In Gala City, the swordsmen let out hysterical wails one after another.
Without exception, they were all "Sword Nurturing" type swordsmen, people who spent effort day and night nourishing their swords, treating them as comrades, lovers, children, as if hoping their blades would turn into beautiful girls one day... Though they would not turn into beautiful girls, they could indeed possibly give birth to sword-art Spell Spirits, such as "Sword Sheath," "Sword Intent," and "Heart Sword," one of the extremely precious Peerless Secret Sword Five Spirits.
They had nurtured their swords for at least ten years. Even when their blades were summoned into midair by the celestial anomaly, they could still sense their own swords through various Spell Spirits. Yet at this very moment, they clearly sensed the "children" they had nourished for years rapidly withering and rusting, then snapping into several pieces with a crack and falling from the vast sword river that cut across the celestial phenomenon. Even if the swordsmen found the wreckage, it would never be restored to its original state.
Those who were not "Sword Nurturing" type swordsmen naturally would not suffer this misfortune—or rather, they simply did not care if their swords shattered. To them, swords were only tools to be replaced once they wore out. If they broke, they broke.
But the shattering of swords was only the prelude. True despair would descend equally upon every swordsman's head.
"My Sword Intent!" The young swordsman's miserable scream pierced through the entire street. Soon, those shrill wails rose and fell all across Gala City. The swordsmen discovered that some of their sword-art Spell Spirits were uncontrollably dying out. Whether One-Winged or Four-Winged, none could escape the calamity. It was like an invisible building had collapsed, and all the sword-art Spell Spirits born from within it