The air inside the cave had grown heavy.
Crimson could still hear the bear's distant roars echoing from somewhere beyond the stone walls, but they were faint now — as if coming from another world entirely.
Ren was safe near the entrance, hidden in the shadows. Crimson had gone deeper, drawn by that strange crimson glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
Every step he took echoed. The deeper he went, the stronger the hum became — not just in his ears, but in his blood.
And then, suddenly, the ground gave way.
The Fall
The stone beneath his feet crumbled without warning. He reached out instinctively, grabbing at the wall, but his fingers caught only air.
A flash of red light swallowed him whole.
He fell — not through stone, but through light itself. The sensation wasn't pain, or fear, or even motion. It was as if he were being rewritten.
The roar of the bear, the jungle, the heat — all vanished.
And then, silence.
The Garden of Red
When Crimson opened his eyes, he was lying on soft grass. But it wasn't green.
It was red.
A vast field of roses stretched out endlessly before him, each petal glimmering faintly like liquid rubies. The air was warm, fragrant, and heavy with power.
Above him hung a crimson moon, enormous and close, casting the entire world in shades of red.
He slowly stood, his boots sinking slightly into the rose-covered earth. There was no wind, no sound — only the faint whisper of roses brushing against one another.
Crimson turned in a slow circle, his eyes wide. "Where… am I?"
No one answered.
But the air itself seemed to breathe.
The Presence
Somewhere deep within the garden, something called to him.A voice — not heard through the ears, but through the soul.
You've come at last… bearer of grief.
Crimson froze. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only the sound of petals rustling — as if the roses themselves were whispering his name.
He began to walk toward the sound, every step echoing in the silence. The roses grew taller as he walked, brushing against his legs, their scent intoxicating.
At last, he reached a clearing.
There, at the center of a pool of shimmering red water, stood a blade.
The Crimson Katana
It wasn't embedded in stone or resting on a pedestal.It stood, upright, by its own will.
A katana nearly six feet tall, its blade glowing faintly with internal light. The metal wasn't silver, gold, or steel — it was pure crimson, darker near the hilt and brighter toward the edge, as if forged from frozen blood and moonlight.
Crimson stepped closer, his breath catching in his throat.
The closer he got, the stronger the pull became — an invisible thread linking his heart to the blade.
He reached out a trembling hand.
"Are you… the one calling me?"
The crimson light pulsed in answer.
He stopped a few inches away, his reflection shimmering in the mirrored blade. For the first time, he saw himself clearly — his red eyes glowing like twin embers beneath the moon.
The sword's energy was overwhelming. It wasn't just power — it was life, ancient and vast.
And beneath that, a sorrow deeper than anything he'd ever felt.
The Voice
When his fingers finally brushed the hilt, the world exploded into light.
A storm of crimson petals swirled around him, rising like a cyclone. The moon flared brighter, and the roses began to hum in unison — a haunting, beautiful sound like a choir of souls.
Crimson's mind filled with visions — flashes of battlefields, ancient warriors, a thousand swords clashing beneath a blood-red sky.
And through it all, that same voice spoke again — clearer now, deeper, older.
You are the one who carries grief… and the one who will bring balance.
Crimson fell to his knees, gripping the hilt tightly. The katana glowed even brighter, its energy pouring into him like fire and ice combined.
He gasped, his crimson eyes widening.
I am the Crimson Katana — forged from the sorrow of ten thousand fallen blades. I choose you.
The Awakening
Crimson's body burned with unbearable heat. The mark of a rose appeared on his left hand, glowing faintly. His hair fluttered in the rising wind as petals swirled around him.
Every sword he'd ever touched, every power he'd ever felt — they were all fragments of this one.
The true sword.
The sword of legend.
He could feel its 990 locked abilities — each one a sleeping beast waiting to awaken.
The voice faded into a whisper.
When the moon turns black, and the roses wither, your path will begin.
And then, silence.
The crimson glow dimmed, the petals fell, and the sword's hum softened to a gentle heartbeat.
Crimson stood slowly, his hand wrapped around the hilt.
It was heavy — not in weight, but in meaning.
He raised the blade slightly, and its reflection bathed him in red light.
For the first time since he'd entered the realm, Crimson smiled faintly.
"…So this is what it feels like," he whispered. "To be chosen."
The Return
The roses began to wilt. The moonlight flickered.
Crimson looked around — the world was dissolving into motes of crimson dust.
The garden, the roses, the red sky — all fading.
Before it vanished completely, he heard the voice one last time.
You have taken the first step, Crimson. Now wield me not with pride… but with heart.
A final flash of light engulfed him — and he was gone.
The Cave Once More
Crimson awoke on the cold floor of the cave. The crimson glow still lingered faintly in the air, and in his hand, the blade rested — real, solid, radiant.
The Crimson Katana.
The legendary mythical-grade sword once believed to exist only in stories.
He could feel it breathing.
Ren still lay unconscious near the entrance, but the bear was gone — vanished, as if erased by the sword's power.
Crimson looked down at the blade, its edge glimmering faintly like moonlight trapped in steel.
"…Crimson Katana," he whispered. "We're bound now."
He sheathed the weapon slowly, a small red rose appearing etched near the hilt as if to seal the pact.
Outside, the jungle still burned — but the air felt different.The swords in the distance hummed softly, bowing to their new master.
Crimson stood at the mouth of the cave, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and on his blade.
And in that moment, under the red moon, the legend truly began.
End of Chapter 9