"Say what?!"
Lucas's face flushed red as he muttered, "Are you in or not? If not, we're not sleeping tonight."
[Come on, come on! This counts toward your performance evaluation. So… let's begin.]
Truthfully, Lucas wasn't even sure if he was truly running away from something.
But he'd made up his mind—after this simulation, whether he chose to stay or leave, he would finally make a decision. No more dragging things out!
[Command received. Life Simulation is now starting.]
[Please select any three of the following talents. One will be retained as a permanent talent after the simulation ends.]
[Price of a Simp (Green): You'll be born into a wealthy family, but each time you get married, you'll lose 18.88 million Mora and a significant amount of other assets.]
[Center of Attention (Green): When you say "Eyes on me," all living beings within 100 meters will immediately focus their attention on you.]
[Master Artisan (Gold): You are born with an innate talent for crafting any kind of "weapon," including but not limited to forging, assembling, and inventing.]
[Favored by Others (Green): You're more likely to receive sympathy and care from others.]
[Old Horse, True Rage (Green): When an ally dies, you can unleash a battle cry that boosts all of your stats.]
[Doomed Like Feiyang (White): The women you like always end up liking your friend instead.]
[Kingslayer (Blue): You deal increased damage to any character with titles like "monarch" or "leader."]
[All Evil Must Be Judged (Blue): When battling any "evil faction" creatures, you automatically enter a special transformed state.]
[Lone Wolf (Blue): While acting alone, all your abilities are increased by 30%.]
[Atheist (Green): You have no faith, so you cannot receive blessings from any gods. However, divine influences on you are also significantly weakened.]
What the heck is up with these weird talents again…?
And seriously, is this simulation just obsessed with simp archetypes?
Some of these talents, when combined, definitely seem like they're building toward a certain ridiculous character setup.
Like—this season's top ADC in real life?
If you combined [Master Artisan], [Kingslayer], and [Lone Wolf]… even the Raiden Shogun might be no match.
No, no, that setup screams "death flag" way too loud. But still, [Master Artisan] and [Kingslayer] were just too good to pass up.
After wrestling with the decision for a long time, Lucas finally dropped [Lone Wolf] and picked [Favored by Others] instead.
[Selected Talents: "Master Artisan," "Kingslayer," "Favored by Others."]
[Life Simulation is officially starting.]
[Age 0: You are born into a samurai family in Inazuma. Your father is a swordsman who inherited the family's sword style, "Flame Burial Style." Your mother is a former noble lady who fell from grace.]
[Age 1: Like most swordsmen, your father makes a living by running a dojo and taking on students. But among the countless sword styles in Inazuma, "Flame Burial Style" isn't particularly famous. At the very least, it ranks far below the similarly pronounced but differently written "Rock-Hiding Style."]
[Your father is often mocked for the name of the dojo. As a swordsman, his skills are… average at best. While he can still recruit some students, it's never enough to earn a good living. The dojo is small and usually pretty deserted.]
[Age 2: Despite this, your father remains hopeful about the future—especially in you. He starts teaching you how to hold a sword as soon as you can walk.]
[Age 3: Compared to your father, your mother is even stricter. In her eyes, your father—already past his thirties—was unlikely to make any further breakthroughs in swordsmanship. The only way to change the family's fate was by molding you into something greater.]
[Age 4: Unfortunately, your talent for swordsmanship is just as mediocre as your father's. Strangely, you find more interest in "making swords" than in "wielding" them. Most of the wooden practice swords in the dojo are crafted by you. At one point, your father even joked that you might be better off as a carpenter.]
[Age 5: Your father may be mediocre, but he's incredibly hardworking. He spends most of his time practicing the family's sword manual, "Flame Burial Sword Technique Essentials," until the book is nearly falling apart. According to him, the dojo's founder—your ancestor—once used this self-made style to defeat countless opponents and even earned recognition from the Raiden Shogun.]
[But you think he's just blowing hot air. Even someone like you, with average talent, can tell that the "Flame Burial Style" you're learning, aside from sounding cool, is really just a basic sword technique. Most students could probably master it in a few months.]
[While it won't make anyone a true expert, its short learning curve means graduates can at least become bodyguards or security types. It's thanks to these kinds of students that your family's dojo scrapes by.]
[Age 6: As a samurai, your father has simple needs. You're still young and don't spend much either. But your mother refuses to accept such a life. She chose to marry your father thinking he was a rising star—young and already running a dojo. She thought she'd found a stock with potential… but turns out, it never paid dividends.]
[Age 7: Even though she's over thirty, your mother is still graceful and attractive. Sometimes when she goes out, idle ronin whistle or tease her. One day, a wandering swordsman named "Yokaze" suddenly shows up to challenge the dojo. He looks to be only in his early twenties but walks in cockily, munching on a grilled Lavender Melon like he's here for a meal rather than a duel.]
[Then he has the nerve to say to your father, "Old man, if I beat you, how about letting your wife come with me? Hahaha!"]
[Though usually humble and reserved, your father can't take that kind of insult. Furious, he signs a death match agreement and accepts the challenge.]
[To everyone's surprise, the young ronin's swordplay is fierce and unorthodox. His brute strength and wild moves put your father—who only knows the Flame Burial Style—on the back foot almost immediately. Before a hundred moves have passed, Yokaze lets out a cold laugh, spots an opening in your father's form, and prepares to finish it with a single strike.]
[Maybe it was his overwhelming love for your mother, or maybe it was his refusal to back down—but in that desperate moment, something within your father ignited. A burst of crimson light descended as he leapt to his feet and slashed forward with a blade engulfed in flames, launching a fierce counterattack against Yokaze.]
[Yokaze clearly hadn't expected that turn of events. Caught completely off guard, he felt a searing heat on his shoulder—and before he could react, one of his charred arms had already fallen to the scarred wooden floor.]
[A Vision! That was a Vision! No one could've anticipated it—your father awakened a Pyro Vision at the last possible moment!]
[Normally, most Visions are granted when the bearer is still young. What happened with your father was extremely rare.]
[Though Yokaze was stunned, he didn't admit defeat right away. After all, most newly-awakened Vision holders couldn't control their power properly. His swordsmanship was more refined, so he figured he still had a chance.]
[But to his disbelief, the previously mediocre "Flame Burial Style" swordsmanship now surged with overwhelming might under the infusion of Pyro. He had no way to retaliate. Within ten moves, he was struck down and sent flying, crashing hard into the ground.]
["I lost." Surprisingly, Yokaze took it in stride and laughed. "We signed a death match agreement. Do what you want—kill me or spare me."]
[Yet your father didn't finish him off. He simply said, "Without the Vision, I would've lost. Besides, you've already paid the price."]
["Just an arm," Yokaze grinned. "It was worth it just to witness such exquisite swordsmanship."]
[He continued with a hearty laugh, "I've heard tales since childhood of the glory once held by the Flame Burial Style. That's why I provoked you like that earlier—no offense meant."]
[The two of them exchanged a look and burst into mutual laughter. The intense bloodlust that had filled the dojo moments ago vanished in an instant. Yokaze turned to leave, laughing as he said, "I'll be back in ten years to challenge you again!"]
[Watching him walk away, still laughing despite having lost an arm, you couldn't understand it at all. How could someone be so cheerful after such a loss?]
["A flawless strike is hard to find. A true rival is even harder. If I were in his shoes, I'd probably feel the same. It's the madness of a swordsman," your father replied with a smile.]
[Age 8: That seemingly minor incident became a turning point in your father's life. Ever since receiving his Vision, his swordsmanship rapidly advanced.]
[It turns out the Flame Burial Style wasn't a weak technique at all. Long ago, your ancestor had also received a Pyro Vision and integrated it into his swordsmanship. That fusion gave birth to the unique style known as Flame Burial.]
[On its own, it was a rather plain, third-rate style. But when paired with Pyro, it could unleash a force several times stronger.]
[Three decades of training hadn't gone to waste after all. The Vision was like a key that unlocked your father's potential. After that battle, he went into seclusion and trained for an entire year.]
[Age 9: When he emerged from his retreat, your father began challenging every renowned sword school in Inazuma—on his own. Whether it was the storm-swift Azure Tempest Isshin Style, said to have once defeated the great oni Kamae, or the Rock-Hiding Style's "Tengu Slash," rumored to strike even tengu from the sky—your father bested every one of their heads.]
[Suddenly, your father's name was everywhere. The once-mocked and obscure Flame Burial Style became all the rage among young warriors, who clamored to learn it.]
[Age 10: The Rock-Hiding Style was originally the official swordsmanship of the Kujou Clan under the Tenryou Commission, one of the Three Commissions. But after its head was defeated by your father, the Kujou Clan extended an olive branch—inviting him to serve as their new official swordsmanship advisor.]
[Your father didn't reject the offer, but he did make a request: that Flame Burial Style and Rock-Hiding Style share the advisory role equally. His composed and respectful attitude impressed the Kujou Clan head, who agreed to his condition.]
[Being appointed by the Tenryou Commission elevated your father's status even further. The once-empty dojo of Flame Burial now overflowed with new disciples eager to learn.]
[After a full renovation, the humble dojo transformed into a grand training hall capable of housing a thousand students.]
[You found it all a bit confusing. After all, Flame Burial's true power only came when paired with a Pyro Vision. Among the many disciples, those blessed with Pyro were exceedingly rare. Why would anyone invest time and money into learning a style they couldn't fully use?]
[Your mother answered that question: "These students aren't here for master-level swordsmanship. They're here for the identity of being a Flame Burial disciple—and for your father's reputation."]
[Back then, you were still too young to fully understand. You hadn't yet realized that—Swordsmanship isn't just about clashing blades. Swordsmanship is about human relationships.]
[Age 11: Since you hadn't received a Vision, your father didn't push you to continue training in the Flame Burial Style. Instead, he gave you the freedom to pursue what interested you. Your mother, now enjoying a luxurious lifestyle, no longer pressured you either. In the end, the "potential stock" she'd invested in had paid off handsomely.]
[Thanks to your father's connections, you were free to roam the Kujou estate. Having always loved crafting weapons, you started apprenticing under one of their swordsmiths. Some couldn't understand why you didn't follow in your father's footsteps—but due to your family's prestige, no one dared to openly criticize it.]
[Age 12: You had a natural gift for forging. Even at such a young age, you could produce blades of remarkable quality on your own. Impressed, Kujou Takayuki, the clan head, generously provided you with your own private forge.]
[His generosity wasn't solely due to your talent—it also reflected the immense respect he had for your father. By then, your father wasn't just the sword advisor to the Kujou Clan. He was a revered swordmaster with disciples throughout Inazuma.]
[To strengthen ties, Kujou Takayuki even proposed a marriage alliance between your families. Though he had no biological daughter, he offered the hand of his adopted daughter, Kujou Sara, in an engagement with you. The wedding would be held after your coming-of-age ceremony.]
[Though she was adopted, the chance to become in-laws with the Kujou Clan was still a tremendous honor for a once-obscure swordsman's family. Even so, your father still took the time to ask—what did you want?]
[Back then, you were still a boy obsessed with forging blades—not yet old enough to be interested in girls. Even so, you knew full well this was nothing more than a political marriage.]
[You had heard, vaguely, that the Kujou Clan's head had adopted a daughter many years ago, but since you'd spent all your time holed up in the forge, you had never actually seen what she looked like. All you knew was that she was said to be remarkably strong—strong enough to take down several grown men.]
[Naturally, you assumed she must be some burly, broad-shouldered woman. You considered refusing the proposal outright, but your mother insisted you at least meet her once. Anything less would be an insult to the Kujou Clan.]
[And offending the Kujou Clan? Definitely not a smart move. The reason you were free to forge weapons without worry, and had access to all sorts of precious materials, was entirely thanks to their patronage. In the end, you gave in—telling yourself that as long as Kujou Sara wasn't some mustachioed musclehead, you'd just suck it up and agree.]
[So, under Kujou Takayuki's arrangement, you and Kujou Sara had what was called a "formal meeting." That alone was already quite the privilege. In an era where most couples didn't even see each other's faces until the wedding day, this was about as good as it got.]
[You waited, nervous and jittery, inside a spacious room. Finally, the shoji door slid open. You braced yourself to meet a towering woman—only to be completely stunned.]
[The one who walked in was a sharp-featured youth with violet hair and golden eyes, handsome and composed, who sat across from you without a word.]
[Switching to Immersive Mode...]
"So," the boy-looking figure spoke first, "you're the one who's supposed to be my future husband?"
No wonder the earlier text mode used the word "boy" to describe Kujou Sara. Maybe it was because she was still young and hadn't physically matured yet, but the "fiancée" sitting in front of you looked more like a pretty, delicate boy than a girl.
"So... are you actually a girl?" Lucas blurted before he could stop himself.
He immediately wanted to slap himself. What the hell was wrong with his mouth?!
Asking something like that during an arranged marriage meeting—he half expected a cup of tea to be hurled at his face.
But to his surprise, Kujou Sara didn't seem offended at all. Instead, she replied matter-of-factly, "A lot of people say that. But I can prove I am, indeed, female."
And with that, she wordlessly undid the collar of her robe—revealing a dramatic cleavage far beyond what her age might suggest.
"W-Wait a second!" Lucas slapped a hand over his eyes. "That's... that's not something you should just show to a guy!"
"It's fine with you," Kujou Sara replied calmly. "After all, you're my future husband."
Lucas frowned. "So... you really don't have any objections to this political marriage? I mean, if you don't like me, it's totally fine to refuse. Actually—this is our first time meeting. How could you possibly like me already?"
"Marrying you was Father's order," she replied without hesitation. "And an order must not be disobeyed."
As expected of Kujou Sara—utterly loyal to her family. The thought of refusing never even crossed her mind. Whoever the other person was didn't matter—she would accept it without question.
As for Lucas—whether it was the one standing here now, or the one inside the simulator—neither would refuse this marriage.
Leaving aside the fact that Kujou Sara was far from unattractive—in fact, she was incredibly beautiful...
More importantly—
She had already developed to that extent at such a young age. Her future potential was... limitless.
Most men, regardless of age, are naturally drawn to the idea of "greatness."
After all, even if you don't feed yourself well, you can't exactly let your kids starve, right?
Sure, he and Kujou Sara had no emotional foundation whatsoever, but feelings could come later—marriage could be the beginning of that journey.
Still, the atmosphere soon grew awkward. Kujou Sara, beautiful as she was, wasn't exactly the chatty type. Her expression remained cold and unreadable, making it hard to tell what she was thinking.
And just as that silence was becoming unbearable—clack—something fell from her sleeve and landed on the floor.
For the first time, her stoic expression cracked with a flash of surprise. She quickly picked the object up and began wiping it with care.
Only then did Lucas notice what it was—a lacquered figurine. More specifically, it was a doll of the Raiden Shogun.
Officially called the "Divine Effigy of Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder," the doll was modeled directly after the Shogun herself.
In a nation that worships the Electro Archon, items depicting the Raiden Shogun weren't uncommon—figures, matching accessories, even toys based on Musou Isshin... Of course, none of these were casually made. Try printing the Shogun's face on a toilet seat and the Tenryou Commission would be raiding your house by nightfall.
Among these, the lacquered dolls were by far the most popular. Delicately crafted, they were often bought by girls.
Lucas hadn't expected Kujou Sara to have one, though...
Well—she was a girl, after all.
But this particular doll clearly had a chunk missing from its arm. Lucas hesitantly pointed it out, "Uh... I think your doll's arm is broken."
"I know," Sara said, her gaze dimming slightly. "It's my fault. I hugged it in my sleep and crushed it by accident."
Well, yeah. With that much weight pressing in from both sides, it was bound to break eventually...
The image of Kujou Sara sleeping while hugging a Raiden Shogun doll—wedged tightly between her... assets—made Lucas subconsciously gulp.
"If you don't mind..." Lucas offered cautiously, "Want me to fix it for you?"
Her previously dull eyes immediately lit up. "You can fix her?"
"Don't underestimate me! I'm great with weapon repairs!" Lucas puffed out his chest. "Fixing something like that? Piece of cake."
"It's not a 'thing,'" Kujou Sara corrected him sternly. "It's Her Excellency."
"R-Right! Of course!" Lucas corrected himself in a panic. "Her Excellency is... not a 'thing'..."
The moment those words left his mouth, he could clearly feel a flash of killing intent in Kujou Sara's eyes.
If the wrong person had heard that sentence, he'd be a dead man.
"All right then, let me fix Her Excellency for you," Lucas said quickly, correcting himself. "Hand her over—I'll need to take her back to the forge. Next time we meet, I promise she'll be as good as new."
"Why wait until next time?" Kujou Sara stood up abruptly and grabbed Lucas by the hand. "Let's go fix her now."
"Right now?" Lucas hesitated. "Aren't we still in the middle of a marriage meeting?"
"Didn't it already end?" Kujou Sara replied without a hint of expression. "I've already agreed. Unless you're saying you haven't?"
As she stood, Lucas couldn't help but flush at the... noticeable movement. He nodded quickly.
"In that case, there's no need to waste time here," she said, pulling him out of the room. "Take me to the forge. Now!"
So the rumors were true—she really was that decisive.
Watching her stride forward so confidently, Lucas couldn't have imagined that the matchmaker for their arranged marriage would turn out to be... the Raiden Shogun herself.
Unbeknownst to the pair, two men sipping tea in a nearby courtyard had been quietly observing their exit.
"Master Rui, it seems they're getting along quite well," said an older man in his sixties with a calm voice. "Sara may not be my biological daughter, but I've always treated her as my own. I hope you don't mind."
This was Kujou Takayuki, head of the Kujou Clan. Though advanced in age, he was still sharp and upright, showing no signs of frailty. The "Master Rui" he referred to was, of course, Lucas's father in this simulation—the head of the Flame Burial Style sword school.
Master Rui inclined his head respectfully. "Your generosity honors us, Lord Kujou. My humble son marrying your distinguished daughter is a blessing beyond compare."
Kujou Takayuki smiled. "Once our families are joined by marriage, there won't be a single sword school in Inazuma that can rival Flame Burial. Your legacy will be etched into the annals of history."
Rui knew very well this marriage benefited the Kujou Clan, too. With the addition of Flame Burial, the delicate balance among the Three Commissions would be disrupted. The Kujou Clan would inevitably rise above the others.
"There is one matter I wished to ask about, Lord Kujou," Rui said quietly. "Several of my disciples have gone missing recently. All of them were Vision holders. I wonder if you might have any insight?"
At those words, Kujou Takayuki's face visibly darkened. "It's likely just a coincidence. Master Rui, let me offer a word of advice—focus on teaching swordsmanship. As for other matters... you need not concern yourself. Nor could you, even if you tried."
"Understood," Rui replied with a lowered head. But in his eyes, faint embers flickered.
...
Lucas, of course, was unaware of any of this. He had already brought Kujou Sara to his forge.
To his surprise, the always-stoic Sara lit up the moment she saw the neatly arranged collection of weapons lining the walls and cabinets.
"These... you made all of these?" she asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Yep…" Lucas scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Do you like swords?"
"I do." Sara nodded without hesitation.
"What about bows?"
"I love them even more," she sighed. "But in the army, the heaviest bows we have are only two-stone... and I snap those by accident all the time."
Holy crap. Two-stone bows—that's over a hundred pounds of draw weight! Most grown men wouldn't even be able to pull one. And she's breaking them? The strength of the tengu really is insane.
"Try this one," Lucas said, pulling a bow down from a high shelf and handing it to her. "I made it using a Geovishap tendon. It's three-stone. No one's ever been able to draw it, so it's just been sitting up there collecting dust."
Sara took the bow and gently tested the string. As an expert archer, she knew better than to dry fire it—especially something this powerful. One pull was all it took for her to gauge the kind of strength it required.
Seeing the way she cradled it like a treasure, Lucas smiled. "If you like it, it's yours."
"R-Really?" she murmured. "A bow this fine…"
"Well, it's not like anyone else can use it," Lucas said, blushing slightly. "And besides… between husband and wife, why be so formal?"
For a moment, Sara stared at the bright-eyed boy in front of her—and something stirred in her chest. This arranged marriage, which had started out as just another duty among many, was starting to feel... different. She was beginning to like her future husband.
"A fine bow deserves a name," she said thoughtfully. "Let's call it Tengu's Fall."
Tengu were one of Inazuma's three great youkai clans, renowned for both speed and strength. A bow capable of "bringing down a tengu" certainly conveyed power. It even echoed the Rock-Hiding Style's secret technique, "Tengu Slash."
"Isn't that kinda... unlucky?" Lucas asked awkwardly. "I mean, aren't you a tengu yourself?"
"No matter." Sara shook her head. "If I ever betray you—may this bow be the one that kills me."
Yikes. That's a bit extreme...
"Let's not go there, okay?" Lucas quickly changed the subject. "Didn't we agree I'd fix your doll? Let's get started!"
Though Lucas had never worked on dolls before, forging weapons was far more intricate. It was like sending a trained sniper to a carnival shooting game—sure, it was a different tool, but the aim was the same.
As Lucas began repairing the doll, Sara leaned in close behind him, nervously watching his every move.
Which, of course, made things infinitely harder.
What should've been a simple repair job suddenly became a test of willpower, as he struggled to stay focused with her softness pressing against his back. After what felt like forever, he finally managed to patch up the cracked doll.
"Here, all done," Lucas said, wiping sweat from his brow as he handed it back to her. "It's not perfect, but... hope it's okay."
"It's—It's like new!" Sara clutched the doll, her eyes brimming with emotion. "When I die one day, I'll make sure this is buried with me!"
"Could you stop saying such ominous stuff?!" Lucas laughed, exasperated. "What's with all this death talk? We're still just kids, aren't we?"
"…Sorry," Kujou Sara said, her gaze tinged with rare remorse. "My father always taught me that dying in battle is the highest honor for a soldier. So... I've never really feared death."
Seeing how obedient she was, Lucas could easily imagine the kind of upbringing she'd received under that so-called "adoptive father."
"You weren't wrong to follow your father's teachings," Lucas said, looking up at his future wife, who stood just a bit taller than him. "But after marriage, a wife is supposed to listen to her husband, right?"
Sara blinked, slightly taken aback, before giving a small nod. "That's true."
"Then listen to me," Lucas said, patting her on the shoulder with a grin. "You'd better stay alive. That's an order."
Sara was quiet for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Understood."
That simple lacquered doll had somehow brought them much closer. And surrounded by swords, spears, and bows in the forge, the two quickly discovered they had a lot in common. Lucas figured that in all of Inazuma, there probably weren't even five girls as passionate and knowledgeable about weapons as Kujou Sara.
As always, time flew when you were enjoying yourself. Lucas's father had always taken a laid-back approach to raising him, but Sara's life was different—training couldn't be skipped, not even on a matchmaking day.
"Well then, I'll take my leave," Sara said as she stood, seeing the sky begin to darken. "Oh, right—today you repaired Her Excellency's doll for me, and even gave me a fine bow. My father always says that one good turn deserves another… but I don't seem to have anything worthy to give you."
"No need to be so formal," Lucas chuckled. "There's an old saying—'a goose feather from a thousand miles away is still a token of thought.' Just give me something personal."
Of course, when Lucas said "something personal," he meant something small—like a handkerchief or a trinket she usually carried. What he didn't account for was that someone like Kujou Sara… probably didn't carry anything like that.
"Something personal?"
Sara thought for a moment, then suddenly seemed to get an idea. Right in front of Lucas, she loosened her outer robe—revealing the chest wrap she wore underneath.
Whoa. Even with the wrap, it was… noticeable. If she took it off—
Before his imagination could spiral out of control, Sara had already removed the wrap. In her heart, she already regarded the boy before her as her future husband. Though a little embarrassed, she didn't hesitate.
"This is the most personal thing I have," she said seriously, holding the fabric out to him. "These past few years, things have… grown inconveniently large. It gets in the way when I'm sparring, so I wrap them down."
Seeing Lucas's very complicated expression, Sara quickly added, "Is… is it too plain? If you don't like it, I can—"
"No, no!" Lucas said quickly. "I—I like it! A lot!"
The soft cloth was still warm from her body. Without thinking, Lucas raised it to his nose and took a deep breath.
A faint mix of sweat and something sweet—definitely the real deal.
"D-Don't sniff it…" Sara's face turned red. "I… I haven't had time to wash it the past few days… it probably smells…"
A few days without washing?
That just made it even more precious.
Trying to compose himself, Lucas finally lowered the wrap and said, "Thank you… I really like this gift. I'll treasure it."
"Then… I'll be going now," Sara said, turning to leave. But just before stepping out, she glanced back. "Let's meet here from now on."
[Exiting Immersive Mode]
[Entering Text Mode]
[Age 13: And so, your engagement with Kujou Sara was unofficially settled. Though no ceremony had taken place, both families had clearly acknowledged your relationship.]
[Whenever she had a break from training, Kujou Sara would visit the forge to see you. Neither of you were particularly chatty, but when it came to crafting weapons or practicing swordsmanship, your chemistry was undeniable.]
[She was only a few years older than you, but already a highly skilled martial artist—ranked as an officer in the Tenryou Commission's army.]
[Who would've thought that this stern, no-nonsense general feared throughout the military would act so much like a normal girl in front of a boy her age?]
[Age 14: That year wasn't peaceful. You learned from Kujou Sara that the Tenryou Commission had begun arresting Vision holders. Officially, the reason was that these individuals were deemed "morally unworthy of divine gifts," and so their Visions were to be reclaimed.]
[At first, you didn't think much of it. But then, one of your father's most promising disciples was arrested in broad daylight. You knew him well—he had always been upright, kind, and loyal. Because he had a Pyro Vision, he had even mastered the core techniques of the Flame Burial Style. He had a bright future ahead of him.]
[He was eventually released—but returned battered and broken, and without his Vision. The once-brilliant, cheerful young man fell into depression, spending his days drinking. One day, he was found dead—having hanged himself at home.]
[Perhaps because of the Tenryou Commission's involvement, few attended his funeral. But your father brought you there personally. It was the first time you had ever seen that iron-willed man shed tears in front of a coffin.]
[Age 15: In the beginning, everyone—including you—thought the Vision arrests were isolated incidents. But soon, more and more people had their Visions taken. Eventually, no explanation was even offered. Vision holders became too afraid to walk the streets, for fear of being seized by patrolling soldiers.]
[You learned all of this from Kujou Sara. Over the years, your bond had deepened. Although you hadn't slept together, you were both young and full of energy—and Kujou Sara's mature allure made it hard to resist. After enough pleading and persistence, you'd already shared plenty of intimate moments in other ways.]
[Your life was peaceful and happy, so you didn't think too much about the Vision situation. First, you didn't have a Vision. Second, with your father and future father-in-law's influence, it didn't seem like anything could touch you.]
[Age 16: An official decree was issued under the name of the "Vision Hunt Decree," consisting of a single line: "All privately held Visions are to be surrendered to forge the Statue of the Omnipresent God. Defiance will be met with force."]
[The announcement sent shockwaves through Inazuma. Tenryou Commission soldiers began barging into homes, conducting searches. Anyone who concealed the existence of a Vision—or harbored someone who did—was harshly punished.]
[At the same time, a new sect emerged seemingly overnight: the "Shrine of the One True Hundred-Eyed God." They revered the Raiden Shogun, actively recruited followers, and encouraged people to surrender their Visions willingly, claiming it was a sacred act—an honorable contribution to the statue.]
[Many people, brainwashed by the sect's teachings, joined the faith. Even your mother became one of them. She not only donated a large sum of "tithes" in secret but began urging your father to hand over his Vision as well.]
[Naturally, your father refused. The Flame Burial Style swordsmanship he had dedicated his life to required a Pyro Vision to reach its full potential. More than that, a Vision wasn't just a tool to channel elemental power—it was a symbol of a person's will.]
[Countless Vision holders who'd lost theirs were left broken and disheartened. Many sank into despair, others even took their own lives. Several of your father's disciples met such fates.]
[Yet, despite it all, your father never blamed your mother. He still loved her deeply, and they stayed together.]
[You, too, began to feel a vague sense of unease. But you weren't too worried. After all, your wedding with Kujou Sara was approaching. If your family could be tied to one of the Three Commissions—especially the Kujou Clan—then surely the Vision Hunt Decree wouldn't touch you.]
[Three months later, your wedding with Kujou Sara was held. In Inazuma, this was a perfectly acceptable age to marry.]
[The night before the ceremony, you drank with your father for the first time. You noticed he looked older—worn. He confessed that the decree had brought misfortune to many of his disciples, while he himself had hidden under the Tenryou Commission's protection, just trying to survive.]
[You tried to comfort him and warned him not to bring his Vision to the wedding—it would only cause trouble. He didn't respond. He just drank, then quietly drew his beloved sword and began practicing the Flame Burial Style beneath the moonlight. Even though you hadn't trained in years, it was obvious—there was no swordsman left in Inazuma who could rival him.]
[Though Kujou Sara was only the adopted daughter of Kujou Takayuki, the wedding was grand as if she were his own blood. Nobles and dignitaries from all three major clans were invited—and even the Raiden Shogun herself was expected to attend.]
[This, of course, thrilled Kujou Sara beyond words. To her, the Shogun had always been a sacred, divine figure. Having her attend the wedding was the greatest possible honor.]
[At the ceremony, even the heads of both families were seated to the side. The place of honor belonged solely to the Raiden Shogun. You had seen her before—but never this close.]
[Her beauty was even more refined than Sara's. Of course, Sara had often said that in both sword and appearance, the Shogun was peerless. But seated there without a word, her gaze emotionless, she looked less like a person and more like a life-sized lacquered doll.]
[Then, just as the officiant began the wedding rites, the Shogun abruptly pointed at your father and said, "Why has this man not surrendered his Vision?"]
[Instantly, the joyful celebration fell into deathly silence. You remembered clearly—hadn't you warned your father not to bring his Vision today? Yet there it was, boldly displayed on his person.]
[Kujou Takayuki quickly stepped forward. "He is a master swordsman of great renown and also my in-law. I beg Your Excellency's mercy..."]
[But the Raiden Shogun remained unmoved. "All beneath me are mortal. If he surrenders his Vision willingly, I will not pursue the matter further."]
[Your father, calm and composed, stepped forward. "I would like to offer this Vision as a wager, in exchange for a duel with Your Excellency. Should I manage to withstand your Musou no Hitotachi, I ask that you rescind the Vision Hunt Decree and return the seized Visions to their rightful owners."]
[His words caused an uproar. This was outright defiance. Everyone knew—no one had ever survived the Shogun's Musou no Hitotachi.]
["There are always those among mortals," the Shogun said coldly, "who dare to face the majesty of lightning. Very well. I accept your challenge."]
[And just like that, the festive stage transformed into a duel.]
[Your father's swordsmanship was already legendary. But he was still only human—how could he possibly stand against a god? And yet, against all expectations, once the duel began, the two clashed fiercely—flame and lightning intertwined with every stroke.]
[Among the guests were many skilled swordsmen, but none could compare. They watched in silent awe, ashamed. No one could understand how a mere mortal could stand toe to toe with the Raiden Shogun.]
[But you saw it clearly—your father wasn't burning stamina. He was burning his very life.]
["Your swordsmanship," the Shogun finally spoke, "has earned the right to face my Musou no Hitotachi. But can you withstand it?"]
[Lightning danced around her as she raised her blade. The divine strike that even archons once feared—descended.]
[And in that moment, you saw a smile on your father's face. For a swordsman, witnessing this strike in person... was enough to make this life complete.]
[When the light faded, a scorched man still stood upon the stage. The ground around him had been blackened by the overwhelming power of the Thunder God—but he, alone, remained upright.]
["Impressive…" he whispered. And then, blood burst from his body. He collapsed with a crash. You could only watch, as your vision went black—your mind unable to bear the shock. You fainted.]
[You didn't know how long it had been before you finally woke up—only to find yourself lying in a rundown inn on the outskirts of the city.]
[When you asked the innkeeper what had happened, he told you you'd been unconscious for days. A dignified, well-dressed middle-aged woman had left some money behind to cover your stay. Had you slept for just two days longer, they'd have tossed you out.]
[You knew in your heart that woman must have been your mother. Ever since she joined the "Shrine of the One True Hundred-Eyed God," she'd barely set foot at home—only appearing at your wedding out of obligation.]
[Your mind was still in a haze. A newspaper lay beside you, its headline bold and cruel: "Flame Burial Style's Swordmaster Defies the Vision Hunt Decree—Overestimates Himself and Attempts to Challenge the Raiden Shogun—Killed on the Spot." Beneath it was a photo of your father's lifeless body collapsed in death.]
[So it hadn't been a dream. Everything had really happened. It took you a long time to accept that truth.]
[The first thing you thought to do was visit the Tenryou Commission for answers. But the gates that once opened to you without hesitation were now locked tight. The guards you once knew greeted you with cold, unfamiliar stares—as if they'd never met you.]
[You realized then: the Kujou Clan was cutting all ties with you. Still, you had to recover your father's body—at the very least, you had to see Kujou Sara.]
[So you waited outside. She wouldn't ignore you. She wouldn't…]
[You waited for two full days and nights. She never came. Eventually, the gates opened—but the one who greeted you wasn't Sara. It was Kujou Takayuki.]
[Gone was the friendly elder you once knew. He now looked at you like a stranger. He told you bluntly that your father had already been buried, and as for your wedding with Kujou Sara—it was annulled. He would offer you financial compensation to ensure you lived out your life comfortably.]
[You told him you didn't need his money. Your father had always lived frugally and saved plenty. You still had your home, your dojo. All you wanted… was an explanation.]
[Kujou Takayuki gave you a faint, almost amused smile. He told you that you now had nothing. Your mother had taken every last coin and donated it all to the Shrine of the One True Hundred-Eyed God, hoping to atone for your father's "crimes."]
[It hit you like a second blade to the heart. You left the Kujou estate in a daze and returned to your father's dojo—only to find it sealed off and ready for auction. Everything inside had been cleared out. You never imagined your own mother would be the one to stab you in the back.]
[The only thing left on the floor was a thin pamphlet—the cult's propaganda booklet. On its cover was the face of the Raiden Shogun, expressionless as always, mocking you with her empty gaze. If not for her, this brainwashing, parasitic cult would never have existed.]
[In a fury, you tore the booklet to shreds. Your marriage, your family, your future—everything had been destroyed by this so-called "god."]
[You stomped on her image. At that moment, a decision formed in your heart: if you had nothing left to lose, then no matter what it took—you would get your revenge on the Raiden Shogun.]
[That's right. You decided you would kill her. The idea came to you all at once. It was reckless. Almost impossible. Even if you succeeded, you wouldn't survive—but you were ready to stake your life on it.]
[A direct confrontation? Impossible. You were barely a tenth as strong as your father. There was no chance of beating her in a fair fight. Your only option—was assassination.]
[You had no Vision. Your inherited Flame Burial Style was meaningless against her. So you shifted your focus—to what you did best: weapons.]
[You were a genius at forging weapons. You believed with all your heart that a blade, sharp enough, could compensate for any lack of strength. You didn't need to defeat the Raiden Shogun—you just needed a sword that could pierce her body. That would be enough.]
[Though your mother had taken nearly everything, she didn't know about the little house you'd bought in the city. It was your secret stash, a place where you stored weapons too precious to sell, and rare materials you hadn't yet found use for.]
[You poured all your time, effort, and soul into forging a single blade. For a while, you considered trying to see Kujou Sara in secret. But in the end, you gave up.]
[Your father had defied the Raiden Shogun and died by her hand. Kujou Sara, on the other hand, served her loyally. There was no future for the two of you anymore. Kujou Takayuki would never allow it. And you—you had already resolved to give your life for this mission. There was no point dragging her down with you.]
[Age 17: You spent the entire year working on that one blade. Every waking moment went into its creation. You failed countless times. You bled for it. But in the end—your efforts were not in vain.]
[You forged your life's greatest masterpiece. A blade so sharp it could slice through the hardest steel with ease.]
[Even the famed Raiden Gokaden might not have produced such a weapon.]
Damn. Taking on the Raiden Gokaden at seventeen? Do you even know what "gold-tier talent" means?
[You named the blade "Raiden-Cutter"—or "Raikiri." Its meaning was simple: the sword that would sever the Raiden Shogun's head. You believed that even someone with no martial skill—so long as they held this sword—could slay a god.]
[Soon after, you got your chance. During the annual grand festival, the Raiden Shogun would perform a ceremonial procession through the city—one of the only times the common people were allowed to see her up close.]
[Security for the event? Mostly symbolic. After all, she was the strongest being in Inazuma. No one believed she could be harmed. There had been past assassination attempts, yes—but even when she made no effort to defend herself, none had ever touched her.]
[It was an assassination plan that was both incredibly difficult and deceptively "simple." Difficult—because the target was none other than the mighty Raiden Shogun. Simple—because the so-called security for her parade was practically nonexistent. Who would've believed that a nation's leader could step out with only a few guards by her side?]
[You had already made all your preparations. On the day of the parade, you lay in wait beneath a second-story building along the Shogun's route. Your plan was simple: when she passed by, you would leap down and strike her head clean off with one blow.]
[Your swordsmanship was mediocre at best, but this single move? You'd practiced it thousands of times. And with the sharpness of Raikiri, there was nothing it couldn't cut through. You believed—no, you knew—that if you landed the hit, even the Electro Archon herself wouldn't survive.]
[You'd even considered testing the move on a lone passerby during a dark and windy night, just to be sure it would work. But in the end, you didn't go through with it. Even if you were about to become the "most vicious criminal" in an assassination attempt on Raiden Shogun, you refused to drag innocent people into it.]
[As for the "One Sect of One Mind, Many Eyes" that had caused you so much suffering—the upper echelons of that cult had long hidden their identities too well. You couldn't even find out who they were, let alone exact revenge. But you knew this much: Raiden Shogun, who had allowed such a group to fester in the first place, was the true culprit. If she were gone, the brainwashing cult that preyed on the people's minds would collapse with her.]
[The day of the parade finally arrived. Compared to previous years, it felt far more subdued. Though the people of Inazuma still revered their god, the Vision Hunt Decree had cast a shadow over the nation.]
[You lay in wait atop the roof of a tavern, your eyes locked on the road ahead.]
[And finally, there she was. That face you knew all too well—Raiden Shogun, emotionless as ever, moved through the crowd receiving the adoration of her subjects. You had pasted her portrait onto straw dummies and "killed" her thousands of times. But now that she was here in the flesh, her cold indifference ignited your fury all over again.]
[Beneath your rage, though, were tension and fear. You'd never taken a life before. And this wasn't just murder—it was deicide.]
[As she approached, your heartbeat became erratic, pounding in your ears. Even your hand gripping the hilt of your blade began to tremble. Sweat rolled from your brow and into your eyes, but you didn't dare wipe it away—not when even the slightest movement could give you away.]
[Now! As Raiden Shogun stepped into the precise spot you'd rehearsed a thousand times, you leapt. Drawing Raikiri, you swung down at her neck with every ounce of strength you had.]
[Everything went exactly as you had envisioned. You thought this would be the moment her head rolled. But instead—she sensed your presence. She had no time to draw her blade and could only raise an arm to defend herself instinctively.]
[Useless! you thought, sneering. Raikiri's edge would slice through her arm and her body like paper. And it did—there was a sharp crack, and her arm was severed like tofu. But just as your blade was about to complete its arc and decapitate the Shogun, an arrow whistled through the air and pierced your shoulder.]
[The force of the shot was immense. It didn't just stop your strike—it sent you flying, slamming you hard into the ground. Beside you lay Raiden Shogun's severed arm… except, to your astonishment, it wasn't human. The cross-section revealed intricate machinery—]
[You didn't have time to process it. The guards, now fully alert, immediately subdued you. And then you saw her—the one who had shot you down. The one you'd longed to see, yet dreaded meeting more than anything: Kujou Sara.]
[She was as radiant as ever. In fact, from what you'd heard, she'd climbed the ranks rapidly over the past year and had become one of Raiden Shogun's most trusted warriors. She didn't seem to recognize you, and you couldn't blame her. Pain and obsession had twisted you beyond recognition. You were no longer the bright, passionate youth of the past.]
[Kujou Sara gave you a cold glance and spoke flatly, "This person is likely an assassin sent by some unknown faction. Take him back for interrogation. He is not to be killed under any circumstances."]
[The searing pain in your shoulder soon pulled you into unconsciousness. You weren't afraid of death. What gutted you… was failing to kill Raiden Shogun before dying. That was a regret you couldn't let go of.]
[You didn't know how long had passed before you awoke again, only to find yourself in a small sealed room.]
[Switching to Immersive Mode]
[Objective: Escape Alive]
Lucas opened his eyes.
Sure enough, he was lying in a stark, white room. It was far cleaner and brighter than a typical prison cell—more like an interrogation room than anything else.
His shoulder throbbed with pain. When he looked down, he saw the wound had been carefully bandaged. The treatment must've used some expensive medicine—far more than a condemned man like him deserved.
Because there was no doubt about it. Whether he succeeded or failed, attempting to assassinate Raiden Shogun was a capital offense. The only question was how he would die. If she was in a good mood, perhaps a swift execution. If not… dismemberment, public torture—it was all on the table.
Escape alive?
Lucas let out a bitter chuckle. In this simulation, he might've been gifted with a golden talent, but his combat abilities were abysmal. Now, locked up like this, what chance did he have of escaping?
"You're awake?"
Just then, the door opened.
A purple-haired girl stepped inside silently. "Everyone else, leave. I'll be questioning the prisoner alone."
It was, of course, Kujou Sara.
Compared to the girl he remembered—cool on the outside but warm within—she now exuded a more mature presence, in both aura… and figure.
Even in this life-or-death situation, Lucas couldn't stop his gaze from wandering somewhere it definitely shouldn't.
"You really haven't changed at all," Kujou Sara said with a faint smile. "Still obsessed with these two, huh?"
Those words hit like a hammer to the chest.
"You… you still remember me?" Lucas murmured.
"It's only been a year," Kujou Sara replied calmly. "How could I possibly forget you? Even if you turned to ash, I'd still recognize you."
Yep, that blunt, zero-emotional-intelligence way of speaking… that was definitely still her.
"Sorry, I guess I said the wrong thing again," Kujou Sara shook her head. "I never thought we'd reunite like this."
"Yeah…" Lucas let out a long sigh. "The bow you used to shoot me… it was the Tengu's Descent, wasn't it?"
"It was. A weapon you forged—just as impressive as ever." As she spoke, Kujou Sara placed a blade on the table. "This one, too. It's one of yours, right?"
It was Raikiri.
"That's right, it's called Raikiri," Lucas said, his voice tinged with confusion. "I made it to sever the head of the Raiden Shogun. So why is it in your hands?"
"Because I earned it for protecting Her Excellency. She gifted it to me," Kujou Sara said softly, her expression apologetic. "That arrow… must have hurt."
"My shoulder definitely hurt. But the real pain—" Lucas pointed to his chest, "—was here. If you'd recognized me, would you still have fired that arrow?"
Kujou Sara lowered her gaze. "I recognized you the moment you appeared. But no matter who you were, I still would've taken the shot. Protecting the Shogun… is my duty."
"So, interrogating me now is also part of your 'duty'?" Lucas sneered. "Too bad I'm just a lone man seeking revenge. No conspiracies, no hidden agenda—nothing you can use to earn merit."
His tone was laced with bitter sarcasm. But Kujou Sara didn't seem to notice. She answered earnestly, "You shouldn't hate Her Excellency. Your father died in a fair duel. I'm sure, wherever he is, he wouldn't want you doing this."
"You haven't lived through what I have," Lucas clenched his fists. "So what gives you the right to tell me to let it go? Is that why you came here—to spout these meaningless words?"
Kujou Sara shook her head. "No. I came to finish what was left undone."
"Left undone?" Lucas blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Our wedding."
With a gentle push, she made Lucas sit back down on the bed. Then, the girl before him undid her collar.
She no longer needed to bind her chest as she once did, no longer hiding what made her a woman.
"After you disappeared, my father confined me for a long time. Even after that, he kept restricting my movements—I couldn't go looking for you." As she undressed piece by piece, she let the bitterness in her heart spill out. "No matter what anyone else decided, I never once thought about breaking off our engagement."
"Is it really worth it?" Lucas asked, blushing slightly. "To give up your purity for someone about to die?"
"I was never going to marry anyone else," Kujou Sara whispered as she gently pushed Lucas onto the bed, lowering her voice beside his ear. "And besides… I want to."
A year ago, during their wedding ceremony, this was the line she never got the chance to say.
Now, inside this prison cell, they finally completed that union.
Lucas, for a moment, seemed to forget his mission—"escape alive." Right now, he was sinking into another kind of "trap," one far harder to crawl out of.
Of course, aside from that pit, there were also towering "cliffs" waiting for him to scale.
No prison bed was ever meant to accommodate two people. The creaking of the bedframe echoed like a protest.
Whether he could escape this place… didn't seem to matter anymore.
To reach the summit before death—that was enough.
An hour later—
No one dared disturb the "interrogation." Kujou Sara had already given strict orders for everyone to stay clear. And truthfully, what just happened was a kind of interrogation: Lucas confessed everything without reservation. Nothing left hidden.
Meanwhile, Kujou Sara—usually as cold as frost—now rested gently in Lucas's arms, finally letting herself act like a bashful girl.
"From today onward," she murmured, "I am officially your wife."
"It's just a shame…" Lucas smiled bitterly. "It'll only last for a day."
He didn't mean "once." He meant literally—he knew he'd soon be executed. Their marriage wouldn't last.
"No. I'll make sure you live."
Suddenly, Kujou Sara drew Raikiri from its scabbard. As the blade hummed with lightning, she said, "This is a good sword. It can even slice through the prison walls. I've already dismissed the guards from the three walls behind you."
Then, without hesitation, she reversed the blade and stabbed herself in the shoulder. The sharp edge tore open a gruesome wound in an instant.
Lucas gasped in shock.
Wincing, drenched in cold sweat, Kujou Sara said through gritted teeth, "The prisoner ambushed me during the interrogation. He wounded me and escaped with the sword. Sounds convincing, right?"
"You think the Shogun and Kujou Takayuki will believe such a flimsy lie?" Lucas's heart ached as he helped her up. "Come with me."
"Betraying Her Excellency would be disloyal. Betraying my father would be unfilial," Kujou Sara smiled faintly. "Do you really want me to become that kind of person? Go. Find somewhere safe… and never come back."
Lucas knew her well. Once she made up her mind, no one could change it.
He picked up Raikiri, swung it lightly against the wall—and just like that, a passage opened through the thick stone as if it were paper.
"I'm sorry…" As he turned to leave, Lucas looked back at her one last time and whispered so only he could hear: "I swear I'll return."
With that, he began cutting his way through wall after wall. Just as Kujou Sara said, there were no guards outside. That winding little path would now become the beginning of his new road to revenge.
[Mission Complete: Escape Alive]
[Reward Acquired: Famous Blade — Raiden Cutter]
[Name: Famous Blade – Raiden Cutter]
[Rarity: S]
[Effects:
Exceptionally sharp and never dulls.
Lightning Reversal: When struck by Electro attacks, counters can be triggered. Outcome depends on the quality of the counter.
Failure: No effect.
Normal: Reduces damage by 50%.
Good: Negates all damage.
Perfect: Fully negates the damage and reflects it back at the attacker.]
[Description: A blade forged specifically to assassinate the Raiden Shogun, said to possess the potential to harm even a god. Especially effective against Electro attacks.]
As expected of a weapon crafted with a golden-tier talent—it was straight-up rated S-rank.
The first effect alone was enough to make veteran hunters weep with joy. It was essentially a purple-sharpness longsword that never lost sharpness.
As for the second effect, that was straight out of Sekiro's playbook. If executed properly, it not only nullified Electro damage but could even reflect it entirely.
However, reality wasn't a video game. Lucas had no idea how this so-called "parry mechanic" would be judged in real combat.
Even so, carrying such a divine weapon didn't mean he stood a chance one-on-one against the Raiden Shogun—not any more than asking a Sekiro rookie to solo Isshin the Sword Saint right out the gate.
[Although Kujou Sara covered for you and you had the Raiden Cutter in hand, you were still recovering from serious injuries. Your stamina was depleted, and while fleeing through the mountains, it wasn't long before Tenryou Commission pursuers caught wind of your trail.]
[You did everything you could to shake off the pursuit, but their arrows kept whistling past your back. Finally, one found its mark—piercing your lower leg and sending you plummeting into the nearby gorge.]
[Perhaps because the valley was deep and your body already badly injured, the soldiers assumed survival was impossible and gave up looking for your body.]
[Luckily, fate wasn't entirely cruel. The branches you crashed through cushioned your fall enough to save your life—barely.]
[Back when you had time between forging, you used to read for leisure—things like "light novels." Among them, you were especially fond of Liyue's stories about heroic vigilantes. The protagonists always seemed to fall off cliffs and not only survive, but emerge with divine manuals and power boosts.]
[Unfortunately, fiction is fiction. In reality, while you weren't dead on impact, you were barely hanging on. The arrow wound in your leg wasn't too serious, inflicted by a mere foot soldier—but the wound on your shoulder had reopened. Deep down, you knew: even if you miraculously recovered, your days of wielding a blade and cutting down the Raiden Shogun were over.]
[Your plan for revenge had turned to ashes. Whatever you had with Kujou Sara was now just a memory. Staring up at the sliver of sky above, despair crept in. The chasm between mortals and gods was too vast—far beyond what sheer effort could overcome. Even with a body whole and strong, even if you forged an even sharper weapon, killing the Raiden Shogun seemed utterly impossible.]
[More troubling still, you had uncovered the Shogun's secret—her arm wasn't made of flesh but some form of sophisticated mechanical structure. That suggested that parts of her body had already been replaced with machinery. Even if a blade could wound her, it might never be fatal.]
[Just as you were analyzing potential weaknesses, a loud boom echoed nearby. You looked up to see a brilliant firework soar into the night sky and explode into dazzling colors. Beautiful, in its way.]
[It wasn't your first time seeing fireworks—but it was the first time you'd really paid attention. To you, fireworks, no matter how spectacular, had always been fleeting beauty. A perfect weapon, however, remained sharp for centuries.]
[That firework had to be the work of the Naganohara Fireworks Store. Inazuma had plenty of fireworks vendors, but only they could produce something so grand. You couldn't imagine how much gunpowder it took to make that thing—probably more than what Snezhnaya packed into their muskets.]
[Wait... gunpowder? Muskets? Something clicked. Using a sword to kill the Raiden Shogun meant getting up close and delivering a lethal blow. But if you shifted your thinking—used gunpowder to make weapons—you could attack from a distance. With enough power, you might even blast the Shogun to pieces. Not even a god could survive that.]
[You had always possessed a rare gift for crafting weapons. But you'd remained a traditional artisan, believing only cold steel truly embodied the soul of arms. After all, swordsmanship and archery required years of training. A musket, on the other hand—any ordinary person could fire one with a bit of instruction.]
[Now, you were that ordinary person—weak and broken. And creating a firearm capable of erasing the Raiden Shogun had become your new goal.]
[In a way, that firework gave you hope. Not for its fleeting beauty, but for the terrifying power that lay hidden beneath it.]
[Still, you knew nothing about firearms—especially how to mix gunpowder. You'd have to start from scratch. But combined with your weapon-crafting talent, inventing a new weapon strong enough to kill the Shogun wasn't a pipe dream.]
[But first, you needed to survive. You were trapped deep in a valley, severely wounded and unable to climb out. Yet your will to live kept you going. You survived on dew and wild berries, clinging to life by a thread.]
[Then, as if to mock you, a storm rolled in days later. You had no choice but to search for shelter. To your surprise, you found a cave—and inside, some preserved rations, a few supplies, and even a sleeping bag.]
[Starving and exhausted, you didn't even question how any of this got here. You simply devoured the food and collapsed into the sleeping bag.]
[A year ago, your life wasn't luxurious, but you never lacked for food or comfort. Yet this sleeping bag felt better than any bed you'd ever known.]
[You didn't know how much time had passed before you finally stirred—only to feel something cold pressing against your neck. You opened your eyes to find a dagger resting at your throat, held by a green-haired girl.]
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