Bright and early the next morning, everyone woke up in noticeably higher spirits.
With the earlier threats in the previous station completely dealt with, there was no longer a need to rush.
They finally had time to properly search the area for more supplies without fear of interruption.
The mood was lighter than before.
The survivors who had once been tight-lipped and fearful were now smiling, the weight of constant danger easing off their shoulders.
Children could be seen running about, laughter echoing faintly through the cars, while their parents watched on—more relaxed, their expressions softer than they'd been in days.
For the survivors that joined later, things were different now.
With the threats behind them and a godlike being they could actually see and talk to, they'd found something they hadn't felt in a long time—hope.
Hope in a new tomorrow.
It showed everywhere inside the train.
Even at dawn, whispers of prayer could be heard echoing softly through the cars.
People bowed their heads, hands clasped together, praying not to some distant, invisible god… but to Kaelis.
Those who once worshipped old deities or clung to fading beliefs had already begun to switch sides. One by one, they became followers of Kaelis.
Before this, no matter how much they prayed or offered gifts to their shrines, the result was always the same—the kabane came, and they were mauled, devoured, forgotten.
But now, with Kaelis among them—someone who could actually fight and protect them—it was more than any so-called divine being had ever done.
Tok-tok-tock, thud!
Within the fifth section of the train, the rhythmic sound of wood striking wood echoed through the car.
"Ooooh—!"
A crowd leaned forward, eyes wide with awe, as Kaelis demonstrated his sword technique, his movements were fluid and precise—almost too graceful for something so deadly.
"And that's how you properly perform a sword strike with minimum effort." Kaelis lowered his wooden sword, his tone casual—like a teacher wrapping up a quick lesson.
A round of clapping broke out almost instantly.
How did I even end up doing this again? he wondered, brow twitching slightly.
Ah, that's right…
He saw Ikoma showing off to a small group—swinging a wooden sword with surprising precision, mimicking Kurusu's stance perfectly as he struck at a training dummy.
Apparently, kabaneri could copy movements they've seen almost perfectly.
Pretty neat, he had to admit but it's somewhat frowned upon in the effort training and effort industry.
But if that was all there was to it, he wouldn't have stepped in.
However—!
When Ikoma and Kurusu started a light spar to test just how well he'd copied the technique, Kaelis decided to watch from the side.
Their movements were clean enough, their footing decent, and their swings carried weight.
But to him… it was all within expectations.
"It's as expected," he'd murmured under his breath.
Their level of swordsmanship wasn't bad—in fact, Kurusu's form was surprisingly solid by this world's standards—but compared to what he'd seen, to what he was used to in stronger worlds…It was child's play.
Still, he couldn't fault them. For people of this type of world, with no superpower, magic or substantial sword auras, they were doing well.
You wouldn't expect them to be cutting flies or shoot wind slashes with just a strong physique.
If it were about another martial arts or an enemy's—he could've and would've overlooked it, but as it were his "subordinates" skills, his inner sportsmanship simply could not allow such mediocrity to be praised.
And thus—he stepped forward, deciding to show them what true swordsmanship looked like.
It drew a crowd, as one would expect—and from there, things quickly drifted away from a simple demonstration into more of a spectacle.
At first, only Kurusu, Ikoma, and two others—mostly Kurusu—were present, eager to learn—hoping to grasp even a fragment of Kaelis's technique to refine their own swordsmanship.
They had seen the way he handled a blade before: precise, fluid, and impossibly sharp.
Every movement carried intent, every swing embodied mastery.
It would be safe to say he was the sword god.
Kaelis laid bare over 600 years of dumbed down sword practice, each strike and feint honed through centuries of discipline.
Even skilled swordsmen among the crowd found themselves nodding in respect, recognizing the sheer mastery before them.
But somewhere along the way, the demonstration grew beyond a lesson.
The spectacle gained traction.
Soldiers began gathering, eyes wide and eager, hoping to glean some insight from their Kami-sama.
Kaelis welcomed them without hesitation, letting his movements speak louder than words, each swing a lesson in power, precision, and artistry.
But then—children began watching, as if watching a play.
Their presence drew the curiosity of others, and their presence drew even more.
And so, a crowd formed a circle around him, turning his "sacred" demonstration into pure showboating.
"Did you see that!? He was so cool!"
"He went pssh and then swish then bam!" one child exclaimed, swinging their arms in imitation.
"Yeah! I wanna learn to swing a sword too!"
Parents looked at their children with gentle smiles.
"Thank you for demonstrating your sword skill to us. I've learned a lot from it," Kurusu said, bowing.
After completing his demonstration, the crowd began dispersing, and the others came forward.
"No problem. Just glad you got something from it. How about you, Ikoma? Could you mimic what I showed?"
"Not much, really."
"I did, though. I can probably do about 30% of what I saw," Mumei chipped in. "It was a bit too fast for me."
Hearing that, Kaelis nodded before turning to Kibito.
"And you?"
Kibito scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Honestly… I don't know how they could keep up with that. I barely caught anything, hehe."
"We'll have you trained extensively in swordsmanship?" Kaelis asked.
"Not much. Just a little. Like the rest of the soldiers," Kibito replied.
That explains it.
An essential part of martial arts—whether swordsmanship or hand-to-hand—is training the eyes to develop sharper perception.
This improves timing, builds spatial awareness, and allows a practitioner to anticipate an opponent's moves, read openings, and coordinate their own strikes.
So, not being able to follow along with the demonstration proves that he hasn't trained in any formal arts.
"I understand. Well, get to it as soon as possible—it's never too late to begin. After all, I'll be training you and the other soldiers soon," Kaelis informed.
"!?" X2
Chapter 25 end.