Bushido Online: the Battle Begins: A LitRPG Saga

by Nikita Thorn

  A poison dart struck the wall beside him as Seiki entered a small street. He did not know when/if they were going to give up or how he would get away from this, unless he managed to lose them somehow. He could not hide, since Sense would reveal him right away. The only way was to dart back into South City or be lucky enough to have another Amaya invite him into their private territory.

  Another left turn, and something whizzed in front of him. At first, he thought it was another poison dart, but it was just the quest arrow. Now that the ninjas had lost their horses, it took them longer to catch up. The downside was that Seiki could no longer gauge from the sound of hooves where they were anymore. Grabbing the arrow, he continued to run.

  Quest accepted: The Mysterious Messenger [Level 6].

  The shadow on the roof had reappeared. Not really knowing where to go or where he was in the city, Seiki followed it. The shadow continued to leap from building to building, and Seiki went wherever it took him. It had been a while since he had felt Hibi’s Sense on him, and he was starting to wonder if they had given up the chase.

  In a quiet alley, the shadow finally dropped down onto the ground and disappeared into a door at the end of the way. Seiki stopped and looked around. He knew he was still in West City, but it was abnormally quiet.

  There was no one around, and the streetlamps flickered dimly in the gentle night.

  Following the shadow, Seiki approached the door. It was unlocked.

  Quest completed: The Mysterious Messenger [Level 6].

  Seiki slid the door open and stepped in. He found himself in a wooden hall, very much like Master Tsujihara’s dojo, but about twice as large and longer. The place was unlit, and the light from the streetlamps outside was not enough for Seiki to make out too many details. In place of a dojo sign hung a square flag with a circular symbol with curved lines around it.

  It seemed empty, and Seiki suspected that he had entered an instance. The old wood boards creaked as Seiki walked further into the hall. On the wall to his left, he spotted a large hanging scroll: a painting of a person in a sword stance, which he instantly recognized, to his amusement, as Focused Strike.

  “So you really came,” said a voice. At the far end of the hall was a man, who must have quietly appeared when Seiki was observing the painting. Seiki had been expecting it to be connected to Umezawa somehow, like what Sato had suggested, but this man was someone he had never met before. His tone was not exactly hostile, but was far from being friendly.

  “Yes, I got your message,” said Seiki.

  The man, who appeared to be in his forties, was dressed in a white kimono and simple armor made of black leather covering his chest and forearms. His hair was in a high ponytail and he had on him two swords, a katana and a shorter blade, both of which were kept in matching black scabbards.

  “If you want to know who burnt down your master’s precious dojo, I can tell you right now that I did,” said the man.

  That was a tell-tale sign that the man was not a friend, Seiki decided, as he studied him warily.

  “Why, you ask.” The man paused.

  Seiki said nothing. From his stance, Seiki was certain the swords on the man were not for show.

  “It was a message,” the man said. “One that your master unfortunately did not listen to.”

  The man stepped into a sliver of light that was let in through the high narrow air windows on top of the wooden wall, and Seiki noted the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “So I will send him another one.” He took one step further.

  Seiki placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend himself.

  The man let out an amused scoff. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  The real sword was much heavier than its bamboo counterpart, and although Seiki had tried out his moves after he had received the sword, he had not gotten a chance to test it out in real combat before. Still, he had trained for hours with Master Tsujihara, and the moves he knew, he was confident he knew well.

  Without another word, the man rushed forward in a running attack, his sword drawn in a flash of fierce white light. Seiki was ready for this. Lunging aside with his left foot, Seiki turned in a half-circle, and his right hand swept out with Sweeping Blade. The man twisted his body to dodge out of its range. As soon as his move finished, Seiki spun further around. His left foot stepped into position, allowing him to follow up with an immediate Focused Strike.

  Surprised, the man had to draw his short blade with his left hand. Metal clanked on metal as he fended off Seiki’s attack with such a tremendous amount of strength that Seiki was almost forced to let go of his sword. Not wasting a single second, the man’s left foot slid forward and tripped Seiki off his balance.

  As Seiki used his left hand to break his fall, the man kicked him squarely in the chest and Seiki fell backward onto the polished wood floor. Out of wind, but with his hand still holding the sword, Seiki sprang to his feet and lunged again with Focused Strike.

  The man parried without much effort. Even before Seiki could fully recover his balance, the man landed a numbing kick on Seiki’s side, which sent him tumbling to the ground. Gasping for air, Seiki turned as he tried to pick himself up, but found that he did not have the strength.

  The man scoffed, but did not continue his attack. “It seems that Tsujihara taught you a thing or two after all.”

  Seiki noticed then that the man did not have a level, or a name. And although his attacks had seemed severe, Seiki’s health had not dropped below three quarters.

  “Show me, again,” the man said. “Properly, this time.”

  He sheathed his blades and stood there with arms open. “Come at me.”

  Seiki hesitated as he got to his feet. He knew no matter what he attempted, it was not going to work. Had it been a real fight, he would have opted for an element of surprise; he would have dashed in with the sword before taking a chance by going in close to grab him. But Master Tsujihara would have not approved, and he felt that it would give this man another excuse to insult the old master.

  So, Seiki charged with Sweeping Blade, taking into consideration the possible ways the man could dodge. At the last minute, he turned it into a different move.

  “Focused Strike,” said the man before Seiki could even execute it. His foot shot out to trip Seiki again, but Seiki was ready and he jumped over it, turning in mid-air, his right arm sweeping out.

  “Sweeping Blade,” said the man, as if reading his mind. With his bare hands, the stranger caught Seiki’s wrist and twisted it. Numbness shot down his arm and Seiki gasped as he let go of his sword. The man quickly spun around and kicked him onto the floor again.

  The man’s attacks did not cause massive damage, but they were immobilizing. For a moment, Seiki needed time to catch his breath.

  This fight was perhaps not meant to be won.

  “Does the name Shousei mean anything to you?” asked the man.

  Seiki glanced at his sword, which was now lying at the man’s feet. Completely out of reach. Any movement from him would not go unnoticed by the swordsman, who had more than proven that he would be able to handle any attack from Seiki even with his bare hands.

  “Thought not.” The man let out a bitter laugh when he got no answer from Seiki. “So let me tell you a story then, Seiki, is it?”

  The swordsman, as if smelling Seiki’s intentions, kicked at the hilt of Hikari and sent it sliding across the smooth surface of the wooden floor deeper into the hall.

  “But whether you get to hear the end of the story depends on whether you are going to live that long.”

  The man started to unsheathe his sword, deliberately slowly, and Seiki scrambled to his feet to dash after Hikari. Behind him, he could hear the ring as the sword left its scabbard and the man’s soft footsteps in close pursuit.

  “Once upon a time, there was a swordsman who went by the name of Shousei,” said the man as he closed in with his sprint, his sword raised high.


  Seiki grabbed Hikari from the floor and turned around, just in time, to block the full slash from the falling blade. The force of the impact was unexpectedly strong and, again, forced Seiki to let go of his weapon. Learning from experience, Seiki rolled out of the way before the man could kick him.

  The man had paused. He was now standing between Seiki and his sword, looking at him with a cold gleam in his eyes. “Shousei was loyal to the master he served, and when the master wished to wage war against powers that were, he willingly lent his sword.”

  Hikari was out of Seiki’s reach, and the man’s stance left no opening he could exploit. The sword gave him a lot of range, and Seiki was certain he could not get close enough for a grab.

  “But then, one day,” continued the man. “The master grew suspicious of the swordsman’s power and influence, so Shousei, ever loyal, made a vow to lay down arms and went away quietly in self-exile.”

  The man kicked Hikari away, further toward the end of the hall. Seiki was starting to notice a pattern now, and thoughts raced through his mind. He knew his grip could not withstand the force of the impact from the parry, so he had to try something else.

  “It was an idyllic life in the mountains,” the man continued. “And Shousei had time to perfect the art of the sword in peace.”

  The man scoffed. “Imagine that, the greatest swordsman who ever lived, forced to hide away in the wilderness. But somehow, the man was content. Over time, he even took in a few students to make sure his sword techniques were passed down.”

  The swordsman did not attack, and seemed to be waiting for Seiki to make a dash for the sword again, while he continued to talk. “Of course, ever-loyal, Shousei made his students take the same vow to never raise a hand against his former master.”

  Seiki had an idea. Taking a deep breath, he sprang to his feet and sprinted toward Hikari. Like before, the man immediately ran after him with his sword raised. “It was a very simple vow,” he cried, slight anger in his voice.

  As Seiki grabbed the hilt of Hikari from the floor, and right when the man was about to reach him, Seiki took one extra diagonal step and used it as a pivot to spin around and flow into an immediate Sweeping Blade. He was now too close for the man to conveniently cut with his sword. Just as Seiki’s blade was about to connect, there was a flash of light as the man drew his short blade with his left hand to block.

  The weapons collided in a numbing impact and, once again, Hikari flew out of Seiki’s hands just as the man landed a kick to his ribs. Seiki crashed onto the wood. This kick was serious and took more than half of his remaining health, sending numbness through his whole right side.

  “That was a risky move, Seiki,” said the man, taking a step toward him. “Might have worked against other people.” The man proceeded to kick the sword further away, the skid echoing down the hall.

  Seiki, panting, waited for the numbness to subside. The man did not seem to have any intention to kill him immediately. As soon as Seiki was disarmed, the man stopped attacking and continued his monologue. “That was all Shousei asked for. His students were free to do whatever they wanted, except for this one thing.”

  Seiki knew now he could not withstand the man’s power and would lose his sword every time blades connected. There was a pattern to this, and there was something he was supposed to figure out.

  The man was still talking. “On his dying bed, Shousei made them repeat their vow. Simple vow to keep, isn’t it?”

  That was when he noticed a second painting on the wall. It was a woman in samurai gear, arm outstretched in a full Sweeping Blade.

  Right there, Seiki understood the design.

  As soon as the numbness left him, Seiki made another sprint for the sword. As before, the man ran after him with his sword raised in a slashing attack. Seiki swerved down to grab the Hikari and continued running toward the end of the hall, where he searched for a third painting.

  It was there. A samurai in full armor, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword, raised diagonally in front of him, with a red line traced along the outline of his arms toward his hands and onto the middle of the blade.

  Seiki spun around. The swordsman had caught up and was in the middle of a downward slash. In a split second, Seiki steadied his stance on the floor. He focused his energy down both his arms, until he felt it on his grip around the hilt of the sword and onto the blade. He pulled Hikari up to meet the falling strike.

  The clank of blades rang clear as he parried, forcing the man’s weapon aside.

  Congratulations! You have learned a new ability: Parry. Range: 0.4. Energy required: 24.

  Parry [Seiki – Level 8]: fend off a non-fatal incoming attack, avoiding all its damage. May be used to ward off a fatal attack at the cost of all remaining energy, in which case a 20 second lockout applies. Requires a weapon to use. Required energy: 24. Ability modification: none. Enhancement: none.

  Giving Seiki no time to process this new ability, the man pulled his sword back in another horizontal slash. Seiki focused his energy, and Parried once more. He could still feel the force of the impact between his hands, but he no longer lost his grip on the sword. Although the move did no damage, Seiki was glad to discover that it used very little energy compared to his offensive moves.

  Following the second Parry with an immediate Sweeping Blade, Seiki forced the man to leap backward out of range.

  The man stopped his attacks and observed him, perhaps for the first time. He smiled, and Seiki could have sworn it was a look of enjoyment. “Seeing that you have half a brain after all, I will amuse you with the rest of the story.”

  Seiki still stood with both hands on Hikari, which he held in front of him in a defensive stance.

  The man had not lowered his sword as he continued. “After Shousei died, his students scattered. Some chose a peaceful life of charity, some chose glory in the battlefield. You should have guessed by now, Seiki, that one of Shousei’s students was called Tsujihara.”

  “And who was Shousei to you?” Seiki asked, piecing it together. He had not been listening very carefully, but he could grasp the gist of where this was going.

  The man smiled coldly. “My father. And that’s Master Shousei for you. Personally, I could not care less about what happens in the world outside the art of the sword, but when someone breaks their vow, it is my duty to ensure that the will of my father lives.”

  “Did your father serve the Shogun?” Seiki asked.

  The man sneered. “That is Master Shousei for you, boy, and as the second generation of the prestigious sword style, it’s Master Shousei when you refer to me as well.” The man’s eyes shone with a hard, piercing gleam.

  Seiki figured now that it was not hostility in the man’s tone, but arrogance. And perhaps he had every right to be so. The man could have cut him on many occasions, but not once had he used his sword against Seiki. And Seiki knew well he did not even need to.

  The man did not answer his question; still, the mention of the Shogun seemed to spark quite an amount of hostility. His voice was cold now. “You have not seen half of what the Shousei style is capable of.”

  Before he even finished, the man dashed at Seiki in a full attack, leaping up high before slashing down. Seiki quickly took a step back into the stance and Parried, and the electrifying shock from the impact shot up his arms. His energy flowed forth to withstand the strike and immediately drained to zero. Seiki’s eyes widened as he realized this must have otherwise been a fatal blow.

  With Seiki out of energy, Shousei’s second attack sent the Hikari flying. Then, the man spun around, his high kick caught Seiki on his right shoulder and brought him to the floor, dropping his health to a meager fifth. Seiki grunted as he struggled to move, but his whole upper torso had gone paralyzed.

  Shousei scoffed in amusement as he walked toward the corner, where there was a large earthen jar, almost big enough to contain a person. “It’s a pity that I have no more time to waste here.”

 
; He had reached the jar, and was tapping on it. “You know, life in the mountains has its own benefits. We are close to many kinds of…” He paused as he chose his words. “Natural phenomena.”

  Across the jar was a long strip of paper with ancient characters that said ‘spirit ward’, repeatedly along its length.

  “If you live through this, pass me a message to Tsujihara,” said Shousei. “Just so you know, I simply lit the fuse, as the powder was already there. Ultimately, it was his own doing. But did he listen? No. So now, I shall have to remind him of Hokori Mountains.”

  With that, he ripped the paper off, and almost immediately the jar started to tremble.

  “And before you say I’m heartless, I’ll leave you with this.” He tossed a small object, which Seiki caught in his hand. It was a small blue ceramic bottle.

  You have received: Rejuvenation Potion. Restores all health and energy. Expires in 1 hour.

  When Seiki looked up again, Shousei was already gone. And the jar, which had been shaking violently from whatever was contained inside it, burst into pieces in an ear-piercing shatter.

  Chapter 14

  Despite not knowing what he was looking at, Seiki was more than certain that it was trying to kill him. Bursting forth from the jar were what at first looked like three small whirlwinds—save for the fact that they left the flooring in splinters as they whirled angrily toward him.

  Seiki had neither health nor energy to spare at the moment. Yet, before he had even recovered from the numbness that kept him on the floor, the first whirlwind—seemingly made of blades—had almost reached him. He threw himself aside and dodged the spinning blades. This left him no choice but to accept Shousei’s gift after all. He flicked off the lid of the potion and drank it in one go.

  The potion was slightly sweet and refreshingly cold. Health and energy flooded Seiki, much like the feeling of leveling, minus the disconcerting sense of joy. He tossed the empty bottle aside, which exploded on the floor in a strangely satisfying puff of smoke, and he raised his sword in time to fend off one of the whirlwind of small blades with a Parry.