Far from the Jura Forest, and far from the entire Continent of Monsters. In a place untouched by the clouds of the earth, where the sky is a blinding white and the air is heavy with pure "Holy Mana"... lay the Palace of Ultimate Light, the heart of the Celestial Empire. Here, there is no chaos, no emotion, and no diversity. Everything is built with a terrifying, perfect geometric order.
In the center of a colossal hall made of white crystal, stood Zariel, one of the Seraphim commanders (six-winged angels), clad in platinum armor that shone like the sun. His features were devoid of any expression, but his blue eyes blazed with a cold, suppressed fury. Before him, suspended in the air, a distorted magical image displayed the events at the top of the Tempest Command Tower. The image was from the perspective of the slain assassin. It showed the moment the holy blade lunged at Akira's neck, and the impossible moment the boy released that transparent soul fragment to deflect the dagger. Then... a purple flash from Shion's sword, and the broadcast cut off.
A two-winged angel knelt behind Zariel and spoke in a monotone voice: — "The mission has failed, my Lord. The assassin was completely vaporized, and the distraction army was wiped out to the last man by Commander Benimaru's flames. The target... is still alive."
Zariel remained silent for a moment, then clenched his fist. Crack! The solid crystal pillar beside him fractured just from the proximity of his surging wrath. — "A human... a mere filthy human with not a drop of magical energy in his veins, managed to deflect an angelic blade imbued with Light?"
Zariel turned and walked with slow steps, his six wings swaying behind him. — "Did you see that fragment he released? It wasn't magic, and it wasn't a skill... it was pure 'Void.' A piece of his soul used as a shield." Zariel's steps stopped before a massive window overlooking a sea of clouds, and his voice shifted to carry something very rare for a high angel: fear.
— "Five hundred years ago..." Zariel whispered, dark memories storming his mind. "...this world moved according to our laws. The Tenma War purged civilizations and prevented them from rebelling. Until that 'Slime' appeared. Rimuru Tempest. The being who broke every law, swallowed light and darkness, and crushed the pride of Heaven under his feet." The angelic commander squeezed his eyes shut. — "When Rimuru suddenly vanished in that spatial tear, we thought the gods had finally cleansed the world of his plague. We thought his empire would collapse without him. But they endured, and we waited patiently for their resolve to weaken. And now... this boy appears. From his same world. Carrying the same scent of the 'Void' that the Slime possessed."
Zariel turned suddenly toward the kneeling angel, his eyes glowing with a lethal light. — "If we let this boy grow... if we let him master the Void within him, he will bring the plague of Rimuru upon us once more! He will be the second incarnation of Heaven's destruction!" — "What are your orders, my Lord?" the angel asked submissively. "Shall we send an entire army to breach the shield?" — "No," Zariel replied sternly. "Tempest's capital shield is too strong now, and Benimaru will not fall for the same trick twice. We will wait. The Great Tenma War cycle is approaching. Until then... send the Shadows of Heaven to watch him. The moment this boy steps out from under the monsters' cloak... I want his head."
At the same time, back on the surface... The sun was just rising over the capital of Tempest, painting golden streaks across the glass skyscrapers. But on the outskirts of the capital, far from the technology and hovering vehicles, there was a place that looked as if it had been transported directly from Japan's Samurai era. A dense forest of bamboo, in the center of which was a simple dirt training ground and a wooden building smelling of green tea and incense.
Akira stood in the middle of the sandy arena, wearing a loose black Japanese training uniform (Dogi). His shoulder, treated yesterday, still ached slightly when moved forcefully, but his body felt strangely light thanks to the system's fortification of his tissues. Beside him, Benimaru stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at the wooden dojo. — "Well, Akira," Benimaru said, a mischievous smile never leaving his face. "I've handed you over. From here on, your life is no longer in my hands. Remember... screaming won't help you, and escape is impossible." Akira swallowed hard. — "You talk as if you're throwing me into a lion's den..." — "Lions are house cats compared to who you're about to face," Benimaru laughed, then turned and walked away without adding another word.
Akira remained alone. The air was cold, and the rustling of bamboo leaves was all that could be heard. — "Hello?" Akira called out cautiously. "Is anyone here?" — "You are full of openings, boy. If I were an enemy, I would have cut your head off three times before you finished your sentence." The voice came from directly behind him. He didn't feel it. He didn't hear a single footstep. Even the "Survival Pulse" system sent no warning. Akira turned with lightning speed, only to stagger back two steps from the sheer surprise.
Standing before him was an old man. Very old. With long white hair, a pointed white beard, and a face full of wrinkles. He wore a simple white outfit, and in his hand was an ordinary wooden sword (Bokken). A single small horn protruded from his forehead. His eyes were closed, or so it seemed to Akira. This was Hakurou. The absolute Master of the Sword in Tempest, and the teacher feared by the entire monster army.
[CRITICAL ALERT!] [Entity detected with an immeasurable skill level.] [Target Speed: Surpasses the host's visual perception by 400%.] [Probability of feeling excruciating pain today: 100%.]
— "I... my name is Akira Yuzuki," Akira said, trying to hide the tension in his voice, and bowed respectfully. "Benimaru-san sent me for you to graciously train me." Hakurou opened one eye. It wasn't the eye of a human, but the eye of a predator and a sage at the same time. The old man looked Akira over, from head to toe, then let out a long sigh. — "A human... without mana, with soft muscles, and a stance like a tree about to fall." Hakurou raised his wooden sword very slowly, pointing it at Akira's chest. — "Benimaru told me you possess a strange inner power that saved your life. But power without a strong vessel to contain it is just a ticking bomb that will kill you before your enemies."
The old man's calm features vanished, replaced by an aura that pressed against Akira's chest like a mountain of lead. — "Pick up your wooden sword from the ground, boy. Today, we will not learn how to attack..." Hakurou vanished from his spot. In a fraction of a second, Akira felt a sharp pain explode in his right side, as if an iron hammer had crushed his ribs, sending him flying through the air to land rolling in the sand of the arena. — "Today..." Hakurou completed his sentence, standing in the exact spot Akira had been a second ago, "...we will learn how not to die too quickly."
Akira coughed with difficulty, sand filling his mouth, while the system in his mind lit up: [Pain detected... Activating Memory of Pain.] [Stats updating... Welcome to hell, Host.]