Cian adjusted his grip on his wooden sword as he walked the narrow forest path. Duskwallow Den was somewhere up ahead, shrouded in vines and mystery. The trees grew thicker, the air heavier. A small clearing opened up, mossy and still.
Suddenly—
THWIP—CRASH!
A blur shot from the trees, tackling him like a lightning bolt. Cian yelped as he was slammed onto the soft grass.
"W-Whoa!!"
The world spun—and when it stopped, he couldn't breathe.
Something was on his face.
Something... soft?
He flailed, his voice muffled.
"Gmmph!?"
The girl shrieked. "W-What the—!?"
She scrambled up, and as she did, her thigh slid across his cheek before she hopped to her feet. Her hood slipped off, revealing long windswept hair and fiery amber eyes.
"You—! What were you trying to pull, perv!?"
Cian coughed, face flushed. "M-Me!? You just dive-bombed me out of nowhere and sat on my—!!"
System Notification:
"Congratulations. You have unlocked: Accidental Face Seat – Forest Difficulty."
"Current status: Flustered. Oxygen level: 17%. Dignity: 0%."
The girl blinked, flustered herself now. "W-Wait... you're not one of them?"
"One of who?! I was just walking!"
She pointed her blade at him, still suspicious. "The ones from Eastwell. They've been scouting near Duskwallow Den. I thought you were one of them!"
Cian groaned. "Lady, if I was with them, I'd probably have a real sword. And less bruises."
She looked him over, then sighed. "Hmph. Fine. You check out."
System:
"She checks out too. Physically. Very physically."
Cian glared upward. "System. Not the time."
The girl crossed her arms, cheeks slightly pink. "...Name's Kaela. Forest scout. And you, face-cushion?"
"I'm Cian." He stood up, brushing moss off his face and pride off the ground. "And next time, could you not enter via airstrike?"
Kaela smirked. "Don't stand under trees next time."
She turned toward the direction of Duskwallow Den, then paused.
"You headed into the Den alone? You'll die."
"I've got a sword. Kinda. And sarcasm."
She gave him a sly look. "Then I guess I'll watch. From above."
Cian sighed. "Please not literally."
System:
"Warning: Airborne Ambush Trauma may reoccur."
Cian tiptoed deeper into the moss-covered darkness of Duskwallow Den. The air smelled like wet socks and old pickles. Then he froze.
Right there on a bed of rocks and bones… was a hulking creature. Massive, dark, and scaly. It snored like a diesel engine in need of therapy.
Cian stared at the waking Grarbulon — a hulking, goblin-colored beast with orc muscles and shiny black scales. Its tusks curved outward like a warthog's, and one even had moss growing on it.
Cian whispered, "What the hell… is that a lizard, a goblin, or a walking protein shake?"
System:
"Grarbulon: species unknown. Possible crossbreed between 'gym rat' and 'nightmare fuel.' Mood: Irritated. Muscles: Yes."
He panicked slightly and, without thinking, flung his wooden sword like a spinning discus.
It hit the Grarbulon right in the forehead with a dull THUNK, bounced off, and spun wildly into the shadows.
The beast blinked. Rubbed its forehead. Then glared.
System:
"Congratulations. You've annoyed it. Please prepare your will."
Cian gulped. "Right. Time to stop playing around."
He took a stance, closed his eyes, and whispered with conviction:
"Kureha… answer me."
A breeze stirred. Leaves swirled from nowhere. A glow wrapped around his hand as a long, sleek blade formed—its surface tinted with silver-blue wind trails, humming with spirit energy.
The sword shimmered as if breathing. Its guard curved like wings, and it radiated calm destruction.
Cian gripped it with both hands as the wind coiled up his arm like a snake ready to strike.
System:
"Kureha summoned. Wind alignment: Stable. Sharpness: Deadly. Style: Sexy swirl mode activated."
The Grarbulon roared and charged.
Cian grinned. "Let's see if you can handle some fresh air."
The Grarbulon roared, muscles bulging like it drank a gallon of pre-workout. Drool flew from its jagged mouth as it stomped forward with the grace of a charging fridge.
It lunged, arms wide, clearly going for a grapple.
Cian narrowed his eyes. The air pulsed around him.
"Flicker Step."
In a blink—he vanished.
The Grarbulon's arms closed around empty air. Its confused grunt was the last thing it uttered before—
SHHHHING!
Cian reappeared behind it, crouched low, Kureha dripping windlight from a clean slash through the beast's right forearm.
A delay… then the Grarbulon's arm dropped off like a peeled banana.
System:
"Target's arm: Disconnected. Style rating: 9.8/10. Bonus points for surprise vanish. Minus points for not saying 'Nothing personal, Grarbulon.'"
Cian stood, panting slightly, eyes still locked on the wounded beast as it staggered back, stunned.
System:
"Note: If this is how you handle hugs, remind me never to try and comfort you."
Cian smirked. "Guess you won't be grappling anything today."
Inside the quiet cabin, the old man sat in his wooden chair by the window, warm stew untouched on the table beside him. His eyes gazed through the pane at the distant treeline, where faint echoes of battle stirred the still evening air.
He let out a slow sigh, scratching his beard thoughtfully.
"Cian…" he muttered.
"Barely two weeks ago, he couldn't hold a blade steady. Swung it like a broomstick. Now? The lad's thrown himself into the craft like it's all he's got left."
He leaned back, the chair creaking under him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"He doesn't need strength. He's got that in spades. What he needs… is guidance. A whetstone to hone that edge. And maybe…" he chuckled, eyes closing as he rested his head.
"Maybe a slap or two when he gets cocky."
The wind rattled the windows gently. A small flicker from the lantern danced on the wooden walls.
"He's special. Not just skilled—dangerously determined. The kind of soul that doesn't just rise… he crashes through ceilings. Heh… The world's gonna feel that swing soon enough."
Cian's eyes sharpened as the Grarbulon lunged forward, tusks bared and claws outstretched to grapple. Calm and focused, Cian activated Flicker Step—not once, but five times in rapid succession. His afterimages blurred around the monster, each slash cutting from a different angle, precise and swift.
The Grarbulon growled in confusion, swiping wildly at empty air as Cian's blades traced graceful arcs around it.
System Comment: Whoa! Fivefold Flicker Step! This guy's moves are getting ridiculous. Someone call the hype squad!
Cian landed gracefully after his fifth Flicker Step slash, but the sudden burst of speed drained his stamina faster than expected. His legs wobbled beneath him, and he staggered, barely keeping his balance.
The Grarbulon took the chance and swung a heavy, tusked fist—thud!—right into Cian's chest.
The force sent him flying backward, crashing through the bushes before landing hard outside the den's entrance.
System Comment: Woah! Overdid it a bit, huh? Five Flicker Steps is a sprint, not a marathon! Take a breather, lad!
Far from the cabin, the old man muttered quietly to himself while resting against a tree.
"If Cian's toughness grows, then I've done my part… pushed it to the next level. Now he can take hits that'd fell a dozen men before," he said with a small smile.
"Strength isn't just muscle—it's endurance. A body that bends but doesn't break… That's what makes a warrior," he added, eyes shining with quiet pride.
The heavy blow knocked Cian down hard, pain shooting through his body as he struggled to stand. Gripping the hilt of Kureha tightly, he steadied his breath, ready to draw like a true swordsman.
Focusing his energy, he activated Flicker Step. In an instant, he vanished—only to reappear behind the Grarbulon, blade drawn in a fluid, precise style.
With a swift strike, green blood oozed from the severed arm as it slowly dropped to the ground.
Cian didn't let up.
He slid Kureha back into the sheath with purpose—calm, focused, deadly. His stance shifted low, his hand poised.
Flicker Step.
He vanished—only for the Grarbulon to suddenly lash out with a heavy kick.
Cian's eyes widened mid-vanish, instinct taking over. He twisted in the air, spinning just below the monster's sweeping leg, his hair fluttering with the force.
No hesitation.
Flicker Step.
He reappeared mid-flash, blade already drawn in a single breath.
"Whistling Wind."
In that blink of a second, a storm was born.
A thousand white slashes tore through the air like screaming leaves caught in a gale—shimmering, dancing, carving into the Grarbulon from all directions.
---
Somewhere far off…
The old man sat on a rock beside the cabin, sipping lukewarm tea as wind rustled the trees.
His eyes narrowed.
He felt the air shift—just barely—and gave a small, knowing chuckle.
"Heh… The boy's storm is starting to howl."
He leaned back, muttering as if carving the words into the wind itself.
"Cian… You don't need to be the strongest. Just sharp enough to carve your own path. And boy, you're getting there faster than I ever did."
Cian stood shakily, Kureha dragging slightly in his hand, his body bruised and scraped but still upright.
The massive corpse of the Grarbulon slumped behind him, green blood soaking the ground. The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying the scent of victory.
[SYSTEM: H-HOLY—! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT?! YOU TOOK DOWN A GRARBULON! WHO EVEN ARE YOU, KID?!]
Cian, breathing heavily, blinked sweat from his eyes. He raised a trembling fist weakly in the air.
"I… haaah… I did it…"
Plop.
And then he promptly collapsed face-first on the grass, completely passed out.
[SYSTEM: …Aaaand he's dead. No wait. No wait—false alarm. Just sleeping. Dreaming of heroism, probably.]
[SYSTEM: I bet he's snoring in slow-motion too. What a drama king.]