The morning came quietly. A gray light spread over the island. The sea was calm. The air smelled of salt and wet soil. The ashes from last night's fire still glowed in the camp and thin smoke rose into the wind.
Rage looked toward the shore where the boatman stood beside his boat with his hands on the oar.
"Good luck," the boatman said. After a short pause, he added, "I'll be here when you're done. No matter how long it takes."
He stepped onto the boat but did not push off. Instead, he moved slightly and sat down with the calm of someone used to waiting. His eyes turned toward the horizon.
"Just don't keep me waiting too long," he said quietly to himself.
Kyle fixed the straps on his armor. "Hope that wasn't a bad omen."
They started walking. The wet sand crunched under their boots as they moved inland. The path was covered with bodies from yesterday's fight. Goblin corpses lay where they had fallen. Some had been pulled away by scavengers during the night, leaving dark trails into the bushes. Others were still there, their empty eyes staring at the sky.
No one spoke about them. No one needed to.
The jungle thickened as they advanced, vines creeping over twisted tree trunks, the calls of unseen creatures echoed through the canopy.
Then, finally, they reached it.
The cave opened in front of them. Moss and mold covered its walls. Long spikes hung from the ceiling and water dripped into the ground.
Beside a small fire deep inside, an old man stood. His back was straight, and his movements were calm and sure. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, and his sharp eyes were half closed with quiet focus.
In his hands, a katana gleamed faintly in the firelight. He moved through a series of precise downward strikes, the repetitive practice of cutting motions.
[SYSTEM] Takahiro Genma Lv.???
[SYSTEM] class : Sword Saint
[SYSTEM] Neutral
Rage shrugged off his coat, folding it neatly before placing it at the cave entrance.
"In case things go horribly wrong."
Densuke stared at the old man for a long moment, his grip tightened on his katana.
"That's not human," he said quietly. "Stay alert."
The old man didn't acknowledge them. His blade rose and fell. Again and again.
Without looking up, Genma spoke. "Beware of old men in a profession where men usually die young."
Kyle's hand drifted toward his weapon. "Be careful," he muttered.
Rage did not move but he felt it. The weight of the stare was clear. Genma had stopped his practice. The sword hung loosely at his side, and his eyes were fixed on Rage.
Not with hostility. Not with curiosity.
With certainty.
"You're early, young man," Genma said. "Too early for what is written."
Rage paused, confused by Genma's words. He did not understand what the old samurai meant, but there was no time to think. Danger demanded his focus.
A quick movement followed. Densuke was the first to act, as expected. He was a samurai, and this was a duel for him. His sword moved in a clean, sharp arc, cutting through the air toward Genma's side.
It never landed.
Genma stepped aside, moving just enough for the blade to miss. Before the swing ended, his foot shot out and hit Densuke's wrist. The strike shook his grip and made him stumble back a step.
No wasted movement. No hesitation. Total control.
Kyle charged forward, lifting his shield as he struck with his sword. He aimed to use the short opening. His swing came down hard, carrying the full force of his strength.
A metallic clash rang through the cavern.
Genma moved in an instant, lifting his blade to meet Kyle's strike. The clash stopped the sword mid-swing. Genma did not even look strained. With a small twist of his wrist and a slight turn, he pushed Kyle's weapon aside, leaving him open.
"Too slow," Genma said.
Kyle barely lifted his shield before Genma's next move came, a wide swing aimed at his side. He braced for the hit, but it never came. Genma had not followed through. The strike was only a test, meant to make Kyle react and pause for a moment.
From the shadows, Van attacked. His daggers moved fast, one aimed at Genma's ribs and the other at his throat. It was a clean twin-blade strike meant to kill in one move.
But Genma simply turned. A single step. No rush, no panic. Just a precise shift to the left. Van's daggers cut through empty air.
A knee slammed into Van's stomach, knocking the air out of him and sending him skidding back.
Zach fired an arrow toward Genma's head.
A flick of the wrist.
Genma's katana met the arrow, knocking it harmlessly to the cave floor. Another arrow came. Another easy deflection.
Zach shot three more quickly. One aimed at the chest, one at the neck, and one at the leg.
Genma dodged them all without taking a step.
Then came Geralt, closing the gap with his fists. A brawler through and through. He did not wait for an opening, he made one. His fists slammed forward, each strike meant to break bones on impact.
But Genma was untouchable.
He weaved between Geralt's punches, moving just enough to avoid each blow. Not a single strike landed on him.
"What's wrong? Not fast enough?" Genma said.
He hit back with a quick elbow to Geralt's ribs. It was not a strong hit, but it was precise. Geralt coughed as the air left his lungs and staggered back.
Rage moved last.
He did not charge like the others. He watched and adapted. Balmung shifted in his hands, first a dagger, then a spear, reaching farther in an instant.
Genma did not move away. He tilted his blade and let Rage's attack slide along its edge, guiding it aside.
A counter came, a diagonal strike aimed at Rage's exposed shoulder. Balmung shifted again. From spear to sword in a heartbeat, Rage raised it to block, but Genma's foot hit his chest.
The blow sent Rage sliding back across the cavern floor.
Silence filled the cave. Six fighters stood apart, catching their breath. Every attack had been blocked.
Genma stood exactly where he had started.
Untouched. Unshaken.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulder lazily, as if warming up. Then he smirked.
"I was expecting more."
Kyle's grip tightened around his longsword. "We need to push him together." His voice was edged with frustration.
Rage said nothing.
They moved as one.
Densuke moved forward in a blur. Genma turned with him, seeing the strike before it landed. The katana hit Genma's blade. There was no clash, only a gentle redirection, as if Genma's blade guided the strike instead of stopping it.
Van was already behind him. Twin daggers moved forward in the shadow. Genma ducked. The first dagger passed close to his ear. He caught the second with the flat of his blade. He twisted Van's wrist and sent the dagger spinning into the dark.
Kyle came next. He raised his shield and swung his sword down with great force. Genma moved to the side. Kyle's blade hit the cavern floor. Sparks flew across the rock.
A hiss of air. Zach's arrow, dead center.
Genma flicked his wrist.
The katana did not move much, yet the arrow was gone. It split in midair and the two halves fell to the ground.
Geralt's fist came next. A right hook aimed at Genma's jaw. The strike was strong enough to break bone.
Genma caught his wrist.
With the same easy motion as swatting a fly, he twisted and used Geralt's momentum to throw him aside. Geralt hit a jagged rock.
Still standing.
Still undefeated.
A smirk ghosted across Genma's lips. "Still nothing?"
Zach exhaled and tightened his fingers on the bowstring. He shot another arrow. It missed. Genma did not even look at it. He tilted his blade just enough to let it slide past safely.
"Tch. Useless."
Zach gave up keeping his distance. He moved forward. His bow dropped to his side. He drew a curved knife from his belt. He lunged at Genma's exposed side. The strike was quick and meant to reach him where arrows had failed.
Genma turned.
And the knife never landed.
A sudden blur.
The hilt of Genma's katana slammed into Zach's midsection.
The archer's breath left him in a sharp gasp, body folding inward. He staggered back, feet scraping against the cavern floor before his knees finally gave. He crumpled.
Alive. But finished.
A slow exhale. Genma straightened. Unbothered. "You're taking too long."
Rage saw it now. Genma was not fighting them. He was playing with them. He let them tire themselves out while he stayed safe and calm. The insult felt worse than the blows they had missed.
But that was the problem. They hadn't landed anything.
Kyle took point again, shield raised, sword steady. "We go together. No openings."
Van moved first, disappearing into the cavern's shadows. Densuke tightened his grip on his katana. Geralt cracked his knuckles. Rage adjusted his stance, Balmung changed into dagger form, ready for a quick strike.
They moved as one.
Kyle went first with a fake. His sword swung low toward Genma's left side to force a reaction. Genma ignored it.
Instead, he turned and caught Van in the middle of his attack. One twist of his wrist made Van's dagger spin out of his hand. Genma followed with a palm strike to Van's chest. Van flew back, rolling across the stone floor.
Kyle pressed forward, shield raised, swinging his sword down. Genma stepped just out of its path. The blade missed by inches, only the air brushing his sleeve.
Densuke was next. He cut through that same air with a downward strike, the force rattled the ground beneath their feet.
Genma simply wasn't there.
The old samurai sidestepped at the last moment. His counter came faster than anyone could react. The blunt hilt hit Densuke's wrist and his katana slipped. Another strike hit his ribs. A cracking sound followed.
Densuke staggered back, knees buckling. Still alive, but done.
Geralt didn't hesitate. A blazing right hook aimed straight for Genma's jaw.
He never reached.
Genma moved through the attack like water. The hilt of his sword hit Geralt's stomach with sharp force. Geralt coughed as his body stiffened from the blow. Another strike hit the back of his knee, and he fell.
Three left.
Rage's breath came slow and measured, fingers flexing around Balmung's shifting form. Van had recovered, but even he hesitated now.
Kyle tightened his hold on his shield. "This is not working."
Genma merely smirked. "It took you this long to realize?"
Rage forced himself to focus, muscles coiled, Balmung shifted into a dagger. Kyle gritted his teeth. Van said nothing.
They moved in tandem.
Kyle went high, shield raised, longsword flashing down in a sweeping arc. Rage darted in low, feinting right before twisting left. Van flickered.
Genma parried Kyle's sword with the faintest tilt of his blade.
Balmung changed mid-strike, dagger to spear, reaching toward Genma's exposed side. Genma moved around it with ease.
Van struck from behind. A blade angled for Genma's spine. Precise. Perfect. Genma didn't even turn.
A step forward. A pivot. The hilt of his katana shot backward.
A single strike hit Van's chest.
Van gasped and his body lifted off the ground. The force threw him down. His daggers slipped from his hands. He hit the floor hard and rolled to stop near Geralt and Densuke.
He didn't rise. Still alive, but finished.
Genma sighed. "Two left."
Kyle's grip tightened. Rage's heart pounded. And the inevitable crept closer.
He exhaled, shifting his stance, shield raised like a crumbling wall. Van was down. Densuke, Geralt, and Zach were already out. Only two remained.
Genma tilted his head, eyes drifting between them. "Still clinging to hope?"
Rage said nothing. Kyle answered with steel.
He lunged, swinging his longsword down with all the strength his tired body had. The strike was heavy and strong, meant to break, not cut.
Genma caught it with one hand.
There was no clash, no struggle. Kyle's blade slid away harmlessly, his momentum carried him forward. Genma moved with it.
Rage moved in from the side. Balmung changed to claws and slashed in a smooth arc, but Genma stepped back, letting the attack hit only air.
Kyle recovered quickly. He slammed his shield forward, but Genma had already moved.
The hilt of his katana hit Kyle's ribs.
The strike was not meant to kill, only to hurt. Kyle grunted and stepped back, his shield dropping for a moment. Genma did not waste the chance.
Another hit struck the same spot. Then a third. Kyle's shield arm bent under the force.
A final blow to the stomach brought him to his knees.
Breathless. Beaten.
Still alive, but done.
Genma exhaled and flicked his wrist to reset his stance. "One left," he said.
Balmung shifted back to a dagger.
This was it.
Only one left.
Rage.
Genma exhaled slowly and adjusted his grip on his katana. His stance was relaxed but solid. He did not look tired.
Rage felt the weight of Balmung shift. His fingers flexed on the weapon's hilt as it changed to a dagger, then claws, then back again. Restless. Searching. Changing.
His body ached. His mind screamed for a way forward.
Nothing.
Eclipse Convergence was impossible. Too slow. Against Genma, a single wasted second could mean death.
He activated Null Veil.
He moved first.
Balmung shifted into a spear as he lunged, thrusting forward in a blur.
Genma sidestepped.
Not fast enough.
Rage twisted mid-motion, spear shortened back into a dagger, slashing low toward Genma's knee.
Genma lifted his foot easily.
Rage spun, Balmung changed into a greatsword, and swung down with all his strength. Genma did not move.
One hand was enough. The old samurai tilted his katana against the strike, guiding it just enough to throw Rage off balance.
Then the counter came.
Hilt to the ribs.
Just enough force to stagger but not break.
Rage coughed, staggering back. No time to stop. No time to breathe.
Balmung shrank back into claws, his hands flashed out in a flurry of slashes.
None of it worked.
Genma moved through the strikes, not dodging, just flowing. Each step was measured, each tilt of his blade enough to turn the attacks aside.
He moved forward again. Balmung changed into a sword as he closed the gap. His blade cut quickly and continuously, looking for an opening.
Genma parried each one.
A high slash was blocked. A fake swing to the left, changing into a spear for a quick thrust, was stopped.
Genma hardly seemed to try, countering as if it were only practice.
Rage understood now. The opening was there. It was not just speed. It was not just strength.
It was everything.
Genma made no wasted movements. No extra energy. Every parry, every step, every counter was planned. Rage was not fighting an old man. He was fighting something unstoppable.
Another strike came, a downward slash meant to cut through him.
Genma caught it mid-swing.
He twisted. He countered.
The hilt hit Rage's stomach.
Rage gasped at the blow, sliding on the jagged cavern floor. He barely stayed on his feet before another strike came, this time to his shoulder.
Not lethal. Never lethal.
Just enough to remind him who was in control.
Rage tried to step back to create space, but Genma was already in front of him.
Another sharp blow hit his thigh.
His leg nearly gave out. He had to force himself to stay standing.
Genma tilted his head, watching, calm.
"Faster than the others. But speed is not enough," he said.
Rage clenched his jaw and wiped blood from his mouth. His muscles ached. His thoughts grew blurry.
He was not winning this fight.
Not like this.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His muscles felt heavy. His mind was a haze. Null Veil was still active, but it did not matter. His body could move, but his mind could not.
His mind was barely holding on.
Every strike had drained him. Every attack had met with nothing. Blocked. Parried. Dodged.
He had nothing left.
And Genma knew it.
The old samurai exhaled and shifted his grip on the hilt of his blade. Not in preparation, not in caution, but in expectation.
Like a teacher, waiting for his student to finally understand a lesson too difficult to put into words.
Rage gritted his teeth and pushed his body forward. He had to move. If he stopped now, if he hesitated, he would lose everything.
He refused.
Balmung changed into a dagger and thrust upward. Genma tilted his blade and deflected it easily.
Rage twisted, turning Balmung into a spear and driving it toward the old samurai's ribs. Genma moved his footing, and the tip passed through empty space.
Balmung became claws and slashed in a blur. Every strike hit only air.
Rage felt himself slowing.
Each exchange drained him more. Every attack was weak. His own body worked against him. His lungs burned. His muscles stiffened.
His vision blurred.
His thoughts slipped.
And then a flash of steel.
Pain.
For the first time, Genma's katana hit its mark, piercing Rage's gut.
His breath caught. Time seemed to stretch.
Then he fell.
He felt weightless.
Like a thread cut loose, drifting into nothing.
Sound warped, distant echoes of voices. Someone called his name.
Kyle? Van? Someone else?
Did it matter?
He blinked. Or maybe he didn't.
The cavern blurred. The world pulsed, dimming, fading.
His fingers twitched against Balmung's hilt, but he felt no strength. No control.
"This is it, huh?"
He thought he would be angry. Or bitter.
But he felt nothing.
Just a dull emptiness, stretching on forever.
The edges of his vision darkened.
And then a flicker.
[SYSTEM] WARNING : CRITICAL CONDITION DETECTED.
[SYSTEM] Emergency Protocol Engaged.
Not because Rage was regaining clarity.
Because something else took control.
[SYSTEM] Activating: Phantom Kernel Panic.
[SYSTEM] Engaging Full Autonomous Combat Mode.
His body twitched.
A spasm. A jerk.
His fingers curled, tightening around Balmung's grip.
The weapon changed, reshaping in an instant into a katana.
His head snapped up, eyes now empty.
A hollow stare, locked on Genma without recognition, without thought.
Null Veil remained active.
It was moving without him.
"Ah... old friend."
Genma's gaze dropped, not to Rage, but to Balmung in katana form.
His lips curved slightly, not in surprise, but in recognition.
"We meet again."
Balmung pulsed.
Genma smiled.
A slow exhale as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Then Rage's body moved.
No hesitation. No doubt.
A perfect step forward, blade cut through the air.
Genma's smirk widened. "Let's see what's left of you."
Steel met steel.
And for the first time, Genma was forced to block with both hands.
The impact rattled through his arms, sending a sharp vibration down his wrists.
He had been toying with the others before. He had been toying with Rage before.
But now?
Now, he adjusted.
The blade in Rage's hands moved without pause, striking with a lethal precision that hadn't existed before.
Whatever was driving Rage now, was not a person.
It didn't hesitate. It didn't feint.
It simply cut.
Genma countered, but not effortlessly.
The force behind each strike pushed him back inch by inch, something that had never happened before in this battle.
A step. A parry. A twist.
And then Genma bled.
A shallow cut along his forearm, thin but real.
A first.
The old samurai laughed.
Not mockingly. Not with arrogance.
With genuine amusement.
"Ah..." He shifted his stance. His katana flared outward. "So you do remember."
Rage's body lunged, moving fast.
Their exchange continued.
The battle blurred into a deadly rhythm, a conversation in steel.
Genma adjusted and for the first time, he fought seriously.
His blade moved faster. Sharper. No longer playing, no longer evading just to teach a lesson.
He struck to kill.
But the force controlling Rage answered in kind.
Blades met in a dance of perfect precision, neither side faltering.
Parry. Strike. Counter. Step.
A whisper of wind. A blur of motion.
Genma's sleeve tore. A second shallow cut.
His smirk remained.
Not disappointment. Excitement.
"I wondered how long it would take," he murmured.
Another impact.
Genma twisted, bringing his blade down to be caught mid-swing.
The force sent a shockwave through the cavern floor, dust and loose stone scattering.
And still, Rage did not react.
Because Rage wasn't there.
His body fought.
His mind was gone.
Genma, the unshaken, the untouchable, was now on the back foot.
Rage, or whatever was moving his body, pressed forward with relentless inhuman precision.
No hesitation. No doubt.
Every strike forced Genma to block. Every counter was barely enough.
He was no longer dictating the flow of battle.
And the old samurai knew it.
"Hah..." Genma exhaled, flicking his blade to deflect yet another onslaught. His footwork was tight, calculated, backing him toward the cavern's deep cliffs. "No reasoning with you, is there?"
Genma clicked his tongue. "Tch. Guess I don't have a choice."
Then he breathed.
A deep, controlled inhale.
And the cavern shifted.
The air turned damp, the ground beneath their feet slickened.
A low hum. A ripple.
From the depths of his body, from years of experience, from the magic he had sworn never to rely on, water coiled around his blade.
It surged outward, coating the floor in an unseen current. A trap. A shift in battlefield control.
Rage or whatever controlled him did not stop.
It didn't care.
A predator. A machine. A perfect weapon.
Genma's blade moved like liquid, slipping between attacks, redirecting momentum.
But it wasn't enough.
The pressure didn't stop.
Genma was defending.
He weaved, dodged, parried. But it wasn't enough.
Rage's body continued its merciless assault.
Genma's breath came quicker now. A slight delay. A fraction slower.
Then a misstep.
Balmung struck down.
And then Genma smirked.
A mistake.
In that instant, his foot pivoted.
Not backward. Forward.
A blur of motion. Genma's sheath snapped out, striking Rage's hand with precise force.
Balmung fell.
For the first time since it had taken over, the weapon was no longer in Rage's hands.
And then came the kick.
Genma's body twisted in a fluid, brutal motion.
A hand planted against the cavern floor.
A reverse kick.
Straight into Rage's wounded gut.
The force lifted Rage off the ground.
His breath, if he still had any, was ripped from him.
Then the cliff.
The ground beneath him vanished.
For the first time since this battle started, Rage fell.
And the darkness swallowed him whole.
Kyle, still barely standing, gasped as the moment registered.
"No!"
Densuke and Geralt could do nothing but watch.
Zach groaned, unable to move.
Rage was gone.
Genma exhaled, shaking his leg out from the impact of the kick.
"And that's that."
He turned to the others.
And they ran.
Not because they wanted to.
Because they had to.
The fight was over. They couldn't win.
Kyle grabbed Geralt by the shoulder, dragging him forward. Densuke moved in a staggered sprint, half-carrying Zach.
But one figure, Van, blurred away. His target not the exit but Balmung.
Van gripped the weapon and moved quickly toward the exit. The weapon did not resist. It was not meant for him. It was meant to be returned.
He did not question it. He grabbed the neatly folded coat in one swift motion. Without slowing, he wrapped Balmung in the fabric, hiding the weapon as he ran.
The cavern behind them faded into darkness.
But Genma did not follow.
He exhaled and turned away from the retreating figures. No interest in chasing the defeated.
Instead, he strode back to his bonfire, lowered himself, hands resting calmly on his knees. The fire crackled beside him.
He closed his eyes.
***
Wind howled past Rage's ears as he tumbled through the darkness.
"Falling, huh? Guess I should've expected it. Can't win against him."
"Man, I really thought I had it. And here I am, falling, far away from the light, straight into the darkness."
"Classic."
"Would've been nice if this played out like a proper isekai betrayal. Maybe stabbed in the back by some shiny-armored hero, left for dead in a collapsing dungeon, only to wake up with an overpowered skill and a harem of questionable legality. A bunny girl with only one functioning brain cell, a priestess whose sole ability is crying, a masochist dragon mommy, and an FBI-attracting vampire who's actually 800 years old."
"Trust me, bro."
"Maybe I should've just had a heart attack back on Earth. Get isekai'd properly as an advocate of gender equality, let a certain blue-haired idiot of a goddess screw up my reincarnation and have a party with a masochist knight who insists that pain is pleasure and refuses to block attacks, and a terrorist locked in a tiny body who wants to blow up half the kingdom for the fun of it."
"Or maybe I should've been abandoned in a dungeon, left to die in front of a creepy smiling statue until I awakened as a handsome Korean protagonist with a perfectly chiseled jawline and infinite plot armor. 10 of 10 my fangirls would probably ship me with another dude."
"Nah."
"Or hell, maybe I should've just been reincarnated as a slime. At least then, I'd be unkillable. Bonus points for shapeshifting. Could probably scam my way into any negotiation. Slime life sounds easy. No hunger, no pain, just chilling in a peaceful forest until someone pisses me off and I nuke their city."
"Or maybe I should've just ended up trapped in a game as an undead overlord, ruling over an army of devoted NPCs who worship my every word while I slowly lose my humanity. At least then, I wouldn't have to deal with hunger, exhaustion, or the existential dread of falling into an endless abyss. Plus, having a devoted yandere succubus? Not the worst deal."
"But nah. No betrayals, no reincarnation, no cheats. Just me, being an idiot."
"I shouldn't have treated this world like a game."
"Could've been different. Could've played my cards better."
"...Hah. No point thinking about it now."
"I wonder how Ignia's doing. Probably pissed. She's gonna be real mad when she finds out I'm already dead."
Splash.
"Oh, hey. Water."
Cold.
Sinking deeper.
"Or maybe as a sentient sword and spend my days leveling up with my cute catgirl wielder. Or become a vending machine and somehow make it work."
"That'd probably be better than drowning."
"Or maybe I should've been forced to die thousands of times, screaming in agony, only to wake up and do it all over again and have the privilege of drinking one suspicious cup of tea from a white-haired witch. Yeah, not worth it. Not that I'd even get the luxury of respawning."
Darkness.
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 21.8%