Seven loops have passed, so I really needed to figure out how to start using Ki.

Right?

I know Anna and Jessa have been through about thirty five loops by now, but I’m growing fast too.

I opened my mouth to ask a question.

I was about to give a genuine inquiry about whether or not there were any more sword forms besides the initial forms he had shown me thus far, but then Kirin raised his hand.

The gesture sent a chill through my spine and cut off any words before they could even fully form.

He had other plans, clearly.

A shit-eating grin that promised further hardship spread across his face and the corners of his lips twitched upwards while his eyes showed that they had seen more than mine ever could and he was going to use that against me in whatever way amused him most.

He then declared, “Get on it, kiddo!” in a tone that was clearly meant to be dismissive, but also that contained just enough humor to make me think that he was secretly enjoying what came next.

Truly, the sword God Emperor was the worst teacher who ever lived.

It was a phrase he used, I knew, to both dismiss my questions and to get me moving, and I also felt that he was giving me a challenge as much as it was a direct order.

Then, I felt the motion of my body twist unnaturally as Kirin waved his arm. I knew, from that strange and horrible sensation that made the muscles in my gut clench, that I was about to be displaced through time and space once again.

My near-question turned into a choked gasp as it felt like reality itself decided to go on vacation again.

I felt as if the world around me had been ripped apart like cloth being torn to shreds. The world twisted in a way that might have been euclidean if someone had vomited on reality right before it turned into existence and I could feel my stomach churn and the taste of bile fill my mouth.

Then, as abruptly as I had begun my motion through unreality, I found myself sprawled on the hard-packed earth just outside the city walls. I felt the rough grit of the earth scrape against my skin as I landed, each nerve ending in my body protesting the sudden halt.

The familiar weight of the coin pouch settled against my thigh with a soft clink.

To me they felt as if they were a tangible representation of the battle I had fought to get those gifts.

The needlessly violent way I went about in apologizing to the women I loved.

I knew that Kirin was messing with time, but I wasn’t sure if he was erasing realities that didn’t suit the goal of killing the prime devourer or letting us loose in timelines to do damage to them as a training exercise.

Or something else.

I didn’t want to know.

No matter what, I would focus on the idea that all of this was some kind of simulation because any other more likely solution made me want to vomit.

The ends sometimes justify the means, but-

My mind jolted towards the faces that of the guards-

Of the innocent guards and merchants I had enacted murder upon for simple trinkets.

The lives I had ended to make a step towards gaining all the power I needed to acquire the ability to approach the starting line of the qualifications needed to protect those I loved.

Each coin was a small reminder of a life I had taken in a world that no longer existed as time erased it.

It was a grim reminder that I would do it again without hesitation if it was necessary.

It would be necessary.

I didn’t want it to be.

But it was a fact.

Deep down I knew that something terrible was happening in every way.

I pushed that thought aside as I stood, the weight a constant source of unease and a driving force at the same time.

I was confident that I could handle this in an easier way now.

I had funds to buy passage and a decent meal or two. I even had enough for comfortable lodgings if I chose.

I moved my hand and felt the weight of the coins against my thigh.

The pouch was warm and gave me confidence that I wouldn’t have to choose between the life of a person who didn’t do anything to me or the life of everyone I would save in the final timeline.

Warm like blood and cold as the steel of my will within the coin pouch and within my soul.

I smoothed out the wrinkles of my black kimono as I felt the weight of the daisho at my hip settle comfortably against my body.

The hilt was warm.

I knew inside, it too, was a cool touch- of death- and of steel- that offered a silent promise.

I Held tight to the hilt of the blades and felt my strength surge.

I knew that I was ready for whatever was next.

This city, I could feel from deep within my soul, as I looked around from outside its gates, was full of both opportunities and dangers.

I decided that I needed to tread carefully.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

My path was clear.

I needed to make a name for myself. A name that would open doors, and perhaps more importantly, force that obstinate recruiter’s hand.

He would bend to my presence, one way or another.

I wouldn't wait for the 'proper time,’ from a person who would kill anyone who disagreed violently, even if they were ‘a kid.’

He had the strength to take me apart easily, but killing me was his best idea as a person who looked like a child.

I decided that I would find a way to make him show his true colors to someone who mattered, too.

Shaking myself from my rapid contemplations as my mind became sharp due to my focus returning, I began to move.

I approached the gates. I watched as the bored-looking guard barely registered my presence before he waved me through.

His eyes tracked me and then narrowed as I tried to pass without paying.

There goes my hope of entering for free.

I felt for the coins in my pouch and handed them to him as he began to open his mouth to protest.

Then his hand twitched before he took his payment, that I noticed.

I’m pretty sure he thought I was going to attack him.

I gave him a two finger salute as I handed him the coins with deliberate slowness.

He shook his head and waved me off, all without speaking.

I saw a smirk at the corner of his lips as I turned to leave.

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The city sprawled before me as a labyrinth of winding streets and towering buildings that seemed to stack precariously upon each other. I moved past the stacked housing that made me nervous, and headed into the area with the food stalls.

The air was thick with a group of scents that I wasn't quite sure about. Maybe they were incense from sandalwood? I couldn’t actually figure out the smell’s identity due to the mix of dust that made it too hard to tell.

Was that cinnamon?

Where is that lavender coming from?

I shook my head from those frivolous thoughts.

I could hear the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer from somewhere down the street. Each strike echoed with a force that made me wonder just how hard you had to hit a metal ingot to make a sound that traveled so far.

The midday sun beat down relentlessly from above. It felt like a physical weight on my shoulders as its rays burned with the desert’s fury.

Yet surprisingly, my body, which had been strengthened by Kirin’s training had barely registered the heat. I realized that I had grown accustomed to the bone-deep chills of the training realm, and to the brutal trials of endless combat.

The desert climate that was once a source of discomfort, now felt almost invigorating.

My first order was information gathering, I realized.

I needed a place where I could test my skills and I could push myself beyond my limits.

I needed to hone the swordsmanship that Kirin had so ruthlessly drilled into me.

I figured that dojos were the obvious choice, but I knew that I couldn't settle for just any dojo.

I knew to the core of my being that I needed a challenge that the world would use to forge me into a blade like a crucible would be used to melt metals into a mold.

I would shape myself and begin to forge my body and mind through investigating and fighting there.

As I looked into the board and found several shady and probably evil options.

I could forge myself into a sharp blade, not by training there, but by exposing them.

I browsed through the bulletin board I had found in the marketplace. I watched as people darted past, their gazes fixed ahead, ignoring the board completely. Its surface was covered with a chaotic jumble of flyers.

Most were scams, a few were real, and there was one blatant trap.

I pulled down a copy of each, my fingers brushing against the rough paper as my eyes scanned the text. My focus honed in on anything that would serve my purpose.

After I finished going through them all, I realized that my interest had been caught by one flyer in particular. It was for a dojo that sounded too good to be true.

’Gain a secret technique from the Grand Darkness Dojo! We teach the sleeper blade arts as well as other styles!’

The flyer was vague and full of hollow promises. I felt that even the name itself was like a warning, as if they were advertising something darker than they were selling.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?