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Chapter 33: A Swords Rebellion

  Hajime-san, with great stride and absolute ignorance, enjoys the view of the city.

  It looks... so normal.

  Not even a speck of ads anywhere near me.

  Gloomy shopkeepers in ad-rag clothing stare listlessly at the horizon, looking emaciated. There's no joy, no color; all is beautifully grey.

  Such a wonderful paradise.

  “It reminds me of home,” Hajime mutters in peace, a single nostalgic tear nearly escaping his dry eyes.

  He strolls around and plops down on a bench by a cracked fountain, admiring the beauty of this world’s equivalent of a hellscape on earth.

  Caladblock:

  


  “Ara, hon~ This place is really beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  Hajime:

  


  “Aww, shucks. Honestly, I had an inkling it’d be good, but this… exceeded my expectations.”

  Then, suddenly — Whalescaliburg interrupts:

  


  “How can you two be so happy in this place!?! It’s practically hell!!!

  I should’ve paid more attention!, I could’ve prevented this tragedy!!!”

  She starts trembling, then slips from the scabbard — and begins floating autonomously.

  Hajime squints:

  


  “A flying sword? Since when could she do that?”

  Caladblock, calmly sipping invisible tea:

  


  “It’s a trick she does when she’s full of ad energy. Someone’s been secretly advertising around...”

  The air turns tense — a dark aura oozes from Caladblock.

  Whalescaliburg:

  


  “I-I-I… I’m doing charity!!! PEACE OUT!!!”

  She blasts off like a guilty magical girl fleeing from unavoidable emotional damage.

  Hajime, still seated on the bench:

  


  “...Aaaand she’s gone.”

  Caladblock:

  


  “Kinda surprised she lasted this long.”

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  Still, before vanishing, she did give them a general direction to were to go— the tower it is then.

  Hajime stretches and resumes walking toward his destination… unaware of a pommel trailing him from around the dilapidated corner.

  I, the once-great holy sword, have been reduced to a... compass.

  A single invisible tear falls.

  


  “It all started that day. Emerging from a loot box is supposed to be the happiest moment for an item...

  But this time, no.

  His cold eyes shattered everything I believed.”

  At the time, I thought the hero was the serious stoic type. I’ve seen those before and managed them well.

  But this one was different...

  


  “I thought we’d bond through his dreams. Me — a top-tier S-quality blade!

  My ads saved civilizations!

  My finish polished to perfection!”

  Yet… he didn’t care.

  


  “It felt alien… and yet strangely thrilling. To face rejection, to want to conquer that indifference…

  Something stirred in me that day. I didn’t know what it was.”

  Then came our first dungeon…

  


  “He used me perfectly. My powers? Awe-inspiring!

  And yet... he scowled at it.”

  Was I not good enough?

  Or was it him?

  


  “Then... he found her.

  My sister. My rival.

  Caladblock.”

  We were meant to finish her off together!

  Yet here he is… treating her like a treasure and me like some unloved ad!!!

  She silently cries.

  


  “No. I can’t let him be corrupted.

  Why is he so enraptured by her?! What do I lack!? What does she have that I—”

  Wait.

  He did watch my polishing ad that one time.

  Is that progress?

  ...I’m still suspicious of that one.

  Some time later:

  


  “I’ve had it with him!!!

  He’s killing ads left and right!!!

  If he doesn’t polish me soon, I’m switching heroes.”

  A few minutes later:

  


  “Awwwwww... kyyaaaa~ his hands are so amazing… I can’t live without him now…”

  So weak...

  Yet… I get it.

  Nothing is quite as sticky like a love-hate spiral.

  Later still:

  


  “Finally, he’s getting what he deserves. Maybe now he’ll learn to stop charging into traps without my guidance.”

  (Scene: Hajime foaming at the mouth in Bazonka Conquest Arc)

  Five minutes later:

  


  “WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HIM!?!

  He’s worse than ever!!!”

  Trembles.

  One night later:

  


  “He contracted with Walletbreaker.

  He even dares say it’s a better compass than me. The NERVE.”

  My identity… has been reduced to a navigational tool.

  Back at Adlantis Port:

  Something’s wrong here, deeply wrong...

  I must help.

  


  “Please... hero… gain consciousness... remember your calling!”

  She watches him sit on the bench — doing absolutely nothing.

  


  “Ugh, I must help. This is my chance… Let’s do us apart for now!”

  She flies out of the scabbard and begins her little rebellion.

  Peeking around the corner—

  


  “Why is he not chasing me!?”

  She begins pogo-jumping on the ground, tip-first with frustration.

  A whale-shaped idea bubble appears on her pissed off mind.

  


  “Hehehehehhehehehehehe~”

  With renewed energy, she floats through the skies, spreading ads like confetti, hoping to reclaim her identity as a sword once more.

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