Rise of the Sword Saint: A Reincarnation Epic Fantasy Saga (Kensei Book 2)

by DB King

  And then he felt it. His arms were suddenly much shorter and smaller, the same with his legs. Just about every part of him had shrunken. Jin glanced down and found the color of his skin had been altered as well, a soft creamy-white as opposed to the pale white he’d long since grown accustomed to. Upon his right wrist was a tiny scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

  Wait, where have I…?

  Of course, he had gotten that scar after a rather amusing accident one rainy afternoon. He had slipped on the side of the mountain pass and fell into the woods below. Only the relative lightness of his tiny body saved him from further harm—it also helped, somewhat, that he had been thoroughly enjoying the whole affair, all the while his mother chased after him, frantically screaming out his name with each muddy step. And yet the one thing he so clearly remembered from that day was her face, eyes red with tears. And yet she was smiling when she found him in the undergrowth, near the roots of some old tree, covered in mud and grime.

  Why am I suddenly remembering all these things? True enough, the scenes and images from the very distant past were welcome. Just the sight of them had brought a smile to his lips—one of the few, rare smiles he’d shed in the new world.

  Jin shook his head, finding it was actually there. His sense of self was back, at least. He could feel his own body parts again. The endless blackness, however, was still there—and so was the shining silhouette with the voice of his mother. No, it couldn’t possibly be his mother. This must all be a trick, some sort of mind-altering illusion. Whatever this thing was, it had the ability to access his memories—even ones from the distant past, even the ones he’d already forgotten. He couldn’t underestimate this thing.

  “What are you? How dare you take on the form of my mother?! Reveal your true form, monster!” Jin wasn’t too confident about making threats at something that could probably lobotomize him if it wanted to. Still, if this was to be the end—hopefully not—he’d rather die standing defiant and steadfast. Then again, mind-altering opponents rarely ever killed their victims, instead leaving them catatonic or vegetative—neither ending he wished for himself.

  “You are weary, my boy. I can feel your mind slowly cracking apart from this path you’ve thrown yourself into.” The silhouette reached forward and placed the ends of its fingers on Jin’s forehead—a gesture his mother used to do whenever he felt agitated or anxious. And the effects were the same. Almost magically—and he knew it almost certainly was—the anxiety and doubt that’d riddled his body seemed to simmer down, like a great roaring flame reduced to cinders. Jin breathed out a low and steady sigh, his burdens leaving him. His shoulders slumped forward. Every muscle in his imaginary body seemed to relax.

  “Alright… who are you?” It couldn’t be his mother—it just couldn’t be. His mother had long since departed the world of the living and disappeared forever. She was dead, through and through. She couldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be here.

  And yet here I am—alive, even after my own death, Jin thought.

  No—this was all a trick by some mind-altering Magical Beast of great power. He was, after all, beset by some form of illusory magic earlier in the forest. It wasn’t a stretch to believe this was all an illusion world of some sort, meant to trap Jin’s mind in an endless void, all the while tormenting him with visions and constructs of his own making. His mother, for instance, was the catalyst to every single thing he had done in his previous world, the push that eventually drove him into seeking the highest throne. Her death finished the child in him, squashing whatever remained of his innocence. What remained of him was a grim, pragmatic soul that merely hoped for the best, while preparing for the worst—a shell of a man, if he was being honest.

  The Hollowed Knight, his one friend, had walked out of the same flames unscathed—emotionally, at least. After the burning of their village, they had wandered the countryside, foraging and surviving for months without end, and still his friend had the strength to smile and laugh, while he could do little but sulk and brood in the shadows.

  “My boy, my dear boy, life hasn’t been kind to you after my death, has it?” The silhouette spoke in a manner that would’ve had him believe it was truly his mother if he had been a fool, but he was no fool—he was the Mage-Emperor, the greatest of the great and the one who stands above all. This Magical Beast would never fool him into lowering his guard—not even for an instant, not even when it used his mother’s face against him.

  “I asked you a question, creature. Who and what are you?” He couldn’t sense his own magic, which meant he couldn’t defend himself if it came down to some sort of mind battle. Still, Jin could feel and move his shrunken limbs well enough. The only issue was that he was still floating in the void and could do little but… well… float, which meant he was utterly vulnerable, both physically and magically. I’m at an absolute disadvantage… hah, how could I have let this go so poorly? I should be better than this. No, I’ve gotten sloppy.

  Then again, did it really matter? What if this whole mystery world was simply the death throes of his mind, conjuring up an entirely new life for him to live, before his soul descended into the Underworld forever?

  Probably not, but it was certainly a possibility.

  Oh, what the heck, he decided. Let’s just see what happens if I play along.

  “Alright, mother, what—where are we? What is this place?”

  The silhouette chuckled as it moved closer toward him, hovering over the great blackness. It reached forward and laid a hand on his right cheek, cupping his face and filling him with a familiar warmth that shook his defenses. It was something his mother always used to do. She loved to touch his plump face whenever she had the chance, squeezing both his cheeks or simply cupping them, smiling all the while. “Life truly hasn’t been kind to you, my dear boy. I am sorry that I wasn’t there to watch you grow, to guide you and love you. How I wish I could, but—”

  “But you were busy being dead. You haven’t answered my question, mother.” Jin nearly spat, but kept his composure. Besides, he wasn’t quite sure if he had any actual saliva in this place. And, if he did, testing the patience of something that could rip apart his mind was not a good idea. For now, the best thing to do was to play whatever game it was playing. Understanding one’s enemies was the path to defeating them. Maybe if he could understand its motives, Jin might just find a way out of this place. And then he’d spend a very long time rethinking his life and what he really wanted out of it.

  For now, his only priority was escape.

  The silhouette sighed and pulled back its hand. The cold rushed back in and lingered over his skin, like the sweeping winds from freezing mountaintops. In here, however, Jin lacked the warmth of his Fire Salamander, or the various powers it granted him. Here, he was just an ordinary human being. Huh… that’s a sobering thought.

  “My son, why do you fight?”

  Jin raised an eyebrow. What kind of question was that? Was this Magical Beast interested in a philosophical debate?

  Well, if that’s what it wanted, Jin was more than capable of delivering. “I fight, because I choose to, because it is what I want to do. I seek power above all—the power to stand above all.”

  “My dear boy, I raised you… and I know you well enough to know when you’re lying and when you’re not. Right now, I know for a fact that you are lying, not just to me but to yourself,” the silhouette answered, and Jin felt a lump building up in his throat. “Why do you lie to yourself, my dear boy? Why are you trying to convince yourself of this foolishness?”

  The dam was breaking. Already, cracks were forming all across its surface, trickling droplets of water streaming outward. The lump in his throat was threatening to burst.

  “Why?” Jin chuckled darkly, despite himself. He glanced down at his feet for a moment, wondering if he even had an answer.

  He didn’t.

  He didn’t know why he was lying to himself.

  He didn’t know why he was trying to convince himself that his go
al was to seek power—that power defined him and everything he did, when it didn’t.

  Power was a means to an end, power was a tool used to achieve something greater than itself.

  The simple, but utterly bitter truth was that he didn’t have an end.

  He was tossed into this world with only the hope and the promise that he would live this new life better than he did his previous one. Instead, he was doing the exact thing he was hoping to avoid, he was going down the same road he had promised to steer clear of.

  The simple truth was that he had been living his new life without any clear purpose in mind—without reason, without anything to truly strive for, except for the illusion of power being the end, when it wasn’t.

  And so he didn’t have an answer.

  He didn’t even know if there was one.

  Maybe, he was lying because that was the only way he could maintain the illusion he’d placed over himself. Because, without that illusion, without that veil, he’d be utterly, completely, hilariously, lost. He had never been lost before. There was always a goal, an end to look forward to and work toward. Now, he had nothing to do and nothing to look forward to. He wasn’t even entirely sure if he really wanted this new life. He wasn’t sure if this new life was even worth it. Without the illusion, he wouldn’t be sure of anything—not even himself.

  In an utterly hilarious and twisted way, the illusion of power and strength and superiority was the only thing he really had. It was the only thing that gave him meaning and purpose.

  “Ah… hahahahaha!” For the first time in a terribly long count of years, tiny droplets began streaming out of his eyes. Despite this, grim bouts of cracked laughter escaped his throat. It was painful. And each one came out in choking gasps and strained pants. Was he seriously crying? When was the last time he ever cried?

  Had the damnable creature really just made him cry?

  “Haha… this is an all-time low,” he said, “can someone come in here and kill me?”

  Jin slumped forward and chuckled for a final time, before breathing out a long and quiet sigh. As the last of his tears fell into the void, the silhouette reached forward and laid a hand over his shoulder. When Jin looked up, he saw for a moment the sad look on his mother’s face, one of regret and longing, eyes filled with unshed tears. The silhouette seemed distressed and unsure of something, but he wasn’t sure why. “I wish I could stay for longer, my son.”

  Jin raised an eyebrow. “What are you playing at, creature?”

  “Goodbye, my sweet little boy. We will see each other again someday. For now, fate has decreed otherwise.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Awaken!”

  The void crumbled. Flecks of light shone through the cracks and flooded the darkness. Slowly, but surely, the endless blackness was disappearing, like a construct slowly fading into oblivion. Jin lost any and all sensation over himself, but suddenly regained his connection to his magical energies as everything around him was engulfed in a golden, blinding brightness.

  * * *

  The moment his eyes fluttered open, Jin surged forth and unleashed a great torrent of flames in every conceivable direction. Sights and smells, sounds and textures, even an absent taste on his tongue. Everything came back at full force. He vaguely noted the sky had gone dark, filled with stars and ashen clouds. He didn’t care. Everything around him had to burn.

  “Come out!” Jin raised a single hand forward and willed forth a great torrent of flames, turning a great swathe of forestry into ashes within seconds. Burning tears fell from his eyes as he roared into the heavens, “Come out and face me!”

  As he screamed, great pillars of flames shot out into the sky, further illuminating the blazing forest.

  Silence greeted him.

  And so Jin greeted back with an endless barrage of flames, spewing out everywhere, endlessly. Some controller-type Magical Beast dared invade the sanctity of his own thoughts, even using the image of his own mother against him. Such an affront would not go unpunished. Such an affront deserved only death and destruction in return!

  “I will burn every living thing in this forest to find you!” Jin screamed, storm clouds gathering above as his Lightning Bug tattoo heeded his call for destruction, arcs of blue energies dancing around his right hand. “How dare you humiliate me, you bast—”

  Something blared across his magical senses, a familiar presence he’d nearly forgotten. Jin ceased his flames immediately, shaking his head. His eyes flashed upward, where a shadow rapidly descended from above. Jin stood still, relaxed, as the flames raged on around him, and a figure dropped a few feet away from him, on a bed of coal and ashes.

  Crouching down, ragged and worn, covered in ash, soot, mud, and grime, was Ebisu. His clothes were torn and shredded, and blood dripped down a crimson blotch on his forehead. His breathing was harsh and heavy, like someone who’d just finished running across hundreds of miles without rest. His feet were bare. And yet his eyes glinted with confidence and pride, and his lips were twisted into a grin.

  Jin’s eyes widened when he saw the glowing tattoo on Ebisu’s right hand, some eldritch creature that seemed to be a single, giant eye, surrounded by writhing tendrils. He didn’t quite recognize the creature immediately, but it might have been a Tormentor, an incredibly rare type of Controller, whose abilities were mostly unknown, save for its power to use its victims’ fears against them. Or, it might have been something else entirely. Jin couldn’t exactly trust his vision at that moment, clouded as it was by rage and indignation.

  Jin huffed and fell to a knee, suddenly losing all strength in his limbs. His student stood and wobbled over to him, looking utterly exhausted, but defiant and confident all the same. Jin shook his head and placed a hand underneath his chin. “Ebisu? How… What happened? Have you bonded with a creature while I was lying unconscious?”

  Ebisu smiled and huffed, falling right on his bottom and sagging quite visibly. “Yes… master… I… I was trying to tell you that I noticed something was following us at the time, but… but then you just fell unconscious. I carried you somewhere safe and went looking for the source of whatever had attacked you.”

  The boy’s eyes fell upon the tattoo on his right hand. A sickening purple glow emanated from it, alongside eerie eldritch energies that caused the hairs on the back of Jin’s neck to stand. Whatever creature Ebisu had bonded with was unnatural. The sensation it gave off was almost akin to whatever magic was bound in his Agito’s blood-red metal—an accursed aura, otherworldly and malicious.

  Ebisu had bonded with it without his guidance—somehow.

  Jin chuckled and leaned back, allowing himself to fall flat on the ash-ridden forest floor. With everything that’d suddenly happened, his own thoughts had become a bit distant. Once, he might have cared more about Ebisu’s encounter, cared more about his health and wellness, but now Jin simply didn’t care. Being able to fight against the creature that’d ensnared him within his own mind might have given him some measure of reprieve, but he couldn’t even have something as banal as that.

  And so, all that came out of his parched lips were a few tired words, “How’d you do it?”

  Ebisu fell on his back and gave out a soft chuckle. Despite their mutual exhaustion, the boy did not lack in excitement. Jin felt something well within his chest, a pang of pain so tiny and so insignificant he may as well have never missed it. And yet it was there, and it didn’t feel good. “Well, I followed your lessons and used my magical senses to try and find the source of the hostile magic!”

  Jin huffed and sighed. “Hmm? Tell me more.”

  Chapter 5

  There was something stalking them from behind the tall trees. A nameless terror, a moving shadow, tendrils writhing in the gaps between the colors. A darkness was following them, moving where their eyes could not see, where their ears could not hear, and where their noses could not smell. Ebisu would turn over his shoulder again and again, expecting something would be trailing after th
em in the trees and yet, each time he did, there was nothing, but the silence and the whispers of the leaves in the overgrowth.

  It might have been just his mind playing tricks on him. After all, this was the first time he’d ever ventured this far away from his home, from his father, from his village. Things were bound to be scary and terrifying in more ways than one.

  And yet, he steeled his mind and his nerves, and kept his breathing steady and calm.

  There was, after all, nothing to be afraid of.

  Everything was happening as it should.

  Ebisu looked to his master and teacher, and found him utterly at ease with the environment, moving with not a care in the world—confident and regal, a true noble. His master, Murasaki Jin, carried himself with such efficiency and grace that he was almost dancing, even as he moved across the forest floor with gliding steps. Ebisu hoped to emulate his master someday, and so he followed every single order and did every single task as though his very soul was on the line. Whenever his master asked him to make tea, he would, knowing full well that this was his master’s way of testing his ability to maintain perfection and composure, for a true noble was capable of making tea in even the worst of circumstances. Whenever his master asked him to gather firewood, Ebisu would do so knowing it was a test of his strength and balance, his efficiency and patience.

  Everything was a test, an obstacle to be overcome, using nothing but his wits and his strength.

  Everything was designed by his master and teacher.

  And so, when his master showed neither fear nor hesitation, Ebisu deigned to do the same. There was nothing to fear. Everything was in his teacher’s control. His teacher was powerful beyond anything and anyone he could imagine, stronger than fully-grown men, stronger than the bushi themselves.