POV: Kaito Mugenrei
The forest is quiet at dawn. Only the crunch of dirt beneath my boots breaks the silence. My armor hangs in shreds, stiff with dried blood—some mine, most not. Each movement sends a dull ache through my body.
I don't bother returning to the guild with the others. That's not my place. I've walked alone this far; I'll keep walking alone. There's no chatter, no footsteps to match mine. Just the steady weight of the two massive blades on my back—silent reminders of every battle I've fought.
I leave the old mining site behind, cutting through a forgotten trail. The air grows colder as I find a small clearing tucked between rocks and crooked trees. This will do.
I kneel and begin setting up a campfire. Stones, bits of ore, dry leaves, wood sticks—I arrange them in a circle, then strike steel. A spark catches, and flame blooms. Warmth spreads through the clearing, but I barely feel it. My attention is on the two blades lying before me. Both are chipped and scarred, the edges uneven from my last rampage. No blacksmith could repair them to my standard.
Not that it matters.
> "No blacksmith. No merchant. No one else."
"Everything I carry, I forged myself."
I plant both swords into the ground, facing each other. The fire crackles as I extend my hand between them. A low hum fills the clearing. The ground vibrates. Sparks jump. My veins burn with mana.
"Weapon Synthesis."
The two blades respond instantly, glowing as embers rise like fireflies. I channel everything—my will, my mana, my rage—and strike the blades together. Once. Twice. Over and over. Each collision sends a burst of sparks into the night. The metal bends, twists, and starts to merge, as if alive.
The sound is harsh. Violent. Not the delicate ring of a blacksmith's hammer, but the roaring scream of steel being forced to obey.
Finally, the two blades melt into one. When the glow fades, I grip the hilt. The new sword is heavier, darker, streaked with red and yellow lines like veins of lightning across its surface. Its aura pulses in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Perfect.
The moment my fingers wrap around the handle, power floods through me—raw and violent. New skills awaken, fusing with those I've earned through blood.
Smith Skill
Weapon Synthesis – Fuse two weapons to create a stronger, unique blade, inheriting and evolving embedded abilities.
Weapon-Derived Skills
Storm's Fury – Increases attack and movement speed as HP drops.
Fearless – Immunity to fear; reduces damage taken.
Berserker's Fury – Attack speed & damage increase as HP drops.
Unrelenting – The longer the battle, the stronger the damage output.
Unique Skills
Undying Rage – Cannot die for a short period; all passives activate regardless of conditions.
Saigo no Kirifuda – Massive damage scaling with lower HP.
Unbreakable – Immune to defense-reducing effects.
Vengeance – Retaliation power scales with inflicted harm.
Gift of Pain – Converts pain into regeneration and strength.
Pain Adaptation – Gains resistance to damage already endured.
Lone Wolf's Fury – Deals bonus damage when fighting alone.
Class Skills
Sword Mastery – Increased sword damage.
Sword's Dance – Increased attack speed using swords.
I slash the air once. The blade howls like a storm breaking through stone. Faster. Heavier. Sharper. Each skill resonates with me—not because of training, not because of some teacher—but because of what I've endured.
> "It wasn't discipline that gave me strength… it was pain. Every wound carved a new skill into my body."
Night falls by the time the fire dies down. From a rocky outcrop, I gaze across the dark expanse of forest. Smoke trails rise in the distance—kobold patrol patterns. My eyes narrow.
Another nest. Closer to Korvath. Bigger.
No need to tell anyone. No need for backup. This is my burden.
I grip the newly forged blade, feeling its weight settle into my hands like it's always belonged there. My aura flares—wild, crimson, alive.
> "I'll end them myself."
I descend the slope in silence, the forest swallowing me whole as I stalk toward the kobold camp.