Morning in the goblin camp. Birds chirping, goblins snoring, and me — a knife — lying in a pile of unwashed dishes. Truly, I'm living the dream.
Then, suddenly, footsteps. Not the clumsy kind of goblin stomps I'm used to — these were steady, confident, dramatic. You know, the kind of footsteps you only hear before someone says, "Behold, I am the protagonist."
Out of the trees walked a human adventurer. Cloak fluttering, hair perfectly messy, expression set to "tragic backstory mode."
He looked around the camp, sword drawn. The goblins scattered.
And then his eyes fell on me.
"So… this is the aura I felt," he whispered. "Such pressure… such power…"
Buddy, I'm literally lying next to a moldy potato.
"A sentient blade, sleeping in the dirt," he continued.
"How tragic… how noble."
Pantharion started giggling in my telepathic channel.
"Oh no… he thinks we're cool."
I didn't say anything. I was too busy internally screaming.
The adventurer picked me up slowly, reverently.
"So light… yet I can feel the bloodlust of a thousand battles…"
Bloodlust? Bro, the only thing I've cut this week is vegetables.
[Ding!]Title temporarily changed: "Legendary Cursed Blade (Misunderstood Edition)."Passive aura: Causes nearby mortals to dramatically overestimate you.
Oh. Oh this is beautiful.
"And this pan…" he said, picking up Pantharion.
"A perfect companion to the blade. The Yin and Yang of culinary carnage."
"Finally!" Pantharion shouted into my mind. "Someone gets it!"
"He doesn't get it," I whispered. "He invented it."
"Silence, Knife! We have a reputation to uphold!"
The adventurer strapped us both to his belt and started walking. Apparently, he thought we were "holy relics of the Great Chef King."
I kid you not.
Pantharion whispered excitedly,
"This is it, Pointy! Our destiny! We've ascended from kitchen utensils to divine artifacts!"
"Yeah, and when he realizes we can't slay dragons, we'll be demoted to tableware."
"You always doubt greatness."
"I'm a knife. Doubt is literally part of my edge."
A few hours later, he stopped at a clearing. A group of low-level monsters appeared—slimes, wolves, and one suspiciously large chicken.
The adventurer drew me dramatically.
"Time to test your power, O Cursed Blade!"
I panicked. I didn't have battle skills! Unless he planned to dice them into a salad!
[Emergency System Update]Temporary Combat Mode Unlocked! : "Flash Chop" – deals minimal damage but looks impressive as hell.
"Oh, why not," I sighed. Might as well look cool before reality sets in.
He swung me—a bright blue arc of light shot out and sliced the chicken clean in half.
Silence. Everyone froze. Even I froze.
"What the actual fork was that?" I muttered.
[Critical Hit! You have defeated 'Mutant Chicken Lv. 8'!][Level Up!]
I… leveled up?
I LEVELED UP!
Pantharion gasped.
"Pointy! You've awakened your true power!"
"No, I just performed poultry-slaughter at an existential level."
The adventurer dropped to one knee.
"Forgive me, O Blade of Destiny, for doubting your might."
[Ding!]New Passive Skill: "Misunderstanding Amplification" — increases respect and confusion from humans by 200%.
I am now officially a weapon of mass delusion.
As we journeyed on, I couldn't help feeling…excited.
Sure, I started as a lonely kitchen tool, but now I was being carried by someone who believed in me.
Even if his belief was 100% misplaced.
Maybe this was how legends were born —by accident, misunderstanding, and a little emotional damage.
That night, Pantharion and I rested by the campfire.
"We've come far, my bladed brother."
"From cutting mushrooms to cutting monsters," I said.
"Do you think we'll ever stop pretending to be powerful?"
"Hopefully not," he replied. "Pretending's half the fun."
I could not argue with that.
Under the stars, I reflected. Maybe destiny wasn't about what you were forged for.Maybe it was about who was dumb enough to believe you're legendary.
-----
You know what's scarier than a dragon?
Rumors.
Rumors spread faster than fire, and burn longer than truth.
It started when our "hero"— the overdramatic adventurer— walked into the nearest town, holding me up like some divine relic.
"Behold!" he shouted in the middle of the market."The Legendary Cursed Blade and the Holy Pan of Flames!"
Cue gasps, dramatic pointing, and someone fainting near the fish stall.
I swear, all I wanted was a good polishing cloth, not fame and attention from sweaty blacksmiths.
A crowd formed instantly.
"Is it true they were forged by the God of Cooking?"
"I heard the knife can cut through reality itself!"
"No, no—my cousin's cousin said the pan once defeated a dragon with soup!"
Pantharion was glowing with pride.Literally. His surface heated up from excitement.
"Finally, recognition! The world shall know my name!"
"Yeah," I muttered, "and probably put it on a kitchen catalog."
Then came the Blacksmith Guild.
A burly man with arms thicker than tree trunks stomped over, eyeing us like a treasure hunter.
"You mean to tell me these two are legendary weapons?"
The adventurer puffed out his chest.
"Forged by celestial flames and imbued with culinary divinity!"
"Celestial flames?" I whispered to Pantharion.
"He means a campfire."
"Culinary divinity?"
"We once made soup without giving anyone food poisoning."
The blacksmith leaned closer, inspecting my blade.I felt a chill down my handle.
"Strange metal… faint magical aura… and this shine!"
Buddy, that's just sunlight and low self-esteem.
Then he touched me, and the system pinged.
[Ding!]
New Passive Skill: "Auto-Polish" — you now sparkle automatically when admired.
Oh no.Oh yes.I shimmered like a beauty pageant winner.
Word spread fast.By evening, we had a nickname.
"The Culinary Duo!"
Pantharion wept joyfully.
"At last, our legend begins!"
"Our legend began when someone fried an egg," I said.
"Details, Pointy. Details."
The Adventurer's Guild invited us in.Apparently, they wanted to "verify our legend."
Which, in normal people terms, means "we don't believe you but we'll profit if it's true."
They placed us on a pedestal surrounded by glowing crystals.Magic lights scanned us.Runes flickered.Then—
[System Evaluation Complete!]
Item: Sentient Knife (Species: Iron, Emotionally Damaged)Rank: ??? (Unclassifiable)Note: Possibly cursed. Possibly depressed.
The crowd went silent.
Pantharion's turn:
[Item: Talking Frying Pan (Species: Cast Iron, Overconfident)]Rank: ??? (Unclassifiable)Note: Emits excessive ego. Handle with caution.
The entire room applauded.
They didn't even understand what the notes meant — they just saw question marks and lost their minds.
"Mystery Rank! Truly divine!"
"A relic beyond mortal classification!"
I was now both famous and emotionally unstable.A perfect combo for any hero's weapon.
Later, at the guild tavern, we overheard people whispering:
"They say the knife grants wisdom to those who wield it.""The pan can sear a dragon's hide!""They're companions of the Chosen Chef!"
Chosen Chef?!I was one bad pun away from becoming the protagonist of a cooking manga.
That night, the adventurer sat by the window, moonlight shining on us.
"We've started something great, haven't we?" he said softly."The world believes again."
Pantharion hummed proudly.
"Indeed. Legends are born of faith… and seasoning."
I sighed.
"Faith, seasoning, and a large helping of misunderstanding."
Still… deep down, I couldn't deny it felt good.To be seen.To be admired.Even if it was for all the wrong reasons.
Maybe that's what being alive really means— not perfection, but purpose.
Even if that purpose involves… sautéing destiny.
[Skill Evolution Notice]"Self-Sharpening Through Emotional Damage" has evolved into "Edge of Belief."Your sharpness now increases with the faith others place in you.
I blinked mentally.Belief makes me sharper now?!
So the more people overestimate me, the stronger I become?
I turned to Pantharion.
"We might actually be unstoppable."
He grinned (don't ask how a pan grins — it just happens).
"Then let's keep being misunderstood forever."
To Be Continued…