"Get up, you idiot! Stab him now—"
The man whose sneak attack had failed yelled at his dazed companion on the ground while pouring more strength into his blade.
Muramasa didn't meet the force head-on. Instead, he loosened his grip slightly, allowing the scabbard to tilt to one side. The weapon pressing down on it slid off, and with it, the man's forward momentum. His entire body weight, thrown into the attack, was now off-balance.
The man only regained his footing after his sword tip bit into the earth.
At the same time, a foot wearing a straw sandal loomed large in his vision. The next second, his world went black as his body was sent flying backward, defying gravity. Before the ronin lost consciousness and began his brief journey through the stars, his fingers lost their grip on his weapon, leaving it behind in the world of the living.
"The craftsmanship is pretty crude…"
Muramasa picked up the blade the traveler had left behind, weighing it in his hand.
"But, I'm not in a position to be picky right now. It'll have to do… Hmm?"
Although he could use Projection, with no territory or magical energy supply, he couldn't afford to waste any resources he could save.
But as he was musing, the man who had been on the ground was now scrambling on all fours, crawling deep into the dense forest, not even sparing a glance for his unconscious companion nearby.
"Gotta go… gotta tell the boss, or else…"
Watching him, Muramasa couldn't help but sigh.
"If you had stood up and fought like a samurai, I might have shown you a bit more respect."
With that, he lunged forward, stomped hard on the man's back, and ended his life with a single thrust. After a moment's thought, he added to the corpse:
"No… on second thought, probably not."
After destroying the man's vital organs, he pulled the blade free and walked slowly toward the unconscious one.
"Th-that… um…"
Seeing this stranger so easily dispatch the two men, the girl, who had finally caught her breath, spoke with a stutter.
"Oh, feeling better? Sorry, just a moment longer. You should probably close your eyes. This one can still move."
After his warning, he swung the blade again, turning the man into a gruesome sight unsuitable for children.
The girl didn't dare make a sound. The moment Muramasa had raised the sword, she had averted her gaze, unwilling to watch the scene unfold.
She hesitated for a moment, still looking away, and said:
"Thank you… for saving me…"
"It's nothing. I just did what I wanted."
After a moment, Muramasa added:
"And I'm not asking for any payment."
"No… that's not what I meant…"
Hearing his words, the girl quickly shook her head, causing her already tattered clothes to loosen further. She blushed and hurriedly used her hands to cover herself.
She was torn. Should she beg him to save her village? But that felt like asking him to walk to his death. Besides, she had only been rescued by him. What right did she have to ask for more?
Muramasa didn't press her on the meaning of her words. Instead, he used his long white mantle to cover her. The garment floated down, enveloping her body and calming her agitated heart somewhat.
Since she didn't want to talk, she must have her reasons. So he simply said:
"Can you move? Find a place to hide for now. I'm going to take care of the other ronin."
Hearing that he intended to fight the others, she let out a small "Eh?" and turned to stop him, but when she looked back, all that remained were falling leaves and rustling grass.
When he had saved the girl, Muramasa had already sensed the smell of blood from this direction. Even though he had no connection to this place, his body moved on its own.
Judging by the sounds, it wasn't far.
Without dematerializing, Muramasa simply sprinted through the forest, emerging from the tree line after a few breaths.
Before him was a village built on a small hill. But what hit him first was the thick, overwhelming stench of rust.
Muramasa paused at the edge of the forest, observing for a moment before his brow furrowed in disgust.
"This is a goddamn ugly sight…"
The wooden walls were soaked with winding trails of red. On the thatched roofs, a few survivors huddled. The perpetrators stood below, looking relaxed, occasionally throwing something up at the roof, leaving a red arc in the air as they did.
Cries and sadistic laughter came from within the houses. A group sat around a bonfire, ignoring the screams from the buildings, tossing the village's grain into a pot and eating amidst the surrounding stench.
"The boss's new treasure is amazing! We brothers finally don't have to run from the guards anymore!"
"You're telling me! I'll never forget the look on that guard's face!"
"Don't get too comfortable. Once the boss gets the ship, we should get out of here. It won't be fun if the patrol team shows up."
"What, you looking down on our boss? He's the famous Captain Onishark!"
"Pah! You'd be singing a different tune if you ran into someone with a Vision. I might not be able to take the Captain, but I can sure as hell take you."
"Hiss… you've got a point."
Listening to the chatter of the drinking and carousing men, Muramasa's brow tightened. He quickly scanned the area.
Lying on the ground were not just villagers in simple clothes, but also three or four armored samurai. They still clutched standard-issue spears or wakizashi, but their armor was pierced with large holes, the wounds bearing scorch marks.
Clearly, that wasn't something a normal weapon could do. Combining that with what he'd heard...
Magecraft? Or maybe…
Whatever. It didn't matter.
The rage that welled up inside him at the sight was impossible to ignore. Whatever their motives or methods, he had to make sure every last one of them stopped breathing.
To keep a clear head, Muramasa took a long, deep breath. His voice was cold.
"Time to thin the herd."
After estimating their numbers, he made his decision. Ignoring the large group for now, he flickered out of sight, beginning to clean up the lone ronin scattered around the village.
Using the noise from the party as cover, he appeared in an instant before a ronin standing lookout on high ground. With a swift slash, the man's head was separated from his body.
"N—"
Another lookout in the distance had barely started to shout before a thrown blade pierced his throat, followed by another horizontal slash.
The group of revelers remained completely oblivious, continuing their entertainment.
Just then, a tall man clad in full armor walked up from the direction of the beach. Besides the sword at his waist, a round, purple pendant also hung from his belt.
This was clearly the leader of the bandits. Having finished with his ship, he was returning to round up his men and get ready to leave.
However, when Onishark looked up and saw that the lookouts he had posted were gone, his brow, hidden beneath his iron helmet, furrowed. He immediately slapped one of the laughing ronin on the back of the head.
"Ow! Who—"
The man was about to lash out when he saw who it was. His defiant posture instantly deflated.
"Boss…"
Ignoring the man's meek greeting, Onishark opened his mouth, revealing a set of shark-like teeth, and asked in a low voice:
"Where are the lookouts?"
There were no wasted words. He had no faith in these lax subordinates.
"The lookouts…? Huh? Weren't they just there?"
The man scratched his head. Hearing his boss's question, he shot to his feet and looked around. Seeing no one, he turned to the others next to him.
They all just looked at each other and shook their heads.
FWOOSH—
A sound tore through the air. A thrown blade became a streak of light, the shockwave from its passage blowing away straw from a nearby pile.
The man standing in front of the armored warrior was just about to turn when the blade pierced through his body, continuing unabated straight for Onishark.
Onishark's pupils contracted. His body's instincts acted before his mind could. The pendant at his waist glowed with a dark purple light, compelling his hands to move with incredible speed.
His hands, wreathed in purple energy, instantly drew the tachi from his waist and held it horizontally before him. He coated the blade in energy, forcibly halting the thrown knife's momentum.
CLANG!
"I can't stop it…!"
Realizing he couldn't block the blade, he was forced to twist his body, barely moving out of the knife's path before his own weapon shattered. He had narrowly avoided a fatal outcome.
Panting with the rough breaths of someone who had just survived a close call, the shaken Onishark stared in the direction the blade had come from.
There stood Muramasa, his right fist extended forward, a wisp of white smoke rising from his knuckles—the aftereffect of his powerful throw.
"Missed by a hair, huh? Honestly… Scum like you should just lie down and die quietly."
-------
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