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

by DB King

  Shinji nodded. The old man likely had a very weak magical potential that simply shriveled and died as a result of underdevelopment. He wouldn’t have felt the creature’s presence otherwise. “And then what happened?”

  The old man raised his arm and eyed the stump that used to be his right hand. It had already healed and scarred, but it didn’t look old either. Judging by the formation of the scar tissue, it seemed the hand itself had been torn off in a rather gruesome fashion, by something that’d come incredibly fast—a projectile of some kind.

  The old man continued, “I was foolish and my curiosity won over whatever survival instinct I had in my head. When I was young, my father would tell me stories of a creature who commanded the winter and the storms, whose arrival was heralded by madness and cannibalism. I never believed him, and I wanted to see for myself if his stories held even a shred of truth.”

  Shinji gestured for him to continue, but the old man paused as his tea kettle began whistling and dancing from its place over an open spit of flames. He turned, grabbed the kettle, and poured tea over two clay cups. The old man stood up and offered one to Shinji, who leaned into the steam and whiffed once. He didn’t recognize the smell. After a moment of deliberation, Shinji took a single sip. Flower tea? Eh, I’ve had worse.

  “Thank you,” Shinji said as the old man took a seat. The tea wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it would be. Still, it was a lot better than what the peasants in the capital were drinking—a lot better, actually. He smiled and nodded at the old man. “And what did you see?”

  “I saw—”

  A sudden commotion broke their conversation. Bells rang and horses trotted nearby. The townsfolk were clamoring about something, and had gathered into a crowd. Shinji could hardly make out their words, but simple deductive reasoning seemed to indicate the arrival of someone or something important, likely some sort of caravan from the capital. The gates of the innermost wall retreated upward, the metal clanging against stone. Shinji briefly eyed the distant walls and hummed.

  He hadn’t gotten around to inspecting them yet, but one of the reasons he’d been sent to Hirata were the whispers of supposed innovations that’d never been seen before—strange buildings and contraptions that even the grand architects at the capital could never have conceived. The great wall that surrounded the town was just one of those wonders. Shinji was still having trouble understanding how the drainage system even worked. The houses and the buildings were not made of wood and straw and paper; instead, they were built of stone and ironwood, sturdy and durable—quite unlike the homes of the peasants in the capital. The streets did not smell of urine or feces, and the roads were near spotless, even when it rained.

  The old man stood and glanced through his window. “What is it now?”

  He gasped, eyes widening, before putting down his teacup, and walking past Shinji and out his doorway.

  Sighing, Shinji turned and glanced at the source of the commotion. There were two people coming in through the gates. Guards flanked them on both sides, and the townsfolk cheered and celebrated their arrival. Both were dirty and ragged. Their clothes were torn, shredded, and burnt. They looked like a pair of beggars and vagabonds. One was noticeably older than the other. The older of the two was roughly around eleven to thirteen-years of age, whilst the younger was likely around five or six. Both of them emitted incredibly powerful magical auras—both of them equally strange. The older possessed an absurd amount of pure, distinctly Moyatani, magical energy. Just sensing it was like trying to swim in the middle of a great ocean, whilst a mighty storm raged on. The younger one seemed to hold an alien presence within him. Dark energies swirled around him, bending light and space. What bastard magic do those two possess? Shinji wondered.

  Children weren’t supposed to be hosts to such unnatural forms or magnitudes of magic. They had to be investigated as well. The Academy wasn’t exactly fond of anomalous mages, who weren’t under its influence. If the anomalies were deemed as threats, they’d either be brought into the Academy’s fold or exterminated. There was no simple way to go about it. However, if Shinji was being honest with himself, he didn’t care a single bit. He was here for the Wendigo and nothing else. If the Academy was really interested in these two, they could just go ahead and send another investigator. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah…

  The townsfolk cheered and shouted at their arrival. “Our hero has returned from his journey!”

  Shinji’s eyes narrowed as the streets slowly filled with celebration and merrymaking. If he had to guess, these two were Murasaki Jin and Toyotoda Ebisu, the lord’s nephew and son, respectively. The former of the two supposedly drove the Wendigo away when it came close to destroying Hirata.

  Shinji sighed and turned away. One way or another, his investigation would lead him to the enigmatic figure known as Murasaki Jin. It certainly wouldn’t be today, since he’d need to interview a number of witnesses first and investigate the scene of its presence, but it’d have to happen eventually. Well, it seems my first interviewee wasn’t much help, after all.

  Shaking his head, Shinji turned and walked away from the brewing crowd. He never did like to be around a lot of people. Just the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of cheering townsfolk made his skin crawl and his stomach churn. His tribe was rather fond of doing the same, looking back. Everyone knew each other so well that every little thing was celebrated—birthdays and name-days and every other day when someone had even the tiniest accomplishment. They even celebrated the first time a baby ever laughs, and the first time it ever starts talking. As he reached the mostly empty town square, Shinji paused and looked up at the sky. I wonder how everyone is doing back home…

  A baby’s cry cut off Shinji’s musing as he turned to look at a young mother, cradling her infant to her chest. A quick magical scan revealed some potential within the child, though, given its conditions, said potential would very likely be wasted—the same as the old man, shriveled and dried up.

  He continued walking toward the barracks, where two or three of the veteran guards were said to have encountered the Wendigo at some point in their lives, and one of the newer members was said to have witnessed Jin’s battle with the creature. Shinji kept his expectations low. Normal people were prone to flights of fancy, turning a simple, banal tale into something intricate and very obviously exaggerated. Still, every bit of information would aid in building a clearer picture of just what the Wendigo truly was and what it was capable of. Its ability to control the weather was the only thing that had been noted down and, even then, it wasn’t considered accurate by most members of the Grand Council.

  Shinji paused as soon as he laid eyes on the barracks. It was a lot smaller than the one in the capital, but its architecture and design were definitely better by a great magnitude. A single look was all it took for him to know of its durability. Its walls were made of stone, inlaid over each other, separated by what appeared to be dried, gray mud. Was this another one of Murasaki Jin’s innovations? It certainly mirrored the way the walls were built, one rectangular stone laid over another, joined together by a layer of gray… something. Fascinating, Shinji thought. The engineer’s guild would be greatly interested in this. Unfortunately for them, I don’t care about their affairs. Still, this Murasaki Jin would find himself very quickly surrounded by enemies if he ever shared his construction techniques.

  “May I help you, sir?” One of the guards approached, a young man who barely fit into his helmet, though his grip over his spear indicated many hours of constant training. He was probably around fifteen to seventeen years of age—a farmer’s boy at that. Still, his hands were calloused and his muscles had definitely seen plenty of work, whether in the fields or in the drill yards nearby.

  The sight of the boy’s hands turned Shinji’s mind to the coming war. The whole country would be drowned in it. It would take a while for the fighting to reach Hirata. Even so, the boy would be lucky if he lives through the next two years.

  Shinji forced a smi
le and took a single step forward. “Yes, you can definitely help me, young man. I’m looking for anyone who’s had any experience with the Wendigo. Eyewitness accounts and stories are welcome aplenty.”

  The young guardsman nodded and turned a shoulder toward the barrack’s entrance. “Iko’s one of the oldest guards among us. He’s seen many things in his time. The old coot used to be a soldier in the Daimyo Izayoi’s army. You should probably ask him.”

  Shinji nodded.

  The guardsman continued, “The only other person I can think of is Miroko. He’s the youngest one, but he just happened to be running around the woods with his dame when the Wendigo incident happened—snow and all. He saw quite a lot of the stuff, including our hero’s battle against the icy beast… though, he was probably way too scared to stick around and see it through to the end.”

  “So, Iko and Miroko… they’re really the only ones with any sort of experience regarding the Wendigo?” Shinji asked. He was certain the lord mentioned there were at least three.

  The young guardsmen sighed and shook his head. “Well, there is one other person… but Kazuo kind of lost his mind a few weeks after the incident and is now locked up in the hospital. The man killed his family and ate their flesh. A lot of older people here say he’s been infected with the Wendigo sickness. Lord Jin wanted him dead, but Lord Arima pleaded with him not to, said the man is innocent. Anyway, you’ll have a better time talking to the wall than with that one. His mind’s just too far gone.”

  “Thank you,” Shinji said with a slight bow. “May I enter the barracks?”

  “Of course,” The young man replied. “Lord Jin made it so that any and all civilians are free to enter any and every single one of the administrative buildings.”

  Civilians weren’t allowed in most Imperial Offices in the capital. They were either barred entry or outright killed on sight if they so much as placed a single foot across the boundary. The only ones allowed entry were noblemen, bushi, or officials—and the guards, of course, but that was a given. Shinji found it rather stupid. Wouldn’t the whole city be more productive if the peasants, merchants, and other townsfolk were allowed to participate more in public affairs? Then again, these Moyatani folk were not the same as the Varnu, who valued community and family above anything—everyone had a role to play for the betterment of the whole.

  In Moyatani, it seemed that the nobles outright didn’t care about the people they were supposed to be ruling and caring for. And so, this Murasaki Jin was certainly a child of good character. With all his power, knowledge, and wisdom—supposedly—is Murasaki Jin even a child? Shinji wondered. The people of Hirata worshipped him as some kind of divine leader. He’d never heard of any child, not even legendary ones, who could perform such feats. And he’d never heard of a child with an interest in public works and architecture.

  For a moment, Shinji turned over his shoulder to glance at the moving crowd that’d surrounded Murasaki Jin and Toyotoda Arima as they lumbered toward the lord’s manor, surrounded by guards. He stared at them for what seemed to be ages, studying them, looking into their magical cores to try and better understand the source of their unnatural powers.

  And then the world froze as Murasaki Jin’s head snapped toward him. Their eyes met. The child suddenly seemed to grow in size, reaching heights taller than mountains—a veritable titan, peering down at him, eyes burning with red flames and crackling with blue lightning. The titan seethed, fiery plumes puffing out of its nostrils. The landscape cracked and cackled, and molten rock and living flames spewed out of the ground. The screams of tortured souls echoed all around them, people begging for mercy—for reprieve. And then the titan morphed, growing twin black horns. Its skin turned black, like coal. It unsheathed a crimson sword, dripping blood and viscera.

  The world shuddered around it. The tortured screams intensified until all they said was a single word, repeated again and again. “Asuraaaaaaaa…”

  Shinji gulped, averted his gaze, took a single step back, and promptly bumped into the guardsman from before.

  The vision faded. The titan disappeared.

  The young Varnu shook his head. What the hell was that?

  “Are you okay, sir?” the guard asked, wringing Shinji out of his own thoughts. The crowd passed in the distance, and both Murasaki Jin and Toyotoda Arima disappeared in a sea of cheering bodies.

  Shinji shook his head. “Yeah, it’s nothing, I just…”

  The guard chuckled. “His presence sure is something else, right?”

  Shinji raised an eyebrow.

  The guardsman continued, “I didn’t believe it at first—the lord appointing a ten-year-old to run the whole village in his stead. I thought the kid would probably drive the whole place to ruins within a year. I mean, what kid is even capable of making smart decisions, right?”

  The guardsman’s face seemed to twist from calm to outright fanatical in mere moments. “But then Lord Jin showered us with his innovations, his miracles, his powers, and his great works.”

  The young man gestured all around him. And Shinji couldn’t find it in himself to argue. “All of this… built by a ten-year old. I couldn’t believe it. Just the thought of it was impossible for me. But then I met Lord Jin in person. I’ve never felt so small in my entire life. It felt as though the Shogun himself was looking at me—judging my worth.”

  Shinji disagreed. He’d seen the Shogun before. That frail old man couldn’t scare a rabbit if he tried. Then again, he couldn’t scare anything anyhow - what with being dead and all. Murasaki Jin, on the other hand, was something else entirely.

  “I…” Shinji glanced at the barracks and briefly contemplated continuing his interviews with the supposed witnesses. His breathing was unsteady. And his core was fluctuating. The child’s—no, that thing couldn’t possibly be a child—presence had shaken the entirety of his being. “I have to go.”

  He turned and ran away from the moving crowd, and into the merchant’s district. Shinji found an old ramen restaurant and entered immediately. The business had likely just opened, but he didn’t care. He needed to be away from everything for now. The shop owner, an old woman whose hair was as white as snow and as dry as paper, came and took his order—a simple pork ramen with scallions and roasted garlic.

  The Grand Council needed to be alerted of this. Damn the Wendigo and its powers over the weather. That Magical Beast was not an immediate threat and wouldn’t be for a while—if the myths and legends about it were true. Murasaki Jin, on the other hand, was a walking anomaly, one that desperately needed to be ascertained. That thing’s just a child now, he thought. But what kind of monster would it be when it grows up?

  That vision wasn’t just the result of his divination powers. No, that was something else entirely. It was a warning. Shinji’s magical powers worked through physical contact, giving him glimpses of events in the past or future. A simple teacup might show him every living being that had once grasped it, or it might show him the moment of its creation and the moment of its destruction. He could control it, of course. Otherwise, he’d receive feedback every single time he’d step on something.

  His powers weren’t active when his eyes met that monster’s, and yet that vision had managed to invade his mind. It’s a warning, Shinji decided. I have to alert the Grand Council about him. Murasaki Jin is a dangerous anomaly. And I might as well include Toyotoda Ebisu in my report. His magical aura is… unnatural. The boy could be just as dangerous as his teacher.

  Shinji briefly considered walking up to and just laying a hand on the… monster, just to see what his powers would show him. It wouldn’t be too hard, considering the crowd that’d gathered around it. But he quickly rejected the idea. It was simply too dangerous. Shinji had already been seen. If he got too close, he might end up starting a fight.

  And a fight with Murasaki Jin was one thing he didn’t want.

  Unfortunately, the Grand Council’s influence did not reach as far as Hirata. Its assets and resources stopped where the Emp
eror’s powers ended, which—to be fair—wasn’t exactly a huge area. And that meant Shinji couldn’t call upon the council’s resources this far north. He would have to do everything on his own. He’d ascertain whether Jin and Ebisu were threats.

  And if they were, he’d have to kill them himself—somehow.

  Despite his murderous thoughts, Shinji could not help but shiver at the prospect of actually facing that monster that was hiding in the skin of a child. Damn the Wendigo, Murasaki Jin might just be an even bigger threat.

  Chapter 10

  “You’ve changed, Jin.” His uncle was, of course, strangely perceptive once again. It’d been only a day since Jin’s return with Ebisu from their journey and Jin had just spent the last few hours in his room, staring into the wall and hoping it might just grow a face and talk and tell him what he was supposed to do with his life, because Jin had absolutely no clue. Ebisu had spent that time practicing and harnessing his newfound powers, utterly ripping apart his family’s garden, leaving nothing but shattered bits of rocks and the tattered remnants of once-beautiful plants.

  Jin had watched the whole thing and laughed. And now, his uncle was telling him that he had changed.

  Well, aside from his lack of bath and food, Jin didn’t think he’d changed that much since his trip. At least, he didn’t think so. His uncle apparently disagreed. Still, the man was rather deceptive in his perceptivity, and whatever he had to say was probably worth hearing. After all, what could Jin possibly lose from a little more self-reflection, right?

  What was the point of all of his power if he didn’t have anything worth doing? He wanted to conquer the world and everything in it, just as he’d done in his previous life. But he’d conquered in his last life because he had to, because he had to unite all the tribes and kingdoms of the world against a common threat. But here, everything was fine as it was. There was no great and all-powerful terror that loomed on the horizon. People were just living their lives and bickering amongst themselves.