The name is Ryojin Yukimura.
If you could see me right now—if you could witness the aftermath of the chaos that surrounds me—you'd understand why I'm not exactly what one would call presentable.
All around me stretches a ravaged battlefield, scarred by war, with ruins of homes and people engulfed in flames, surrounded by charred, lifeless bodies. This devastation was wrought by a brute named Rowan Zaratraz, a being who emerged from nowhere with his army, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.
He was colossal in stature, I would mistake him for a human, I mean it might sound shocking but some people look as colossal as him here.
The thing that differentiated him from us was his eyes, Where humans had white in their eyes, the Titans' were dark, like an endless night. Their irises shimmered with the color of their aura, a hue that reflected the power they carried within. Where he came from, I had no idea then but I could tell his strength was definitely out of this world.
Many people fought to the point where both sides faced great losses.
But we were losing. Our world had become a hellscape, with most of our strongest fighters fallen. The guild and city I'd built from the ground up had been destroyed by this relentless war. And now, I was the only one left to face him—not because I was the strongest, but simply because everyone else was locked in battle with other forces.
There I stood, looking as if I might collapse at any moment.
I was covered with wounds that encompassed my entire body and blood that soaked the scars on my face and body. At that point, I wondered who looked more human - him or me.
Yet I was standing alone, facing the remnants of this apocalyptic nightmare. The war had exacted its toll on me— both physically and emotionally—and the weight of loss pressed heavily upon me. Yet, despite the fatigue and despair, I find myself the last one standing against this menace.
The battle wasn't over, and though I was on the brink of collapsing, there was no choice but to face him. As I tightened my grip on my weapon, the only thing left was to turn the tide, no matter the cost.
Our swords met in brutal clashes, each striking a thunderous echo across the battlefield. My katana sliced through the air with precision, darting in swift arcs to slice at him, while his colossal greatsword swung down like a sledgehammer, aiming to crush me into the earth.
Every time we clashed, the sheer force held us locked in place, neither of us giving an inch. I dodged and weaved, seeking openings, while he wielded his blade like a battering ram, each blow forcing me to brace against the impact. We exchanged blow after relentless blow, neither yielding, both determined to break the other.
His blow was so devastatingly powerful that the very ground beneath us trembled, cracks spreading out from the point of impact like a web as if the earth itself was struggling to withstand the force of our swords colliding. Each strike sent shockwaves through the ground, causing it to buckle and fracture under the sheer intensity of our clash.
We continue fighting giving our best. Honestly, I don't even know why I am going to such lengths.
Maybe it's because I feel guilty about all the deaths I caused, all the people I killed mercilessly without any care 'cause I didn't give a fuck about the world or maybe it was because I think I could have done much better...…
maybe we could have stopped before it escalated this far and perhaps not witness this shithole.
I stand there and I feel like I am sinking more and more into the guilt and the corpses that I slayed or caused all reaching out their hands from hell or wherever they go when they die trying to grab me down with them. Normally this wouldn't faze me but after that incident, it's safe to say all the locked-up emotions I had, emerged and it's a fucking drag controlling them.
The only thing I can think of getting rid of these new feelings is giving it my all in this fight even if the outcome is my salvation, which is death. So I dash toward him yelling, "Arcane Sword Style: Madman's Fury!". My sword slices through the air so fast that that brute can barely keep up. I'm in berserk mode, hitting harder with every swing. With each swing more accurate and powerful, I'm somehow eerily calm inside. I can feel the adrenaline surging, every muscle straining.
He's struggling to keep up, But that motherfucker just seems to be enjoying.
Fucking psychopath.
With every blow, he just gets more and more excited. Blood and sweat mix as we exchange blows, and the chaos around us fades into the background. I'm pushing through exhaustion, barely registering the pain in my body and I could tell he was exhausted but that only amped him up.
I step forward, my katana glinting as I slash upward, aiming for his shoulder. He twists his greatsword to block, our blades locking in a crackling clash of steel. His strength presses down on me, forcing my blade dangerously close to my face. I wrench free, stepping back he follows through with a crushing downward strike which I react a milli second late but manage to block by holding my sword with both my hands.
His downward strike was so powerful that, even as I blocked it, the sheer force blasted through, shattering the ground behind me and leaving a massive crack in its wake. It was as if his sword alone could split the earth, the impact radiating outward, leaving destruction in its path.
I evade myself from this disadvantageous position and Zaratraz also backs off, laughing—a twisted, chilling sound. "I didn't think you could block that! What's your name, kid?" He paused, waiting for a response, but I stood there, silent, tightening my grip on my katana. His smirk widens and sighs loudly. "It's a shame you were born here. Perhaps, In another life, we could've been on the same side, fighting for days, weeks… hell, maybe even eternity." He grips his massive longsword, both of us preparing to end this. With a roar, he bellows, "Show me what you've got!" His laughter echoes as he charges in, crazed and ready for the kill.
In the blink of an eye, We're already in each other's faces, and I'm not giving an inch. I'm ready to unleash my final move,
"Arcane Sword Style: Crimson—
At the same time, Zaratraz was also ready
"Martial God Style: Scarlett—"
We both yell out the last part in unison. "Flash!" In a split second, our attacks collide in a blinding burst of crimson and scarlet. The force is so intense it feels like time stands still for a moment.
When the dust settles, I'm barely standing, my vision blurring. My left hand was gone, just a bloody stump now. I tried to grab my non-existent left arm but all that was left was the blood that was leaking.
Zaratraz's head is lying a few feet away, cleanly cut off, I drop to my knees, panting hard, trying to stay conscious.
The fight's over, but it's left me wrecked.
I fall to the ground, the victory feels hollow with the weight of what it's cost me. I'm here, barely holding on.
I guess this was it.....
I did it, but at what cost?
Thousands of innocent people and children, the city, and the guild that I made were all lost because we were too weak, complacent, and not prepared for such incidents.
Damn, why did these emotions have to resurface?
I have nothing to live for, no friends, no family no nothing, what is the point of living such a shit life of solitude. I just keep sinking in deeper and deeper as the corpses continue to drag me deeper into the abyss.
"Can't you just leave and go to the fucking afterlife why do you have to drag me down with you, you jobless shits!?" I said to the corpses that were dragging me even though I knew it was just a figment of my imagination.
I just want to cease to exist.
I don't want to carry this fucking burden. Maybe it's the pent-up rage that I buried, literally as time passes a new different emotion arises. You'd think I would at least experience some of the good emotions like happiness or excitement.
Nah I just feel shit and fucking pissed.
At that moment, Zaratraz's army regrouped and was ready to take revenge and finish the job that their leader had planned.
There were hundreds of thousands of people in the army, and the only person who stood between them and the destruction of their world was the guy who was filled with scars and blood all over him and had a missing arm.
I was kneeling there and I looked fucking pissed.
Man let me fucking rest, what's the matter with you people!? I am going through an existential crisis, Give me some time to process it!!
The other warriors at my level were fighting elsewhere. Right now, the only one left to stop them was me.
I looked back and all I saw was the remains of the city I built and all the people that perished as collateral damage. Was there any point continuing this, when there was nothing to protect, it was hopeless and I could just do nothing. But I couldn't leave.
Even if they died, I can't leave them without a proper burial, it's the least I could do. I had to take responsibility for the lives of everyone who was under me and all those who gave their life to protect the place we built.
I took a deep breath and muttered in an exhausting tone while getting up, "You dipshits really don't know when to give up do you?" I thought about it and chuckled, I guess you could say the same thing about me.
Struggling to get up, I fell again, then stood again before the long army before me.
I alone stood there as I saw the entire army advancing to finish what they came for, If I used all the power I had in my arsenal I could probably kill about 3/4th of the army.
Still, every outcome I thought of led to my death and you know what if I am going to die might as well go with a bang.
If this was the inevitable outcome and the only choice before me, then I shall gladly embrace death as my salvation.
I grip my katana, slowly advancing to the colossal army that was also rushing towards me ready to rush to my death but I started to vomit blood.
I looked down and I saw a sword sticking out my chest.
Those honourless bastards stabbed me from the back. If I was going to die I was going to drag them with me. I grip my katana and go to slash the person who backstabbed me but before I go through with it, I stop my sword just before it reaches the person's neck.
I stood there, shocked. The one who stabbed me wasn't from Zaratraz's army but someone I knew—someone I thought died in this war. I don't know how it was possible, but there was no mistaking him. I stood there with a sword so grand, embedded with blue crystals, stuck deep in my chest. I saw his unfazed, cold face looking down at me.
"....why?...." I said as my voice quivered. He stood there silently and turned away and walked away from me. I once again fell on my knees vomiting more blood out.
My eyes began to lose focus, yeah this was it for me. Death was awaiting me, Perhaps I was awaiting death. I can probably rest now and have peace and cease to exist.
My eyes started to close and I could feel the soul leaving my body and I felt like I was falling again. It was a familiar feeling I don't know when and where I felt like that but it was familiar. I closed my eyes and got ready to die.
I felt uncomfortable. Is this how you feel when you die? Do you still keep your consciousness when you die?
I try opening my eyes and I find myself on a bed in an unfamiliar place
"Is this the afterlife or something?" I mutter under my breath. It feels like I was just having a terrible nightmare and just woke up. I rub my eyes and examine the surroundings, noticing a mirror in front of the bed.
I get up and look in the mirror. I can't believe my eyes. Standing before me is someone else. All the scars I had were gone and I looked younger and ungroomed long hair that reached my shoulder.
What in the actual fuck?!