The sun was beginning its slow climb over the horizon, gilding the sea in molten gold, when the familiar, crystalline chime of the System resonated in Ryan's mind. It was subtle but distinct, a sound he'd come to recognize as the herald of new developments. His hand tightened around the ship's wheel as a translucent panel materialized before his eyes, the letters gleaming in the morning light.
[ Mission Completed: Purge the Chains ]
[ Objective: Eliminate the Celestial Dragon engaged in slavery and free the captives. ]
[ Status: Success ]
A line scrolled into view.
[ Reward Granted: —Free Summon]
Ryan exhaled slowly, the faint scent of salt and pitch from the deck mixing in the morning air. The figures on the panel were impressive enough, but it was the single reward—a summon. It shimmered faintly, the anticipation of what or who might appear almost tangible. He brushed it with a thought, and the familiar summoning interface began to form before him, the air around him seeming to tighten in quiet expectation. His gaze lingered, weighing the moment, yet he didn't rush; some choices were worth savoring, especially when they could alter the course of his journey.
The wind shifted, filling the sails more fully, and Ryan turned his attention back to the open water. He could hear footsteps on the deck behind him—Unohana, calm as ever, her gaze on the horizon, and Fubuki, her green hair brushing against her chin as she looked over the ship's rail with a calculating eye.
"Looks like the system's paying out," Ryan said, his tone even.
Unohana's lips curved faintly. "As it should. You saw it through."
The night passed with the three of them settling into the ship's rhythm. Fubuki, despite being newly summoned, naturally stepped in to manage the sails with her psychic abilities, using them to keep the rigging taut and the canvas catching the wind, all while still keeping the deck's supplies in meticulous order Unohana moved with quiet efficiency, tending to the weapons and gear they'd gathered. Ryan found his thoughts drifting, not toward celebration, but toward what lay ahead. Loguetown would be more than just another port—it was a crossroads, a subtle pressure loomed that made the air seem heavier as they drew closer.
The next morning, with the pale light of dawn casting long glimmers over the waves and Loguetown's silhouette slowly sharpening on the horizon, Ryan finally called forth the system reward. His fingers drummed lightly against the ship's railing as the panel shimmered into view.
Do you wish to reward summon now? [Yes/No]
He could feel his pulse quicken, the faint hum of the system almost thrumming in his bones. "Yes," he breathed, his voice low but certain, a spark of anticipation tightening his chest.
The summoning circle flared brighter, its red and violet hues folding into one another like restless waves on the deck. The glow throbbed with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if the air itself had taken on a pulse. Ryan's eyes narrowed against the brilliance, his hand brushing the ship's railing while he leaned slightly. The runes etched into the circle's edge whirled faster, their once-clear shapes smearing into streaks of light—until at last, something began to emerge from the heart of the glow — a slender, graceful figure dressed in an elegant kimono, her soft eyes carrying the quiet wisdom of centuries. Her long black hair framed her face as she stepped forward, and Ryan immediately recognized her from tales and memory: Tamayo, the physician demon from the world of Demon Slayer. The system's proprietary had ensured that she understood at once who he was — her master in this new world.
Unohana and Fubuki exchanged a brief, stunned glance, both instinctively stepping back as they felt the weight of the woman's presence wash over them. It wasn't about power—it was an aura that steeped in with quiet authority, a subtle pressure in the air that made every sound on the deck seem quieten, and more errie.
Tamayo's eyes met Ryan's, deep and ancient, carrying the weight of centuries—eyes that seemed to read every hidden truth within him. Her expression softened, not with subservience alone, but with the quiet recognition of someone who already understood her place in this strange, shared fate. With elegant grace, she lowered herself into a kneel, the folds of her kimono settling neatly around her.
"It is an honor to see you, Lord Ryan," she said, her voice low and steady, as if each word had been carried across a thousand lifetimes to reach him now.
Ryan studied her for a long moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The honor's mine, Tamayo. Welcome aboard." he replied.
Soon after his words, a new line of text rippled across the panel, the letters forming.
[Summoned: Tamayo (Demon Slayer).]
[Passive Loyalty Bond Established.]
[Choose one skill/ability from summoned character.]
Ryan's eyes lingered on the last line, his mind immediately running through what he knew of her—her centuries of medical knowledge, her sharp intellect, her subtle manipulations of demon physiology. But above all, one stood out: the Demon Body. A gift that meant nearly limitless stamina, remarkable regenerative power, and endurance beyond human limits. The kind of trait that could turn the tide in battle after battle.
His fingers hovered for only a moment before he confirmed his choice, a thin smile playing on his lips. The system chimed softly in acknowledgment, and he felt a strange, vital energy settle deep into his bones.
[Ability Chosen: Demon Body – Tamayo's Physiology]
A sharp, searing pain tore through him—so sudden and intense that it felt as if molten iron had been poured into his veins, forcing him down to one knee on the deck. His fingers dug into the planks, knuckles whitening, as though he could anchor himself against the violent surge inside. Unohana and Fubuki exchanged a look of alarm and moved toward him, steps quick and urgent. Before they could close the distance, Tamayo lifted one slender hand in calm restraint, her movement gentle yet absolute. Her gaze, steady and knowing, held both warning and reassurance, silently telling them she understood exactly what was unfolding within him—this agony was no accident, but the crucible of the transformation he had willingly embraced.