When I woke up, the first thing I felt was a strange heat radiating from my back. Groggily, I sat up, the ache in my body now replaced by something else — a sensation that I couldn't quite explain. My mind was foggy, but when I shifted, I felt the skin of my back tingle. That's when I noticed it.
A tattoo.
I couldn't see it properly, but I felt it. My fingertips traced intricate lines and patterns, almost like a fractal design etched into my skin. It wasn't there before, I was sure of it. The texture was foreign, like it had burned itself into my flesh overnight. What had happened to me? My mind raced as I tried to piece together the events from before I passed out. The fight, the strange power that had surged through me, the creature that saved me.
Was this tattoo… connected to that power?
I pulled myself out of the bed with a groan and stumbled toward the door of the small hut. As I stepped outside, the fresh forest air hit me, and I took a deep breath. The world beyond the hut was alive with activity.
The creatures — those same dog-like beings that had tended to me — were gathered in the clearing in front of me, surrounding what seemed to be a group of elders. They were speaking loudly, their voices animated, and from the way their gestures cut through the air, it was clear they were arguing about something.
And then I realized.
They were arguing about me.
As soon as they noticed me standing at the entrance of the hut, their voices rose in a chorus of shouts. Their language was unfamiliar, harsh yet melodic, a strange mix of growls and sharp syllables. It was nothing like any language I had ever heard before. And yet, despite the barrier of communication, I could tell by their expressions and the way they pointed at me that I was the center of their attention.
I took a step forward, confused and overwhelmed. What were they saying? Why were they shouting? My heart pounded in my chest as the crowd of creatures began to gather closer, their eyes wide with awe and excitement. They were pointing at me, at the tattoo on my back, speaking faster and louder with every moment that passed. It was as though they were… praising me.
My mind struggled to keep up, trying to make sense of their words, but then something shifted inside me.
The energy — the same energy that had surged through me when I fought the monster — began to stir once more. It flowed through me, a sensation both familiar and alien, and this time, it wasn't trying to destroy. It was trying to connect. My body grew warm, the energy coursing through my veins, and as it reached my head, something incredible happened.
The sounds of their language began to make sense.
The once indecipherable words started to align themselves in my mind, their meanings becoming clearer. It was as though the energy inside me was translating their speech directly into my thoughts. Bit by bit, I could understand them.
"The Demon Slayer is born!" one of the creatures shouted, its voice filled with reverence.
"The Demon Slayer is back!" echoed another, their ancient words now ringing in my ears with startling clarity.
I blinked in disbelief. Demon Slayer? I thought. Was that what they were calling me? What did that even mean? I glanced around, trying to wrap my head around what was happening, but the realization hit me hard and fast. The monster I had killed in the forest wasn't just any creature. It was a guardian, a powerful entity ranked 19th in the Demon Realm.
And I… I had killed it.
Suddenly, everything felt too real. The tattoo on my back, the power I couldn't control, the way these creatures were treating me like some kind of legend come to life. The weight of their words pressed down on me, the gravity of what I had done sinking in. I wasn't just some lost wanderer. To them, I was something much more.
I tried to speak, to tell them they had the wrong idea, but the words wouldn't come. My thoughts were a mess, swirling with confusion and disbelief. The creatures continued to praise me, their voices growing louder and more intense as they chanted in their ancient language. They truly believed I was this "Demon Slayer," someone who had returned to fulfill some kind of prophecy.
But how could that be possible?
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Third POV
The small village where Jashoo found himself was unlike any other. Nestled at the far end of the forest, it was situated on the edge of a vast ocean. The scent of saltwater mingled with the fresh air of the forest, creating an environment that was both wild and serene.
The village itself was humble, built from wood, leaves, and stone, but it had an ancient feel, as though it had stood there for centuries, untouched by time. The huts were scattered along the ocean cliff, where the land dropped sharply into the sea. The view from the cliff was breathtaking — a vast expanse of deep blue waters stretching as far as the eye could see, with jagged, torn rocks jutting out from the ocean like the remnants of some long-forgotten titan's bones.
The creatures that lived here were primitive in appearance but possessed an intelligence far beyond their looks. They worshipped the ocean, the forest, and the mystical powers that flowed through both. And now, they had turned their attention to Jashoo — the one they believed was the reincarnation of the ancient Demon Slayer, a figure long prophesied to return in their time of need.
As they gathered in front of the elders, their voices raised in heated discussion, the air was thick with tension. The elders, who had witnessed many events over the years, stood stoic and wise, listening to the debate among their people. They knew the weight of the prophecy, and the arrival of Jashoo could either be a blessing or a curse.
For the demon realm had grown restless, and the ancient evil was beginning to stir once more.