Smoke curled into the morning sky, thin gray ribbons rising from a cluster of crude huts surrounded by a jagged wooden palisade. Emilia squinted, her eyes stinging from the sudden brightness after days beneath the oppressive canopy of the forest. Her feet ached, her stomach growled, and her entire body felt like it had been wrung dry.
But they'd made it; they were finally out from the forest. "Haaah…" Emilia gasped, almost collapsing to her knees. She leaned heavily on her knees and laughed breathlessly. "Civilization. Actual… people. Hikarimetsu, we—"
When she turned, the warrior spirit was already fading. A soft, warm light pulsed from Hikarimetsu's form, and then, in a shimmer of gold, the towering swordswoman dissolved into particles of light that swirled and flowed back into the chef's knife once again into Emilia's hands. In an instant, Hikarimetsu is gone. Only the kitchen knife remained, its blade gleaming faintly, as if pleased with itself.
"What the—hey! Don't just disappear on me like that!" Emilia hissed, clutching the knife as if it were her lifeline.
Hikarimetsu's voice echoed inside her mind, calm and teasing. "I must conserve my strength, Master. Revealing myself to mortals is… unwise, for now. Besides, I rather enjoy the comfort of being at your side like this. Try not to drop me."
Emilia groaned. "Easy for you to say. I'm the one doing all the walking here!" Despite her protests, she tightened her grip on the knife and stumbled toward the road.
The village looked primitive, like something out of a Bronze Age documentary. Smoke rose from open fire pits where rough, blackened cauldrons simmered. Villagers dressed in coarse-woven cloth and patched animal hides moved between huts, carrying baskets of grain or buckets of murky water. Their tools and weapons were forged from bronze, many etched with faint glowing runes that gave them a mystical quality.
Emilia's heart lifted. "Finally. People. Maybe they can help me figure out where I am—or how to get home." But as soon as she emerged fully from the treeline, everything stopped.
Dozens of villagers froze mid-step. Heads turned. Buckets dropped into the dirt with a heavy thud. For one long, terrible heartbeat, no one moved or spoke. Then the screaming started. "She came from the forest!" a man shouted, his voice cracking with terror.
"The Forest of Death!" another woman shrieked, grabbing her child and pulling them behind her.
"No one returns from there! Not ever!"
"She might not be human!" The crowd surged, panic rippling through them like a wave. Some dropped to their knees and began muttering frantic prayers. Others raised their bronze spears and axes, though their hands shook so badly that the weapons rattled.
Emilia stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait, wait, WAIT!" she yelled, throwing up her free hand. "I'm not—whatever you think I am! I just got lost! I don't even know where this Forest of Death thing is!"
Her words came out perfectly clear to her own ears, but because of the confused expressions on their faces, they didn't understand a word she was saying. "They speak another tongue," Hikarimetsu murmured in her mind, her tone thoughtful. "But this land is thick with mana. Allow me…"
A sudden warmth bloomed in Emilia's chest, like a gentle pulse of light, and the villagers' shouts seemed to shift. Their harsh, guttural words began to twist and reform until, impossibly, she could understand them.
"She's… speaking our language now," a young man whispered, awestruck.
"No, it's a trick! She's a spirit of the forest!" another hissed, clutching his charm of carved bone.
"Look at her clothes! No mortal wears such things!"
"Clothes? These are just jeans and a hoodie!" Emilia shouted, exasperated. That only seemed to make things worse.
Because when she concentrated and saw the people in front of her, she realized something. the people standing before Emilia wore clothing that looked as though it had been pulled straight from the pages of an ancient history book, yet with a distinctly fantastical twist. Their garments were simple, practical, and clearly handmade.
The men and women alike wore rough-spun tunics and wraps, woven from coarse cloth in muted earth tones, ochre, rust, brown, and gray, dyed with natural pigments. Many of the tunics were cinched at the waist with braided leather belts, often decorated with bone charms or bronze medallions engraved with glowing runes. The hems of their clothes were uneven but carefully stitched, some frayed with age, others freshly repaired.
The women wore long skirts or wrap-around dresses, with woolen shawls or fur-trimmed capes to keep warm. Simple jewelry made of bone, shells, and polished stones hung around their necks and wrists, while leather sandals or hide boots laced up the calf completed their outfits. Their clothing blended perfectly with the earthy tones of the village and forest.
On the other hand, Emilia stood out conspicuously. Her jeans, torn from days of wandering, and her hoodie, streaked with dirt, looked completely alien compared to their handmade garments. The smooth zipper and stitching caught the villagers' eyes, and they stared at her in shock and fear. Among them, Emilia looked less like a lost traveler and more like a strange being from another world.
"She knows the words of the ancients!" someone cried. "The prophecy is real—she is a harbinger!"
Emilia slapped a hand to her face. "Oh, come on…"
Then the crowd suddenly went silent as a frail, elderly man stepped forward, leaning heavily on a crooked staff covered in glowing runes. His robe was patched and worn but carried an air of quiet dignity. The villagers parted to make way for him, bowing their heads as he passed.
His cloudy eyes fixed on Emilia, narrowing with a mix of fear and awe. "You…" His voice trembled like brittle parchment. "You emerged from the Forest of Death. No mortal has ever done so. Not once in all the years of our people."
Emilia raised both hands quickly. "Look, I don't know what kind of legend you've got here, but I'm just—"
"It's foretold." the old man barked suddenly, slamming his staff into the dirt. The runes along its length flared with pale light, and the crowd dropped to their knees as one. "If she truly walked the path of shadows and lived, then she bears the mark of the spirits. Her arrival was foretold."
"Foretold?!" Emilia's voice went up an octave. "No one foretold me! I was just trying to get home from work!"
"Calm yourself, Master," Hikarimetsu whispered, clearly amused. "Let them believe what they will. Fear is power. And power will keep you alive."
Emilia gritted her teeth. "Easy for you to say. You're a magic sword. I'm just a very confused chef."
The elder approached, his steps painfully slow but deliberate. When he finally stood before her, he bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the dirt.
"O sky-born one," he said reverently, "our tribe suffers. The Horned Maulbeast stalks our hunters, and the Red Fang clan marches to destroy us. We are weak, starving, and lost. Please—save us."
Emilia blinked. "Save you?! Me?!" She pointed at herself, then let out a wild, slightly hysterical laugh. "I think you've got the wrong person! I don't fight monsters! I cook food! The most dangerous thing I've ever faced is a temperamental crab!" The villagers murmured in confusion. Clearly, they didn't know what a "crab" was.
"Master," Hikarimetsu said smoothly, "don't reveal your weakness. Tell them what they wish to hear. These mortals need a symbol, and you need allies. Play the role, or perish alone." Emilia froze, her fingers tightening around the knife's hilt. She could almost feel the weight of every terrified, hopeful gaze pressing down on her.
Finally, she swallowed hard and forced a shaky smile. "I… I'll do what I can. But first, please, can I just… sit down? And maybe have some water? I haven't eaten in days, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to pass out."
The elder raised his staff again, his voice booming. "The sky-born one will aid us! She has conquered the Forest of Death and returned alive! Truly, the spirits favor us this day!" The villagers erupted into cheers and tears of relief, though a few still eyed Emilia warily.
As they escorted her into the village, Emilia shot a glare at the knife in her hand. "You owe me for this, Hikarimetsu," she muttered under her breath.
The sword spirit chuckled darkly in her mind. "Oh, Master. This is only the beginning."
Emilia groaned. "Why do I have a bad feeling you're right?"