The pale yellow light of the sun streamed in through the window, slowly illuminating the room. The candle on the table had completely melted, its wick now emitting only smoke.
Beside the table was the bed on which Raijin lay.
He was drenched in sweat. His lips were slowly fluttering, as if trying to speak, but someone was tightly choking him. He couldn't speak.
"Naaahiiiii!"
Raijin sat up, screaming.
"Sora... don't do this!"
Half... Half... Half...
He began to look around. His eyes darted rapidly, as if searching for someone. Finally, his gaze landed on the candle on the table, which had completely melted.
His breathing was rapid, his chest heaving. His eyes were open, but for a moment he couldn't figure out where he was. The room was quiet. The faint light from the window indicated that it was morning.
He slowly composed himself, muttering, "Calm down... It was just a dream... Just a dream..."
But it didn't feel like a dream.
It felt as if all this had just happened to him.
He closed his eyes and tried to calm down.
But as soon as his eyes closed, memories flashed before him, one after another, as if someone was forcing them to see them.
How...
Both he and Sora were standing before Lord. That being, standing before him, whose presence made the air heavy. A single blow... Just a single blow, both of them fell to the ground. None of their moves could reach him. As if there was an invisible wall between them and Lord.
And then...
Sora got up and moved forward.
A single sound came from his mouth, clearly reflecting grief, pain, and despair.
"Goodbye, my friend…"
"Run, Raijin!"
Those words still pierced Raijin's heart and mind like daggers. His voice echoed the same way—painful, yet with a hint of betrayal.
The next moment, Sora pushed Raijin away and threw himself in front of Lord's attack. Raijin was thrown back. He fell tumbling, and by the time he got up… everything was over.
At that moment, the balloon of hatred in his eyes had burst.
Their eyes turned bloodshot, and tears welled up.
The fingers tightened, and his teeth clenched so tightly that if a stone were placed between them, it would have been crushed.
All this bore witness to his anger and hatred.
Raijin muttered softly,
"I'm so weak right now..."
His fists clenched. So hard that his nails dug into his palms, and hot blood oozed.
But he stopped in an instant.
He got up from the bed and went to the window. As he pulled the curtains, morning light flooded the room. The city outside was sparkling, as if nothing had happened.
He spoke softly, "I promise, Sora... I will definitely avenge you."
He stood quietly by the window, as if deep in thought.
A few moments later, a slight rumble came from his stomach. He realized he was ravenously hungry.
He looked at the table. The food was laid out there. It had cooled, but not spoiled. He pulled up a chair and sat down.
The food was on a wooden plate. Bread was placed in a bowl nearby.
The porridge was white, with a slightly chocolatey texture. Small, granular vegetables were scattered on top.
The bread still felt fresh and soft.
The porridge was simple, but it had a slightly salty and sweet taste. It was strangely comforting. The vegetables melted in his mouth, and the sweet bread made it even better, even though it was cold.
As he ate, he said to himself,
"This is so good..."
He finished eating and got up to wipe his hands and face with a nearby cloth.
After a few moments, he laughed and said, "I was so hungry that I didn't even think to freshen up."
A little while later, he got ready and left the room, taking with him the broken sword that lay at the head of the bed.
His next destination was clear—the Adventure Guild.
He left the building. The street was bustling with activity.
Stores were lined up—vegetables, fruits, and raw, spicy meat.
Somewhere, roasted beef was available, somewhere, corn with salt and pepper.
The aromas of all of them combined to create a sweet and spicy scent that made one's mouth water.
On the way, he stopped in front of the same shop where he had bought the sword. Now it was broken.
Raijin went straight inside.
The old smell inside—a mingled scent of oil and iron. The clang of hammers, weapons hanging on the walls, unfinished molds.
He took out the sword with his left hand and placed it on the counter. Without further ado, he said, "It broke."
The shopkeeper began to examine the sword carefully.
After a moment, he said, "This is the sword from my shop. How did it break?"
Raijin nodded.
"Yes, it's yours. I encountered 7-8 Toto Saurus... it broke in that very moment."
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up with surprise.
"Amazement. You're still alive after fighting so many Toto Saurus. I have to admire your courage."
Raijin scratched his head and said, "It was just luck."
The tinkling sound of iron hammering could be heard from inside.
Raijin said loudly, "Can you show me a sword that won't break easily?"
The shopkeeper laughed.
"What kind of demand is this? Don't you know?"
Raijin asked, "Don't you know what?"
The shopkeeper laughed even louder. "Child, you might not know—all swords are the same. Neither weak nor strong. Everything depends on who wields them."
"To put it simply—all swords depend on their master. And the master on his skill. Practice, swordsmanship—those are the real things."
With that, he went into a corner room.
There were several swords lying there, covered in a thick layer of dust.
The shopkeeper went to a chest, which was covered in dust as if it hadn't been opened in years.
He sat down and took a bunch of keys from the table next to the chest.
He brushed off the dust from the chest, took out the key, and opened the lock.
He took out several swords from the chest and placed them in front of Raijin.
Seven swords of different colors lay in front of Raijin.
Red, black, yellow, blue, green, purple, and white.
Raijin asked, "Why are you showing me all this?"
The shopkeeper replied simply.
"You wanted a sword that wouldn't break easily, right?"
Raijin nodded.
The shopkeeper said softly, "There's nothing special about it... but its core is made of obsidian. It's not easy to make weapons from it. These are the only swords I have."
Raijin's gaze drifted to the swords.
The design resembled a Japanese katana. He felt as if he had seen them somewhere, but couldn't remember. He wasn't Japanese, but he knew about that culture. Perhaps a fragment of those fragmented memories.
The shopkeeper said, "If you want, you can take one of these swords for free. No one buys them after seeing their design anyway."
Raijin couldn't decide which one to choose.
The shopkeeper was watching his gaze. He understood he was having trouble choosing. He said softly, "Are you having trouble choosing?"
Raijin nodded.
The shopkeeper took out a black sword from among the swords.
"You can take this. It hasn't been altered. Not even the color has changed. It's in its original form—just like the color of an obsidian core."
Raijin said without hesitation, "This is what I want."
The shopkeeper extended the sword toward him, but his hand stopped him.
Raijin looked up in surprise—what happened?
The shopkeeper's voice echoed in his ears.
"One condition..."
Raijin's heart raced. His voice trembled.
"What?"
Ha ha ha...
The shopkeeper laughed and said, "You're scared. Don't worry... I won't make you wash the weapon.
That's it—if you ever need a weapon, arrow, spear, or armor again, come to my shop. And you can bring your friends too."
Raijin nodded immediately.
"Sure."
He took the sword and left the shop. The sun shone on his face. He breathed softly.
Then he headed towards the Guild without stopping.
Because he knew—
"Luck alone wouldn't be enough for what lay ahead."
"I had to fight the Lord—not rely on luck."
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Thank You For Reading This Chaptar.
Author: Mohammed Zaid Saifi