The last thing Rikuya Arashi felt was the weight of time. At ninety-three, his body was worn, every joint creaked with age, every breath a struggle, yet his mind remained sharp, more powerful than it had ever been. The God of Combat, they called him. A lifetime spent mastering every fighting style, every technique known to mankind. But in the end, it was not skill that brought him down. It was time, slow and inevitable.
He had passed quietly in his sleep, the world no longer in need of his legendary presence. And for a moment, all was still.
Then came the sudden, jarring shock.
Rikuya's eyes snapped open. He gasped for air, but the air was wrong. Thick with something unfamiliar. The light was too bright, the world too vivid. He blinked rapidly, confusion flooding his mind.
His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, the ground beneath him soft, the scent of fresh earth and greenery in the air. He took a deep breath, his body bracing itself as he took in his surroundings.
The trees surrounding him were ancient, their trunks thick and twisted, reaching toward a sky painted in hues of deep violet and crimson. The sound of distant, unknown creatures echoed in the distance. The air itself hummed with a strange energy, something primal, something... magical.
Rikuya's eyes narrowed as he looked down at himself. Gone were the frailty and wear of age. His body was as strong and lean as it had been in his youth. His muscles, defined and sculpted from years of discipline and combat, flexed beneath his smooth, tanned skin.
He was dressed in nothing but a pair of simple black pants and shoes, his long, black hair flowing around him like a dark silk cloak. His sharp, black eyes, cold and calculating, swept over the strange, new world.
"What... is this?" he murmured to himself, his voice rich and deep, yet betraying the confusion that roiled within him.
He stood up slowly, his bare feet grounding themselves into the soft soil. There was no pain, no weakness. His body felt as if it were at the peak of its strength. But it was not the body that confused him—it was the place.
This was not the world he had known.
There was a flash of memory: his grandfather's death, the fire that consumed his house, the overwhelming weight of grief and vengeance. Then, nothing.
Had he been reincarnated? Was this some kind of dream? No, he could feel the solid ground beneath him, the weight of his own body. This was real. But what was this world? Where was he?
And more importantly… who would be the first to challenge him?
Rikuya's lips curled into a grim smile. There was no fear in him. Only the anticipation of what this new world would bring. A world filled with magic, monsters, and warriors. A world where his skills would once again be tested.
The God of Combat would rise again. And he would carve his path through this unknown land, just as he had in the old world.
He stepped forward, his every movement precise and fluid, as if the earth beneath his feet was part of him. His sharp, thin brows furrowed as his mind focused, calculating his next steps. There were no immediate threats. Not yet.
But that would change soon enough.
As he ventured deeper into the forest, his senses sharpened. There were creatures watching him from the shadows, and in the distance, the faint glow of firelight suggested there were others nearby. Perhaps humans? Or something more dangerous?
With a steady breath, Rikuya's gaze turned cold, his resolve firm. He was no longer the weakling of his past life. He was a master of combat, and he would not be stopped.
The world would soon know the name of Rikuya Arashi once again.
Rikuya narrowed his eyes as the strange forest surrounded him in eerie stillness. The first rule of survival, regardless of the world: secure shelter.
He turned toward the nearest tree — a towering thing, bark dark and gnarled like ironwood. He approached it calmly, placed a hand against its surface, then drew back his fist.
One punch.
The tree shattered with a thunderous crack, splinters exploding in every direction. Its massive trunk broke mid-way and collapsed with a deep rumble, shaking the earth as it crashed into the underbrush.
Rikuya blinked.
"…Well, damn."
He flexed his knuckles, studying the clean impact. Not even a bruise. His muscles thrummed with raw power, his senses razor-sharp. He let out a short breath, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I guess I really am stronger than in my past life."
Without hesitation, he moved efficiently, stripping the fallen tree of its branches and bark, dragging logs and splitting them with surgical precision. No tools — just his hands and his mind. Within the hour, he had built a simple shelter: four sturdy walls, a sloped roof of leaves and bark, and a flat surface to rest on.
Crude by any craftsman's standard, but it was solid. It would keep out the cold, the rain… and whatever watched from the woods.
He sat at the entrance as the twin moons began to rise in the violet sky, casting a pale glow across the strange world. The wind carried the scent of unknown beasts. The forest didn't sleep.
Neither would he.
"The second rule… secure food," Rikuya said under his breath, eyes narrowing.
He stepped deeper into the forest, weaving through dense brush and twisted roots. With a smooth motion, he climbed a nearby tree, perching effortlessly on a thick branch. From this height, the forest stretched wide and wild, alive with sounds he didn't recognize.
Then his eyes caught movement — a boar, but far larger than any he'd ever seen. It wandered through the clearing below, its massive frame brushing against tree trunks, tusks curved and thick like stone.
Rikuya stayed silent, his expression unreadable. The wind shifted slightly, carrying the animal's scent. His sharp gaze followed the creature's movements, studying it, calculating.
"I see," he muttered to himself, voice low. "Even the wildlife here isn't normal."
He remained still, observing, not yet moving. The fire back at his shelter still crackled in the distance, but here — in the quiet tension between man and beast — he simply watched.
Rikuya's steps were measured, controlled. He moved like a shadow through the dense forest, his eyes locked on the massive boar ahead. The creature snorted and grazed, unaware of the hunter approaching from behind.
Rikuya's muscles coiled with tension as he stalked forward, the quiet of the forest interrupted only by his steady breathing. He was nearly there. His body was a predator's, honed by decades of battle. His heart beat with the rhythm of battle, even in this strange world.
Without warning, his foot slammed into the earth — a thunderous stomp that sent a shockwave through the ground. The boar spun violently, tusks raised in defense, eyes wide with surprise. It bellowed, its instincts triggering a full-on charge, rushing at him with terrifying speed.
Rikuya's body went still, his feet digging into the earth as though it had fused with him. His muscles rippled and tensed, his frame a solid pillar that the beast could not move. The boar's impact crashed into him like a battering ram, but Rikuya remained unmoving, his body like a mountain.
He exhaled slowly, unfazed, and whispered, "Hey, do you know that sumo has a deadly skill?"
The boar, momentarily stunned, staggered back, its instincts screaming for another charge. But it was already too late. Rikuya's hands moved like lightning, rising above his head with practiced precision, every muscle in his arms and shoulders locking into place. His body coiled as he prepared for the strike, a perfect line of power building from his legs to his fingertips.
With a roar, Rikuya's hands came down in one swift, unstoppable motion — the power of his entire body channeled into the strike. His muscles contracted, his arms slicing through the air, and the impact was immediate.
The sound was a sickening crack as his hands collided with the boar's skull. The force of the blow reverberated through the air, the creature's bones splintering beneath the weight of his strength. The boar's eyes went wide in shock, its body slumping forward, lifeless before it hit the ground.
Rikuya stood over the fallen beast, chest rising and falling in steady breaths, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His gaze was cold, impassive, as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a single finger.
"Too easy," he muttered, turning to leave the carcass behind.
With the boar subdued and its meat prepared, Rikuya stood over the fire, watching as the flames flickered and danced. The crackling sound of the fire was the only thing breaking the silence of the forest around him.
The scent of roasted meat hung thick in the air, a smell that was both comforting and primal. His stomach gave an almost audible growl, a reminder of just how long it had been since he last ate.
He glanced down at the fresh meat cooking over the fire, then at the stillness of the night around him. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting, watching.
Rikuya sat down cross-legged beside the fire, the warmth seeping into his skin as he stretched his long, toned arms. He wiped a streak of sweat from his brow, his muscles still coiled with the leftover energy from his earlier encounter. His black hair, now wild and untamed, caught the faint light of the fire.
As he settled into the rhythm of the night, his stomach growled again, this time louder. It wasn't the hunger of a simple need; it was a reminder that he had entered an unknown world, one where the rules were still foreign to him. The challenge of survival was now as much a part of him as the combat techniques that had made him legendary.
Without hesitation, he tore off a chunk of the roasted boar, its exterior crisp and golden. The meat was warm and tender, the flavor rich and satisfying. The moment it hit his mouth, a sense of relief washed over him — a small but necessary victory in a world that still felt strange.
As he chewed, the flames danced before him, casting an eerie light across the forest. It felt like a moment of peace, however fleeting.
But deep in his core, Rikuya knew this was only the beginning. The world around him might be different, but his purpose remained the same — to survive. To adapt. And, when the time came, to dominate once again.
After finishing the last of the roasted boar, Rikuya sat back for a moment, letting the warmth of the fire and the satisfying meal settle in. The forest was quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the crackling of the flames.
But as the silence stretched on, a restlessness stirred within him. He knew better than to let his guard down, even in this moment of peace. His body, still brimming with the energy of his battle, demanded action.
With a slow exhale, he pushed himself up to his feet, the earth firm beneath him. His muscles, still taut from his earlier exertion, burned with a quiet intensity — but it was a good burn. A reminder that strength, even in a new world, needed constant maintenance.
Without a word, he dropped to the ground and planted one hand, then the other, into the dirt. His body lowered into position, and with smooth, controlled motions, he began his training.
One hand. Left. Then right. The rhythm of his push-ups was deliberate, each movement a testament to years of discipline. His body was a machine — precise, focused. One hundred. Then another hundred. His arms and chest flexed with every push, his abs tightening as he drove himself higher, the dirt beneath him no match for his force.
When he finished, sweat beading down his forehead, his muscles aching from the effort, he paused, taking a slow breath. He rose to his feet, wiped the sweat from his brow, and stood tall, chest still heaving.
"Even here," he murmured to himself, "I can't afford to neglect my training."
His eyes narrowed as he glanced into the dense, shadowed forest. The flames from the campfire flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own.
He took a step forward, the crackling of the fire no longer a comfort, but a reminder.
"There's always a stronger enemy," he said, his voice low but steady, his gaze intense. "And when they come, I'll be ready."