SSS-rank Legendary Draw: Every Drop Becomes a Legendary Item

Those golden flames were entirely unfamiliar to every single one of them. No known top player or high-ranking guild leader in the region used a skill that looked like that, making identity of who destroyed that dungeon unknow.

Leon, on the other hand, was now back at home, entirely unaware of the massive ruckus his recent actions were currently causing.

His house was incredibly small, consisting of just a single cramped room with a tiny attached toilet.

It was located in a run-down, inexpensive part of the city where low-ranking citizens lived.

Since he had no money to his name, the room was completely scanty and lacked any form of comfort. There was no furniture to speak of, no tables, and no chairs.

The only piece of furniture in the entire space was a small, thin mattress lying directly on the bare, cold floor with absolutely no bedsheet covering it to hide the torn fabric.

He was currently seated on the edge of the small mattress, his legs crossed as he stared intently down at his lap.

Resting heavily across his knees was a beautiful golden sword, its pristine metal gleaming brightly against the dim, impoverished backdrop of his tiny room.

The weapon radiated a subtle, majestic warmth that felt completely out of place in such a pathetic living space, practically vibrating with divine energy.

He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the handle.

"Excalibur..." he muttered, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. "How am I meant to earn its full acknowledgment?"

From what he had carefully read in the sword’s description earlier, the legendary weapon hadn’t fully acknowledged him as its true master yet.

The system interface had explicitly stated that for it to do so, he had to actively earn its respect. Right now, its maximum stat bonuses and unique passive skills were locked behind a restriction wall, leaving him with only a fraction of its true potential.

Leon frowned heavily as he closed the system menu, staring blankly at the bare walls of his room. He had absolutely no clue what this requirement was actually meant to mean.

The system hadn’t provided any hint to guide him toward unlocking the blade’s true power, leaving him entirely in the dark about his next move.

"Acknowledge me, Excalibur." he said.

However, nothing happened. The sword lay heavy and unresponsive in his hands, as indifferent to his command as a common piece of scrap metal.

"My name is Leon Allistar. Acknowledge me."

He poured every ounce of his willpower into those words, letting his name ring out clearly. He waited, his muscles tense, fully expecting the legendary weapon to finally recognize the bloodline or the sheer ambition in his words.

Yet, this time also, there was absolutely no response.

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating, leaving Leon standing alone in the quiet room with a weapon that refused to bow to his will.

A heavy sigh escaped Leon’s lips, carrying with it a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

Realizing the futility of standing there arguing with a weapon, he returned the majestic sword back into his inventory. The blade vanished in a flash of light, leaving his hands suddenly feeling light and empty.

Left alone with his thoughts, Leon stared at his open palms, the cold reality of the situation sinking in. He began to ponder the reason behind the weapon’s stubborn silence.

’Is it because... I’m not strong enough yet?’ The thought tasted bitter, but it was the most logical conclusion.

A legendary artifact like Excalibur likely possessed a pride of its own. It wouldn’t just serve anyone simply because they happened to pull it from a draw. It probably demanded power, status, and attributes that he currently lacked.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, he dismissed the lingering thoughts of the stubborn blade.

Leon rubbed his chin, a new thought sparking in his mind.

He needed to test the exact limits of his talents, and he had just the thing to do it. With a thought, he brought out a common grade weapon he had obtained from Bort before killing the man.

The weapon materialized into his grasp with a dull thud.

It was a crude, brutal thing—a thick wooden club heavily spiked with rusted nails. It was ugly, poorly crafted, and completely devoid of any magical refinement.

It was the absolute definition of a low-grade, common tier weapon, smelling of old blood and cheap timber.

Holding the heavy, mismatched club, Leon thought back to the precise description of his legendary draw talent. The system description stated that it could extract legendary items from anything.

He stared down at the ugly, nail-spiked piece of wood in his hands.

A wild, almost absurd idea began to take root in his mind.

If the talent truly worked exactly as it was described, without limitations on the quality of the base material... Could he actually take a piece of garbage like this common club and extract a legendary item from it?

The sheer curiosity was overwhelming. Leon decided he couldn’t just sit on this theory—he had to try it out immediately.

He gripped the rough handle of the wooden club tightly, focused his mind entirely on the weapon, and visualized his innate talent activating.

Deep within his thoughts, he directed the command straight at the item: ’Extract legendary draw...’

The moment the command left his mind, a violent, terrifying reaction occurred.

Immediately, all of his mana was completely and ruthlessly drained from his body. It didn’t just trickle out; it felt as if a massive vacuum had opened up inside his core, instantly sucking away every single drop of his magical energy.

The sudden, absolute depletion left him breathless and dizzy, as all his extracted mana was violently absorbed into the crude wooden club.

A sudden, sharp gasp left his throat as the last drop of his energy vanished.

His eyes rolled back, turning completely white as his vision went entirely dark. His knees buckled instantly beneath him, and his limp body collapsed heavily onto the thin, bare mattress.

The crude wooden club slipped effortlessly from his unfeeling fingers, bouncing once before clattering loudly onto the cold, bare floor.