air bubbled facing the clash of opposite forces.

However, the entity just shrugged and dropped him before the pit.

A veil of confusion covered his face. His wooden body didn't turn charred black as he expected, and the deadly confrontation didn't happen.

Meanwhile, the melting air drizzled into the pit, filling it with a green liquid bubbling and releasing wisps of gas.

"Ahh. This familiar feeling."

The entity shuddered. With a touch, it solidified the pit's center onto a circular platform. Its other hand moved next, encasing the blade into it before its fiery body swirled and rushed back to the pulsing engravings.

He gazed with enlarging eyes at the obsidian island, surrounded by a nightmarish sea of death.

"What are you doing?!"

A yelp escaped his lips as he realised his plan was doomed. The death zone formed a natural rampart, promising a swift death to anyone trying to cross it. Retrieve the sword and bring it to the tower? Nonsense!

He clutched his head, shaking it in fury and disbelief. A single exploration, a single time he overestimated himself after ending Gabriel's life, led him to this disastrous situation.

As he cursed himself, the cleaver's whisper shattered his thoughts.

"Rules are simple. Retrieve Nyxara's broken statue pieces. Repair it and bring it to me. In exchange, I'll let you wield me once for free."

He removed his hand from his head, and his sparkling eyes focused on the sword, ignoring its alluring tone.

'Since you are bound to me, you are subjected to the system's rules!'

Despite his dread, their mention reminded him of a detail. He could read its enhancements now and maybe find a weakness!

A second later, amidst the tense silence settling, a window encased in swirling green flames popped before him.

Name: Aamon's Cleaver

Rank: T9 enigmatic Cursed weapon

Description: Forged in the scalding depth of the demon realm's fiercest mountain, this cleaver is the embodiment of fire. Ancient demonic engravings, hundreds of thousands of years old, run through the blade in an awe-inspiring network speaking of craftsmanship beyond conventional tiers.

Abilities:

Burning Cleave: Aamon's cleaver carves burning wounds. The fire cannot be extinguished by mundane means and will burn until only ashes remain.

Unholy Heat: Any creature in a five-meter radius enters the blade's territory. Scalding heat will assault them in a burning continuous flood if they are deemed enemies.

Searing Sundering: One per day, the wielder can channel demonic flame through the cleaver to deliver a world-ending strike. Magical protections and fortifications are as brittle as paper before Aamon's wrath, taking double the damage. However, the wielder will suffer from demonic contamination after using this ability.

In a gradual process, he'll become more prone to violence and cruelty until he transforms into a vile being.

Demonic Consumption: Aamon's cleaver hungers for life force. Upon slaying a creature, its soul is trapped within the weapon's gem, fueling its power. These souls can be released later to conduct dark rituals and increase the wielder's demonic energy permanently.

Unending Fury: The wielder can channel demonic energies through the cleaver, entering a state of Unending Fury for one minute. Consumed by rage, his strength increases by five hundred points. In this state, anything entering his vision is an enemy that must be cleaved in burning halves.

Cursed Weapon: A fragment of Aamon's soul is sealed within the red gem, making the weapon a living being and an avid enjoyer of violence and misery. Its abyssal whisper, promising strength and riches, will resound in the wielder's mind, slowly reshaping its moral values to turn it into an image of its creator.

"..."

The words weren't stuck in his throat. They just failed to form for five minutes.

'What kind of weapon is that?!'

Scalding fingers encroached on his soul in a terror he had never felt before. Everything in this weapon came at a cost. One he had no desire to pay.

Yet, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind.

"Luna! Here, I offer you an amazing weapon. It's much better than the silver fruit tree. Take it."

Instantly, he eyed his interface note, waiting for an answer.

Note: Keep that horrible weapon for yourself. I don't want it!

"..."

Meanwhile, the cleaver trembled on the island, feeling prying eyes scan it as if its materials lay bare.