DAWN IN THE EASTERN FOREST
Dawn crept over the eastern forests of Astrid like molten gold spilling through mist. Daniel Bellhem knelt in a clearing, his breath steaming in the chill morning air. His muscles quivered, his hands raw from gripping Vorrath.
The First Blade pulsed in his grasp, red veins writhing faintly, as if aware of his exhaustion. Every strike he made fed it; every misstep it remembered.
Daniel's jaw tightened. He had spent countless hours, days, and nights in this forest since taking the book from the ruins of his home. Each morning brought new torment: swinging his blade against the air, pushing his body beyond its limits, resisting the whispers of darkness that Vorrath poured into his mind.
"Focus… control… don't let it own you," he muttered, sweat and blood streaking down his face.
Strike. Parry. Thrust. Each movement precise, honed through endless repetition. The First Blade tested him constantly, feeding on his frustration, his grief, and the emptiness he had carried all these years.
Feed on fear. Feed on rage. Feed on the abyss within you.
Daniel had nearly surrendered to it once, letting the sword's whispers tempt him into uncontrolled rage. But not today. Not here.
He growled, gathering every ounce of willpower. Vorrath rose high above his head, and with a roar, he brought it down in a devastating arc. The mist parted with a hiss, and the forest seemed to shiver under the force.
Better, he whispered. I am stronger than my fear.
THE DISTANT SCREAM
A sudden scream pierced the fog—a high, panicked, unmistakably human voice.
Daniel froze, every instinct flaring. The scream came from the east. His pulse skyrocketed.
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the sound, leaping over roots, rocks, and fallen branches. The forest blurred around him. His mind raced through possibilities: bandits, rogue knights, monsters…
He burst into a clearing—and froze.
A noble carriage lay overturned, wheels shattered. Horses lay dead or writhing in agony. A beast-fiend crouched atop the wreckage, clawing at the carriage door. Its red eyes burned like molten coals, saliva black and foaming.
Inside, muffled screams.
Daniel's hands tightened on Vorrath. Heart pounding, he leapt forward.
"Step away from her!"
The beast snarled and lunged with inhuman speed. Daniel rolled aside, barely dodging. The First Blade vibrated, pulling at him, demanding violence.
"I don't serve you! I serve her!" he growled.
A single swing cleaved through the monster's shoulder. It screeched, staggering backward. Strike after strike, Daniel pressed, every motion precise yet lethal. Within moments, the beast lay dead, its claws twitching one last time.
Daniel gasped, sweat and blood coating his arms.
MEETING MIMI
He approached the carriage. Inside sat a girl, roughly his age, silver hair disheveled, her dress torn and stained with dirt. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, wide with relief and awe.
"You… you saved me," she whispered, voice trembling yet carrying a quiet strength.
Daniel swallowed. "Are you hurt?"
"I—no… just shaken," she said softly. She noticed his blood-streaked face, his panting, exhaustion etched in every line. "My name… I am Mimi of House Elvaren."
House Elvaren. A noble lineage. His instincts, honed by survival, blurred with something unfamiliar—a warmth he hadn't felt since his mother's death.
"You're… brave," she said, stepping closer. Hesitating, she brushed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were soft, cool, gentle.
Daniel's chest tightened. He tried to look away, but her gaze held him.
"I want you to have this," she said, handing him a small handkerchief—white silk embroidered with a golden crest, the symbol of her house. Its faintly floral scent lingered in the air, calming, almost intoxicating.
"If ever we meet again… you can find me with this," she whispered.
Daniel accepted it with trembling hands. "I… I'll keep it safe."
She smiled faintly, bowing before travelers who had arrived to help. Daniel watched until she vanished into the misty road.
Alone again, he let himself exhale.
RETURN TO TRAINING
The forest settled into quiet once more. Daniel knelt by a stream, letting the cold water wash the blood and sweat from his arms.
He opened the Book of Ten Swords. Pages glowed faintly, revealing new words:
"Fear is fire, rage is steel. Only mastery over both grants strength. Only through struggle shall the next blade awaken."
Next blade?
He remembered the whispers the book had given him weeks ago—the faint glowing visions of the Devil-Demon Fire Fruit. Somewhere in this forest, an essence of power waited, capable of advancing his soul and opening the next blade.
But first, he had to survive. First, he had to master Vorrath.
HUNTING MONSTERS
He moved deeper into the forest, testing his control. The First Blade demanded blood, feeding on his restraint and his fury.
Demon wolves with three burning eyes. Twisted horned apes. Corrupted boars. Each fell beneath his strikes.
Every kill forced him to confront the darkness within. Every swing, every life-or-death struggle, strengthened both him and Vorrath.
Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon. Shadows lengthened, and red eyes blinked from the darkness, glowing faintly. The forest seemed alive, whispering.
"Come at me," he muttered.
A horned ape lunged, flames licking its limbs. Daniel rolled, struck, parried, and felt the familiar thrill—the push and pull of mastery.
Every movement was a dance of survival, a test of his control over the sword and over himself.
THE DEVIL-DEMON FIRE FRUIT
Finally, he paused in a clearing. A tree unlike any other stood before him. Bark charred black, branches glowing faintly red. Hanging at its center, a single fruit pulsed like molten fire—the Devil-Demon Fire Fruit.
Daniel's pulse quickened. He stepped forward—and the shadows stirred. Fiends emerged, drawn to the fruit's power.
He clenched Vorrath.
"Then fight I shall," he said.
The First Blade vibrated in his hands, sensing the coming carnage. Red veins writhed like live fire, hungry, demanding.
Daniel smiled grimly. For the first time in years, he felt fully alive—not just surviving, but thriving. Burning with purpose.
The forest whispered around him. The hunt, the pain, the fire—this was only the beginning.