Because of what had happened the previous night, Rosh looked visibly sleep-deprived the next morning. Her expression was full of resentment as she glared at Ryuji and Sizki, clearly annoyed.
Still, she didn't voice her complaints. After all, she felt it wasn't really her problem.
To her, Ryuji was nothing more than a gorilla who only cared about breasts. Which meant—
Rosh was invincible!
Although that thought itself left her rather irritated, she also realized it meant she didn't need to worry.
Since they weren't traveling with a caravan, their pace was swift. By nightfall, they had already reached Hendon Myre. Ryuji quickly secured a new inn for them, while Seria, Sizki, and Rosh went out shopping for supplies.
Ryuji, on the other hand, was free with his spending. Having taken plenty of gold during his time in the Demon Slayer world, he was more than financially secure for his stay in Arad.
Without delay, he made his way to the Adventurers' Guild, placing a commission to find someone—G.S.D.
The request was accepted almost immediately, and when Ryuji laid eyes on the man who took the job, his brows shot up in surprise.
Because this man… looked exactly like Aganzo.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man draped in a hooded cloak, a greatsword slung across his back. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were dull, lacking even a shred of respect as they met Ryuji's.
What stood out most, however, was the dangerous aura radiating from him.
And yet, when the man looked at Ryuji, his gaze was calm, almost indifferent.
"You're the one looking for G.S.D.? Hmph. You don't look like a Ghost Swordsman…"
His eyes lingered on Ryuji's arms. Both were perfectly normal, untainted by the ghostly curse. Just as a trace of doubt appeared in his expression, he chuckled softly to himself.
"Never mind. Not my problem. Just follow me."
With that, he flashed the guild-issued task slip, signaling Ryuji to come along.
Ryuji blinked in surprise. The name on the slip really was Aganzo.
'What the hell? Don't tell me Aganzo has fallen so low that he's taking random commissions now?'
That was his first thought. But he quickly corrected himself.
Unlike the other three Blade Masters, Aganzo had no family name, no estate, no business ventures. Though once renowned, he had lived as a simple man. During his prime, when his beloved Luxie still lived, Aganzo had never wanted for anything—his skills ensured he was always in demand.
But after Luxie's death, Aganzo had all but collapsed. Though not entirely ruined, he had become a broken man.
For years, he had drifted through life, drowning himself in alcohol. His swordsmanship hadn't exactly declined, but unlike the other Sword Saints, he hadn't advanced either. Still, his strength was far beyond what ordinary adventurers could handle.
But wealth? That was another matter. Even as one of Arad's Four Grand Masters, Aganzo wasn't the kind of man to drink without paying. And when the money ran out, taking adventurer jobs seemed only natural.
Why he had chosen this particular commission, though, was anyone's guess.
"You really don't hold back, do you, Mr. Aganzo?" Ryuji muttered, half-amused, half-bewildered.
Still, he followed. He wasn't expecting to have much of a conversation—Aganzo was little more than a wreck these days.
"Trouble just seems to follow you," Aganzo replied carelessly, his words slurred with drink, though his attention never strayed from Ryuji.
From the moment Ryuji had stepped into the guild tavern, Aganzo had sensed something dangerous about him. Unlike the average adventurer, this young man radiated a violent energy. That was why Aganzo had taken the job.
Though not close to G.S.D, he still respected the man. They had worked together before, and Aganzo admired him greatly.
After all—
G.S.D had dedicated his life to helping Ghost Swordsmen: teaching them how to control their Ghost arms, guiding them away from despair. That alone was enough to earn Aganzo's respect.
"Oh?" Ryuji raised a brow. Aganzo's words implied his strength was enough to warrant caution.
"Interesting. But there's no need to worry. I'm only here to ask Master G.S.D for guidance."
That was, in fact, Ryuji's true purpose in returning to the Arad continent. If there was anyone alive who understood the secrets of Blood Qi arts well as he hoped, it was G.S.D. The only man who could surpass him in that regard was Khazan himself.
And so, Ryuji sought G.S.D to confirm whether his own path was correct.
"Do as you like. I'm just your guide."
With that, Aganzo pulled out a bottle, gulped down two heavy swigs, and lapsed into silence.
It wasn't long before they left Hendon Myre's bustling streets behind, entering a quiet, decayed alleyway.
Here, the air was different. Not dark and suffocating like the haunts of street thugs, but quiet, sunlit—even strangely peaceful despite the ruin.
The buildings bore the marks of destruction, scars carved by human hands.
Ryuji also noticed several children with their arms tightly bound in bandages. The bandages couldn't hide the bulging shapes beneath—rings and chains marking the telltale signs of ghost arms.
All of them were Ghost Hands.
Their clothes were tattered, their eyes cold and hollow as they stared back at him.
Ryuji frowned but said nothing. For a child cursed with the Ghost amrs, killing one's family was common. Binding rituals weren't always effective. Being driven out into exile was, sadly, normal.
While he pondered, Aganzo came to a stop.
"This is it. Go on in."
Ryuji looked ahead. At the end of the alley sat an old man basking in the sunlight, his frail body slouched as though he might pass away at any moment. His face was bound with two crisscrossing cloth strips etched with countless markings.
Beside him sat a white-haired, scarred young man—blind, judging by the ruined eyes—staring blankly into the distance.
Without a word, Ryuji tossed the commission slip to Aganzo. That slip was proof of task completion; with it, Aganzo could collect his payment from the guild.
Ryuji stepped forward. But before he could even greet him, G.S.D spoke.
"Fresh blood in your scent… a restless wind about you. Young man, you don't carry Khazan's curse, do you?"
Though blindfolded, G.S.D turned his face toward Ryuji. From the moment Aganzo had brought him here, he had sensed something unusual.
The young man's blood aura was powerful—on par with many Berserkers—yet his body bore no trace of the ghost arms.
Why, then, had he come?
Most who sought G.S.D were desperate Ghost Swordsmen with nowhere else to turn. Never ordinary men.
To Ryuji, though, G.S.D was more than a teacher. He was a mentor figure, a man of compassion who guided adventurers until the very end. A master of Wave Swordsmanship who nonetheless understood all schools of blade, able to advise any who sought him.
His swordsmanship was unparalleled, and his "Mind's Eye" allowed him to perceive what others could not.
That was why Ryuji had come to him.
As for why Ryuji didn't find him last time.... simply because his understanding of this world had still been far too shallow.
This time, however, he came with a clear purpose—and no intention of wasting words.
"Because you are one of the few who truly understand the secrets of Blood Qi secret arts," Ryuji said calmly, "I came here to ask for guidance. And, if possible, to see if there's anything I can do to help you."
He spoke with courtesy, for he was here to learn. Rather than standing, Ryuji lowered himself to sit directly on the ground, deliberately placing himself in an equal position as he faced the old swordsman before him.
"Blood Qi secrets arts, is it?"
G.S.D's brows furrowed. Just as he was about to respond, Ryuji lifted his hand and allowed his inner power to stir.
In an instant, the entirety of his blood surged to life. His eyes turned crimson, glowing with a terrifying vitality.
But what G.S.D perceived through his spiritual sense went far beyond what his eyes could see—Ryuji's very being had become a furnace of Blood Qi, burning with a purity and intensity that was utterly inconceivable.
It wasn't that Ryuji was the strongest warrior he had ever encountered. G.S.D had seen countless berserkers far more fearsome in raw might. What stunned him was that Ryuji's Blood Qi, despite its unimaginable scale, remained completely pure.
That was something he had never witnessed before.
Normally, berserkers gained strength through a brutal cycle: kill, absorb the Blood Qi of fallen enemies, and then suppress the chaotic impurities by taking in even stronger warriors' essence—layer upon layer of borrowed, conflicting energies that eventually twisted one's own life force beyond recognition. By the time one reached Ryuji's level, their Blood Qi was usually so muddled that their original essence was long buried.
Yet this young man's blood power was as clear as spring water—untainted, uncorrupted, terrifyingly pristine.
What's more, the path of Blood Qi secret arts was considered nearly impossible without relying on Kazan's curse—the cursed ghost arms that allowed warriors to survive the corruption inherent in the practice.
"Incredible…" G.S.D muttered, staring at him as though he were looking at a monster and a miracle at once. "How… how did you achieve this?"
~~~~~~~~~~
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