The forest road to Varalden stretched like a ribbon of earth through a sea of towering trees, their branches swaying in a gentle breeze that carried the wild chorus of the wilderness. Birds trilled, wolves howled in the distance, and the rustle of unseen creatures stirred the underbrush, a primal symphony that enveloped the caravan. Tetsuya sat in the lead cart, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. Soldiers in gleaming armor marched alongside, their spears catching the sunlight filtering through the canopy.
Across from Tetsuya, a weathered guard of King Veltoz's retinue sat, his grizzled face betraying a mix of duty and curiosity. The creak of the cart's wheels blended with the forest's song, a steady rhythm underscoring the journey's weight.
The guard shifted, his voice breaking the quiet. "Sir Tetsuya, is it true? Did the Sword Saint Raizo really train that boy, Renjiro?" His tone was laced with intrigue, his eyes glinting with the hunger for a good story.
Tetsuya's lips twitched into a faint smile, his gaze still fixed on the passing trees. "Why bring that up now?"
The guard leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret. "From what I know, the Sword Saint doesn't teach anyone. He barely listens to the higher-ups, showing up only for the Four Kingdoms meetings. It's rare to even lay eyes on him. For him to take a kid under his wing… that's something extraordinary."
Tetsuya nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's true. Even I didn't expect it. Raizo's a mysterious figure, always has been. Training Renjiro… it's a piece of the puzzle I'm still trying to fit together."
The guard's brow arched, his curiosity deepening. "I think you're intrigued by that boy's abilities, too. Someone who doesn't have a core—it's unheard of for a kid like that to fight the way he does."
Tetsuya's smile widened, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "How'd you know he doesn't have a core?"
The guard shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. "I didn't sense any divine energy from him. Not a flicker." He paused, reaching into his satchel. "Speaking of surprises, there's another letter from the king. It's marked urgent."
Tetsuya's eyes narrowed as the guard handed him a sealed parchment. "Another letter?" He broke the wax seal, his gaze scanning the elegant script with practiced ease. For a moment, his face was unreadable, then he murmured, "I see. Just as I expected." He folded the letter and slipped it into his cloak, his attention drifting to the landscape outside.
The grass swayed in the breeze, a verdant sea stretching toward the horizon, its gentle motion a stark contrast to the tension coiling within him. What's Raizo doing now? he wondered, the Sword Saint's enigmatic presence lingering in his thoughts like a storm on the horizon.
In the Kinzokuya Valley, deep within the Kingdom of Dwarves, the world was a cauldron of smoke and shadow. Thick, choking clouds billowed from the earth, shrouding the valley in a haze that devoured light and muffled sound. Jagged peaks loomed through the fog, their outlines ghostly and foreboding.
The air reeked of molten metal and charred stone, a testament to the valley's ceaseless forges, where dwarven smiths crafted blades of legend. At the mouth of a cavern, a squad of dwarven soldiers stood in a wary formation, their axes and shields glinting faintly in the dim light. The ground beneath their boots was scorched, littered with ash and fragments of ore.
A grizzled soldier, his beard streaked with soot, gestured toward the cavern's gaping maw. "Let's go inside," he said, his voice rough but steady. The others nodded, gripping their weapons as they prepared to venture into the darkness.
Before they could take a step, the thunder of hooves shattered the silence. A lone rider galloped toward them, his cloak whipping like a banner in the wind. The soldiers tensed, hands tightening on their axes, ready to strike. The rider reined in his horse, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. "I'm an ally!" he called, his voice cutting through the tension. "I'm James, guard of King Rudra, here to deliver a letter to the Sword Saint personally."
The lead soldier stepped forward, his eyes narrow with suspicion. "Prove you're an ally. Show us your badge."
James dismounted, producing a polished badge etched with the royal crest of Rudra's kingdom. The soldiers inspected it, their tension easing as they confirmed its authenticity. "Go on," the lead soldier said, nodding toward the cavern. "The Sword Saint is inside. Move quickly—and watch yourself."
James steeled himself, his heart pounding as he entered the cavern. The darkness swallowed him, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. The passage twisted endlessly, a labyrinth of stone that seemed to stretch into eternity. James's footsteps echoed, the only sound in the oppressive silence. Suddenly, a wave of raw, suffocating power crashed over him, a force so immense it threatened to crush his very soul. His knees buckled, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious. This… this is no ordinary man, he thought, his breath ragged. This is the Sword Saint.
Deeper in the cavern, the air thickened with the stench of blood and steel. James froze, his eyes widening as he beheld a scene of unimaginable carnage. A mountain of lifeless bodies sprawled across the cavern floor, their armor rent, their weapons shattered into useless fragments. At the heart of the slaughter sat a man, his presence a maelstrom of barely contained power. His tattered cloak, dark as a moonless night, billowed faintly despite the still air, as if stirred by an unseen force. His sword, propped against a blood-streaked rock, pulsed with an eerie, almost sentient glow. His eyes, sharp as a predator's, cut through the darkness, carrying the weight of a thousand battles. The aura radiating from him was a living thing—oppressive, primal, a storm that made the cavern tremble with its intensity. To stand in his presence was to feel the edge of death itself, a blade held just shy of the throat.
James's legs quaked, fear rooting him in place. The man rose, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a panther stalking its prey. He stepped beside James, placing a hand on his shoulder with a touch that was light yet heavy with unspoken menace. James's heart seized, his instincts screaming that a single wrong move would be his last. "Sir… are you the Sword Saint Raizo?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
The man's lips curled into a dangerous smile, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the stone. "Yeah, I'm Raizo. Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?"
James swallowed, forcing himself to meet Raizo's piercing gaze. "I'm James, guard of King Rudra. I'm here to deliver a letter to you… personally." His hands trembled as he extended the sealed parchment, his mind reeling. His presence alone could terrify an army. He speaks of the king like he's nothing. How strong is this man?
Raizo snatched the letter, his eyes scanning the contents with a casual disdain that belied its importance. "Tch," he muttered, folding the parchment. "I told that old bastard Rudra I'm not coming to his damn conference. But… Mizuhara Village, huh? Something interesting might be brewing there. I'll see that Renjiro again." A rare, fleeting smile softened his features, a glimmer of warmth breaking through his storm-like aura. He turned to James, his cloak flaring as if caught in a sudden gust. "Hey, you. Let's go."
With a single, effortless stride, Raizo moved toward the cavern's exit, his presence parting the smoke like a blade through mist. James stumbled after him, his heart still racing, awestruck by the legend who now set his sights on Mizuhara Village, a force of nature bound for a destiny yet unwritten.