20. The Sleeping…

It was suspicious, but I reasoned I couldn't act on my assumptions alone. I decided to ask around.

I approached a few merchants and passersby, keeping my tone casual and conversational.

I noticed that most tensed when their faces twisted in fear and distaste as they shook their heads and hurried away as if they had seen something monstrous.

One merchant, his face etched with worry, his voice barely above a whisper, advised me to avoid any dojo.

He recommended it as a less horrible choice. He demanded that I try the military in a terrified yet forceful whisper while shaking so badly that he was nearly spilling his wares.

When I told him that they refused me for my age, he shoved everything into the cart behind him and moved off in the other direction.

Another man, a burly dockworker with hands the size of my head, just grunted and shook his head, refusing to meet my gaze. I felt that they didn't want to even think about the dojo.

I decided that I needed to be more careful with who I asked and HOW I asked.

I began to ask about the local dojos, including this one last. I could see that the name, the aforementioned Grand Darkness Dojo in particular, seemed to elicit a consistent reaction.

Absolute fear and terror.

Not for just themselves, but for those who might enter.

Since they had been talking for a while beforehand, they felt like they were safer to talk about if I were a plant- and if I were actually looking they would be sure to warn a good person off from their death.

I went over to another merchant to hear one of their stories. "Absolutely do not go there. People who sign up there always damn disappear," the merchant's voice was low and a bit rushed, his eyes darting nervously around as if afraid of being overheard.

In the adventurer's guild, I finally found someone who would actually respond.

A gruff-looking warrior with biceps for days and a face that was scarred and weathered. He spat on the ground as he spoke.

"That ain't a dojo, kid. That's a deathtrap," Then he stormed off with a dour look on his face.

I went down to the international quarter and continued to ask about the dojo.

"Naw, mon, just find somewhere else, mon. It's not worth dyin' for no secret technique that don' even exist, mon!" The wiry man with chocolate colored skin and dreadlocks as well as an interesting accent shook his head. He wove me off while his dreadlocks swayed with the movement of his head.

Then he wandered off.

Similar warnings followed as I continued to each one painting a grim picture of the dojo.

A place shrouded in mystery, whispered rumors of disappearances and dark secrets.

I felt all of my body clench in anticipation mixed with the thrill of the feeling of danger run down my spine.

I knew that this was my first target. A place where I could test my mettle!

A place where I could prove my worth, a place where I could truly begin my journey to becoming the Sword God's Successor. I wouldn't let fear, rumors, or even the threat of death that would immediately be overturned stand in my way.

I paused as my gaze swept across the bustling marketplace and smirked.

But then as I went half way into the direction of the dojo that I needed to destroy if not now, then a few lives hence-

I halted in the middle of the street and wondered to myself about the implications of what I had just thought about a few minutes prior.

When did I become a battle maniac?

I entered the dojo's courtyard with a frown firmly etched on my lips. This was definitely the place.

The 'Grand Darkness Dojo,' loomed menacingly before me.

I knew that this was the one that everyone had whispered about with fear just by the sheer mass of absolutely terrifying energy that emanated from it.

I walked into the building that seemed to swallow people whole, never to be seen again.

The atmosphere within was thick with a foreboding silence.

Reality itself felt strange.

The place was filled with some kind of energy that made the air I was breathing feel heavier and like the space I was walking through feel like water.

The greeter was an unsettling figure.

I watched as his gaze barely moved from a fixed point somewhere behind me while his body remained unmoving. 

His eyes vaguely began to track my movement, but there was no life in them.

I noticed he had no recognition when looking at me.

It was as if he was looking through me rather than at me.

"How do I go about joining this place?" I asked with my voice that was now somehow echoing slightly with a weird reverberation.

It felt even weirder in the eerily quiet room.

Even though this place gave me the damn creeps, I needed to make a name for myself.

This was the way to do it and to prove my worth to that damn recruiter.

I needed to progress in this godforsaken loop.

The thing, because, no, that was not a person turned around with movements that were too stiff.

It moved in a way that was too mechanical and felt fake.

It waved jerkily, "I'll get the grandmaster," it declared in a voice that was more hollow than a tree that had been named 'Creepy Hollow' for how long it had been dead and empty.

As it moved, I noticed something on its head.

A seam and a hook, barely perceptible beneath its hair.

My enhanced perception that had been sharpened by the relentless training and life-and-death struggles Kirin had shoved into me over the last seven days, caught it instantly.

This was a clue.

I remembered the book on Witchery basics and types that kirin had shoved in my face.

The witchery magic crafting system had many categories, but one was known as 'puppetry.'

But this wasn't puppetry, it was its malevolent cousin.

'Necromancy.'

How the hell wasn't this entire city overrun then?