Takeshi gripped his sword tightly, his gaze fixed sharply on Yamikaji. His eyes reflected a storm of anger and confusion, while countless questions slowly crept into his mind.
'Who is this man? And why does he want my sword? His stance is hostile… should I strike first? Damn it! This is the first person I've met in so long, and this is what happens?!'
Taking a step forward, Takeshi said,
"I don't understand why you want my sword, but… from what I can tell, you're my enemy!"
Yamikaji smirked wickedly and replied in a mocking tone,
"Oh really? You've got it all wrong, you pest—"
The moment the word "pest" left his lips, a furious rage burst from within Takeshi. He lunged straight at Yamikaji, raising his sword to chest level and swinging it with explosive speed. The impact sent Yamikaji flying from the cabin's doorway, crashing into the opposite wall and leaving deep cracks in the wood.
Silence fell for a moment after the loud crash, until Yamikaji spoke again in the same disgustingly calm tone,
"Impressive strength! I didn't expect that from you."
Takeshi's eyes widened slowly as he stepped back, each movement heavy with disbelief.
'That was a direct hit… and yet not a drop of blood?'
Yamikaji emerged from the shadows of the cabin, revealing the reason for his survival.
"The Black Trunk — solid and reliable for defense, but rather slow."
He had blocked the strike with his hands, which were now wrapped in hardened, rough bark — gray like ash drifting in open air.
"What the—!?"
Takeshi's reaction was natural; what he'd just witnessed defied all logic. Still, his shock didn't reach its peak — as if he'd seen stranger things before.
Yamikaji's grin widened. Tilting his head, he closed his eyes and said mockingly,
"Your reaction, that look of disbelief — it shows how little you know about this world. Maybe that's why you've been rotting in this forest for years! Takeshi, the pest of the world!!"
His voice rose with each word, fueling Takeshi's anger and hatred, yet Takeshi held his ground, taking another step back, restraining himself to think of a plan.
'Those trees protected him from my blade. I shouldn't have attacked so recklessly. I don't know what else he's capable of, but his tone shows confidence.'
Takeshi raised his sword slowly, slashing through the air to unleash a sharp gust of wind — blades of air curving toward Yamikaji's head.
Gray roots burst from the ground, wrapping around Yamikaji's head and blocking the attack. The impact left only light damage.
"You must be joking! Your earlier strike was far stronger than this weak attempt—"
Yamikaji didn't finish. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Takeshi leaning to the right, his sword poised for a far more powerful strike.
'Got you!'
"Damn you!"
Takeshi channeled his weight into the swing, driving the sword into Yamikaji's abdomen — just as his wooden defenses were too slow to react. The impact hurled Yamikaji across the cabin, smashing through the wall.
Yamikaji landed on his back amid the wreckage, eyes trembling open in shock, only to find Takeshi standing over him — sword raised, ready to pierce his skull.
"Wait!"
That mocking tone vanished from Yamikaji's voice. Takeshi replied coldly,
"You came into my home, threatened me, and tried to steal what's mine!"
Yamikaji's breath trembled as he pleaded,
"Wait! I—I'm just a poor man following orders!"
Takeshi raised an eyebrow, lowering his blade until it touched Yamikaji's neck.
"Who is your leader?"
Yamikaji's breathing slowed. In a heavy tone, memories flooded his mind like a rushing waterfall.
"That's… something I can't tell you."
Takeshi frowned, slowly raising his sword again.
"My name is Takeshi — you already know that. But this… will be the last name you ever hear."
His grip tightened, and a cold flame burned in his eyes. Panic consumed Yamikaji's thoughts — every plan he could think of flashing through his mind alongside the fear of death.
'Damn it! This kid's serious! If I try to use my power now, his sword will reach my throat before my branches can reach him—'
"Stop right there!!"
A thunderous voice echoed through the forest. Instinctively, both Takeshi and Yamikaji turned toward the source — a tall, thin man with messy red hair, wearing the same white robe as Yamikaji, holding a small child in his right hand.
'Juso! You came just in time!'
The boy in Juso's grasp was unconscious, his body covered in bruises and torn clothes, as if he had endured a terrible ordeal. Juso grabbed his hair and lifted his head, revealing a face smeared with blood and mud.
"Try to harm our leader, and this boy dies."
Takeshi gritted his teeth, growling,
"Who the hell are you!?"
Yamikaji's lips curled into a victorious grin as he looked up at Takeshi.
"He's like a servant to me — he'll do whatever it takes to get me out of this mess."
Takeshi's glare hardened, but he stayed silent.
"Step away from the leader, pest of the world, and I'll let the boy go."
A red aura flared violently around Takeshi as he clenched his teeth.
"Don't you dare utter that cursed title in front of me!"
The title "Pest" was born from an ancient legend — one that spoke of three beings appearing each century, destined to ignite world wars. Wars that would drag every government and organization into chaos. Those branded with the title were destined for exile, hatred, and death.
The legend had long faded into myth, believed by only a few scattered regions — yet Takeshi was one of the few cursed with that title.
He took a deep breath, forcing the rage within him to cool as his eyes fixed on Yamikaji.
'I can't act rashly over a few words. He said that man is his servant — there's no way he'd harm the boy with my sword at his leader's throat.'
After a short pause, Takeshi said,
"Put the boy down, or my sword goes through your master's neck."
Juso froze for a moment, then complied, setting the boy gently on the ground to save his leader's life.
Before Takeshi could plan his next move, heavy footsteps echoed. Another man appeared beside Juso — short, bald, and obese, wearing the same white robe as the others. The ground trembled beneath his steps. Over his shoulder, he carried a cage containing a strange creature — a pale head with jagged fangs sharp enough to crush stone, attached to four spider-like legs ending in bloodstained claws.
"Seems I'm the last one to arrive," the fat man said with a faint grin.
"No," Juso replied, "you came just in time, Vard."
Takeshi's mind raced. Their numbers kept growing, and each might have abilities like Yamikaji's.
'Damn it! What's going on here? Every time I gain an edge, another one shows up! My luck couldn't be worse—'
While Takeshi cursed his fate internally, a tiny green sprout emerged from the ground behind him, swaying in the wind.
Yamikaji watched, barely able to contain his grin.
'I've won. This is your end, pest.'
The sprout stiffened, its leaves pointing toward Takeshi. In an instant, it grew at an explosive rate, transforming into a hardened green trunk with a spear-like tip — shooting straight at Takeshi's back and stabbing him.
Takeshi immediately turned, realizing what had just happened.
"You wasted your followers' efforts to save you, fool!"
He raised his sword high into the air… one second… two… five seconds…
'What… what's happening!?'
Takeshi froze. The green trunk's poison caused temporary paralysis.
All he could do was glare at Yamikaji's face — that wide, victorious grin gleaming with triumph.