《The Swordbearer [Heroic Isekai]》


 Chapter 1

    The sound of gunfire rang in my ears. A stampede of heavy footsteps echoed underneath my bare feet. People ran and ran, screaming and crying as the distant blasts of an automatic rifle drew nearer.


    It was chaos, but it wasn''t supposed to be this way.


    Just a few hours prior, I had set up my little tent in a secluded corner of the park, far enough away from today''s festival so as to not bother the gathered crowds and the patrolling police. If I had to deal with another officer before the day ended, then it would have been time for me to pack up again and go. Apparently the homeless went against the vision of the mayor''s "green and clean city initiative."


    But as the gunfire drew nearer, the crowd was forced into my corner. They ran over my place, trampled over my tenth, and shoved me into the ground as their desperation to get out of the shooter''s way pushed them forward.


    I crawled out from underneath their thundering feet, withstanding the pain as I was trampled upon by dozens of feet. As I pulled myself up a nearby bench, I felt the cracks of several bones and a soaring pain around my lower back.


    I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. But my mouth could not muster the strength to speak my agony to the world. Instead, my eyes were drawn by something. A person. A little one. He was on the ground, arms over his head as the crowd ran over him without care. In the midst of the chaos, the screaming, and the gunfire, I heard his whimper.


    Then I acted. I pulled my broken body from the bench and staggered towards the child. I reached him, placing myself against the rushing crowd, and held him up.


    "Come. We gotta get out of here."


    The child was no more than a few years old. His bushy brows were wet with sweat and his sharp nose filled with snot. His clothes spoke of innocence, and yet his eyes reflected that he was robbed of that privilege. He could not form any coherent words as he muttered and choked, tears forming underneath his struggling gaze.


    Pity and anger swelled within me as I witnessed the death of an innocent dream. I pulled him close as I looked around, searching for any sign of his parents although I had no clue what they looked like. The crowd, however, was vast, churning like a rushing flow of floodwater after heavy rains. There was no finding his mom and dad, not until everything had settled down.


    I tried to lift him up, but my frail and broken body could not muster the strength needed. I cursed. The gunman was near. The shooting grew louder. If we were to run together then I''d be nothing more than a burden. A futile effort.


    "Run!" It was the only thing I could say to the child, and he looked at me in stunned silence, clearly unable to process everything that was happening around him.


    "Kid, you gotta get out of here. Go! I''ll hold him off!" I shouted, causing the kid to recoil and stagger back.


    "Go!" My voice boomed for one final time before the kid finally turned and ran as fast as he could, going along with the now thinning crowd. I watched him disappear into the edges of the park, hoping that he found his parents or at least some form of safety.


    Turning around, I looked at the direction of the gunfire and saw the gunman walking towards me. An average man wearing a bloodstained white shirt and jeans. His face was plastered with a wide smile, and his eyes were that of a madman. His attention, however, was all over the place. He was shooting at everyone he could see, not caring about who it was. He shot, and he killed, leaving behind a trail of bleeding victims and bodies.


    Fear gripped at my heart as I saw that he was distracted, unaware of my presence as he shot at the crowds running away from the area. It was a chance. An opportunity to intervene before anyone else could get hurt.


    But why should I? The question flashed in my mind, accompanied by memories of neglect, hate, and prejudice. This world had not been kind to me, it had left me behind, allowed me to rot, and forgot about my struggles. I resented this world. I despised everything that it did to me.


    But was it really fair for me to condemn everything and everyone? I smelled. I starved. I ached. I struggled to live each passing day after my parents were killed in a car accident many years ago. I was alone. But was that really the fault of everyone else?


    As I remembered the traumatized gaze of the child I just saved, I understood. If cruelty was a choice, then so was kindness. Love was still within my heart. And if this was to be the end of my life, then there was no greater love left for me to give.


    I clenched my fists. I steeled my heart. My heart raced. The pain of my broken body faded. And then I charged, roaring as I did.


    The gunman saw me too late as I lunged at him, bashing my face against his as I tried to take the rifle from his arms. He staggered back, surprised as he found himself with a broken and bleeding nose. I grabbed hold of his rifle, pulling, but he was able to regain his footing.


    We struggled, his strength against mine. As we did, I looked into his eyes. They glared back with hate and resentment. But behind it all was something else. Something I understood well. Sadness. He was crying, tears falling from underneath his tired gaze. For whom? I did not know. Maybe it was for what he was doing, maybe for himself, or for someone or something else. Regardless, he had done wrong. He had chosen wrong.


    This man, whoever he was, was in some ways just like me. A man wronged by the world. Unfortunately, he lost against the demons in his mind. That, however, was no excuse.


    There was no quarter to be given, no second chances, and no do-overs. It was now or never for the both of us. He had made his choice, and I had made mine. The struggle continued. It was long and drawn, neither of us relenting to the other as the minutes felt more like an eternity.


    But even as I heard the blaring sirens and the shouts of rapidly approaching police officers, the gunman endured, and so did I.


    Things were going to end one way or another, with one of us dead.


    Then a shot rang out, followed by several more in rapid succession. I felt the splatter of warm blood on my face as a force propelled me backwards. A sharp pain arose in my chest, leaving in its wake a cold numbness.


    I fell against the hard pavement, dazed but otherwise aware of what had happened. I was shot, not by the gunman, but by the police. Was it accidental? It seemed like it was. Or maybe they were trying to get rid of us both. A homeless man and a mass murderer.


    The two of us were sprawled over the pavement. The gunman lay unmoving to my side, a pool of blood growing around him. His hateful eyes now stared into nothing.


    As realization dawned that I was soon to die, a surge of memories filled my mind. I relived my life once more, remembering what was once my reality, smiling and laughing with mom and dad as they took me out to my favorite ice cream vendor just down the street from where our apartment was. I went to school, made some friends, almost graduated. But they died. And now I was about to join them.


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    "The kid... there was a kid..." I managed to whisper as the police loomed over my blurring vision, their words nothing but muffled rumblings to my ear. My body was fading. I was leaving. This was the end.


    "Son... you hear me?" Came a clear voice amidst the muffled cacophony.


    "You did good, okay? You saved lives," The officer said, his blue eyes somehow revealing themselves against the blur. He had the same bushy brows. The same sharp nose. "You saved my son."


    Hearing this, I felt the coldness overtake the rest of my body. And I was gone.


    My vision faded to black. The voices stopped. The pain was gone. There was nothing now.


    I was at peace.


    Or so I thought.


    I opened my eyes after what felt like a timeless eon, finding myself standing in the middle of a vast and fluffy cloud. The wind blew around me, howling in my ears as it rushed away.


    Looking at my hands, I saw that they were smooth and unblemished. Gone was the dirt and grime from the years spent living in the streets. The same was true for the rest of my body. My hair was straight and fresh. My skin was smooth. My face was unwrinkled. I was clean. That said, I still had the same ragged and dirty clothes over my person.


    "Where am I?" My thoughts escaped my mouth.


    "You are dead, dear boy," Came a voice, a deep and ethereal sound echoing across the clouds and the sky beyond, "But you already knew that."


    I looked towards its source and found an old man standing beside me where they wasn''t anyone before, wrapped in a long white robe that was fashioned in the same way as a toga. He had quite the bushy white beard and brow. His wrinkled skin, somehow, spoke of eons.


    My next question was then answered before it left my mouth.


    "No, I''m not a god. I''m something more, the same in some ways, but different in many others." Said Not-god, answering the unspoken question.


    "Uhm... okay. Is this the afterlife then?" I asked as I looked around.


    The old man laughed, "No, my dear boy. For a soul such as you, there is a better place waiting for your eventual arrival."


    I raised a brow, confused, "Then why am I here then?"


    The old man dropped the smile from his face, replacing it with a grim expression before turning his gaze towards what was under the clouds.


    As if on cue, the clouds parted as he directed his gaze, revealing a vast landscape consumed by fire and brimstone and choked by pillars of smoke. From my place in the sky, I saw a world in flames. A world consumed by agony and death.


    "W-what is this place?" I asked, my voice shaking as I felt a rising pain in my heart.


    "A world in chaos," Said the old man, "It was foretold to them many years ago that to turn on each other was to invite the harbinger of their doom. Most did not heed the warnings."


    "Can''t you save them!?" I turned to the old man, horrified and confused as the screams of those below echoed into my ears like distant whispers carried by the howling wind.


    The old man turned towards me with a quizzical look on his face.


    "I don''t know, should I?" He asked.


    I frowned, clenching my fists as the screams grew louder and the pain in my heart grew sharper.


    "What have these people done for them to deserve total condemnation?" I asked.


    The old man laughed once more, "Did you not ask yourself the same question just before your own demise?"


    I paused, surprised at his point.


    "Dear boy, you answered that question and gave up your life, whispering a phrase that rang true in the halls of every world," Said the old man, "I did not bring you here so you could question me. I brought you here to question you."


    The old man returned his gaze to the burning world.


    "Now tell me, despite the grievous sins of this world, the hate, the cruelty, the barbarity, the horrors, the suffering, and all its flaws and shortcomings, does it deserve to be saved? Even if most would rather see it burned? Destroyed? Even if most would rather pull down their fellow than to allow any of themselves the chance of prosperity? Even when they choose to be cruel rather than to be kind?"


    I looked down on the world as I digested those words from the old man. The screams grew quieter. The pain in my heart lessened. He had a point, yes.


    And it, somehow, sounded wrong to me.


    "I remember my father telling me a long time ago, before he and mother died. He said: ''In kindness, there is cruelty. And in cruelty, there is kindness'' and they''ve stuck with me ever since, even when I forgot about them. Maybe that''s why I did what I did, even when it seemed like I should have just saved myself."


    I turned towards the old man and raised my chin, firm in my conviction as I echoed the words that ended my life. "There is no greater love."


    The old man smiled, seemingly pleased by my answer. "Then, will you show them?"


    I blinked thrice, "What?"


    "I''m giving you the chance to live again, to have a second chance to live a life worth living. However, it comes with a heavy burden." The old man said.


    "And that is?" I asked, intrigued and somewhat concerned.


    "You must save this world. Wield the sword. Be its hero."


    "A sword? Wait, I don''t even know how to fight!" I protested. There was no way I was going to survive, nor did I think that I was capable of saving an entire world from its own destruction.


    The old man raised a brow, "But that did not stop you, did it now?"


    Then he continued, "You will not be alone. You will have allies. You will be blessed with boons. But most important of all, you will wield a sword. It will guide you in your journey, but you must learn how to guide it in return for you to succeed in your task."


    "But... to save an entire world? That''s... that''s insane." I said, terrified at the idea.


    "It''s your decision. Regardless of what you decide to do, you will eventually pass through the Halls of Eternity and rest in the afterlife prepared for a soul such as yours. It''s only a matter of taking it now, or later, to achieve something grander."


    It became obvious to me that this old man, this entity, was trying to convince me into taking this burden. It wanted me to save the burning world below, promising me an afterlife by the end of it all.


    I wanted to declare that he was bullshitting, but how? I was in the clouds, looking down over an entire world with a being who was, for all intents and purposes, a diety of some kind. Was I hallucinating? Maybe, but why then did everything feel too real? Everything was solid. Everything was...


    "Am I really dead?" I asked, and received a solemn nod in return.


    "Can you pinch me? Just to make sure."


    "I''ll do something better."


    A surge of pain seized my chest and I was left on my knees, gasping and shaking.


    "Okay, okay. This is real." I said, wheezing.


    "Then..." The old man dragged, expecting, "Will you do it?"


    I looked back at the old man as I stood back up. His eyes, they looked... desperate. Understanding bloomed when I realized. I snorted in mild amusement.


    "How many have refused your request?" I asked.


    "Many," Said the old man, "And many more failed in their task, forgoing their oaths. You may already be familiar with the reasons why."


    "The worst of humanity pushed their fellows to slaughter one another. The best of them do their best to stop it." I said, remembering the kindness I have received throughout my short life. There were many instances now that I thought about it and it pained me to realize that I forgot about most of them. From the old couple who often gave me some of their meals whenever they saw me rummaging through their rubbish, to the young daughter of a single mother who gave me some of her cookies when she found me begging for scraps at the local bakery shop.


    It was easy to remember the pain of cruelty and to forget the cheer of kindness.


    "Maybe becoming a hero wouldn''t be so bad," I looked at the sky above, towards the shining sun, "Maybe I can do some good. Or die trying."


    "And so you shall, Maxis Everworth," Said the old man, "But as much as your noble sacrifice moved my heart, another premature death may not be the solution this time around."


    "Probably not,¡± I agreed, ¡°Though I don¡¯t think I will be doing this without help.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°You care about this world, even at its worst." I said.


    The old man smiled, "We must care for those we love, especially at their worst," He then raised a hand over my face, "Thank you, and let us meet again after your work is done."


    "One more question before I go,"


    "Yes, dear boy. They will be waiting for you to come back home."


    Hearing those words, my eyes welled up with tears. A surge of pain seized my heart, but it was the good kind.


    "Farewell." Were his last words to me.


    Not knowing what to expect, I simply closed my eyes and waited. The warmth of the sun then disappeared. The howling wind quieted. There was nothing for a moment, only silence.


    Then my eyes opened and I found myself standing on the foot of a barren hill, shrouded by the shadows of dark clouds hovering in the sky above.


    However, a ray of sunlight shone through, pointing towards the hilltop. A sign for where I should be, as if something was waiting for me there.


    I walked up the hillside, glancing at the dead grass and dried soil. A cold and bitter breeze brushed against my skin. But something else caught my attention as I crested the hill.


    There was a skeleton there, half-buried into the ground with most of its bones broken and protruding from the soil. Judging by how clean the bones were of any flesh or dried blood, the skeleton had been here for years. I frowned at the sight, but I did not linger long.


    Beyond where the skeleton was, on the very hilltop where the ray of sunlight shone down, was a sword poking out of the ground, its blade half-sunken into the earth. The exposed part of the blade glowed white as I approached, almost shimmering as a low whining sound buzzed in my ear.


    I drew closer. The whining grew louder, but it was not to the point of bursting my earrs with pain. It was like a low hum. A distant call from a place unseen. Then I realized what this meant. The sword called for me.


    I looked around and saw nothing but a barren and desolate landscape. A plain of dead grass and wilted flowers and shrubs. Forests of bald and gray trees. A sky choked by smoke and ash. Aside from the skeleton on the hill with me, there was nothing else of note.


    "No greater love." I said as I stood before the sword. I then placed both my hands around the handle, felt a surge of unfamiliar energy course through my veins and into my mind, and pulled.

 Chapter 2

    I gave myself a moment to admire the sword. It had a long blade forged from a fine steel that glistened everytime any sort of light bounced off its surface. The blade also glowed, shimmering like a star in a dark and moonless night.. The handle was of soft but sturdy leather. Its pommel was made of a unity of red, blue, and green gemstones. It hummed with power.


    The sword was unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen, but that was not saying much. I had never seen an actual sword with my own eyes that was not behind a screen, nor had I ever even held one. The closest thing to a sword I had experience with were knives, and I used them for the purpose of preparing a meal or cutting something up, not for anything else.


    Strangely enough, however, there was a peculiar feeling swirling within my mind and coursing through my veins, extending even to the sword itself as I held it with both hands. There was something here. A connection. A bond. The sword and I felt one and the same, as if it was forged specifically for me. Then, as my curiosity was at its height, a strange phrase made from unfamiliar symbols appeared along the length of the guard. Much to my surprise, I understood what it said.


    ¡°Swordbearer¡­¡± I whispered underneath my breath, ¡°The Sword¡¯s Chosen.¡±


    I did not know the importance of what those titles meant, but I did not linger long in thought. Gazing outward, I noticed that the sky was growing darker and the shadows looming thicker. Dusk was upon me, and soon would the night swallow these lands whole.


    I decided to walk down and to continue¡­ somewhere. Everything around me was dead and there was no telling what lurked within the darkness that was soon to surround me. I was, excluding my sword, helpless and without direction. The clothes on my body were the same ragged and tattered shirt and pants from when I lived and died in the streets. They were not exactly suited to withstanding the cold or the elements.


    Still, if I were to survive on my very first day in this strange new world, I had to make do with what I had.


    As the night came true and darkness reigned, I found the glowing of the sword to be my only source of reprieve. With its shining blade, I was able to navigate the early hours of the night, making my way through the dead trees and their sprawling gray branches.


    Without the sun to help me with determining my directions, whether I was going north, south, west or east, I had no choice but to follow a random direction and stick with it. I hoped that it would lead me somewhere a bit better, but the landscape didn¡¯t look like it was about to change anytime soon.


    And so I walked and I walked, using my sword as a sort of flashlight to make sure I did not stumble on some exposed roots or rocks or walk face first into a tree trunk. Making things worse, the wind had grown colder, brushing against my skin with a fierce and unwelcome feeling of frost. My spine shivered from time to time with each rough breeze, but I pressed on.


    Then my first immediate problem made itself known. My stomach had grumbled and my tongue had begun to dry. I needed to eat and drink something soon, or else I risked dying of starvation and thirst. With my relatively quick death still fresh in my mind, I was not too keen on dying slowly and painfully. I had to act quickly.


    I hurried my steps and began to sprint, letting the sword be my guide as I pointed it forward to illuminate the way. The dead forest I was in seemed vast, but everything had an end. There was no way this maze of dead trees and shriveled shrubs and grass extended forever.


    Not unless I was in a magical forest of some kind. Speaking of magic, I hadn¡¯t really considered the possibility of it. However, judging by the fact that I had a glowing sword and was resurrected by someone who claimed to not be a god yet acted like one, there was magic for me to discover. This was both an exciting and terrifying thought.


    As what felt like several hours went by without there being a change in the scenery of my journey, I had to stop and take a break.


    I sat down underneath one of the dead trees, leaning against the cold bark as I placed my sword down on the ground nearby. My heart beat with effort. My breath was somewhat strained. I was not built for this.


    That said, I had been sprinting for a long time and yet my body did not feel like it was going to collapse. Was my stamina worth more than I had expected? Given that living on the streets was rough, maybe I had somehow improved my body in some ways. Maybe.


    Still, I had to rest. Food and drink was needed, but starvation took several weeks to kill while thirst took a few days. I still had some time left before it was too late. With this in mind, I decided to take a nap. Though my sword was helping me with its glow, the darkness was far too thick. I would have a better time navigating this dead wilderness underneath the diminished light of a sun I could not see.


    And so I closed my eyes and slept, curling myself up as I usually did. It was familiar. It was horrible. But it was what I knew best. The night would pass, and I would continue my journey after.


    However, the forces of this world had other plans for me that did not coincide with a good night¡¯s sleep.


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    A horrific growl startled me awake, causing me to grab my sword and stand. Several pairs of red eyes glowed in the darkness in front of me, their malicious gaze bearing down on my person.


    ¡°Oh fuck.¡±


    My sword glowed brighter than before, expelling the nearby darkness and revealing the creatures that stalked me with hunger and hate. They looked like very large wolves, but everything about them was wrong. Their skin was torn in places, exposing rotten flesh and bone. Their eyes glowed a deep red. Their claws were as long and sharp as knives. Their fangs were that of daggers. And their fur was curled and shedding.


    Where the hell did these things even come from? There was nothing around us but a dead forest!


    There were eight of them in total, circling around me as if waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Fear gripped my heart as I gripped my sword even tighter. There was no way I could fight off a pack of demonic-looking wolves with just my own skills, because I had none to speak of!


    Yet, as the monstrous wolves growled and spat out blood and saliva with each horrid gurgle, I remembered the words of the old man. The sword was my guide for as long as I needed until I could guide it in return.


    The sword, my sword, was a part of me. An extension of me. Just like how I learned how to use my hands and my feet, I would soon learn how to use my sword. But for now, it would instead use me.


    That said, how the hell was it going to do that?


    Before I could even begin to think of a close answer, the wolves lunged. They came at me at the same time, bearing their fangs and claws as they roared towards me. Quickly, and without thinking of much else, I held my sword tighter than ever before, and swung with a cry.


    A familiar feeling took hold of my body as I did, compelling me to move in ways that I did not know and yet felt so natural doing so. The sword cut through the air and into the first three wolves with ease, slicing each of the monstrous creatures into two. They fell to the ground with a whine, dying just as they landed. Before I could even fanthom what just happened, I was already moving.


    My feet moved with the smoothness of flowing water finding its way between rocks in a river, allowing me to twist and turn as if I had done this a thousand times before. I jumped out of the way just as the rest of the wolves were about to seize me, causing them to collide with one another as I flew over their heads.


    I landed on the ground behind them, almost losing my balance as I did. I regained my footing just as the wolves had reoriented themselves, looking back at me with even more hunger and hate than before. They charged at me, fangs and claws at the ready. For all intents and purposes, I was horrified. But as I stood there frozen, something within me surged, and then I roared.


    I met the first wolf with a quick swing, slicing off its head and leaving the rest of its corpse to fly past me. The secold wolf fared no better, finding itself bissected as I leaned back from its lunge and swung across its belly as it flew overhead. Blood splattered and flew, but I cared not. The rest of the wolves came, this time swiping at me with their claws and doing their best to snatch away with my head with their jaws. I raised my sword in defiance, parrying each swipe of their claws and slapping away each attempt to bite off my head.


    They were relentless in their attempts, causing me to stagger back with each blow I had to parry. One of the wolves found an opening, scratching me on the left shoulder as I launched my fist into its face. My fist had more power behind it than expected, blowing through the wolf¡¯s skull before coming out the other end covered in rotten brain matter and shattered bone. With no time to feel disgusted, I was quick to bring my sword around and sliced off the front legs of another wolf as it pounced on my back, finding itself without its forelimbs as it crashed into the ground. Acting quick, I ran over to the disabled wolf as its companions raced towards me and sank my sword into its chest, killing it.


    The last two wolves that remained renewed their efforts with increased desperation, attacking me at the same time with a ferocity that was akin to the rabid dogs I had to contend with during that one nasty rabies outbreak a few years back. They caught me thrice, their paws sinking deep into my right shoulder, my left breast, and my left arm. I had to jump away to gain some distance.


    I did just that, putting a few dead trees between myself and the wolves. Blood dripped down my wounds and pain began to swell. I flinched at the sight of my blood, but I shook my head. There were only two wolves left. I had this. I had to if I were to survive.


    The wolves came crashing through the trees, pulling them from their roots and pushing them aside as they charged towards where I was. With a glare, I allowed the same surge of energy from before to guide me once more, and swung hard.


    What came next was nothing short of powerful. A wave of white energy surged from the blade of my sword and sliced through the forest in front of me, cutting through both the wolves and the trees with a searing heat that set everything aflame.


    The darkness itself was swept away, overwhelmed by the light of my attack and my sword. The wolves and the forest burned bright, and as I looked down upon the sword that saved my life, I noticed something else that was peculiar.


    I was also glowing.

 Chapter 3

    The fires burned until the next morning, filling the choked air with even more smoke and ash. The clouds rolling above were darker too, fed by the rising pillars of thick smoke that billowed from the churning sea of flames. The fires had spread far and wide in most directions, the winds sparing mine. I awoke not too long ago with one side of my face lying against the dirt, having been knocked unconscious by whatever the hell I had done that caused the inferno in front of me. It was a miracle that the winds were in my favor, a sign of goodluck amidst an otherwise horrible night.


    The wolves, or at least the few bones that remained of them, melted between the flames. Whatever those creatures were, they were nothing short of monstrous. A grim reminder of what I had to face in this dying world.


    I was sat cross-legged, my back against the very same tree where I attempted and failed to get a goodnight¡¯s rest the first time. From here, I watched over the sea of yellow and orange, listening to the crackle of burning wood. Despite spending most of the night unconscious, my body was nowhere near rested. I felt exhausted. My eyes burned. My tongue was dry. My muscles were sore. Dirt and grime covered my body and whatever was left of my ragged clothes, which was not much anyway.


    Last night was a victory, but it was a close-callnonetheless. It did not bode well how the wolves managed to sneak up on me without making any sort of sound until one of them decided when it was already too late for me to run away. If that wolf had not startled me awake, then I would have most likely died soon after.


    Despite the near death experience, my mind was not too bothered. In fact, there was a sense of triumph within me, accompanied by relief. The sword - my sword - had done what was expected of it, empowering my weak body towards superhuman ability and guiding my unskilled self to victory. It felt so natural during that time, but looking back, it was obvious that it was the sword in control, not me. The superhuman abilities and the skills, no matter how natural they felt, were still inherently alien. If I was to grow stronger and prevent an early death, I had to learn.


    But first things first, I had to continue onward. The direction I followed proved somewhat unlucky, but it was unfair to put the blame solely on the shoulders of a concept. This forest, dead and rotten, stretched for many kilometers in all directions. There was no sun to wash away the gloom of the day and neither was there a moon to act as a guide in the darkness of the night. The world was also in the process of an extinction-level event. It was understandable that there were monsters up and about.


    With a deep breath that felt like a rush of relief, I marched off into the same direction as before, bringing with me the only things I had. Myself and my sword.


    As the day rolled by, I found myself deep in thought. There were many things for me to think about, most of them questions with no clear or forthcoming answer. The glowing of the sword, the existence of those monstrous wolves, this dead forest I was walking through, the gloomy and depressing landscape that surrounded me, and where was I really expected to go? Also, there was the question of: where the hell was everyone else?


    I could not help but wonder if I was somewhere far away from whatever frontlines that existed. If so, then how was I supposed to reach civilization? There was also the problem of my main enemy. The harbinger of this world¡¯s doom. I had no idea who or what they were. Remembering what I saw from when I was shown this world by the old man, they were beings that wrought fire and left behind nothing but death and destruction in their wake. There was a comparison to be made here with a certain kind of otherworldly monster from back home, but I decided to hold off with my assumptions until I could say for certain what I was up against.


    After a few hours of quiet walking where the only sound accompanying me were the snapping of dried twigs underneath my ragged shoes, the forest began to wane. Elated by the fact that I was about to leave this expanse of dead trees, I picked up the pace, stumbling upon a clearing. A field of dead grass. Beyond, however, was something that made me grip the handle of my sword a little tighter.


    Surrounded by patches of ruined fields long since trampled and covered by layers of ash and debris, a collection of stone buildings loomed in the distance. The buildings made up what looked like a small town, or at least what remained of it. A village, perhaps? Despite my instincts warning me that there was something amiss, I decided to investigate. After all, there was nothing else for me to do in this wasteland. Maybe I could find out what happened here.


    As I walked between the abandoned fields, my feet found the firm but mangled remains of a cobblestone road that led into the ruined settlement. Making use of the path, exploring the town proved less tedious than expected, though there was not much for me to explore in the first place.


    The architecture of the buildings reminded me of a medieval town. With rows of buildings between narrow and winding streets, it would have been easy to get lost if you were not familiar with the place. That said, it was also burned down. Most of the buildings were eroding from the tip and bottom. Whatever wooden supports or materials that once made up parts of the buildings had all since rotted or turned to ash. There were also black stains on some walls. Most looked like ash. Others looked like dried blood. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    As I rounded a corner and approached what looked to be the center of the town, a sense of dread gripped my heart. With sword raised and a heavy heart, I approached the remains of a large stone well in the center where all the roads branching across the town converged. I had seen wells before in videos and in real life, but this was the biggest one yet, taking up most of the town center.


    The gaping mouth of the well whistled as an unexpected wind blew through the narrow streets and bounced off its walls. There had been no wind for a few hours. Something was amiss, but I had to know what. I walked forward, sword ready, and reached the wall of the well.


    Then I looked down.


    A chill went down my spine as my heart was seized by dread. Despite the screams of my instincts and the begging of my mind, I could not stray my eyes away from what I saw. Whatever water that used to linger at the bottom of the well was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a massive pile of human bones inside, stacked until they reached more than halfway across the height of the hole. The bones varied in size and shape. Some were small, others big, most broken, but there was no mistaking the skills within the pile.


    With a burst of strength and accompanied by the sudden shine of my sword, I managed to pull myself away from the gruesome sight, gagging as I fell on my knees to pant. They were not whole bodies of flesh and blood, only bones, but the pain and disgust was all the same. There looked to be hundreds of skeletons in that well alone, all of them jammed together. A few looked too small and too young.


    I hauled myself away and settled down against the cold wall of a nearby building, holding my head and squinting my eyes as the gravity of what I had seen bore down on my mind like an avalanche. It was also accompanied by flashes of the dead and dying from during the shooting, their red blood pooling around unmoving bodies, their moans echoing in my ears.


    Monsters. There were monsters there, and there were monsters here. They were one and the same. Dread had seized my heart, but there was something else brewing within. A rising rage. A smoldering fire.


    Whoever or whatever did this would find its doom through me, I swore it.


    Returning to relative calm, I pulled myself together somewhat. There were a few things that needed doing, and finding. The next hour was then spent exploring the rest of the ruins. Most of the buildings, upon inspection, were simply houses with some rooms and living spaces, containing the property of families and people long gone. I tried my best to steel my heart as I explored, but there were rooms that proved too much for even my bold heart.


    One such room had a crib with bones. Little bones. I did not linger there long, but the floor became privy to a few of my tears. It was heartbreaking.


    Unfortunately, most of the buildings had indeed burned down, leaving only their stone base which made up the first floor of each. There were skeletons and bones here and there, alongside smudges and stains that looked both like ash and dried blood. I was unsure which was which. A few of the buildings looked like the remains of workshops and stores, containing rusted trinkets, tools, a few pieces of clothing, protection, and some weapons. There was also a leather backpack hidden inside an iron chest, the locks of which were easily severed by the swing of a sword. It was a miracle that anything survived whatever blaze that spread through this place.


    What I was doing, searching and breaking in, felt like robbery, but there was little else for me to do besides checking out what I could loot. With that in mind, despite living in the streets, I never gained the guts to steal from anyone else aside from the occasional trash bin. And I was not even sure if that counted as stealing.


    After an hour or so, I had brought most of the things I found that I could use into one of the more sturdy houses, placing and arranging them onto a table that still stood inside what appeared to be a dining room.


    It was a modest haul: a crude leather backpack that was somewhat worn, a boot for each foot that were not the same make and had seen better days, a dark tunic that had a long gash running down the left shoulder but was otherwise intact, a dark trouser with some cuts and holes that were not too egregious, two leather pouches that looked like they were stitched to carry water but were empty, and a tarp that was mostly whole.


    None of the things were fresh, clean, or new. In spite of that, they were enough. I could clean them out somewhat with my hands if needed, but other than the leather pouches, the cleanliness of the rest did not matter too much. I was, after all, used to working and wearing the ragged and filthy.


    After wearing my new set of clothes and packing the rest of the things into the backpack and wearing it against my back, I went back into the streets and made my way towards the well. Despite my misgivings about what remained there, it was the best place for me to see all of the roads.


    My sword rested within my right hand, so far dim and muted. I was beginning to suspect that, if it glowed, then something was about to happen. Thankfully, it had not done so yet after the scene at the well.


    The dimness of the sky spoke of an ending afternoon, warning of the impending arrival of dusk then night. If I wanted to, I could continue on my journey by following one of the few roads that led outside the town and into the country, perhaps finding myself somewhere better, or worse.


    That said, I considered the state of my body. Hunger was soon to become a problem, while thirst was already one. I had to secure myself some food and water if I were to continue. The problem was, however, there was nothing in this town. Everything else that was not made of treated wood, stone, iron, or leather had rotten or dissolved. There was also nothing liquid to be found. This place was as barren as the wastelands that surrounded it.


    Then came a trickle from the sky, followed by a drizzle, then a pour. Rain had somehow come, washing away the ash. It was as if someone had heard of my plight, sending down what I needed the most. It seemed like I would be spending the night in this town after all. That said, I could not help but be suspicious. This rain was not natural. I was sure of it. I wondered who was responsible, was it the old man? Maybe. Or perhaps someone else? Possible.


    Still, if this was done out of goodness, then I was grateful. If not, well, goodluck to me.