The night was a sentient entity—whispering secrets, casting shifting shadows, breathing cold dread between ancient trees. Beyond the crumbling temple walls, mist curled from the sodden earth, weaving between skeletal trees like spectral tendrils. Wolves sang their mournful hymns to the darkness while the distant rhythm of armored footfalls echoed through the winding forest paths.
Adikara hunched beside the dying embers, dagger clutched in white-knuckled fingers, his heartbeat thundering against his ribs. Despite the biting chill, sweat slicked his palms.
Today, he would become a killer. Or join the dead.
Svara's voice cut through his thoughts, crystalline and resolute.
[WARNING: Enemy patrol approaching. Estimated contact: 3 minutes.] [Suggestion: Implement ambush tactics.]
He ran his tongue across parched lips, peering through the temple's fractured archway. Torchlight danced between the trees, drawing inexorably closer. Mahadipa's soldiers—likely a small patrol of three or four men. Any one could easily crush him in direct combat, but Svara had bestowed upon him something invaluable: foreknowledge.
"Host," she reminded him, "strike first from shadow. Compassion is a luxury you cannot yet afford."
Adikara's grip tightened on his weapon.
He slithered across the damp ground, pulse roaring in his ears, and melted into the dense shadows cast by shattered columns. His newly acquired Stealth Footwork guided each movement with unnatural precision, each step deliberate and ghostlike.
The soldiers materialized from the gloom—three men, exchanging crude laughter, their armor battered but functional. One wielded a heavy iron cudgel; another balanced a rust-flecked sword across his shoulders. The third—clearly their commander—wore a partial breastplate adorned with a crimson sash denoting his rank.
"...Nothing out here but vermin and spirits," one complained.
"Silence," the commander hissed. "We follow orders. Any vagrants found are to be executed. No questions."
Adikara trembled—not from fear but incandescent rage. Vagrants. That's what they labeled him. That's what they called children who perished in gutters while nobility gorged themselves from golden platters.
The commander gestured toward the ruins. "Search inside."
One soldier—the youngest—separated from his companions, approaching Adikara's position with careless, apathetic steps. His sword dangled loosely, blade scraping against stone and throwing sparks into the darkness.
Adikara pressed closer to the earth. Every instinct screamed readiness. His muscles coiled, awaiting the perfect moment.
Closer. Closer. Now.
He erupted from darkness like an unleashed predator. Steel flashed in moonlight. A startled gasp, a momentary look of disbelief—then the soldier collapsed soundlessly, Adikara's blade buried beneath his ribs.
Blood baptized his hands.
Nausea churned in his stomach, but he forced himself to act, wrenching the dead man's sword free before his companions could react. Immediately, Svara's voice chimed:
[First Kill Confirmed. Skill Progress Accelerated by 5%. Hidden Bonus: Cold Resolve Unlocked.]
The remaining soldiers pivoted toward the sound, faces contorting with shock and fury.
"There!" bellowed the cudgel-bearer.
Adikara refused hesitation. The sword felt alien—weightier than his dagger—but he recalled the fundamental stance from Svara's Basic Sword Handling skill.
Left foot forward. Blade positioned. Compact target.
The cudgel-wielder charged headlong, roaring his battle cry. Adikara sidestepped, nearly losing footing on the slick stones, and slashed at an exposed leg. His blade severed muscle and sinew, sending his attacker sprawling with an agonized scream. Before the man could recover, Adikara drove steel downward—once, twice—until silence reclaimed the night.
[Enemy Eliminated: +EXP]
The commander paused, assessing. He recognized the raw desperation in Adikara's movements. This was no trained warrior. This was a cornered animal with death in its eyes.
"You miserable—!" the commander snarled, raising his weapon high, committing to a killing stroke.
Adikara feinted leftward, then plunged right. The commander's blade whistled past him, striking temple stone with a resounding clang.
Svara whispered urgently:
"Exploit the vulnerability. NOW."
Without conscious thought, Adikara lunged forward, driving his stolen blade deep into the commander's unprotected abdomen. The man gasped, eyes widening in disbelief, mouth working soundlessly as he staggered backward—before collapsing into stillness.
Silence descended. Only dying torches crackled and blood dripped rhythmically against ancient stone.
Adikara stood motionless, breath ragged, bloodied sword quivering in his grasp. Three lives. Extinguished. By his hand.
Horror rose within him—suffocating, nauseating. Yet another sensation followed: liberation. Power.
He was no longer the orphan who could be beaten, starved, or slaughtered without consequence. He had become predator, not prey. Hunter, not hunted.
The horizon began to illuminate, casting elongated gray shadows across the ravaged landscape. Dawn approached. And Adikara yet lived.
Svara broke the weighted silence, her tone almost... appreciative.
[Congratulations, Host. First Blood Baptism Complete.] [New Skill Unlocks Available.]
Another interface materialized:
[Sword Path Initiated] — Unlock the journey toward true mastery.
[Weapon Proficiency: Sword I] — (Fundamental understanding of sword varieties and combat forms.)
And beneath, pulsing softly:
[Hidden Mission Available: Seek the Blade of Fallen Stars.] (Reward: Legendary Weapon + Advanced Sword Arts Tree Access.)
Adikara's breath caught. The Blade of Fallen Stars...?
He stared at the luminous display, then at the blood-slick sword in his grasp. Something kindled deep within—a flame growing stronger with each heartbeat.
He turned toward the ascending sun, eyes ablaze with newfound purpose.
This world had given him nothing but suffering. Now, he would reclaim everything. And someday... Mahadipa itself would crumble beneath his vengeance.