Ryu stomped once on a banshee’s head with a heavy boot, feeling the shock travel faintly through his leg. Death, he’d found, had an altogether unpleasant smell. One heavy stomp, and he smelt the sweat-like musk of his opponent’s fur. Another stomp threw the banshee’s head back, a tooth flying out of its mouth in a bloody mess. The smell grew another layer after this stomp, the coppery scent of blood joining the mix. One more stomp, and he felt something give. The smell of shit overwhelmed the others after this, the banshee’s bowels emptying like a leaking bottle.

Golden light flared around him in the dark forest, healing his wounds. It made him grimace. The healing was great, no doubt about it, but the light… It was as if a big target had been painted over him, one that read “Slit my throat” in bright letters. Not one to waste a good time, Ryu started to count under his breath, hoping the tight feeling in his chest was excitement and not fear.

It took ten seconds for the next banshee to find him. Some believed a lot could change in ten seconds. Whether that was true or not remained to be seen. Ryu was still scared shitless, after all. His blade took a chunk out of the banshee’s face, his swing more barbarian than artist. It screeched. He winced. He’d been aiming for its chest. In fact, the monsters’ chests were all he could swing at in the dark. Another slash left his enemy choking on its own blood. It was soon replaced.

On and on, the monsters came, threatening to break him. They were like waves, and Ryu hoped to be the rock upon which they broke. Sadly, he was more like a pebble, thrown about every which way under the constant pressure. [Karuta Armor] stopped a strike aimed at his throat. His sword came down like a hammer, splitting the banshee’s skull in two. His arms burned now, and his breath was coming ever more quickly. He’d be overwhelmed before too long. Then he’d be just another body in the forest. The thought felt humorous in the muddled confusion of his mind, and a small chuckle escaped his lips, lost in the screeches of pain around him. Then it became a laugh. A tear tickled its way down his cheek. His sword stabbed into a furry chest. It slipped from his grip.

The plight of man was the inability to realize just how close insanity is to normalcy.

A screech seemed to paralyze him. A weight threw him to the ground. His hands found a face, scrambling for purchase in the leathery flesh. Eyes. They popped under his thumb, and the screech loudened. He pulled. Nothing happened. He gritted his teeth. Qi- all of it he had- poured into his cultivation. He pulled again. The screech loudened before coming to a stop. His head throbbed.

A red light illuminated his dark surroundings. Marshal’s shield crunched into a banshee’s face, and his glowing infantry sword stabbed into another’s throat. The light of the Skill faded away.

“Need some help up?” Marshal called without looking down at Ryu.

He licked his lips. His mouth was strangely dry. “No, no. I’m good,” he croaked, stumbling to his feet. His sword was… somewhere on the ground below.

“We need to make an opening for Tam. He can kill the wave leader with his Skill, but it’ll only work if the monster is already weakened. You ready?” Marshal said.

“Sword,” Ryu muttered, kicking around with his feet. He finally spotted the glint of steel in the faint blue light of the layer’s strange moss, and he scooped the sword up with numb fingers. “Ready.”

“The wave is about down, so the rest should be able to handle the stragglers,” Marshal said, adjusting the steel helm on his head and the straps of his armor. The sight made Ryu even more aware of the flimsy leather he wore. “Charge with me.”

The wave leader was a stringy figure, one coated in thick, black armor that looked like… chitin, maybe? Ryu bit his lip. The lack of light was getting to him, and he felt his self control threaten to slip once more, wanting nothing more than to let his primal instinct take over. As they rushed towards the beast, he pictured Jinn and House Ishida in his mind. He had to win. If not for himself, then for them.

He lost. The wave leader’s spear punched through his leather armor like it was tissue paper, ramming into his chest. Dead. He was dead. His body crumpled to the dirt of the forest floor, the spear pulling out of his body with a wet noise. He’d bleed out, he knew. He had minutes, maybe less if the spear had punctured something vital. Above him, Marshal’s shield blocked the wave leader’s attacks, but Ryu knew it was over. Or it would be, soon.

Healing energy wracked his body. He gritted his teeth. For a restorative process, healing hurt, and he knew this time it was wasted. Even if he got up, he’d lost. Probably just lose again, if he was honest.

The fight had moved past him now, leaving him staring at the greaves of the banshee leader. It was a big bastard, but Ryu’d always heard it was the best to start from the bottom in such situations. A feeling hit him then. Not a particular noble one. Not one of inspiration or kindness or of wanting to help Marshal. No, this was a mean feeling, the nasty type that told Ryu he just couldn’t lose to this bastard. His dagger pierced the monster’s exposed ankle.

The banshee stumbled with a squeal. Marshal’s shield shoved it to the ground. Then Ryu was on it.

The mean feeling hadn’t quite left, he found. Ryu clambered onto the monster. His dagger punched into a gap in its armor. He struck again, and it skidded off the chitin plating with a nasty screech. An armored fist hit his nose then, breaking it with a nasty crack. His dagger continued its nasty work anyways.

“It’s done. It’s dead.” Marshal’s voice jerked him back into the world, and his hand unclutched, dropping the warm grip of the dagger. His face was numb. It almost made him laugh. He’d won. Like always.

Triumph Against all odds, you have managed to best the first wave of Grimnir’s attack. The next wave will arrive in 16 hours, 30 minutes, and 15 seconds. Good luck, young Samurai. Rewards being distributed in 3, 2, 1...

He ignored the notification, dismissing it with a mental command. Then another filled his vision, and he almost wished he’d stayed looking at the first.

Warning

Know this! Class Connection has been decreased for actions against your samurai code. Further action will include more severe penalties, including- but not limited to- weakened Skills and Class Severance.

Code Violation: Never use deceit to win a battle of skill.

He laughed then, ignoring the look from Marshal. He could almost hear Jinn’s admonishment. How many times had he said that code? How often had he heard Jinn talk about it? When was the last time he’d even thought of it? He’d known one could lose a Class, obviously. It was almost in the name. A Class was literally a specialization in an area. Going against that would mean one no longer had a Class. But following a code? The mean feeling before returned, tinged with triumph, and he dismissed the notification with a snort. It was far too late for regret.

The day was not without reward, however. Besides the Qi crystals earned from the fallen banshees, the System Event had also provided them with loot. A sword in particular seemed to have his name written all over it, and he looked it over admiringly in the light of the fire they’d built.

The Qi would go completely into his Cultivation. An increase in his physicality and mental acuity seemed more important than improving a Class that was already abandoning him. Of the loot, he’d take the sword and some of the armor Marshal had replaced from the rewards. The rest would go into Cynthia’s storage ring.

Before he used his Qi, however, he had another thing to consider. The item Savage Wolf’s Blood was still in his pack, waiting to be used. It was a Cultivation attuner, one that would tie him to the aspect of Blood, if he had to guess. Under normal circumstances, he would wait to return home and consult his family. But these circumstances were far from normal. He needed to live, first and foremost. Attuning to an aspect meant he would be able to use Cultivation manuals and treasures of the same aspect, and each aspect also gave their own unique bonus when one reached Master Class.

He wasn’t aware of the Blood aspect’s bonus, if he was honest. In the past, he’d only considered the Sword aspect. Jinn had referred to it as an aspect “best left to murderers and beasts”, which was as far as Ryu’s knowledge of it went. The thought of Jinn’s disapproval sparked something in Ryu. Maybe it was a fit of teenage rebellion. Maybe it was something altogether less… wholesome. He loved the man, whether he was Ryu’s father or not, but he couldn’t deny the truth. Jinn had lied. Probably multiple times. If Ryu was to survive to make it back to him, he’d have to take every advantage he could get.

He emptied the vial of blood into his mouth, swallowing with a shake of his head. Not exactly a pleasant taste, that. He felt no different after, but that was fine. The benefits would show when it mattered. He poured his Qi into his Cultivation.

Early Mortal Stage -> Late Mortal Stage

He nodded to himself. Cultivation improved all parts of the body, including the mind. As his body approached the limits of what a normal man was capable of without the System, his mind, too, would adapt to handle his increased coordination and speed. With a Cultivation manual of the Blood aspect, his benefits would be maximized even further.

“What’s everyone’s gains like?” Tam said from across the fire. His gaze was vacant, clearly looking at a screen. They would divide the night up into watches, and in the morning, they would have to start preparing for the next wave. Like any reasonable human, they’d want to brag before then. Ryu sighed.

“Good. I’ve got my second Skill, one called [Guardian]. Supposedly, it aids my shield movement. Feel like I’m neglecting my Cultivation, though,” Marshal said with a sigh. Some of the metal plates of his armor were now replaced by dark chitin.

“Nothing special here,” Keira sighed. “I’m so close to level ten, though.”

“Good,” Cynthia muttered sleepily. The tired woman was about to fall asleep. She’d used a lot of mental strength to finish healing his wounded shoulder, and she seemed to have eyes for only her bedroll laid by the fire.

Ryu scratched the scruff along his chin. It dawned on him that these four still thought of this as a game. It wasn’t life or death. It was a noble adventure through the forest, one which would reward them with levels and power. He’d felt much the same before meeting them, ironically enough.

“Decent,” Ryu said.

“Well,” Tam said, “I just upgraded my…”

Ryu tuned them all out. Where was the disconnect? They’d fought the same fights he had. Why did they still treat this as a game? It was hope, he realized. It wasn’t that Ryu didn’t have hope necessarily. Instead, it was that Marshal and the others had a place to go home and hope for the future. This Trial was just a stepping stone to a greater adventurer. Ryu… Ryu wasn’t sure what came after this. Home seemed farther away by the day, and with it went the reverence he’d once had for his house. This Trial was all he had to think about. Of course, he took it more seriously.

The healer would also restore the wound in his chest. Her Spell from before had stabilized it, but it would take a few more to restore him to prime condition. The rest were only lightly wounded, it seemed, and Ryu realized his style of fighting was just more prone to risk. Tam would usually keep distance between himself and his opponents. The same went for Cynthia and Keira. Marshal had a shield. Ryu had little more than a sword and quick feet. Even the benefit of [Karuta Armor] was limited, as its use drained his stamina considerably.

A yawn interrupted his thoughts. The darkness of this part of the Trial had thrown off his sense of time, but his body, at least, knew when it was time to rest. He stumbled over to his bedroll.