The village was quiet in the late afternoon, lanterns flickering against cobblestone streets that gleamed faintly under the muted sunlight. Hitorikko walked at a steady pace, the fractured sword slung awkwardly over his shoulder. He was uninjured—yet—but every step reminded him of the exertion of the duel hours ago. Sweat dampened his hair, clinging strands to his forehead, and his muscles ached from tension and fatigue. The whispers of villagers brushed against him like invisible currents. The Phantom Swordsman… alive…
He ignored them. He had one goal: the blacksmith. The fractured blade in his hand felt like it carried the weight of the previous fights, and although he was uninjured now, he knew the forest awaited, and the Nyrads he had faced were only the beginning.
SIS: [Operator status: fatigued. Physical exertion within safe limits. Prepare for high-risk encounter ahead.]
"I know," Hitorikko muttered, adjusting his grip on the cracked sword. "Thanks for the lecture."
The village seemed to stretch longer than usual. Lanterns cast long shadows, twisting over the narrow streets, and the occasional cat darted past, disappearing into the fog that rolled lazily from the river. His boots clicked against stone, echoing off the walls, marking the slow march toward the forge.
At the blacksmith's shop, he entered, the familiar scent of molten steel and charred wood enveloping him. The blacksmith looked up from his anvil, eyes narrowing at the fractured sword.
"You've cracked it," the blacksmith said, voice a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Lucky you survived that duel."
"I need a replacement," Hitorikko said, carefully placing the sword on the counter. "Something durable. Something that won't break when I'm fighting… whatever's next."
"You're reckless," the blacksmith said, shaking his head. "Everyone can see it. But guts… I can't deny that. Reckless, stubborn, maybe lucky. I can forge you a blade that'll survive you, but it won't make you stronger."
Hitorikko smirked faintly. "I don't need stronger. I need survival."
The blacksmith huffed, turning back to the forge. Sparks flew from the hammer as molten metal hissed on the anvil. "Nyrad-core steel, blackened forging, tempered for endurance… it'll survive a beating, maybe even yours."
Hitorikko nodded, watching the glowing metal take shape, imagining how it would feel in his hands—balanced, reliable, solid. He knew he was weak, F-rank weak. Strength wouldn't save him; luck, agility, and Destruction subclass energy would.
With the order placed, he left the forge, stepping into the forest path that led toward the corrupted woods. The trees twisted overhead, blackened and gnarled, fog curling along the roots like ghostly fingers. The smell of damp earth mixed with something acrid, magical, and almost sentient. Level 5 dark elementals lurked in the mist, their crimson eyes glinting through the haze, scanning for prey.
SIS: [Operator: stats sufficient for engagement. High-risk probability: 87%. Proceed with caution.]
Hitorikko exhaled, adjusting his grip on the cracked sword. "High-risk, low reward," he muttered under his breath, stepping forward. "Sounds about right."
The first dark elemental lunged. Its gelatinous body surged with a wet, gurgling sound. Hitorikko rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding the strike as his boots slipped on moss and roots. The sword scraped the ground, splintering slightly at the edge. A sting ran along his forearm—minor, but a warning. He swung again, but the creature's body absorbed the impact.
Another elemental appeared from the side, slithering with unnatural speed. Hitorikko twisted and rolled, dodging, but not perfectly. A jagged limb tore across his shoulder, leaving the first trickle of blood. He gritted his teeth. This was only the beginning.
The next attack came from above—a slamming, pulsing mass that Hitorikko barely avoided, rolling forward. The underbrush scraped across his chest, leaving red streaks across his tunic. Pain flared, heart pounding. His breaths came fast, shallow, each one sending a jolt through his chest.
He swung his fractured sword again, desperation fueling the motion. A faint hum of Destruction energy pulsed along the blade, and the nearest elemental shuddered violently before dissolving into black mist. Hitorikko stumbled back, chest burning, arms trembling, sweat mixing with the blood that had begun to seep from shallow cuts across his torso and limbs.
Then movement: a blur of axes. Ayumi. She descended from the fog, striking with precision, cutting through one elemental after another. The creatures recoiled, taken by surprise, giving Hitorikko a crucial opening. He lunged, rolling low, narrowly avoiding a surge of black ooze that would have slammed into his chest.
But luck alone could not save him. Another elemental struck, jagged edge colliding with his torso. Pain exploded as a deep, gaping slash tore across his chest, blood gushing freely, soaking his tunic. His legs trembled. Each breath was agony. Yet, adrenaline and instinct pushed him forward.
He swung at the elemental, shards of his fractured sword splintering into the fog. The creature dissolved under a desperate, angled strike. Another lunged. Hitorikko dodged, rolling, falling, getting back up, the chest wound burning, limbs trembling. Every move brought fresh pain, cuts across arms and legs opening, blood dripping with every step.
Ayumi's axes fell in a deadly arc, clearing two more elementals. Hitorikko exploited the moment, a surge of Destruction energy flowing through his weapon. The final elemental trembled, splitting under the blade—but the effort left him gasping, knees buckling, vision swimming.
He collapsed to the forest floor, soaked in sweat and blood, chest heaving, body trembling. The fog swirled, almost sentient, curling around the fallen creatures and his blood-soaked boots.
SIS: [Critical condition detected. Operator near collapse.]
Hitorikko whispered faintly, "I… I survived…"
He tried to rise but faltered, chest slashing pain lancing with each movement. Ayumi knelt beside him briefly, axes still slick with dark elemental remnants. "You're insane… lucky, but insane. You can't keep doing this."
Hitorikko managed a pained smirk. "Survival… is all I've got."
The trek back to the village was a nightmare. Every step pressed the deep chest wound, every movement scraped open minor cuts. Blood trailed behind him like a dark ribbon. Villagers peeked from windows, whispers following him. The Phantom Swordsman… bloodied… barely alive…
He reached the inn, collapsing against the wall, limbs trembling violently. SIS appeared, holographic and pulsing.
SIS: [Operator: extreme trauma detected. Immobilization for 48 hours required.]
Innkeepers carried him inside, laying him gently on a bed. For two days, he remained mostly unconscious, blood crusting his chest, arms, and legs. Pain radiated from the deep slash, muscles stiffened, bruises bloomed, and veins throbbed under the skin.
On the third day, he weakly lifted his head. The blacksmith's apprentice arrived with a crate.
"Your sword's ready," the boy said. "Nyrad-core blacksteel. Should survive… hopefully."
Hands trembling, Hitorikko lifted it. Solid. Balanced. Reliable. Not strong, not magical—just something that could survive him.
He shrugged on the muso-black long blazer, the stylish garment marking identity more than utility.
SIS: [You look ridiculous.]
"I'll take ridiculous if it helps me survive the next fight," he muttered, chest still aching, wounds throbbing, blood still dark on his tunic.
Then, a shiver of unease. SIS flickered strangely, her holographic form wavering.
SIS: [Next encounter may exceed survival probability… operator… something is moving in the forest. Something… stronger.]
Hitorikko froze. The forest's edge rippled, the mist shifting unnaturally. His chest ached, blood still seeping, yet instinct screamed. Something new, something stronger, was approaching. He wasn't ready.
Bloodied, exhausted, fragile, yet gripping the new sword with trembling hands, Hitorikko realized survival had only just begun.
The forest waited.