Another player, another scenario, another choice and another outcome. Without a proper guide, no one scenario could be the same. There was always a minute difference, even as the scenario attempted to converge towards one path.

"Let me guess, bandits attacked?"

The shock on Fujiwara's face was plain to see. Kazi's deduction was correct. The players beside him displayed confusion.

"What? Bandits?" William repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Remember those marks on the trees that led us here?" Kazi said. "Those weren't made by locals. I could tell. The blades weren't deep enough to be an axe, which is what's typically used. They were local swords. My theory was confirmed when I saw the marks in the courtyard. They were different marks." With a small smile, Kazi tapped his nose. "I have a pretty good nose and I smelled metal, fire, and blood. Not from the forge, not from some accident, but from the room where you said the students were sleeping. Yeah, they're sleeping alright, after getting attacked. So please, stop being dishonest with us and tell the truth. We won't bite."

Fujiwara was silent, too gobsmacked to muster a defence. In the end, he opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and hung his head in defeat. "Yes, it is as you say. Bandits attacked our school. We…without Muramasa Sensei, we cannot defend ourselves."

William and Sun-young, his two party members, and six new friends: David Tremblay, Elena Petrovna, John Smith, Marta Kowalska, and Aisha Al-Mansoori. Noor Chodhry was here too, someone who he met at the First Gate. The mage talked her talk without holding back.

"Are you kidding me?" Noor shook her head. "All this tea, all this nonsense about needing help to forge stuff, and you were actually planning on using us as bait?"

"N-not bait, they're…coming in three days. I just thought…we could…you could…"

"We'd help you make enough weapons to kill those guys," Kazi finished. The air stirred after he said that word—kill. "I assume the other students will make a full recovery in three days?"

"I hope, I think—"

"Is it or is it not?" Noor snapped. "Seriously, we don't mind helping but straighten your story!"

"Alright, let's calm down." The kind, thirty-year old male, David, gestured towards Noor, then Fujiwara. "We don't mind helping but please…be honest."

"Jesus," William muttered. "We have three days till they come, right? Let's just do the normal objective for now."

Kazi stood up. "Agreed. I'll go and check on the injured. The sooner they get better, the easier the fight will be. David, Noor, is it fine if I leave things with you two?"

"Sure, why not?" Noor said. He heard her mutter, "Leaving everything to me," but knew she could carry out his request. Same with David. He was older and understanding. He could keep the balance where William and Sun-young couldn't. David's nod was courteous and firm.

Kazi's nose directed him to the injured student. A room just as large and spacious as where they drank tea, except a wash of blood came over when he stepped in.

"W-who are you?"

Three students were awake while the remaining were asleep. Unease clouded the awakened eyes. Soon, taking his full form into account, they exchanged uneasy glances.

Aiko, the only girl among them, clutched her bandaged forearm just a bit tighter. Yamato glared at him. His injuries weren't visible.

Yoshio, who had suffered the deep gash across his chest, spoke up first. "Are you the doctor?"

"Not a doctor but a healer." Kazi knew that specific term would resonate with them. "I'll be redoing your bandages and then applying some sterile dressing. Is that alright with you?"

Floods in certain areas of Bangladesh ravished homes and people. Food was scarce. Doctors were scarcer. Since he was a quick, practical learner, coupled with his photographic memory, Kazi learned and grasped the basics of medicine. Kazi helped anyone he possibly could.

After all, there was no greater thing in the world than helping your fellow human.

"Should we…?" Aiko was rather open to his services. She nudged her shoulder willingly.

"He may be a stranger, but…" Yoshio sharply inhaled. "...our injuries need tending. Let's trust in his skills."

"Okay," Aiko replied.

"Fine," Yamato grumbled.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

With cautious agreement, the students allowed Kazi to approach. The initial unease gave way to curiosity as he began to examine their injuries. He started off with Yoshio first. He was open-minded and allowed the unsealing and resealing of his bandages with a brave face. He was no older than sixteen, Kazi suspected, yet he braced the pain better than most older folks.

"Good job, kid." Kazi sent him a dashing smile. "It takes a lot of guts."

"Thank you, Sensei…"

Aiko, still clutching her bandaged arm, shifted forward. Kazi's skill bridged the gap of unfamiliarity. Her left arm was improperly tightened with bandages. Kazi removed them, exposing the bloody flesh to the air and causing her to wince.

"Sorry." Kazi offered a smile and quick work. Aiko appreciated it and sighed in relief. She was slightly older than Yoshio.

Eventually, it was Yamato's turn. He wasn't as cooperative. He refused to make eye contact and his hakama was tight enough to stop him from doing it by force. Not that Kazi would do that.

Yamato was much younger than his peers and slightly tanned. His hair was subtly brown and wavy too.

'Oooh. I see.'

"You're not fully Japanese, are you? Half Portuguese maybe?"

Yamato's neck snapped to look at him. "How did you…?"

"Lucky guess. I have a knack for figuring out ethnicities."

Not to mention Fujiwara was suspiciously comfortable with foreigners. In many areas, especially those that were isolated and homogeneous, that wasn't the case. Kazi remembered exploring Europe and getting a million stares. Even though he spoke the language perfectly, his skin tone and facial features were distinct. The other.

"And!" Kazi lifted a finger with a goofy grin. "I have a knack for figuring out backstories! Do I have your permission to deduce it?"

Yamato glared at him suspiciously. Arms crossed, he tentatively nodded.

"Let's see, let's see…you're half Portuguese, for starters. I'm guessing your father was Portuguese? Since you're here, maybe a trader?" Kazi's eyes travelled up Yamato's arms. A twitch and a flex. He was growing agitated. Given the time period, the swords, and the purpose of immigration in Japan…

"Ah, he did something bad…ohh, if you're here as a blacksmith under Muramasa the great, I bet you're here to rectify your father's mistakes. You're here because he sold firearms."

Firearms in an era like this would shift the tides of warfare. It would render swords obsolete if mass produced. Iconography, symbolism, old tradition, the very meaning of a sword would lose significance.

"Are you an Onmyōji?" Yamato sneered. "That doesn't impress me."

"I hope not. What I do hope is that your knee will get better. That is where they slashed you, yes?"

Yamato fell silent. Kazi waited with a bright smile.

"Fine." Yamato groaned. "Do as you wish."

Patience and kindness. With those two things by his side, he could help the harshest of people. He rolled up the leg sleeve and exposed the harsh stab wound. Three of them in quick succession from a dagger. The bandages were leaking red.

"I'll need to stitch this. Do you have—"

Kazi cut himself off. This was the 1500s. Stitching wasn't a regularly practiced medical procedure. If he started groaning in pain, his friends would grow skeptical of him. Even if the wound was closed, the psychological factor could end up harming them. He needed to go another way.

An idea popped into his head.

'Open skill tree.'

He went on the Mage Class skill tree. Specifically, the fire element branch: Fire Starter, Fire Ball, Flame Whip, Fire Dart, Ember Control. Each cost three distributive points. Completing the main and special objective of the second gate, he jumped to level 15. Then, after intense grinding in the forest of Kishkindha, he levelled up again. He had distributive points to spare right now.

[ New skill learned : Fire Starter ]

[ Fire Starter

Subtype: Support

Cost: —

Rank: D

The basic ability to manipulate flames. ]

His heart suddenly slowed down and the tips of his fingers became hot. The spicy kind of hot after eating spicy food. The skill was embedded in him, he could feel it.

Snap! With his index finger, he summoned a gentle flicker of flames. Like trying to balance a marble, it was delicate and slippery. Kazi stared at the tiny flame, half the width of his pinkie finger, and exhaled calmly.

"W-what the hell!?" Yamato shifted back, terrified. "How did you—I thought you said you weren't a Onmyōji!?"

"A joke." A deep exhale. A deep control of the flames. "It was a joke."

His attention was on the flame rather than Yamato. Aiko and Yoshio were petrified. There was fear, there was apprehension, and there was awe. The corners of his lips started to curl up.

'I think I'm getting the hang of this.'

"Hold still." Yamato gulped and let the tiny flame come close. Kazi suddenly stopped. "Oh, fair warning, this might hurt."

To Yamato's credit, he didn't let out a single peep. He was silent, mesmerized by the flame closing his stab wounds. It was a slow procedure. Kazi wasn't a doctor, so rather than theory, he was just eyeballing it. He counted the seconds and the subtle changes of his flesh.

"There."

All three stabbed wounds were cauterised. The skin wasn't too dark so he assumed he didn't burn him too badly. Kazi blew on the flames to extinguish them. Bandages soon followed. Hiding the wound from the air, Yamato inhaled sharply.

"So." Kazi shifted back and sat cross-legged, the palm of his hands flat behind him. "What's it like living with Muramasa?"

"Muramasa Sensei is amazing. That's all you need to know," Yamato hissed.

"He took you in then? That's nice. People like that are rare to come by. Cherish them, my friend." Kazi turned to Aiko and Yoshio. Their lips were very eager to talk.

"How did you do that!?" Aiko asked. "S-summoning fire…are you a god?"

"Gods don't look half as good as me," Kazi joked.

"Can you teach us? We want to burn those bandits into dust!"

Yoshio's exclamation was supported by a fiery glint in his eyes. Kazi tilted his head.

"Say, have you ever killed a person?"

"H-huh? N-no, not yet, but I'm not afraid to!"

"Hmmm." Kazi tilted his head to the other side. "If you haven't killed someone, then sorry, no can do."

"I've killed someone," Yamato interjected, getting all eyes on him. "Can you teach me?"

He wasn't lying. The pain of taking a life was within him.

When taking a life, there should be no regrets or pain. There should only be satisfaction. Kazi smiled softly. "You're too young."

"That's totally unfair. I'm not young! I'm a true blacksmith! A true apprentice of Muramasa! I can—" Yamato winced in pain and stopped short. His back upright and his legs straight, he wasn't supposed to be moving or talking.

Kazi was really curious about Muramasa. Unfortunately, that had to wait. One of the sleeping students was stirring.