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

by DB King

  Ebisu shook his head, sighing. “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. And you haven’t even answered my questions yet: what are you and why did you attack my master?”

  “Let me show you.”

  The eye shimmered—gold and silver and sapphire, jewels shining in the shadow of the cavern. Something flashed in the boy’s mind—a spark of images and dark shapes in the deep. Tall, black towers arose from the depths of the ocean and reached for the heavens, piercing beyond the clouds themselves. Shadows moved beneath the waves as powerful tremors rocked the continents of the world. And then it came—a nightmarish titan, wreathed in darkness and power. Many stood before it, but nothing and no one could match its eldritch magic. Heroes and villains alike united—and failed nonetheless.

  The images cracked apart, and Ebisu found himself floating in a sea of endless blue. In front of him was the titan. It loomed over him, its dreadful, baleful eyes casting eerie lights. When it spoke, mountains shook.

  “You cannot save this world, human,” the titan said, its voice thundering. “You cannot stop me.”

  When next he came to, Ebisu found himself on his knees, both hands planted firmly upon the floor, panting and gasping for air. Cold sweat ran down the side of his face. His chest rose up and down rapidly, and it wouldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted it to. Ebisu wanted to reach for the handle of his sword, but found his hands had refused his mind’s orders. “What was that thing? I… I’ve seen it before… no, you showed it to me before!”

  “Do you remember its name, Ebisu?” the creature asked. “Do you remember what it calls itself?”

  The boy nodded and slowly pushed himself up on shaky legs. Ebisu’s hands were still frozen stiff. He couldn’t feel them at all. The rest of his body, at the very least, was only marginally corpse-like and pale. If he had to run for his life right then and there, Ebisu wasn’t sure if he could. “I remember… it called itself the Devourer.”

  Ebisu shook his head and blinked. “But why was it talking to me, like I was its rival? I’m only five years old! I can barely even fight with a sword! Of course I can’t stop it. I doubt even my master can stop that thing! No one can stop it!”

  “No, your master cannot stop it,” the grotesque creature agreed. “Powerful as he is, Murasaki Jin can’t stand against the Devourer. And yet he has a role to play in the Grand Scheme. He will play that role as you will yours, Ebisu. That is why I led you here. That is why I made your master question his purpose.”

  “You… what?” Ebisu shook his head, bent down, and grabbed his sword. His arms felt heavy and weak. Despite this, Ebisu raised his sword toward the creature’s eye. The point of his weapon was unsteady and unbalanced. It hardly mattered. The weaver, or whatever it really called itself, had just admitted to attacking his master. No matter the reason, an affront was an affront. “It doesn’t matter. What you did has left my teacher vulnerable in a forest, teeming with dangerous things! I will not forgive you!”

  Ebisu lunged forward, but found himself frozen in place. He tried and tried, forcing his muscles and his bones to push him forward and yet nothing happened.

  He gritted his teeth. “Let me go!”

  “I am not your enemy, Toyotoda Ebisu,” the creature reasoned. “The real enemy is out there, asleep. Waiting. You must prepare yourself.”

  Ebisu decided he was no longer in the mood for listening.

  His eyes scanned the creature’s unnatural body. One of its many tendrils was pointed right at him. A thin veil of magical energies extended from the tip of the writhing appendage toward his chest. Ebisu’s face darkened. His hands balled into fists and dark crimson energies poured from his body, covering his skin and clothes. “Let… me… go!”

  A wave of red darkness exploded outward, ripping apart Ebisu’s clothes and blasting the creature into a cave wall, where it left cracks upon the stone.

  Ebisu took a single step forward, dark magic bursting out of his body in droves, and immediately fell on the ground, gasping. The energies dissipated almost instantly, leaving scorched, hissing marks upon the faces of the rocks and the floor. From his place on the ground, Ebisu looked on in wonder as a pile of pebbles melted into a puddle of black and gray. What did I just do?

  “I told you, Ebisu, I am not your enemy,” the creature’s voice echoed in his head again. It seemed amused. When Ebisu glanced up toward it, he noted the distinct lack of injuries or damage. And yet its collision with the cave wall had created a massive, circular indentation, from which cracks spread outward to every direction. “The real enemy is out there, asleep. It will awaken in the years to come. This world must be ready.”

  He wanted to move, but his body refused. Even his grip over the handle of his katana had waned. At that moment, a fellow five-year-old could have probably just yanked it out of his hand. He couldn’t win. This thing was far stronger than him—far stronger than he’d thought.

  I can’t even push myself up off the floor. I’m too weak. Ebisu gritted his teeth, pushing himself further and further into the dirt in his attempt to get back on his feet. Tears trickled down his eyes. His fingernails bled as they dug into rock and stone and cold moss. I wanna go home! I wanna go home!

  An hour passed. The tears dried up on his face.

  And Ebisu still hadn’t risen from his place on the ground.

  He turned a single, lazy eye toward the creature that fluttered in the air beside him.

  “What…” he groaned, finding no strength in himself. “What are you expecting me to do? I can’t even beat you.”

  “In time, Ebisu, you will come to fully understand your role in the Grand Scheme,” the creature said. “For now, what you must do is gather strength—all the strength you can gather. To that end, I offer my services. Bond with me, as you have journeyed to do in this forest. Bond with me and you will have a power unlike anything else in this world.”

  Ebisu groaned into the dirt, having just enough strength to nod. He didn’t want to bond with this creature. He wanted a Fire Salamander, just like his master. And yet this thing was undoubtedly powerful. If he could gain the powers of this… thing, he’d become pretty strong, right? His master was strong—the strongest he’s ever known. Ebisu wanted to be just like him.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why do you offer your strength to me? What role do I have to play in this Grand Scheme you keep talking about?”

  “I offer you my strength because you need it,” the creature said simply. “The truth is that you’re weak, Toyotoda Ebisu. And you will remain weak if I do not offer you my strength. A great disaster is coming. You will need my power if you are to play the role that is meant for you, Ebisu.”

  “And what role is that?”

  “I cannot tell you,” the creature answered. “There are many things you cannot know and many secrets I must keep. This one, for instance, will be kept a secret from both you and your master, until the stars are right.”

  “What? I—”

  His world blackened. Ebisu dreamed of ancient, sunken cities and great dark towers, beneath the waves of the world.

  When the boy awakened, the first thing he felt was the new and foreign magic that was seeping into his system. Ebisu glanced down at his right forearm and found a tattoo of an eye, wreathed in eldritch tendrils. And then he screamed as his mind was torn. His hands absently reached up and wrapped around his temples as an agonizing headache seemed to rip his head in two. What’s happening to me? he thought.

  Almost as quickly as it appeared, the pain vanished. Ebisu fell to the ground, panting, covered in sweat and dirt. “What happened?”

  His mind was blank. The only thing he recalled was stepping into the mouth of the cave and then here he was, on the ground. Once more, Ebisu glanced at the tattoo on his forearm. How did it get there? What was it?

  He tried to remember. Ebisu scoured his mind for anything—any memory that might point him toward a sliver of knowledge about the creature that he must have killed in order to acquire this ta
ttoo. As he did, however, the headache threatened to return in full force. Eyes widening, Ebisu released the thought and pulled himself away from trying. He reached for his forehead, gently massaging it as he stared into the cave wall.

  What’s going on? he asked himself again. He shook his head. What he did remember was chasing after their assailant. It took him deep into the woodlands, where he’d narrowly avoided being torn to shreds by powerful Magical Beasts. And then he traced the energy signature of… something, which led him into a cave that was situated upon the side of a mountain. He followed the trail and then- nothing. His memories came up blank afterward. Whatever had happened must have wiped his memories.

  Ebisu raised his right forearm and channeled a tiny bit of magic into the tattoo. It began to glow an awful, purple hue. A strange pulling sensation made itself known in Ebisu’s fingertips, like prisoners begging to be released. It almost hurt as the boy reined in the sensation. It wanted to be unleashed. And so he did. With a simple, mental command, Ebisu unleashed the power that was brewing in his right hand.

  From his fingertips came a burst of colorless energies. It expanded briefly before colliding against the far side of the cavern walls. There was no explosion as it impacted the hard surface. There was only a brief, but powerful, pulse that left behind numerous cracks and furrows. “Oh…”

  Almost immediately, Ebisu’s trail of thought leapt right into his ability’s combat applications. It was definitely different from his master’s fire and lightning, but that didn’t mean it was weaker. It just meant it had to be used differently. And, truth be told, Ebisu wasn’t quite as fond of burning down entire sections of woodlands with a single attack. His teacher’s powers were incredible in their destructive potential, but that also meant they were incredibly dangerous to just about everything else. Ebisu had seen, first hand, the desolate landscapes left behind whenever his master fought something powerful.

  The barren, ashen wasteland left behind when his teacher drove off the Wendigo was a testament to that.

  Shaking his head, Ebisu glanced back at his tattoo. The grotesque eye seemed to stare back at him, emitting powerful energies that gnawed at the depths of his stomach. Regardless, Ebisu ignored the alien feelings and renewed his focus. Master said that one’s tattoo has different powers, depending on where it’s placed on the body.

  Willing forth his magic, Ebisu gathered his energies around the tattoo and commanded it to move to his chest. The grotesque, eldritch image came to life as its tendrils writhed and slithered over Ebisu’s skin. The boy recoiled. But the fear was quickly replaced with wonder as the tattoo visibly swam up his arm and settled over his chest.

  Something shifted within him, like thousands of insects and parasites coming to life in his stomach. Ebisu bounded forward, falling on his hands and knees as he tried and failed to wrench out whatever was in his belly. Nothing came out. As the dreadful feeling settled and Ebisu acclimated, he found four tendrils writhing below his arms, extending outward. They writhed in the air, needing no support from anything as they moved in accordance to Ebisu’s thoughts. It’s like having an extra two pairs of arms! This is awesome!

  Ebisu willed forth one of his tendrils to grab a nearby rock, half the size of his torso. He knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to lift it. The appendage stretched onward and wrapped around the large rock, before easily lifting it upward. Ebisu willed it toward him, and the tendril retreated, pulling the rock as it went. The boy noted the ease with which it lifted such a heavy object. A single tendril was far stronger than all the muscles in his body, combined. Ebisu unconsciously willed the rock be dropped. It shook the ground upon impact—such was its weight. The boy’s mind, however, was already moving onto combat applications.

  Having six limbs would make him nigh-impervious in a duel. What if I armed each tendril with its own weapon? he wondered. Would they even benefit from having weapons? They’re strong and sturdy and incredibly powerful by themselves. But fighting with six swords is way better than just one!

  Brimming with excitement, Ebisu ran out of the cave and out into the woods. The sun was nearing the west. That meant it was already afternoon. Night was likely still several hours away.

  I can’t wait to tell my master about this!

  * * *

  “So you’re not entirely sure how you bonded with that creature?” Jin asked, a single eyebrow raised as he sent a questioning glare toward his student. He then glanced at the Lightning Bug on his right forearm. “That’s… not so strange actually.”

  The woodlands burned behind them as they walked onward, illuminating the shadows of the night. Jin led his student toward the nearest road, away from the forests and the tall trees. Their strides were slow and weak, and their clothes seemed just about ready to flutter in the wind and disappear forever. And yet they walked with pride and mirth. Ebisu, especially, was utterly at ease, despite his own exhaustion.

  “At least we got what we came here for.” Jin eyed Ebisu’s strange tattoo. He still couldn’t figure out what the creature was as, upon closer inspection, he realized it definitely wasn’t a Tormentor. Based on its body shape, the Magical Beast was likely aquatic in nature as something like that probably wouldn’t survive on dry land—but then, when magic was taken into account, logic wasn’t nearly as strong. Whatever the case, the strangest thing about Ebisu’s tattoo was the energy it gave off. The smell and feel of it was almost akin to rotting fish and putrid cinnamon.

  Jin shook his head. At the end of the day, Ebisu’s newfound powers hardly mattered in the face of his current predicament. “So, you don’t remember anything after entering the cave?”

  His student nodded, dragging along his katana as its sheath seemed to have disappeared. Jin glanced down at Agito and uttered a quick thank you to the heavens for somehow keeping his companion’s sheath intact.

  “No, master,” Ebisu replied. ”My mind is blank and my head starts hurting whenever I try to think about it too much. Whatever happened must’ve badly damaged my memories or something. I’d like to remember, but I just can’t.”

  Jin nodded. Ebisu’s description was definitely the work of a controller. Those things were the only creatures capable of altering minds and memories. And yet, without Ebisu’s input, it was simply impossible for him to arrive at a suitable conclusion. He still wanted to find and shred the creature that’d forced him to face the darkest pits of his own mind, but… with Ebisu here… going on a grudge quest against a single Magical Beast that was probably already a hundred miles away seemed quite useless.

  Jin looked at his student. “Whatever the case, we’ll need to find out more about what you can and can’t do once we return to Hirata, understood?”

  “Yes, master!” Ebisu chirped. “I’m so excited! Can’t we just run back home?”

  Jin shook his head. “I’d like to walk for a bit. There’s… something I need to think about, student. In the meantime, place your tattoo on your right forearm and focus on your control over that telekinetic blast you mentioned. There are plenty of trees you can practice on.”

  As the night darkened, and the burning patch of forestry grew ever farther away from them, Jin’s mind wandered. Even as Ebisu destroyed tree after tree, shattered boulder after boulder, and flattened tall stalks of grass with his powers, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to pay attention. Sure, his senses remained on high-alert, due to their close proximity to the woods, where bandits and Magical Beasts dwelled, but most of his consciousness dwelled back on his conversation with the thing that masqueraded as his mother—or, it could have been his true mother’s soul, but that was far too complicated and improbable for him to even consider.

  What do I want from this life? he asked himself.

  Chapter 7

  The hooded figures of the Order took shelter from the rain in a cave. They had all become rather pale these last few days, the old man noted, but he couldn’t tell whether it was due to the hard journey… or to him.

  They all felt him, all the ti
me. The Dark One loomed over them like a cold shadow. The old man had felt this many times before, but some of the younger members had only experienced it once or twice.

  But if the Dark One’s presence wasn’t enough, they all knew what they would soon have to do… again. And none of them liked it.

  They had to find the vessel and kill it before the Dark One could enter this realm fully. The old man knew there would be a debate about it—just as there had been the last time, and the time before that. The killing of vessels—children—was not easily done. But it was their duty, their sacred duty.

  If they neglected it… If they were too late, even just a moment late…

  Everyone and everything would be forfeit. There would be no Moyatani remaining. There would be no world remaining. That display in the tent a few days ago had only been a fraction of the Dark One’s power.

  The rain slowed and stopped.

  The old man struggled back up to his feet. “Come,” he said. “We have to keep moving.”

  They gathered what remained of their tents and equipment and followed the old man out of the cave, stepping into the afternoon heat. “How much longer?” one of them asked, shielding his eyes against the sun.

  “Not long,” the old man said, his eyes fixed firmly forward. “We are close to the vessel. Murasaki Jin is near.”

  Chapter 8

  “My lord, my name is Miura Shinji. I have been sent here by the Imperial Academy to ascertain the presence of what the Grand Council has referred to as the Anomaly.” He was a young man, though visibly a lot older than both Jin and Ebisu. If Arima had to guess, Shinji was probably nearing, or in his early, twenties. His black hair was cut short, close to his scalp, which meant he was either a monk at some point or he was of commoner stock. His skin color was somewhere between dark brown and red, which was typical of the Varnu people, who lived in the far north, separated from the rest of Moyatani by a massive mountain range, where monstrous creatures were said to dwell. He wore a blue kimono, stylized with the traditional Varnu patterns of interlocking triangles, and wore nothing underneath it. His hakama was a dark blue, having the same patterns as his kimono. The young man wore neither slippers nor socks.