Chapter 2 – The Awakening
Tanya: "As I said get behind me."
I didn't argue. My feet moved on their own, placing me directly behind her.
Tanya's eyes swept the darkened street. Her grip tightened on her sword hilt. The glow of the streetlamps seemed to shiver.
Tanya: "A C-rank spirit…? Why the hell is something like you wandering here?"
Her voice was low, edged with confusion but not fear.
"...Doesn't matter. You won't make it out of here alive."
The air turned icy. The streetlamps above us flickered violently, their light stuttering against the spirit's looming shadow.
Daif: "Tanya… maybe this isn't a good idea. We should just—"
Tanya: "—And let innocent lives be snuffed out? No, Daif. Think for others, not just yourself."
Before I could reply, the spirit's maw cracked open — a massive orb of swirling black energy forming between its claws.
Tanya: "Move!"
She shoved me hard, rolling away just as the orb detonated into the pavement. The ground cracked beneath the impact.
Tanya: "Impatient, aren't you?" She straightened, feet firm, her sword raised in a samurai's poised stance. The steel caught the lamplight, gleaming with a faint holy radiance.
She dashed forward, blade whistling through the air — but the spirit was fast. Too fast. It slipped past her slashes like smoke.
It reappeared behind her.
A crushing kick slammed into her back.
Crash!
Her body smashed through the brick wall of a nearby building.
Daif: "TANYA! NO!"
My chest tightened. My breath caught.
The spirit turned its gaze to me.
It grinned. Slowly. Mockingly.
Its laughter was deep, guttural, wrong.
Daif: "You… you hurt her. How many lives have you taken already, huh?! And now—" my voice trembled "—now you've taken someone precious to me…"
My knees felt weak. My whole body shook.
I hated this feeling.
This helplessness.
(If only I'd been stronger… this wouldn't have happened. All I do is rely on others… why? WHY AM I SO WEAK?!)
The monster's laughter grew louder. Twisted. Cruel.
Then… a voice.
Not from outside — but inside my mind.
???: "You are never weak. No one is. You are far stronger than you believe. Stop pitying yourself. Draw your blades… and fight. Fight until the very end."
My eyes snapped open.
I sprang backward, heart pounding, hands gripping the twin hilts at my sides.
Steel sang as both swords left their sheaths.
The first glowed with a deep, burning red — the symbol of Strength.
The second shimmered in a calm, brilliant blue — the symbol of Humility.
I exhaled slowly.
No flashy stance. Just my feet steady, my swords ready.
The spirit lunged, claws slashing toward me.
I sidestepped. The air hissed past my cheek. My counter came instantly — a clean strike across its neck.
It reeled back, furious.
Daif: "What's wrong? Can't keep up, old man? You're, what — a hundred years old? Don't you think it's time to retire to a nice little spirit retirement home?"
Its rage burned brighter.
Claws and steel clashed again and again — sparks scattering into the night.
Daif: "Hah… now's the time."
I inhaled deeply.
And then—
Daif: "—A THOUSAND SLASHES!"
In the blink of an eye, my blades became streaks of light, striking over and over. Each blow landed faster than the last, driving the spirit back.
It roared, staggering, trying to retreat — but I was already moving.
Daif: "Oh no you don't! Where do you think you're going?!"
I charged, my red blade cutting deep, my blue blade following through — slicing cleanly through the spirit's core.
Its form split apart.
Silence fell.