Twenty-four hours felt like an eternity.
Tadano tried to train, but his mind wasn't in it. Tried to study maps, but the words blurred together. Even Vivi's attempts at conversation fell flat as he kept returning to the same question: What if everything he believed about himself was wrong?
Dan had disappeared into the analysis lab, emerging only once for food before vanishing again. Alfred remained tight-lipped, refusing to discuss anything until "Master Dan completes his research."
Finally, as the twenty-fourth hour approached, Alfred summoned them to the operations room.
Dan was already there, looking exhausted. His green hair was disheveled, his eyes rimmed with the kind of fatigue that came from extended focus. But there was excitement in his expression too. The kind of excitement that came from discovering something impossible.
"Sit," Dan said, gesturing to chairs. His usual playfulness was gone, replaced by serious intensity.
Tadano and Vivi sat. Alfred stood by the holographic display, his optical sensors dimmed in what might have been concern.
"Okay," Dan began, pulling up a complex diagram that looked like a cross between a medical scan and a magical analysis chart. "So. I was right. Tadano, you're not magicless. You never were."
Tadano's heart hammered in his chest. "Then what—"
"You have Cursed Arts." Dan said it like a pronouncement. A verdict. "One of the rarest phenomena in the known universe. So rare that most people think they're legends. Myths from before the Dark invasion."
"What are they?" Vivi asked quietly.
Dan pulled up a new display—historical texts, ancient diagrams, fragments of knowledge. "Cursed Arts aren't magic. That's the critical distinction. Magic is an inborn ability—you're born with fire manipulation, earth control, whatever. You train it, refine it, but the foundation is there from birth."
He highlighted a different section. "Cursed Arts are different. They're skill. Pure, refined, taken to such an extreme that it transcends human limitation and becomes supernatural. It's what happens when someone dedicates themselves so completely to a single discipline that they break through the ceiling of what should be possible."
"I don't understand," Tadano said. "I'm good with a sword, yes, but—"
"You're not good with a sword, Tadano. You're beyond good." Dan pulled up footage from their sparring matches. "Look. Here. This moment—you parried my laser sword with steel. My blade cuts through reinforced armor like paper. It should have sheared straight through your weapon."
He zoomed in on the point of contact. "But it didn't. Your sword didn't even dent. I thought it was luck the first time. Maybe a perfect angle, perfect timing. But it kept happening. Match after match, your blade stood up to mine like it was made of something stronger than steel."
Dan turned to face Tadano directly. "That's not the sword. That's you. Your Cursed Arts. The weapon you hold becomes... more. Unbreakable, as long as it's in your hands."
Tadano stared at his sword, resting in its sheath beside him. The same practice blade he'd had for years. Nothing special about it—just good steel, well-maintained. But in his hands...
"Regeneration," Dan continued. "That's the first ability I've confirmed. Your sword can't break. Or if it does, it repairs itself instantly. I found microscopic stress fractures in the blade from our fights—damage that should have propagated into catastrophic failure. But the fractures sealed themselves. Like the metal was alive."
He pulled up another scan. "And it's not just passive durability. I detected energy signatures during our fights—minuscule, but present. Your Cursed Arts were actively protecting the blade, reinforcing it at the molecular level every time it faced stress."
"That's impossible," Tadano whispered.
"That's Cursed Arts." Dan's smile was tired but genuine. "Skill so refined it rewrites reality. You've spent your entire life training with a sword, Tadano. Every day. Every hour. Perfecting techniques, ingraining movements, becoming one with the blade. You didn't just master swordsmanship—you transcended it."
Vivi leaned forward. "If his sword can regenerate, what else can he do?"
"No idea," Dan admitted. "That's the thing about Cursed Arts—they're unique to each person. Two sword masters might both develop Cursed Arts, but manifest completely different abilities based on how they relate to their weapon, how they fight, what their skill represents to them."
He sat on the edge of the table. "Some historical records mention a Cursed Arts user who could cut through space itself. Another could see the 'thread of fate' connecting cause and effect in battle. One allegedly could exist in multiple places simultaneously during a fight." Dan looked at Tadano. "Your Cursed Arts are yours alone. The regeneration is just the beginning. As you grow stronger, as your skill deepens, new abilities will manifest."
"How do I train it?" Tadano asked. "How do I make it stronger?"
Dan's expression turned serious. "That's the hard part. Cursed Arts don't grow like magic. You can't just practice fire manipulation until you get better. You have to push your fundamental skill to new heights. Master techniques you haven't mastered. Understand principles you don't yet grasp. Each breakthrough is monumental—but getting there is exponentially harder than improving magic."
"He's saying you're going to suffer," Alfred translated helpfully. "A lot."
"But when you do break through," Dan continued, "the growth is massive. Magic users improve gradually, linearly. Cursed Arts users stay plateaued for long periods, then suddenly leap forward in power." His green eyes gleamed. "You're a powerhouse, Tadano. A ticking time bomb of potential. Right now, you're already incredibly dangerous. But if you keep pushing, keep training, keep transcending..."
"I could become unstoppable," Tadano finished quietly.
"Eventually. Maybe. If you survive long enough." Dan stood. "Cursed Arts users are rare because most people don't have the dedication to reach that level of skill. And those who do often die before they can fully manifest their power. It's a brutal path."
Tadano looked at his hands. The calluses from sixteen years of sword training. The scars from practice and combat. He'd always believed he was compensating for a lack of magic, working twice as hard just to keep up with people who had natural advantages.
But what if it had never been compensation? What if it had always been his path—the hard road that led somewhere magic couldn't reach?
"I want to see it," Vivi said suddenly. "Tadano, draw your sword."
He did, the familiar weight settling into his hand. The blade gleamed in the facility's artificial light—plain, unadorned steel. Nothing special to look at.
"Now," Vivi said, flames erupting in her hand, "may I?"
Tadano understood. He held the sword horizontally. "Go ahead."
Vivi's flame concentrated into a point—white-hot, the kind of heat that could melt steel in seconds. She touched it to the blade.
The sword didn't react. No discoloration. No heat stress. The metal remained cool under Tadano's fingers, completely unaffected.
"Impossible," Vivi breathed, pulling her flame back. "That should have melted it instantly."
"Cursed Arts," Dan said with satisfaction. "Reality says steel melts. Tadano's skill says his sword doesn't. Guess which one wins?"
Tadano stared at the blade with new understanding. This was his power. Not borrowed magic. Not inherited ability. His own skill, refined beyond human limits, manifesting as something that transcended the possible.
"There's one more thing," Dan said carefully. "Something you should know about Cursed Arts."
"What?"
"They're called 'Cursed' for a reason." Dan's expression darkened. "Every historical record of Cursed Arts users mentions the same thing—they burn bright and fast. The dedication required to develop these abilities, the constant pushing of limits, the way they throw themselves into danger... Most Cursed Arts users die young. In combat. Pushing too hard. Seeking stronger opponents to test themselves against."
The room fell silent.
"You're saying this power will kill me," Tadano said flatly.
"I'm saying it could. If you're reckless. If you become addicted to the growth, to the strength." Dan met his eyes. "But here's the thing—you're not alone. You've got Vivi. You've got me. We'll keep you grounded. Keep you from throwing your life away chasing the next breakthrough."
"And if I do want to get stronger?" Tadano asked. "If I want to push this power as far as it can go?"
"Then we'll help you do it safely. Controlled challenges instead of suicidal ones. Training that pushes limits without breaking you." Dan's mischievous smile returned slightly. "Besides, having an unstoppable sword master on the team sounds pretty useful for this whole 'revolution' thing we're doing."
Tadano looked at his sword again. Sixteen years of training. Sixteen years of being told he was broken, magicless, limited. And all that time, he'd been developing something rarer and more dangerous than any magic.
Cursed Arts.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Then let's do it. Let's see how far this power can go."
Vivi grinned. "That's my brother. Always taking the hard path."
"Someone has to balance out your reckless fire magic," Tadano replied.
"Says the guy with literal cursed power."
"Fair point."
Dan clapped his hands together. "Excellent! So we've got a fire mage, a tech mage, and a cursed arts swordsman. We're like a really weird, really dangerous adventuring party." He pulled up new displays. "Now, let's talk about actual training regimens. If we're going to turn Tadano into an unstoppable force of nature, we need to—"
"Master Dan," Alfred interrupted. "Incoming alert. Multiple signals approaching the facility perimeter."
The playful atmosphere evaporated instantly. Dan's hands flew to the control console, pulling up external sensors. "How many?"
"Six heat signatures. Moving in coordinated pattern. All armed."
"Dark soldiers?" Vivi asked, flames already sparking.
"Worse." Dan's face had gone pale. "Bounty hunters. Professional ones, judging by their gear signatures. Someone must have tracked us from Millbrook."
Tadano's hand went to his sword—his cursed, unbreakable sword—and felt the weapon respond to his intent. Ready. Eager, even.
"How long until they reach us?" he asked, voice calm despite the adrenaline flooding his system.
"Ten minutes. Maybe less." Dan was already moving, hands glowing green as he interfaced with the facility's systems. "They're coming from multiple angles. Smart. Professional."
"Can we hide?" Vivi asked.
"The illusion boulder will stop casual detection, but these hunters have serious scanning equipment. If they're specifically looking for a hidden base, they'll find us." Dan cursed. "We're going to have to fight."
Tadano drew his sword fully, feeling the weight of it—familiar but also new now that he understood what it represented. Not just a weapon. An extension of his will. His skill made manifest.
"Then we fight," he said. "But Dan—you said Cursed Arts users often die young in combat."
"I did."
Tadano smiled grimly. "Let's make sure today isn't that day."
Six bounty hunters. Three teenagers. One hidden base about to become a battlefield.
The hunt had found them.
Time to show the hunters what it meant to corner a revolution.