by DB King
It had been six days since their departure from Hirata, three days of constant training in the early morning and walking through the rest of the day. Ebisu, despite his upbringing in a noble household, was strangely adaptable. The boy had not complained once, even after all the mundane tasks Jin had assigned him, from cooking to gathering firewood. Ebisu performed everything diligently, as though it was a part of his training. Really, Jin was just being lazy at times, but the boy didn’t need to know that.
Their journey took them deep into the forests that surrounded Hirata, far from the roads and the paths, frequented by merchants and farmers. Jin led Ebisu into the deep wilds, where the very air itself was ancient, filled with trees so impossibly old they might have been older than the Moyatani civilization itself. As they walked, Jin lectured Ebisu about edible plants and mushrooms, and how to spot the poisonous ones. He taught the boy how to climb and pick fruits off high branches and how to climb back down safely. Ebisu learned fast and set it upon himself to gather as much food as he could gather off the forest floor.
However, all those things happened in relative safety, in a part of the forest that wasn’t deeply saturated by magical energies.
They had to be more careful in this section of the woodlands. Powerful Magical Beasts roamed such places and Ebisu was far from ready to take on even the weakest of them. A single Shadow Wolf could very easily kill him. An Earth-Shaker Boar would definitely kill him. An Ice Bear would likely gravely injure him. A lone Werewolf might just tear him to shreds before he could even attempt to bond with it. Sure, there were many less-aggressive Magical Beasts, but those creatures offered less-than-stellar abilities when bonded with. Ebisu needed to become powerful and Jin would make sure of it.
Which was why he had to lie to the boy. Confidence was key to molding one’s latent magical energies. If Jin had simply told Ebisu that he was about to be tossed right into the waiting maws of something incredibly powerful, the boy might just waver and die for certain. By tricking Ebisu into believing he’d be taming a weak monster, however, the boy’s incredible potential might just pull him through the flames.
Still, the presence of such great magnitudes of danger was perfect for training the young mage. After all, no trial was greater than a trial by fire—and Ebisu, at the very least, was possessed of enough latent talent to survive. The boy might just surprise him, after all, if he was given enough room to grow and explore—even in the midst of danger.
And yet…
“Something’s not right,” Jin said, eyes veering left and right. His breath quickened, and a cold gust of wind forced goosebumps to form across the surface of his skin, despite the heat emanating from his Fire Salamander. There was something unnatural about the whole thing—something artificial. “The forest’s quiet—too quiet. It feels like we’re walking into a trap.”
Power was subjective. The ability to level entire swathes of forestry was nothing compared to the powers that remained unseen, unheard, and untouched. What was the point of having incredibly destructive potential when your enemy could simply alter your perceptions? Whether by illusions or clever ambushes, the monsters that toyed with the senses were the most dangerous. After all, there was a reason why controller-type Magical Beasts were feared to such a degree as to be elevated to the same danger rating as the deviants.
If he was being truly honest with himself, Jin hated—and maybe even outright feared—mind-altering opponents. His mind was his greatest weapon. It had fueled his conquest as Mage-Emperor in his last life, and it would fuel it again in this one. Jin couldn’t stand having it taken from him by a Magical Beast.
Jin expanded his magical senses outward, his mind instantly absorbing all the information of every living being around him. Plants, trees, and ferns surrounded them for miles and miles, and yet there were only a handful of fauna—some insects and the like. It didn’t make any sense. This area of the great expanse of woodlands was absolutely saturated in magical energies. It should be teeming with Magical Beasts, not devoid of them.
“Master, I think I—” Jin shushed the boy, before he could make too much noise. There could be Magical Beasts lurking in the shadows, just out of sight and out of his ability to perceive them, like Shadow Wolves. The creatures had the ability to disappear into a strange pocket dimension in daylight, where they were basically imperceptible, save for other Shadow Wolves. They had to be careful lest they attract the wrong kind of attention.
Jin was more than capable of fighting off a pack of powerful Magical Beasts on his own, but doing so while protecting Ebisu was another matter entirely.
Jin leaned into his student’s ear and whispered, “Don’t make unnecessary noises. This forest is very much alive, my disciple. Do not underestimate it or it will kill you, do you understand?”
Ebisu nodded, his breathing ragged and heavy. The boy, however, was surprisingly steely in the nerves. He gulped down whatever fear had pervaded his thoughts and nodded once more, eyes filled with a familiar fire that Jin had once seen in himself—oh, so long ago, in another life. Ebisu whispered back, “I understand, master, but—”
“Hush now, Ebisu, we need to move.” Jin hurriedly turned and slowly stalked forward, deeper into the woods. His student followed closely, carrying the length of his katana, which Jin had lent him for this occasion as a means to defend himself. Lord Arima surely had something better and older to offer his son, but Jin simply couldn’t wait for Ebisu to come of age before throwing him into the proverbial cauldron. In Jin’s mind, it was either now or never, and the latter simply wasn’t an option.
Besides, Ebisu’s swordplay was nothing to scoff at. The boy could easily handle fully grown men in full battle regalia. His fighting was still far from perfect, and Jin had certainly refrained from teaching him the Murasaki Style, but what Ebisu lacked in technical ability he made up for in sheer talent—a natural mage and swordsman. However, that wasn’t to say Jin had only taught him the basics of swordsmanship. He had, after much contemplation, begun teaching Ebisu the full breadth of Feather-Moon Style. There was a tiny argument regarding honor and whatnot when they first started—for his young student had been raised in a manner that was befitting of the honorable bushi—but Ebisu’s mind was still malleable and the boy saw some sense after much arguing.
Still, the Feather-Moon Style wasn’t exactly suited for facing and hunting down powerful Magical Beasts. It was more suited to stabbing the creatures in the back and then running away if the first strike didn’t outright kill them.
They moved further and further into the woodlands. The mists rolled in and gradually obscured their vision. It covered the plants and the trees, the flowers and the ferns, and soon all around them was a thick blanket of humid white. And yet they were mages and their senses were not limited to sight, smell, hearing, touch, or taste. No, they had so much more than what mere mortals had. Where normal humans would’ve definitely already stumbled into a tree, both Jin and Ebisu deftly avoided slamming into a bamboo shoot or falling into a furrow upon the earth. Their magical senses expanded outward as the duo of mages steadily made their way into the depths of the forest.
It was akin to watching himself and everything around him, a sort of bird’s eye view of his own body and that of every object. An expansion of one’s magical senses was akin to taking leave of one’s mortal senses. Sure, Jin could still use all the others, but most of his focus would have to linger upon the rather strange experience of expanding his magical senses. Ebisu thought the same. Having an unseen pair of eyes, hovering over one’s own scalp, was not exactly pleasant. Jin had long since accustomed himself to the strangeness of it, however, and mostly found the experience to lean more toward the annoying side as opposed to something that was truly disorienting.
Thick mists blanketed the woods and still everything remained deathly quiet, like walking through a graveyard in the night. Only ghosts and specters lingered in the shadows, marred by the silence of it all. Insects made no sounds. There was no chirping of birds i
n the distance, atop tree branches. Jin couldn’t even hear the sound of his own footsteps, even when he purposefully stepped on a twig to snap it. Instead of the loud, breaking sound he’d expected to hear, Jin found only silence.
Something was actively messing with their senses—even his magical sense could no longer be trusted. That could only mean one thing: there was a controller-type Magical Beast in the area. No other creature was capable of affecting their senses to this degree. The only problem, however, was that Jin had never faced a controller before—not even once.
And so, when faced with the danger of the unknown, the best thing to do was to turn around and live to fight another day. “Ebisu, we should—”
Just as the realization hit him, a wave of powerful energies exploded all around them, blinding both his mundane and magical senses as it flooded his system. Jin screamed as he turned and shielded his eyes instinctively, but by then it was already too late. Heart racing, Jin turned to where Ebisu should’ve been standing, and blindly reached out to pull the boy toward him. His student was no-doubt blinded as well. However, his fingers found no cloth or skin, only empty air.
He might’ve fallen forward. Jin wasn’t too sure at that point. Everything around him was soft and mushy. It was almost as though he was thrashing around in a bed of the finest cotton and silk. He saw nothing but white, heard nothing but soft ringing, and smelled nothing but the familiar earthiness of the forest. His magical senses had all but failed, for he could perceive nothing but a great blackness around him each time he reached out. It was silent.
How the hell did I used to deal with such creatures before? There was no shortage of mind controlling monsters and enemies in his previous world. Even the Wendigo had an ability that caused near-uncontrollable, cannibalistic urges in whomever it afflicted. There were mind-eating creatures that dwelled in black pools in the deepest of chasms in the depths of the world, who could cast illusions of such great potency that people claimed to have lived out their entire lives in a single moment after falling to the deadly powers of such creatures. Indeed, the controller-type Magical Beasts in Moyatani weren’t all that special, in comparison to the monsters in his previous world. He had beaten them, once—long ago. He had found a way to counter their illusory, mind-altering powers.
He would simply have to do so again.
There was, however, one tiny wrench in his new plan.
Jin didn’t understand the magic of this new world as deeply as he’d like. Without figuring out the depths of the arcane and the heights it could reach, there was no way he could just suddenly arrive at a counter to a powerful creature’s innate ability. Natural magic was different from programmed magic in that the former didn’t need intricate patterns or systems to function. Instead, it utilized something that relied on the creature’s natural instincts. It was true in his previous world and Jin was confident it was true for this one as well. Which brought him right back to his first problem: he didn’t understand this world’s magic enough—not even close.
Alright, I can’t come up with a counter-spell… but maybe I could… he mused. No, that might just put Ebisu in danger. I’m not even sure if I’m stuck in some illusory world and my real body is out in the forest, asleep, or if this controller has taken hold of my actual senses. If it had been the former, simply willing forth every ounce of fire in his body to burn every single thing around him wouldn’t work, since his consciousness wasn’t attached to his physical self. If it was the latter, his magical powers should still function as intended, but then it might just burn Ebisu, alongside everything else. Even then, Jin couldn’t be certain that the controller was anywhere near them. For all he knew, this power functioned across vast distances and was only remotely controlled. I can’t trace the energy back to its source—not without my magical senses, which I’m not even sure is still trustworthy at this point.
Jin forced himself up, but he wasn’t quite sure what was up or down. Everything felt wobbly. Everything was too bright. The ground was too soft and the air was too cold. He couldn’t even see his own hands, even as he brought them up to his face. Jin slapped himself, but felt no hard impact against his cheeks. For all he knew, his right hand might have just gone through his whole face. Jin reached inward and felt for his arcane energies. But he found nothing. He couldn’t pull anything out.
He looked into himself and found a great emptiness—a great abyss, staring back at him. Suddenly, all the white disappeared, replaced by a seemingly endless expanse of darkness and shadows—an infinite void. It was cold and eerie, and silent beyond silence. Cold… it’s… cold… I can feel the cold and nothing else. I just… I just want to rest.
For a moment, Jin stopped struggling. He lingered there, drifting in the space between spaces, his own mind lost to him. It was oddly familiar—the haunting darkness and the endless cold. Though, he wasn’t quite sure how or why he found it familiar—just that it was. It was strangely peaceful. The silence of it all was a rather welcome reprieve if Jin was being honest. He had never found peace in his previous life. Every day was a new battle, another war to be fought. There were moments of calmness and stillness every now and again, but they never truly lasted—not even, apparently, after his own death. He was already dead, wasn’t he? Why was he still struggling in a body that wasn’t his, living a life that didn’t belong to him?
What does it matter anymore?
He was tired—exhausted. His soul was weary. The endless fight for the ultimate power seemed like a faraway dream that hardly mattered. He had sought out the highest throne, found it, sat upon it, and found it wanting. It brought him neither happiness nor peace. Sure, it sated his appetite for conquest and domination, but the simple truth was…
I didn’t want any of those… things? he realized.
Right, it had been his friends—the same friends, who ended up betraying him—who had pushed him to become Emperor. When they had found and conquered the highest throne, it had been his wish to enthrone his dear friend, the Hollowed Knight, who would’ve been a far better choice. He was pragmatic and cold, a worn out product of far too many battles and wars. He was weary and wanted nothing more than to go home and rebuild his childhood village. I wanted to hide away in that lonesome mountain as a hermit, living in peace and quiet, away from the world.
But then he took the throne anyway, because no one else wanted it, because no one else could’ve united the world as he had done.
Power… I’ve been chasing power for so long that I can’t do anything else anymore. Jin allowed himself to lean back—metaphorically, since he wasn’t sure just where his back was anymore. Just why was he chasing power in this new world? Sure, he had the means and the talent and the knowledge to reach the top, just as he had in his previous world, but to what end? There was no Dark Lord to defeat, no great and otherworldly threat that required a united world to stand against. There was nothing, but warring peoples and their ambition and greed.
Revenge… I want power to take my revenge against the Muramasa Clan for what they did to my family. But who was he kidding? He was chasing strength and power, even before they ever betrayed the Murasaki Clan. Even then, he didn’t need to become Emperor again. He didn’t need to sit upon the highest throne and look down upon the world from atop. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he cared enough about his ‘family’ to really warrant a revenge-fueled quest—well, it was more about his pride than it was about any sort of familial love, but still.
He didn’t need power for revenge. Heck, he could probably march right into the Muramasa family castle as he was now and burn it to the ground with every living thing inside—babies and all. And yet he hadn’t done that—not in the many years he’d spent in Hirata. The journey wouldn’t even take a long time—a day or two at most. What do I really want out of this new life of mine?
“Valden… my sweet little boy…” Jin felt his eyes widened at the voice. He turned and found a bright light shining directly into him, a great, starlit thing that filled the darkness of the vo
id with silvery rays. At the center of the great chasm of silver lights was the vague figure of something humanoid. But what really caught Jin’s attention was the voice.
He hadn’t heard that voice for many decades—a voice he’d all but forgotten. And yet it had been the same voice that called out to him whenever he stayed out in the sun for too long and missed lunchtime, playing with friends. It had been the same voice that told him stories of glorious heroes and their courageous deeds in ancient days. It had been the same voice that sang him songs just before he went to sleep. It had been the same voice that laughed and cried in the walls of his old home in that lonely old village on some nameless mountaintop.
Jin knew that voice—his heart refused to forget, even when his mind had long since let go.
“Mother?”
Chapter 4
“Mother?” Jin asked.
“Valden, it has been so long since the last time I've seen your face.” The pale, silvery silhouette spoke with the voice and tone of his mother. It chuckled in the same manner his mother used to, whenever he’d tell her of his exploits during the day, playing with his friends in make-believe. “And yet you wear the face of another—let me see my son.”
The silvery silhouette snapped its fingers, and something thrummed within Jin—a deep and warm feeling in his chest. Like liquid fire, the warmth spread outward, burning as it went—and yet it wasn’t painful. The sensation was rather soothing, like a relaxing dip in a hot spring, after many hours of training. Jin glanced down and actually saw his own body, glowing and shimmering, bright rays of golden lights blasting out of his skin in every direction.