Rebirth of the Sword Saint: A Reincarnation Epic Fantasy Saga

by DB King

  His fist might’ve just fractured the whole tree and buried his forearm in it.

  Alas, he would have to settle for this minor enhancement, which, all things considered, wasn’t all that minor, considering the fact that he was now stronger than any non-magical adult—at five years old.

  Grinning, Jin grabbed several fruits and berries and climbed up the redwood tree, where he slept soundly as the sun dipped and the night blanketed the woods in darkness. Grizzly howls and unnatural sounds echoed across the woods, bounding between the trees. More than once had Jin awakened to the sound of rushing, heavy footsteps below him. He’d look down and find nothing—not that he could see perfectly in the darkness, but his mastery of the Feather-Moon Blade had honed his sight in low-light areas.

  But Jin was reasonably certain that… something—several things actually—was looking at him. He couldn’t see who or what they were and neither could he feel their magical presence in the air; though, given how magically saturated the air was, his senses weren’t at their sharpest. However, he had lived through assassination attempt after assassination attempt in his previous life and that had honed a sixth sense of sorts, one that relied on nothing but his intuition. There were definitely eyes in the darkness, just watching him as he slept between the branches of the redwood tree.

  Morning came soon after.

  Jin climbed down the redwood tree and performed his morning stretches, before grabbing a handful of berries and fruits for his breakfast. Honestly, having to cook one’s food was so much of a hassle, compared to just plucking readily edible food right off branches and bushes. The fruits contained enough water in them to sate my thirst for a while, but I’m going to have to find a suitable water source soon… which might actually be harder than having to find another Magical Beast.

  Well, the only thing he could do now was walk… somewhere. Sure, Jin didn’t really need as much food or as much water as normal people did, due to his innate and seemingly endless regeneration, but his throat still became dry after prolonged periods without drinking any water. While it wasn’t life threatening, the feeling was simply far too uncomfortable. Besides, even Magical Beasts needed to drink and they all lived here in the deep woods; he might just meet a few more if he managed to find a suitable water source.

  It turned out there was a rapid river a mile east from where he’d burned the Earth-Shaker Boar’s carcass. Jin, of course, had stumbled into it an hour after walking around at random. Walking out of the tree line and grinning at the sight of the rushing waters, Jin stopped in his tracks almost immediately as his eyes fell upon a peculiar creature that wasn’t in any of the bestiaries in the library—and he’d know, since he memorized every single one. It stood across the rapid.

  The creature itself appeared to be humanoid in general body shape in that it stood on two legs, had two arms, and had a single head on a neck above its shoulders, but that was where the similarities ended. Its skin was ashen in appearance, almost gray. Crimson, pulsating veins ran across its surface, almost like flowing magma. Its hands were blackened and its fingers ended in long, scything talons that looked about as long as Jin’s wakizashi and glinted like the purest silver. Its face was sort of humanoid, if he ignored its maw of daggers and blades, and fiery, red eyes that looked as though they were burning rubies. It was bald, but sprouting out of its forehead was a pair of curved, burning horns that stretched backward and upward. Tiny, silvery spikes circled along its scalp, like a crown of jagged bones and metal. Its legs were bestial and curved backward, and ended in sharp talons that looked as though they belonged to birds of prey.

  The creature hovered above the ground.

  Jin’s eyes narrowed as he drew Agito.

  This creature, whatever it was, was freakishly powerful. Its magical presence made the Earth-Shaker Boar seem like a tiny, little mouse in comparison. Heck, the fact Jin could very clearly sense its burning presence alone in this forest was already ringing alarm bells. Eyes narrowed, Jin bent low and prepared himself for an immediate escape. The creature didn’t seem interested in him, all things considered, and wasn’t even paying attention to him, if its eyes were any indication. It was looking at the water instead.

  Alright, sudden movements are likely to invite its attention and I really don’t want that—damn, what the hell is this thing? Its magical presence is off the damn charts! Calming himself, Jin took a very slow step backward, followed by another, and then another, and another, until the tree line was mere inches from his back.

  Okay… it’s not paying attention to me. That’s good. I’ll just have to find another water source and—

  Its eyes snapped up and met Jin’s own. Ah shit.

  The unnaturally powerful creature raised its hand and pointed a bladed finger at Jin. His body stiffened and suddenly the ground was a few inches under the soles of his boots. Jin’s eyes widened as he found himself unable to resist whatever magic this creature was using. He couldn’t even move his own mouth or blink his eyes as he slowly drifted over toward the horned thing with burning red eyes. Okay, calm down. I still have my wakizashi.

  It was definitely using a very powerful form of telekinesis, which he didn’t think actually existed in this new world. None of the books he’d read ever mentioned such a thing!

  Jin stopped moving toward the creature, but remained hovering… right above the rushing rapids. Ah, this thing has a crude sense of humor if—

  Jin found himself staring into the creature’s burning eyes. He was certain it was studying him just as much as he was studying it. The Magical Beast, if it was that, seemed almost curious as it eyed him. Jin shuddered—up close, its magical presence was staggeringly powerful. It was like staring into the sun. The creature’s magic radiated outwards and was actively affecting the landscape around it.

  His eyes widened. It’s the source of all the magic in the air!

  Jin’s face was unfrozen, though the rest of his body remained unable to move despite his best efforts. He sighed and toned down his magical senses; the whole thing was giving him a migraine.

  Jin gritted his teeth. “Just… what are you?” he asked.

  The creature’s head tilted to the side as though it considered his question. It’s sapient—it understood me!

  “The time is not right.” Its voice was like the grinding and breaking of rusted metal, like a chilling howl on a cold night. Its burning eyes bore into Jin’s as it spoke, “You will understand soon… Murasaki Jin. You will understand everything soon.”

  Jin’s eyes widened as he felt its hold over his body suddenly disappear. “Wha—”

  SPLASH!

  And then there was only darkness.

  Chapter 9

  The water got into Jin’s eyes repeatedly. He squinted, mostly on instinct. The wet cold smothered him in its entirety. It entered his nose and ears, wracking his mind with confusion. His body spun and turned and flipped as the rushing river carried him further and further out. More than once Jin narrowly avoided a direct collision with a rock and far more than once he saved himself from drowning in a whirlpool.

  His muscles ached and burned, despite the cold, and Jin had long since lost his own perception of time. Was the sun at the center of the sky? Was it nearing noon or was it afternoon? He did not know. Every fiber of his being, Jin devoted to staying alive—weaving his way through mazes of sharp and jagged rocks or swirling vortexes that threatened to swallow him whole if his senses and reflexes dulled even for a moment. The only thing keeping him alive through the onslaught of the icy waters was the magical heat of his Fire Salamander, alongside the scant physical upgrades he’d received from devouring the Earth-Shaker Boar’s core.

  Without those, Jin would’ve surely died in the first two hours.

  Breathe in… breathe out… kick and paddle… do not panic… panic is the way of death… breathe in through the mouth and breathe out through the nose... Jin repeated the words in his head. His body followed diligently.

  Hamada never taught him to swim, b
ut his friend, the Hollowed Knight, did and it was that barest knowledge that’d allowed him to survive. If Jin didn’t already know how to maneuver through strong currents, then he’d already be dead. Another thing I should be thanking you for, old friend.

  Swimming to the riverbank, however, was all but impossible. Whenever he tried, the powerful forces of the river would simply pull him right back into its cold and murky currents. Jin knew, however, that rapids would eventually re-enter a much larger - and much calmer - river system. What he did not know was when it would. The only river he knew by heart was the Red River that ran near the Murasaki Castle. A nearby village, which belonged to his father, Hamada, fed their rice fields and vast plantations with the waters diverted from it.

  Jin’s hope was that the rapid was a tributary to the Red River, and that it would soon rejoin the much larger body of water… however long it took.

  It might’ve been hours. Jin wasn’t quite sure anymore. But after a long while of edging between breaths and a watery grave, the heir of the Murasaki Clan eventually found himself drifting along a much calmer body of water. It was still dragging him along, but far slower than before. Thinking quickly, Jin swam toward the river bank, kicking and paddling with feet and hands as hard and as quickly as he could. There were familiar, tall trees all around him and the air barely held any magic, as opposed to the highly saturated air in the deep woods.

  Jin gasped and wheezed when his hands touched the dry land. It wasn’t mud, strangely enough. His vision was blurry. He steadied himself, catching his breath and allowing himself a moment of rest after what might’ve been hours upon hours of being drenched in ice cold waters and having to swim through mazes of rocks and debris. Well, I’ll be staying away from that section of the woods from now on.

  That strange creature knew his name somehow, which implied the presence of controller-type abilities, alongside—Ah, no, telekinesis didn’t exist in this new world and couldn’t be categorized, which meant that thing… that demonic-looking creature that dwelled in the depths of the woods, whose eyes burned with furious flames, was a deviant-type.

  The whole of Moyatani lived in fear of deviant-type Magical Beasts. There were stories and legends about the creatures walking out of the woods and causing entire villages and towns to disappear overnight. The last blood of the Imperial Family, who’d died over twenty years ago, was supposedly killed by a deviant-type when the young prince ran off into the woods to shake off his pursuers.

  Whatever the case, the fact that Jin was still alive to even think about it was a miracle in and of itself. Though… his memories of the whole event were shaky and blurry at best. Just thinking about it physically hurt, like a bad migraine. This further implies the presence of psychic magic. I definitely remember seeing it, but my brain is refusing to show me what it looked like, which means it has somehow tampered with my memories.

  What else am I forgetting?

  His stomach twisted.

  Jin shook his head and puked. There… much better.

  When the blurriness of his vision finally faded, smoothened rocks and old moss met his gaze. Red flowers with long petals that ended in tiny tendril-like extensions sprouted from the wet crevices and earthen folds. Jin recognized them as bloodflowers, more commonly known as crimson flakes. Nobles often placed these flowers atop the graves of fallen kin, who died bravely in battle and upheld the clan’s honor on the battlefield. They were grim things that symbolized death, despite their luminous beauty.

  Jin pushed himself up and groaned at the state of his clothes. Ah, I’m drenched.

  Something splashed behind him—the sort of splash that something made when it broke through the water’s surface. Jin turned and his eyes widened. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed sooner.

  Jin rushed forward and reached into the water, pulling out his crimson-bladed companion, Agito, from the wet cold. He sighed. “Forgive me, my friend. I must have lost you in the rushing rapids. Thank you for returning to my side, Agito. Never again shall I abandon you.”

  The sword seemed to hum in his hands, releasing a brief pulse that assured him of its continued loyalty. What a strange thing you are, Agito. Even in my previous world, living weapons only existed in the creative imaginations of mages.

  Though his clothes were utterly drenched and the wind blew coldly, Jin walked on without a care in the world. Lesser men would have already perished from hypothermia, frozen in their own kimono. But his body barely felt the cold. The flames that burned and spread outward from his fire salamander tattoo were so hot that beads of sweat were actually forming on his forehead as though it was a warm and sunny day.

  Jin strode on. Now… where the heck am I?

  He had definitely made it into the Red River, that much was certain. Beneath the crystal clear waters were large and expansive swathes of crimson moss, which gave the river its famous name. Peasants often collected the moss for its antiseptic properties and sold it in large batches in local markets, or whenever caravans came in from the southlands.

  The Red River is a part of father’s domain, which means I’m not far from home. Jin reasoned. I just need to find a road and—

  He sniffed the air.

  Something didn’t smell quite right.

  He sniffed the air again and frowned.

  Jin knew this smell all too well. It was the scent of the aftermath of slaughter. The winds carried death as they blew over him.

  Eyes wide, Jin rushed forward, searching for the source of the smell. He gritted his teeth and hardened his grip over the handle of his blade. His wet hair fluttered backward as he ran with his full power with every step, vastly improved after his consumption of a Magical Beast Core. By Jin’s own estimation, he was already running faster than a horse, albeit only marginally faster.

  The scent of the wind drove him further forward.

  His eyes narrowed as rage bubbled in his chest. It was unmistakable now.

  Who would dare attack my family’s lands?!

  Jin ran as fast as his feet could carry him. The dirt on the ground parted and exploded with each step forward. The scent of death became stronger as he ran further and further into his father’s fief. There were numerous horse prints on the ground. They ran deep and left gashes in the soil with each step, which indicated the presence of heavy cavalry. A small army passed through here, likely numbering in a few hundred soldiers. All of them rode horses. This was either a night raid or a lightning attack. Either way, they came in hard and fast and had no time to wait for infantry to catch up.

  This wasn’t a simple bandit raid. The largest band of brigands in Murasaki territory barely numbered in the hundreds and the only reason they hadn’t been wiped out yet was because Hamada didn’t want to risk the lives of his own soldiers in prolonged guerilla warfare. No, these were no mere outlaws.

  Someone had come to invade his father’s territory, an actual army with an actual lord at its head.

  The reality of it sunk in. And Jin’s wrath grew to even greater heights. Some lesser lord had come to invade their lands and plunder their wealth. I should’ve seen this coming. This far north, thousands of miles away from the seat of the Shogunate, errant lords were more likely to ignore the tenets of the peace and just do whatever suited them.

  As he ran, Jin compiled a list of possible clans with enough military power to actually launch an attack on his family’s lands. The Hojo Clan is a likely culprit: they’d hated Jin’s father ever since he’d refused their trade deal. The Genji Clan has a large enough army to storm the Murasaki family castle, but why would they attack them? Then there were the Akuja and the Muramasa Clans, both of which were close enough and powerful enough to launch an attack. The Akuja Clan head does have an ongoing dispute with Hamada over mining rights. The Muramasa Clan, on the other hand, were old friends of the Murasaki family, making an attack from them incredibly unlikely. But they were the only clan that maintained a large population of horses, so Jin couldn’t rule them out.

  But, regardless, w
hoever attacked them would be shown no mercy. It didn’t matter if they were former friends or immediate enemies.

  When the landscape became familiar, Jin stopped and turned away from the path of the army and ran to the top of a nearby hill, which he recalled had overlooked two villages. The Murasaki castle could also be seen from there, but only barely and only when the weather permitted it. The hill served as an excellent vantage point. Jin found it strange how Hamada hadn’t bothered to construct a watchtower or a small outpost there as it was the perfect place for one.

  Jin ran and reached the top almost immediately. At the peak, his eyes widened and his hands shook.

  The two villages, both of them under the protection and care of his father, lay in ruins, reduced to rubble and ash. The scent of death and destruction was much clearer here. The bodies of the villagers were piled high and burned in the fields. The grain silos were looted and raided, leaving nothing but shattered wood and empty granaries. The farm animals had been taken as well.

  Jin’s heart grew heavy as he ran down the hill.

  Death lingered in his mind and vengeance burned in his soul. Whoever did this would pay a thousandfold and he, Murasaki Jin, would make sure of it.

  He ran across the tattered village houses and burnt remains of whatever the peasants had constructed, and frowned. They didn’t have to kill innocent people. What sort of dishonorable cretin would raise his hand against the common folk? These people were just trying to survive and live peaceful lives. Whatever army had passed could have simply demanded the peasants to hand over their resources and Hamada would have forgiven them for doing so. Their lives were so much more important than rice and meat, both of which could be easily imported from southern territories.