Centuries ago, when kingdoms were young and heroes shaped history with their steel, two twin swords were born in the celestial forge of the smith god Volgrimm: Gram, the legendary sword, and Graham, her younger sister.
Gram was forged with the purpose of destroying tyrants and protecting the innocent, a blade bathed in the light of the gods, with the power to cut even the will of evil. Bards praised her in songs, kings sought her, heroes died to wield her.
Graham... was different.
No one knows what went wrong in the forge. Perhaps a speck of darkness fell into the divine alloy, or perhaps Volgrimm was drunk that day. But when Graham was first unsheathed, instead of radiating power and nobility, she began to talk... too much.
"AT LAST! A LIFE OF GLORY AND VICTORY AWAITS ME! HERO, GUIDE MY BLADE TOWARDS DESTINY!"
"Oh, by the goddess, the sword is screaming..." said her first owner, pushing her away in disgust.
Gram was given to a brave prince.
Graham was sold to a traveling merchant.
Gram was used to defeat dragons.
Graham was used to chop firewood.
Gram forged empires.
Graham... was pawned for a tavern debt.
But Graham didn't lose hope. Her will burned like the black steel of her blade, and although heroes rejected her for being "too intense," she swore that one day she would be wielded by someone worthy.
Time passed. Whispers of a cursed sword spread through the realms. "Whoever wields it will hear its voice in their dreams. And in their bath. And when they try to sleep. And when they want silence."
Graham was sealed in a dark chamber so no one would find her.
But the chamber was plundered.
Graham was thrown to the bottom of an enchanted lake, condemned to sleep in the gloom of the eternal waters.
But a fisherman pulled her out and resold her, tired of listening to her.
Graham was forgotten, again and again, betrayed by fate, until... one day...
She ended up in a gacha machine.
And so, a cursed relic, with a past more glorious than that of many kingdoms, became a fairground prize, spun like a simple toy of chance.
But her spirit burned. Her thirst for vengeance against destiny still lived. And then... Necky arrived.
"AT LAST! A WORTHY HAND WIELDS ME!"
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Necky replied indifferently. "Can you cut bread?"
The tragedy of Graham... continued.