About ten minutes later my hair was thoroughly soaked. Rain continually formed on my armour and accumulated into bigger droplets, before falling down on the ground to join the red puddles on the now clay-like dirt all around me.

I watched a crimson bead of water trail down my dark cuirass. Saw the drops dripping from my hair. Felt the tickling sensation of them rolling down my face to gather on the edge of my chin and fall away.

Red.

The rain was red like blood, like a cut in the clouds above was spewing forth a crimson flood.

A few more steps and the forest opened up. The wide road I’d followed dipped down and away out of sight. I reached the edge of the trees and saw the landscape beyond. From my vantage point on the raised hill where the forest ended, I beheld the red fields in the distance, the mountains bordering the horizon, and the large city they seemed to encompass.

Amidst the endless red rain, a flute song cut through the air in a sombre tone, like that belonging to a Shakuhachi.

A banner appeared before my eyes and I suddenly realised what I was doing and where I was. The floating text stated, “Now entering World ‘The Fields of Red’.”

A new World. It took me a second to remember what that meant…

I wasn’t on earth any longer, no, I was in another world. A realm beyond earth, controlled by some kind of Watcher deity.

Of course…

It was so obvious now that I thought about it.

How could I even forget??

I hoped this wouldn’t be a recurring thing every time I progressed to a new World. I mean, there was a possibility I might not be able to recall what I was doing and end up becoming like the Forsaken, who no longer remembered their goals or lives before entering this cursed hellscape.

More memories rocked through me, as I recalled what I’d lost during my fight with Mŕtvy. On top of those memories came the ‘reward’ I’d obtained for beating the first World.

I fell to my knees in the mud, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Jakob,” I whispered to the rain. I wanted to run back the way I’d come and somehow return to him so that I could apologise, but a cowardly part of me also knew that I wouldn’t do it, as though admitting fault was something that could hurt me.

Besides, even if I did have the integrity to do it, how would I even go about returning to the Forlorn Kingdom??

With cold-hearted practicality, I discarded the heartache that I felt for having ever doubted my friend and considered my ‘reward’.

Thanks to the memory I’d received from the Watcher, I knew a bit more about myself now. I remembered that moment so vividly.

My mom had kicked me out at the age of fifteen, six months into my first high school year. I couldn’t remember why I had those bandages on my arms, nor what had led to my mom being so upset. I did, however, perfectly recall my childhood house in Kyōto’s richer suburbs, and I definitely recalled that old apartment they’d gotten me. Six miserable years I’d lived there, as I went through high school and university. It had never once felt like home.

I knew why this specific memory had been returned to me. I looked to the sky as the rain drops fell down my face and screamed at the Watcher who no doubt found amusement in my torment.

The reason that this memory was the one chosen, out of all the ones I sought returned, was because I had wanted to be reunited with my family. I now knew that my family had never given a shit about me. The Watcher was using my memory against me to try and kill my resolve. But it wasn’t going to work.

“Watch me, you fucker, I’ll tear through all the challenges you put before me!”

I sat in the mud for a while, contemplating my newfound memories, when a new kind of notification, a boooong!, sounded in my ear. As I pulled up my menus with the special gesture, I saw that an exclamation mark sat next to my ‘Skills & Weapon Progression’.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

When I opened it, I saw that a new tab had appeared in the top, next to ‘Weapons’ and ‘Crafting’. It was called ‘Watcher’s Rewards’. I braced myself for the worst as I opened it, but found that there was just a single entry: ‘血鴉’[1]. I looked at its description.

You’re kidding me… this Watcher is a sick bastard.

It was a unique ability ostensibly tied to my moniker ‘Raven-Black’, which read: “A raven of blood emerges from your wrist and lunges at a designated target, stunning them for five seconds.”

Additionally, there was a star icon, similar to the traits on my katana and ring, as well as the Helm-Splitter ability. It read as follows: “This ability requires a memory to be sacrificed. After using this ability, thirteen days are needed to recharge it and all other Watcher-granted abilities.”

Why on earth would I ever use such an ability?? The Watcher is just screwing with me…

After I eventually got up from the mud and made my way forward, down the hill, I quickly saw a masked man slowly making his way up towards me. My eyes fell upon the blade at his waist, and from here I could tell by its shape and width that it was a Chinese Dao. Although why I even knew such a thing was strange. Perhaps it was because of deep-seated knowledge from my real life, or maybe it was knowledge the Watcher had imbued me with for some important insight.

He stopped short a few metres from me when he’d reached the peak of the hill. From behind his wooden mask, I could feel his eyes watching me, likely assessing how much of a threat I was to him, but then he seemed to reach some kind of conclusion.

「ようこそ禍根市へ。我は笑う剣士の二郎で御座る。」he said.[2] It took me a second to realise he was speaking a language different from the previous World’s, and then it was like something clicked and I instantly knew what he’d said. This was a bizarre feeling, because he’d spoken in Japanese, which I should’ve known.[3] But it was as if my brain couldn’t comprehend the meaning until it’d adjusted or something. I wondered if this was a side-effect of the ‘knowledge injection’ employed by this realm, because it was, in a way, similar to the weapon skills and how despite knowing what a move looked like, you couldn’t perform it accurately until you acquired the skill.

When I replied, “I’m Aiko, a traveller from the Forlorn Kingdom,” it was entirely in Japanese,[4] my mother tongue, but the dialect and words I used so naturally, were ones completely outdated by modern standards, or at least from what I could remember using in the past.

Jirō bowed shallowly, performing a flourish of his crimson and black cloak, which seemed more reminiscent of European Aristocratic custom than Japanese tradition. Judging by the style of his clothes and weapon, it was clear that he’d been inspired by foreign cultures. He wore a sleeveless, thick-threaded dark-green vest with peaked shoulders; a white British-styled shirt underneath; as well as oddly-baggy black pants, possibly Chinese or Indian; and shiny steel greaves and boots of the finest Medieval Italian craftsmanship. There wasn’t much of a theme going on and it was hard to believe that he’d intentionally chosen to wear such a random outfit. His expressionless[5] light-brown wooden mask with its circular eye-holes was unfamiliar to me, and I didn’t get the impression that it was inspired by any culture, but rather just something crudely made by his own hands. Attached to the mask was a thick ‘wig’ made with long strands of white fabric that’d somehow not been discoloured by the red rain, and which draped over his head and fell down his back, giving him an uncanny semblance with the Oni and Yokai depictions from Japanese folklore. Normally, Oni and Yokai masks tended to be smiling, and, considering he’d introduced himself as “the Laughing Swordsman”, I found the absence on his mask somewhat perplexing.

“Do follow me, if it pleases you,” he said. His voice was muffled behind the mask, and it sounded strange. I couldn’t tell if he was Japanese or not, and the way he pronounced certain words made me think that he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Despite my apprehensions about the Masked Man,[6] I followed him back the way he’d come, down the hill and towards the city. Kakon-shi, he’d called it. Unless I was misunderstanding the words, the meaning of the name was something along the lines of, “The City which is the Root of Evil.”

Why couldn’t it just be something nice for once? I was starting to get the feeling that “Happy Fun Land” would not be an available World in this game…

“Now entering Safe Zone ‘Kakon-shi’.”

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[1] Pronounced “Chi-garasu” or “Chi-karasu”, meaning “Blood Raven” in Japanese. The same symbols are also used to mean the same in Chinese, but the pronunciation would be different. Given that it seemed tailored in my image as ‘Raven-Black’ and the fact that I was Japanese, I assumed it was a specific ability unique to just me.

[2] “Welcome to Kakon-shi. I am Jirō, the Laughing Swordsman.”

[3] Granted, it was spoken in a generic kind of Samurai-age way, the kind so often depicted in old movies and anime.

[4] For the sake of story-telling, I’ll do you the favour of keeping the narration in the same language. Yes, yes, I know. You’re welcome.

[5] Okay, so it wasn’t expressionless, but more like ( : - |) which wasn’t exactly much of an expression…

[6] It’s like the 2nd thing your parents teach you: 1 – don’t accept candy from strangers in a van; 2 – don’t follow weird masked men; 3 – always look both ways before crossing the street; etc…