In the heart of Alvarez, a land known for its love, merrymaking, and bravery, Michio's story unfolded. He had always been an unconventional soul in a world filled with knights and swordsmen. Alvarez had a rich history of producing the mightiest knights, but among them, one title reigned supreme - the "sword saint."

These sword saints were the guardians of the land, heroes who protected their people like gods. They had faced countless battles against the underworld's demons, battles that left scars on both sides and were shrouded in secrecy as the "Forbidden Wars."

Three millennia after the First Forbidden War, peace had been achieved through a treaty between the Great World Emperor and the Demon King. However, the peace had been disturbed a decade and a half ago when the ruling Demon King and his followers grew restless.

Once again, the bravest warriors of Earth and the Alvarian Sword Saint were summoned to battle. Legends whispered that this particular sword saint was the greatest of them all, but even he fell at the hands of the Demon King.

Yet, just as suddenly as the attacks had begun, they ceased. Peace remained elusive as rogue demons roamed, sparking minor skirmishes. Amidst it all, Michio harbored his own singular ambition - to confront the Demon King who had defeated the god-like sword saint and exact his own revenge.

To the world, Michio appeared unremarkable, and he was determined to prove them wrong. He didn't yearn for the title of a sword saint; he couldn't even wield a wooden sword. But it was his story, and he intended to write it his way.

Our tale unfolds in the Arena Alvarez, where excitement was palpable. The crowd eagerly awaited the upcoming battle, their cheers and jeers filling the air. The commentator, a master at riling up the audience, stepped up to the microphone.

"Alrighty then! It's the bout you've all been waiting for!" he exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. "Let's bring in the fighters, shall we?"

The east den's valiant contender, Knight Aspirant #7, Valac, entered, his pristine appearance a stark contrast to his impending battle. The crowd went ballistic, showering him with adoration.

"And his opponent," the commentator continued, "Knight Aspirant #5, the underdog with animal-like instincts and knuckle-blazing action - MICHIOOOOO!!!"

The arena erupted with cheers and chants for both contestants. In the fifth waiting room, Michio prepared himself, putting down his gourd of water, wiping his face with a towel, and then exiting the room. As he approached the west den's exit, the blinding light outside revealed a sea of thousands of people rooting for him. He lifted his fist, and the crowd's cheers reached a crescendo.

Valac, already on the fighting grounds, exuded confidence with his jet-black sword and perfectly styled hair. They approached each other, and the referee instructed them to shake hands.

Valac declared, "Your journey ends here. I don't intend on losing."

Michio retorted, "Yeah, whatever. Just shake it already."

The referee ushered them apart, announcing, "Begin!"

The commentator's voice echoed through the arena, "Sit tight because this is gonna be a ride! Let's gooooo!!"

The match had begun, and Michio, wearing a grin of determination, wasted no time. He bent down and burst toward Valac, who drew his sword and pointed it at his oncoming adversary.

"Come," Valac challenged.

Michio replied with unwavering resolve, "You don't need to tell me."

However, the journey to this moment had its origins three years earlier. A 13-year-old Michio once found himself being pursued by rogue demons through the forest, their bloodthirsty screeches haunting his every step.

"Shoot! I've done it this time. These rogues are gonna turn me into dinner!" Michio thought, his heart racing as he desperately fled.

But then, out of nowhere, a swift light flashed, and the screeches of demons were replaced by the sound of a drawn and sheathed sword. A tall, blond young man emerged from the shadows, offering Michio his hand. Clad in armor with only his helmet missing, he was none other than Emile, Michio's savior.

"Michio, you again?" Emile quipped. "How many times does this make it, huh?"

"Thanks anyway, Emile," Michio replied, grateful but embarrassed.

Emile had always invited Michio to his place for lessons in kenjutsu, hoping to strengthen his friend's combat skills. However, Michio's heart was set on a different path.

"You don't have to rub it in, and you know that I'm not a sword fan. I like to make these," Michio said, flexing his fists, "do all the talking, you know?"

Emile, pointing at the defeated rogue demons, retorted, "I see, and how's that plan working out? Anyway, let's head back; your mom's gonna be worried sick."

As they conversed, Michio couldn't help but notice his empty sack.

"You go through all this trouble and catch nothing. How bad does your luck get, Mio?" Emile asked with a sigh.

Michio, annoyed but teasing, insisted, "Hey! Don't go around calling me Mio!"

However, Michio's playful demeanor quickly shifted as Emile pointed out the obvious, "Well, at this rate, even Nana's stronger than you."

In disbelief, Michio responded, "No way! Your kid sister is stronger than me."

Emile, now in a serious tone, urged Michio to consider his path carefully. "At this rate, everyone in town would be stronger than you if you don't get yourself some decent skills in weaponry. Belief isn't enough to guarantee success on the battlefield. If you really want to become a proper knight someday, you've got to put in some work."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Emile noticed Michio clenching his fists and muttering to himself.

"Hey kiddo, look, I'm sorry, but-" Emile attempted to apologize.

Michio, his frustration boiling over, pushed Emile's hand away and rushed off, tears in his eyes.

"Leave me alone, damn it!" he exclaimed.

Michio's determination was unwavering, and he declared to himself, "Just you wait! I'm gonna train my heart out and become so strong that you won't need to come rescue me. In fact, I'll be the one doing the rescuing."

With a determined smile, Michio wiped away his tears and sprinted faster, the wind tousling his hair. As he sped through the forest, he ran past a blonde-haired girl about his age, who seemed to be trying to get his attention.

Nana, Emile's younger sister, watched him go and muttered to herself, "Hey, have you seen Emile... Hey goofball... You know what, never mind. It looks like big brother won't be eating dinner tonight. Ha! Serves him right."

Nana wondered about Michio's intentions, her thoughts drifting away. "I wonder what he's up to with that stupid smile on his face. I'm sure he's up to no good. Well," Nana shrugged, "it's not my problem. Birdbrain, if you're gonna do something, do your best, alright?"

With a deep breath, she relaxed and turned the other way. "Now, where's the older goofball? This might take a while." Nana took her time, strolling through the forest in search of her wayward brother, calling his name louder with each attempt, sending birds fluttering from their trees.

Meanwhile, Michio's sprint continued unabated. He chuckled to himself, musing, "Well, it looks like Nana is out for Emile again, huh? Man, she really knows how to scream, doesn't she? Damn, women are such a pain."

Suddenly, Michio realized the impending doom that awaited him at home. "Uh-oh! Speaking of women, Mom's gonna kill me!" he exclaimed, his heart racing.

In the blink of an eye, a feminine figure appeared behind him, and before Michio could react, he found himself lifted off the ground.

"How about we change that to the present tense, shall we?!" a stern voice chimed in, sending shivers down Michio's spine.

Sweating and panicking, Michio stuttered, "Look, Mom, I can explain... You see, there were-"

Karen, Michio's mother, interrupted with a deadly calm, "Wait, where's Emile? Don't tell me you ran off again? Now, I'm gonna give you a 10-second head start. You better get home before me this time. GOT IT??!"

Michio's response was a nervous gulp. "Y-Y-yes, please!"

Without further ado, Michio sprinted toward his house, knowing that time was of the essence. He could practically hear the ominous countdown echoing in his ears.

"10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!"

But just as he thought he had escaped unscathed, fate had other plans. He tripped over a twig and began to fall, the world spinning around him.

"Oh no, not again!" he groaned, bracing for another inevitable crash landing.

In the midst of his freefall, Karen appeared behind him once more, took a deep breath, and, with the help of some peculiar magic boots, kicked Michio so hard that he soared through the air. He landed headfirst into a pile of sand in their backyard, spitting out grains as he lifted his head.

Karen shook her head, her stern expression softening just a touch. "That boy sometimes... Tsk, tsk. At least he's a tough nut. That's gonna take him places. Isn't that right?" She gazed up at the starry night sky, a small smile gracing her lips.

Michio, buried headfirst in the sand pile, slowly pulled himself out, his face a mixture of sand and embarrassment. His determined journey, filled with both humor and heart, was just beginning, and little did he know that it would lead him to the grand arena of Alvarez, where his unconventional path would clash with the traditions of knights and swordsmen, setting the stage for adventures beyond imagination.