chapter 10

Chapter 07: Xxv and Zhui Story

Zhui's Point of View

In the vast, shadowy expanse of the Dark Forest—home to a myriad of monstrous beasts—a Crimson Game was unfolding. This sprawling wilderness, stretching across the size of a hundred towns, served as a frequent battleground, its immense terrain perfectly suited for such deadly contests.

I found myself here for this very game, though it had only just begun, and already boredom gnawed at me. I opened my status bar, scanning the game's details to discern what I needed to secure victory. "A hundred days left to finish this… how tedious," I muttered, my voice laced with impatience.

If not for the need to evade my enemies, I wouldn't have lingered in this forsaken place. The hounds tracking me had keen noses, enhanced by a spell to pinpoint my location. My only option was to hide in uncharted corners of the forest.

After sitting on the cliff's edge for a while, my muscles aching from inactivity, I rose to prepare for a hunt. Perched atop a fifty-foot drop, I didn't hesitate—I leapt without a second thought. This was the swiftest way to descend into the forest's murky depths.

A palpable aura of malevolence enveloped me, the black energy of the resident beasts pulsing through the air. I steadied my body mid-fall, ensuring a controlled landing. As my sword pierced the earth, a gust of wind erupted, drawing the attention of nearby monsters.

Moments after landing, aggressive beasts closed in, intent on attacking. Wasting no time, I struck first, moving like a serpent darting through the undergrowth. "Serpent Slash!" I cried, my blade flashing with lethal precision. With each swift strike, I severed their heads, ending their lives effortlessly.

Overcoming these creatures was child's play, thanks to my experience battling far stronger foes. Suddenly, crimson flames ignited along my blade and the objects it cleaved, consuming them relentlessly until they turned to ash.

"These monsters are nothing but weaklings," I remarked, sheathing my sword with a sigh of disdain.

Disappointment weighed on me. For days, I'd encountered only low-tier beasts, none dropping valuable items as in other games. The points I'd spent felt wasted. Another concern gnawed at me—my daily sustenance. The crimson flames reduced everything my Sanitoshi blade touched to ash, leaving little to eat.

I checked the rewards from the slain beasts, expecting little. As anticipated, each yielded a single point. To recoup the thousand points I'd paid, I'd need to kill a thousand more. With luck, a rare item might drop, though the lucky box rate in this game was a mere one percent.

As I ventured deeper into the forest, a sudden noise pierced the silence—a man's desperate cry, his sobs pleading for help. "What's that racket?" I wondered aloud.

Peering through the dense foliage, I spotted a white-haired man in tattered clothing, running and weeping as two beasts pursued him. "Please, someone help me!" he wailed. "I don't want to die!"

Gasping for breath, exhaustion evident, he pushed himself to flee, though his frail body lacked the strength to escape. Misfortune struck as he tripped, collapsing onto the ground, leaving him vulnerable to the monsters' jaws.

Interfering wasn't my habit, especially with no gain in sight, but something compelled me to draw my sword. Perhaps it was instinct honed by years of vigilance. I lunged at the nearest beast. "Crimson Burst!" I shouted.

A torrent of crimson fire erupted from my blade, engulfing the two monsters and reducing them to scattered fragments, their remains littering the ground.

I had no interest in saving this man, yet here I was. His shocked expression silenced him as he sat trembling. To assert my presence, crimson flames flared around me—a tactic to intimidate foes and prepare for unexpected attacks.

I swung my sword, dispelling the flames from its edge, and stepped toward the pitiful figure before me. "I never thought I'd find such a weakling in a Class B game," I said coldly.

I made it clear that someone as frail as him had no place here, especially without combat skills. "You've stumbled into the wrong place. Nothing awaits you here but death," I declared.

I scrutinized him from head to toe, finding no hint of a warrior's potential. "By your look, you're no fighter. Tell me, how did you end up in this game?"

He didn't answer, his fear overwhelming him as he knelt, begging for mercy like a terrified child. Though curious, I dismissed it—knowing his story wouldn't profit me.

He continued crying, pleading, explaining he remembered nothing of how he'd arrived or why he was here. His reaction seemed genuine, especially after narrowly escaping death, his tears a testament to his desperation.

I couldn't fathom his plight, but pity stirred within me. His face bore the marks of suffering, a raw desire to live despite his odds. Did he truly believe he could survive this place by running and hiding, like a slab of meat tossed into a cave of ravenous beasts?

Moved by compassion, I drew my sword again, intending to end his misery swiftly. My blade could kill a human in an instant, sparing him pain as he left this dark world.

Seeing me unsheathe my weapon, he recoiled in terror, crawling backward. I warned him of the thousands of beasts lurking here, any of which could claim him at any moment. "Have mercy on me, let me live!" he sobbed.

His longing to survive was evident, but this world offered no fairness, especially to the weak. "You don't understand—even if I let you live, death is all that awaits you here," I said. "A death filled with agony and despair, where hiding only prolongs your torment, consumed by fear, anxiety, and rage. You'll die here, whether by beasts or starvation."

"Crimson Flame!" I intoned.

Crimson fire blazed from my sword, enveloping him in a fiery orb. It was a mercy to end his miserable existence. I felt his struggle within the flames, his screams piercing the air, and to my shock, his body hadn't yet turned to ash.

Moments later, he thrust his hands through the fire, breaking free. "Have mercy!" he cried. "I don't want to die!"

Astonishment gripped me. This was the first time anyone had escaped my Crimson Flame. "Impossible—what kind of trick is this?" I muttered, incredulous.

I sensed no defensive energy shielding him, yet the crimson flames—lethal to all—failed to consume him. He remained kneeling, head pressed to the ground, pleading anew, the fire still licking at his form.

The twin swords of Sanitoshi, Rabaikasyu, were sacred weapons of the royal Soul Eater clan, imbued with holy flames capable of devouring a creature's spirit energy and reducing all to ash.

But why? Why couldn't they kill this frail being?

His cries persisted, his weakness defying the might of the Khan's most powerful weapon. I couldn't let this pass—such a failure was a grave dishonor to my clan. I had to resolve this immediately.