"Forty three..." Kaiser counted under his breath before reluctantly commanding his immortality to restore his body to its former glory.
A familiar warmth surged through him, and in moments, the accumulated fatigue of his relentless battles was swept away. His torn muscles mended, his bruised body rejuvenated, and his vitality replenished as if he had never spent hours slaughtering invaders. It felt almost like waking up after a long, restful sleep—his limbs light, his senses sharp, and his strength renewed.
This newfound vitality was hard-earned. Kaiser’s method of fighting relied heavily on speed and precision, wielding his supreme agility to deliver lethal strikes to the vital points of his monstrous foes. His style was akin to that of a dagger—sharp, swift, and fatal. Every move prioritized offense over defense, each strike designed to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible. However, defense was never his strong suit, yet still played the danger game.
But such recklessness came at a price. The creatures were powerful, too, as powerful as him with far greater mass and one hit was often enough to severely injure or outright kill him. Time and time again, he had died—bitten, crushed, or dismembered—only to rise again, his immortality restoring his broken body as if nothing had happened before escaping, then coming back as a new man... Which honestly baffled the invaders.
However, although his body was repaired, Kaiser's mind bore the weight of his constant resurrection.
His mental tolerance was naturally high, forged by a rough upbringing, and previous experiences on participating in the real battlefield, and dying. But he was still a teenager. Each death chipped away at his resolve, leaving cracks for dark thoughts to seep in. Bringing haunting questions, whispering in the back of his mind: *Should I stop?* Surely, he had bought enough time for the others to escape. Surely, he deserved to rest. That said, a normal human would take a day and a half to traverse through migration. He can't stop, not now.
Then, another thought gnawed at him, more unsettling than the first: Was his immortality limitless?
He hadn’t considered it before, but now, after using his regenerative ability so often—not just to resurrect, heal fatal wounds but to also erase physical exhaustion—he began to wonder. Could his immortality run out? Was there a finite number of times he could revive? Or were there limits to how much damage or strain it could repair?
Still, he doubted it. Since the day his immortality had first manifested, it had only grown more efficiently, responding faster and more obediently to his will. Whether this was a result of its evolution or his increasing familiarity with controlling it, Kaiser didn’t know. But one thing was clear: it's not degrading, in fact, his immortality is noticeably improving, somehow. Just what the heck did those lazy gods do to him?
In any case, the invaders kept coming, and he was the only thing standing between them and the survivors.
Kaiser grunted, narrowly dodging a ramming attack from one of the creatures snapping jaw before sending order to his sword. Windslayer, which he had thrown moments earlier to plunge into another invader’s skull, responded to his mental command. It flies back towards him, which was calculatedly blocked by the invader's spine between him and his blade. Struck by unexpected torn that dived into its neck vulnerable spot, the beast thrashed briefly before collapsing in a heap. Another quick command sent the sword flying through the air, stabbing into the spine of the last crippled creature in the horde, which he failed to kill swiftly earlier. It twitched violently before falling lifeless to the ground.
With a flick of his will, Windslayer pulled itself free from the creature’s corpse, hovered briefly, and zipped back to Kaiser’s waiting hand. He turned away from the carnage, already hearing another chorus of screeching howls in the distance.
Kaiser sighed, his mind a mess from the relentless pressure of battle. Only in these fleeting moments of reprieve could he feel the weight of what he had been enduring.
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Not that he hated it.
On the contrary, a part of him was enjoying the fight.
There was something exhilarating about the rush of combat, a primal satisfaction in besting such terrifying foes in a deadly dance.
'How do I describe it...?'
Well, for him, it's a combination it gambling,
where life is at stake, and one wrong move often proves fatal. Dance, exhausting, but enjoyable. Chess, requiring strategic styles, finding weak points on the enemies defenses, exploiting it and thus, earning a crushing victory. All the white, appearing awesome and feeling badass. It was as if he had found a sport he was passionate about, one that drove him to keep going despite the mental and physical toll.
Yawning, he flung the disgusting blood off his sword, sending it's spraying on the ground and glanced down at Windslayer, inspecting the glass-like blade for any signs of wear, worried about damaging his new sword so early in his hands. After all, it was his mentor's parting gift, he can't be uncaring. Fortunately, It remained pristine, without a single dent or crack to stain its elegance.
"What the heck is this thing made of?" He mumbled.
The question had lingered in his mind since the first time he held the sword. Even Garba, his sly and knowledgeable mentor, hadn’t known its origins. Added, the sword is a rare relic, something that either came from slaying a special beast or forged by players with craftsmanship related ability from other Realms. So, seeking for answers to what it's made of is a fool's errand. But figuring out its magical properties was not. After wielding it multiple times by now, Kaiser had begun to grasp its abilities with confidence.
Windslayer's abilities were telepathic in nature, allowing it to connect to its wielder's mind and respond to their commands. This connection made it capable of moving on its own, guided entirely by the focus and intent of the one wielding it.
The most basic application of this ability was summoning the blade. With a clear mental command and the intent to hold its hilt—not the blade—Windslayer would zip through the air to its master’s grip. While this sounded simple in theory, it required precision and concentration.
For someone like Kaiser, whose reflexes and instincts were honed already high, summoning and catching the sword was second nature. But for an average person? The risks were considerable. A lapse in focus or hesitation could lead to disastrous results. If the wielder failed to ensure the hilt was what they intended to grab, the blade could strike them instead. And if their reflexes weren’t sharp enough, Windslayer’s speed could cause it to collide with their body—either striking with its pommel or, in a worst-case scenario, impaling them outright... Killing themselves. Difficulty on successfully performing this trick increases dramatically when amidst combat.
Fortunately, Kaiser's skill set and adaptability made such mistakes unlikely. His reflexes ensured that Windslayer’s return was seamless, heck, Kai could even catch an arrow with instinct alone thanks to his Sacred Bond with the beastial woman, Zara. And his mental clarity during battle, devoid of worries even for death kept his commands precise.
The sword was not forgiving of clumsiness, but in the hands of someone like Kaiser, it became a flawless weapon, like a deadly extension of his will.
Windslayer fitted him well.
Still, Kaiser suspected that Windslayer’s floating ability was only scratching the surface of its true potential. There was something more to the weapon, something he couldn’t quite grasp yet.
Unfortunately, he had no way of uncovering its mysteries except through trial and error. Much like his own growth through *Leveling*, the sword’s secrets would only reveal themselves through experience.
The term *Leveling* had been coined by the Players who came before him, a name that sounded almost absurdly game-like. Yet, it fit the world's bizarre rules perfectly. By defeating enemies, he gained incremental boosts in power, akin to earning experience points. The stronger the foe he vanquished, the greater the surge in strength he received—something he learned firsthand in his battles with the invaders.
Those creatures had once been nearly insurmountable adversaries. Their speed, power, and savage instincts had left him struggling to kill even one. But now, after slaying dozens of the monstrosities, Kaiser had not only caught up to their level of strength but had far surpassed the average among them.
However, his progress wasn’t without its limits. He could feel it—the diminishing returns. Every new surge of power came more slowly than the last, each leap forward requiring exponentially more effort. His ascent toward greater strength was growing steeper, forcing him to work harder for smaller gains.
Kaiser couldn’t help but let his mind wander as he mused about the world’s strange mechanics. What if he had some kind of system—a tabulator—that could track his progress in neat numerical values? A tool that could provide detailed descriptions of his abilities, strengths, and even Windslayer’s potential?
The thought made him huff a quiet laugh.
"That would be a blessing."
However, no such luxury existed here. All he had was his body, his mind, and the instincts he honed through constant trial and battle. If there were answers to be found, they would have to be earned the hard way. And sadly, nothing will change the fact that this isn't a game. Kai had died in this accursed world multiple times already, and witness many horrible things, the most sinister among them is what his facing now.
After slaying another horde of five invaders on his way. Finally, Kaiser finally reached where the invaders are coming from. The place Garba warned him dearly to never get close, and what he had been dreading for many days due to its eeriness.
He arrived at the Southern Boundary... Which, appalled him more than it should, because it appears his timing is bad... Really, really bad.
Kai shivered, his eyes wide in terror.
'F-f*ck me sideways...'