Kenshi: Grasp the Heavens (RE-UPLOAD)

by Seereni

A young boy joins the Loki Familia through a display of his skills. His past unknown, his reasons unsaid, there is only one desire that drives him into the dangers of the Dungeon and the world's: "With this sword...I will grasp the Heavens..." But...how will he fare...? Fic is Rated M by me, the author, and for good reasons. OC-Centric, slighly AU and certainly not for everyone.

62. Chapter 55, New Challenges, Part 2

Chapter 55

And we are back, with another Chapter.

Not as big as the last Chapter, but this one still has a hefty 21k words.

By the way, I forgot to mention this last time but we actually surpassed the 100k views on this fic by the time I uploaded the last Chapter.

It's at 110k views now, and for some reason only going higher and higher. Most confusing since literally no one in this fandom knows about this fic (expect you readers who no doubt stumbled upon it by accident somehow.)

Guess it must be the lack of fanfic content in this fandom or something.

Anyway, part 2 of this mini-Arc, "New Challenges".

It is here, and it is...confusing.

At this point I wouldn't be surprised if people would start to ask themselves: "Where even is grasping the Heavens in this fic anymore?"

And my answer would be: In the future -_-

That is all I can say for now without spoiling anything.

What I can say, however, is that after this 2nd part the "New Challenges" mini-Arc there are gonna be like, 2 more mini-Arcs (so 6 more Chapters, 8 including this Chapter and the one that will end the current mini-Arc),then we jump into the events that align far better with the title of this fic.

So yeah.

Until then I hope you enjoy those Chapters I bring out that don't really make a whole lot of sense with the information that is currently available.

Kay bye, and see you at the end.

XXX

Though he doubted that the average person in Orario would ever learn of it, the truth of the matter was that in only a couple of short months the East District he had called home for so many years now had changed drastically.

From a den of criminals and lawlessness it became the closest thing to a proper District it could in a frame of time as short as what had passed.

It was because of this that Yamamoto could feel this safe walking down the streets of his District way past midnight at the request of his Young Master.

There was of course no way he would ever turn down Fuzen's call no matter the time of day, however he was intrigued as to the reason for such a late call. Even the Runner who came knocking at his door was unable to tell him, simply saying he had been told to wake Yamamoto up and have him meet the Young Master at his place.

That had been fifteen minutes ago.

Luckily, the old man did not live that far away and so he had already reached the long fence that made up his Master's property.

Even more intriguing was the fact that he saw other members of their group enter his Master's house from a distance, all of them being greeted by the women living at his place. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who had been summoned.

"Greetings, Yamamoto-sama." One of the two women on stand-by at the gate greeted him as they both bowed their heads. "The Young Master is awaiting you. Please proceed to the usual meeting room."

"Thank you."

Doing just that Yamamoto walked through the front garden and on the right porch until he reached the back of the house, the meeting room already lit and it's doors open when he approached it, the chatter from behind even more prominent thanks to the silence of the night.

"Hmm? I take it everyone has been summoned, then?" He spoke as he stood in the doorway, looking over the full room of people who turned to him.

"Yamamoto-san, you too? Do you perhaps know what brought this summoning?"

"No, I haven't the slightest. Our Master must have his reasons, however. He would not summon us would it not be important." Yamamoto replied as he walked past the people on the right line of seats and took his own seat, the closest to the seat at the far end of the room where his Master would sit.

Sitting opposite of him was, quite surprisingly, the Wood Elf named Cellica Brightgrove, the Art Director of La Muse.

By all accounts she had every right to be here as she was part of their group and responsible for selling their Master's paintings, yet it still surprised him to see her there.

A person of influence by all accounts, though of course she was not the only one.

To her right side sat Hiroshi the Cat-Person for example, the youngest among their ranks. He would see his thirtieth winter in a couple of months, though that did not mean he was to be underestimated.

As a third generation immigrant, he had been born in Orario unlike his father and grandfather before him, though by no means did he fail to understand the plight they had experienced. He had also taken the same path in life as his forefathers: pottery, lacquerwork and cloisonné.

An artist through and through, and the most gifted in his family. Though he only owned a single shop with barely a handful of helpers and apprentices, individually his wares were among the most expensive from their group.

Chief among them were his cloisonné wares, which were very popular among Deities and sold for quite a lot.

To Yamamoto's own left sat the middle-aged woman named Kata, a Chienthrope, possibly the most no-nonsense woman he had ever met in the East District. As the owner of the most renowned tea shop in the District, she traded in tea leaves of the best quality be it eastern or western in origin.

It would not be an understatement to say that the butlers or servants of renowned and well-off Familia regularly visited her shop for tea of the highest grade. She was indeed well-connected, not only among Deities and the wealthy, but also with the sea merchants which brought in goods at the port of Melen.

She was also the one who, upon hearing of the plan to construct the art gallery La Muse requested for a tea shop to be opened within it's garden, expending her own sphere of influence while simultaneously bringing in more profit for their group at the same time.

A surprisingly calculated and cunning woman.

Further down the line were Jin, Kazuo and Daido: all three men owners of general shops found throughout the East District. To say that their rivalry was the most pronounced within their group would have been an understatement.

It was only to be expected that they felt that way, though luckily with all three of them bending the knee to the Young Master they were no longer at each others throats...at least, not as much anymore.

Closer to the door leading to the porch sat Goro, the ever scowling, Ayame, the ever smiling and Yasuo, the ever burning.

Naturally, their seats closer to the door did not mean they were by any means lower down the ranks than any before: Fuzen had been quite clear that a hierarchy among them was not needed.

There was only Fuzen and then all of them, all equally below him.

Secondly, their nicknames were not so much titles the group had decided for them but rather titles the customers bestowed upon them over the years. All three owned restaurants, not unlike how Yamamoto owned one before it was burned down by the Altena spies, and their expressions became something of a local legend.

Goro was always scowling, no matter how good a dish he prepared.

Ayame was always smiling, no matter how bad of a dish she prepared.

And Yasuo was always burning with a chef's passion, no matter the time of day.

Lastly, there was Tetsu, owner of a couple housing complexes throughout the East District, a people's person at heart, and Sachi, an eccentric woman who owned a trading post which...had seen little success until Fuzen bought her business off and Yamamoto himself tutored her in how to run her business.

And he?

Yamamoto?

Well, his restaurant which had burned down had been rebuilt by the Young Master, but he left it in the care of those he trusted, instead choosing to devote his remaining years to his Young Master.

He was no longer a business owner himself, but he had experience which could greatly benefit their group.

A long time ago, after all, he had worked at the Imperial Court of his homeland, the Far East.

Born in a low-status noble household, he had managed to secure himself a job working for the Amaterasu Familia, at the branch known as Minbu-shò, the Ministry of Popular Affairs.

After some twenty-five years of service he even managed to achieve the rank of Minbu-no-shōyū, or Assistant Vice-Minister in Koine.

And after a lifetime spend in that Familia, grinding away every single day?

He finally understood how pointless it had all been: his dream of being able to improve the lives of the Far Eastern citizens was as far out of his reach as it always had been.

Even as the Assistant to the Vice-Minister his voice had been all but ignored. Even as he called out injustices and pushed for justice for the common folk, nothing ever got done.

He was invisible, his power all but an illusion given by those above him so that he would work harder for their sakes, and their sakes alone.

Injustice and falsehood, over and over again.

He was simply insignificant in the face of those many times his greater.

How many times had he seen it, the desires of the few outweighing the well-being of the masses?

Too many to count.

One too many times to keep going.

And so he left, disowned by the very household he was the head of. His own children, now lackeys of the Amaterasu Familia the same he had once been calling him traitor as he embarked on the ship which brought him to Orario.

He had made his mind back then: go far away, open up a restaurant, serve others for as long as he would still draw breath, then...join the forefathers.

But after years of that mindset, it had happened.

Or better said, Fuzen had happened.

For the first time in a very long time, Yamamoto had seen hope.

What kind of hope, he could not say.

Perhaps hope for a better future, perhaps hope for changes that he was unable to realize by himself.

But he saw it, back then.

And when that small hand extended to him and asked for his help he had immediately grasped it.

Without second thoughts, without hesitation.

He was no longer a business owner, yes...But no one else in this entire District was as adept at dealing with finances and bureaucracy as Yamamoto was.

Though he once thought differently, he now knew that his usefulness had not dried up just yet. The years he had toiled towards a pipe dream had not been for nothing.

To an old man like himself who had given up once before, that meant more than mere words could describe.

It was funny, really.

Who would have thought that the boy he received a report about years ago from the few allies he still had in the Imperial Court would become his Young Master?

Indeed, before he even set off for Orario, Yamamoto had known of Fuzen.

Those he had tutored himself while still working for the Amaterasu Familia had sent him a report about a young boy from a martial heritage, brazenly making his way through the Imperial Palace unable to be stopped by the guards and demanding of the Emperor himself the title of Tsuwamono to be bestowed upon him.

At the time a strong Monster haunted the coastline of the southern islands, and amused by the sheer arrogance of the boy making demands the Emperor had sent this youth to deal with the Monster, promising to grant him his request should he be victorious.

And so the boy set forth, accompanied by a squad of soldiers that would act as witnesses to either his victory or his defeat. Naturally Monsters born on the surface were hardly as strong as Monsters from the Dungeon, yet the giant threat had already been responsible for sinking half a dozen ships and killing dozens of soldiers and just as many civilians.

Possibly because it ate the Magic Stones of lesser Monsters, or maybe it had simply lived long enough to become that strong. Whatever the case, it was by no means a mere Level 1 individual, a child no less, should have been able to defeat.

Yet the report of the witnesses had been clear: 'One moment it was alive, the next it was dead'.

That was how Fuzen Katsumi had been bestowed the title of Tsuwamono by the Imperial Court...if one were to forget the many duels none other than the patron God of the Far East had asked Fuzen to partake in, duelling the palace guards, other warriors and even the members of the Gojou family, emerging victorious over all of them.

Back then, Yamamoto had not given it much thought.

Amazing as the boy sounded, the old man thought him to be little more than a glorified thug-to-be.

'Funny how life works...Still, it's so strange…'

He had obviously burned the reports after reading them, as any link to him and anyone from the Familia he had officially left would be hardly helpful if found out. However...No matter how much he tried to rack his brain, Yamamoto could swear that the name 'Fuzen Katsumi' had never been mentioned in that report.

It was, after all, a cruel name to bestow upon anyone if one where to look at the meaning behind the kanji: hardly a name he would ever forget so easily.

That is why he was certain such a name had not been written in that report. It was another name, a different name. But one he could not, if his life depended on it, remember at all.

'...I could contact the one who sent me the report and ask...but I doubt the Young Master would take kindly to me snooping around. I'll just leave it be.'

Loyal as he was to his new Master, there were still many things that Yamamoto found dubious about Fuzen. His name not being mentioned in the report he got some years ago one of them, of course, but there were more, both in the short months before and after his demand for the title of Tsuwamono.

For example, the mysterious and downright shocking end to the martial world of the Far East, an end written in the language of blood and fire.

Just then the door at the far left end of the room slid open and in walked his Master, clad not in his usual black swordsman hakama with the turquoise haori over, but rather in an unusual brown robe. "I apologize for the lengthy wait." He voiced as he made his way to the central seat overseeing everyone else in the room. "There were...some untimely matters to take care of."

At his choice of words Yamamoto understood that the so-called untimely matter probably had something to do with a young, blonde girl waking up in the middle of the night no doubt because of all the ruckus going around.

Yet one more thing Yamamoto did not fully understand: the origin of that precious little girl, and how she was connected to his Young Master. The fact that she looked so similar to the renowned Sword Princess and could use the same Wind Magic, which he had seen with his own eyes a couple of times, did nothing to help his curiosity.

"It was insensitive of me to keep you waiting, despite summoning you all here myself. Please, forgive me." Their Young Master asked with a slight bob of his head: not quite a full bow but more than a simple nod.

A difficult card played from the start.

If they were to bow their heads in response to the plea of forgiveness and say it was nothing to worry about, they would make light of his sense of guilt, downgrading it as if it was insignificant.

Likewise, if they were to accept the apology it would make it clear to Fuzen that his lateness had offended one or multiple of the people summoned, which in turn would aggravate his guilt and allow it to fester.

Their Master was not a vain person who needed constant gratification, but he was prideful and pondered heavily on his own mistakes.

To anyone else this would seem like a silly matter to overthink. However, if they as his followers would not play their own cards right, this one little mistake on Fuzen's part could develop into something much bigger.

For example, worrying he might be late to any other meeting in the future, he could very well redo his schedule so that two, three or four hours before it would be completely free, time in which he would do nothing in fear of being late should he engage in any work or matter, which could in turn lead to him having more work to deal with after the meeting, leading to him shrinking down on his sleeping hours even more.

In the worst case scenario, he could even see his Young Master freeing up the entire day before a meeting, which would be the last thing any of them would wish of him.

It sounded silly, yes. But...Fuzen was extreme like that, something anyone who worked with him for any extended period of time would pick up on.

Yamamoto slowly inhaled: the eyes of everyone else were on him. In times like these, it fell upon him as the unofficial right-hand man to take charge of the matter and push things along.

"My Master, everyone here understand that you would not summon us were the reason not of great importance."

Fuzen nodded, a low hum escaping his throat. "Mhm. It is indeed important. Ahh, but before I start, you no doubt have notice that Miss Brightgrove has been summoned, as well." He raised a hand to the Elf inside the room. "For the sake of fluid communication, I ask that everyone speak Koine today."

It made sense to everyone, and a round of nods followed as the Elf woman's lips curled upwards ever so slightly.

"With that out of the way, I believe I have come to a solution regarding the problem we as the East District are currently facing."

Yamamoto's brows rose in surprise. "You mean the fact that we have no pull in Orario, my Master?"

"Yes, indeed. We've tried to come up with a solution for the past month now with no real results to show for it, but I think I finally have the solution. Tell me: what is the most valuable resource that Orario has been producing for the past one thousand years?"

An unusual question, but one many people seemed ready to answer without second thoughts. Hiroshi beat them all to it. "That'd be Magic Stones, right?"

"A good answer, but false." Fuzen replied. "While Magic Stones are indeed the reason as to why Orario has maintained it's title as the centre of the world, we cannot forget that Magic Stones can only be gathered in the Dungeon. By fighting Monsters. A task done by Adventurers."

While Yamamoto could see where Fuzen was going with this, he could still not see the end goal. Instead, he opted to simply listen for now.

"Indeed, I believe it would not be a lie to say that Adventurers are, and always have been, the greatest resource this city has ever produced. While Deities can be found outside of Orario, the greatest concentration of them are here in this city, which subsequently means that the greatest concentration of people blessed with a Falna are also found here, within the city walls."

Next to speak up was Kata, the tea shops owner. "And how do you suggest we use this knowledge to our advantage, Young Master? Forgive my scepticism, but besides the Young Master himself no one within this room has any power over Adventurers, less so over the Deities of this city."

The next words, however, surprised Yamamoto as much as the calm woman.

"We will start a business which will help bring down the mortality rate of the city's Adventurers." Fuzen voiced before snapping his fingers, the door he walked through opening once more as two house maids walked inside, both with stacks of papers in their hands.

Quickly and efficiently they each passed by the seated confidants and handing them papers that seemed to contain facts and numbers. "My apologies if the writing is slightly bad. I tried to write them all as cleanly as I could, but time was not on my side."

Yamamoto himself thought that his Master's writing was as close to impeccable as possible, but he knew that saying this out loud would be akin to sucking up to Fuzen. Something his Master did not appreciate in the least, a fact the old man had learned the hard way.

"Those are...statistics about the Adventurers?"

Fuzen nodded. "Yes. Earlier today, while I was coming back from a quick dive in the Dungeon, I found a couple of Level 1 Adventurers on the Upper Floors. They were both dead." He explained, expression unchanging. "Naturally, anything can happen in the Dungeon. All Adventurers are aware of this fact. Of the fact that each of your dives could be your last. However, it got me thinking about the reason for their deaths."

"Well, Monsters killed them...right?" Jin asked next, earning him a longer stare from their Young Master.

"...Sure. We can go with that. It applies to most cases, anyway. And so I went to the Guild and researched, both by going through their library and by questioning one of their employees. The facts you can see on these papers are as accurate as they could be at the present time."

Fuzen drew the attention to the papers everyone was now holding, making sure everyone was ready before he continued. "As you can see, Level 1 Adventurers make up a little over seventy percent of Orario's Adventurers. However, they also a mortality rate of forty-eight percent a year, give or take. Sometimes it is less, and sometimes it goes over fifty percent. In contrast, Level 2's make up roughly nineteen percent of all Adventurers, Level 3's make up eight percent and Level 4's make up three percent. As for Level 5's and above, they make up less than one percent overall. However, the mortality rate of Level 2's and higher is hardly anywhere near that of Level 1's."

"Wait, so almost half of the Level 1 Adventurers die every year?" Ayame the ever smiling was the next to ask, her usual smile far less prominent than others were used to see.

"Yes. It is hard to believe, is it not? This city is always full Adventurers strolling through the streets, so one would believe the numbers to be far lower. But as an Adventurer myself, I can confirm that this is true. While large Familia like mine can avoid such casualties by using stronger members to train and protect the weaker ones, your standard small Familia of only a couple of Level 1's will not have such an option to choose from. They will be forced to enter the Dungeon and face the perils with low-quality weapons and barely trained at all."

No one within the room would pretend to know all too much about Adventurers and so they took his words at face-value, understanding that this was a rather grim matter if Fuzen himself said so.

The silence did not last for long, however. "You mentioned us bringing down this mortality rate, esteemed owner." The Elf woman voiced with a smirk on her lips, head titling ever so slightly to the side. "How do you suggest we do that?"

"We will open up a loaning company." Was the short answer of their Master. "One catered to the needs of fledgling Adventurers first, and then to higher level ones."

A round of exchanging looks followed as the people inside mulled over the idea in silence, and it was surprisingly not a bad idea.

Before long a hand rose up slightly: it was Daido, drawing the attention to him. "But Young Master, would this not put us at odds with the bank?"

Fuzen nodded. "There is a possibility of that. However...earlier when I was doing my investigation, I actually asked the Guild about this and they said the bank does not actually hand out loans to Adventurers...exactly because of the high mortality rate. Shortly put, they have no insurance that the Adventurers will be able to pay it back. Even if the Patron Deity ensures the loan will be paid, the risk outweighs the profit. It's not like you can sell a Deity into slavery, after all. I think that the idea will work because, firstly, the bank would never do it despite the idea itself being useful to Orario itself and secondly, because we would have no competition."

"But...there is still a chance that this will put us at odds with them."

"Mhm. That is correct. I also don't care, and neither should you." He voiced and noticing the looks of confusion going around, Fuzen decided to elaborate. "...If they feel threatened by our actions, they should have thought of this first. Not to mention, I doubt a bunch of pencil-pushers would have the guts to try and pick a fight. And if they do, I will deal with them."

"How?" Asked Cellica the Elf.

"I'll kill them." He shrugged, nonchalantly. "While killing civilians does leave a bad taste in my mouth, as Tsuwamono of the East District it is my duty to watch over this place. And being unarmed or a civilian will spare no one as long as action is needed to perform my duty."

Though those words being uttered by someone his age with such calm would have made everyone else shiver, none of his confidants did anything more than nod their heads. No one there was an idealistic fool who thought everything would turn out okay if you just believed hard enough and did your best.

In a sense, Fuzen being the way he was despite his age was little more than proof of the unfairness of the world and of the fact that they needed to stick together if they wanted to prosper in any sense of the word.

A hand soon rose up, Fuzen drawing the attention to himself once again. "However, with all that said...This is merely an idea that someone inexperienced in this world of business and trade came up with. I cannot guarantee it will work. More likely than not, it will fail. So...Yamamoto." It was then the old man felt his Master's eyes solely upon him. "What do you think? If you think this idea will work, we will pursue it. If not, we drop it."

He couldn't help the faint smile that formed his lips at the sound of that.

Many would think that to be a leader you would have to be a people's person, introvert, someone open to others, talkative, friendly...That was all bullshit.

Surface-level things like that helped no one make good decisions. At most it was used by greasy-handed snakes to get that which they desired quicker. Yamamoto would know: he spent the better half of his life around such people.

Luckily, their Young Master was no such person.

Instead he was a mean-eyed, unfriendly young man who quite clearly and openly despised the company of others. He was so direct in his approach that making enemies of those he approached was a much more realistic result to consider than making friends with them.

He was not talkative, not generally at least. At most he explained himself in detail to avoid misunderstandings from happening, but little else than that.

And he was most definitely not a people's person. He could, quite clearly, not relate to anyone around him. Yamamoto had noticed this, as had Kato. No doubt the others, as well.

Indeed, Fuzen could understand that someone from the District suffering because 'they lacked money' would be solved by them 'having money', but he could not relate to their plight.

He could understand that the things those women who now served as his housemaids went through were horrible and they had suffered, but he could not relate to it.

There was no empathy to be had with him.

Only detachment and coldness.

And yet, Yamamoto doubted they could find anyone more genuine that their Young Master in Orario.

Something as petty as lying was quite impossible for them to associate with him. They could however imagine him telling them the plain truth, no matter how harsh or hurtful. Fuzen would never try to sugar-coat anything for them: if they messed up, he would be the one to voice the failure.

There was also not one person more dedicated to the task at hand than him in this entire District. Whatever it was improving the East District, going through reports, coming up with new menu ideas for the restaurants they owned or anything else, Fuzen was the one most dedicated to the work at hand. Yamamoto and the others could only try and match his determination to see the task at hand completed.

Lastly, his unbiased way of looking at people which had seen them succeed many times over. Fuzen was not someone who cared about one's appearance, status or history. By some means that almost seemed supernatural, he was able to see past the facade that every mortal created for themselves over the years.

He could see past the arrogance or the meekness, past the loudness or the quietness, past the eccentric or the ordinary selves of people and see the actual worth hidden inside a person.

It wasn't like the people in the room were the only business owners in the East District, after all. No, there were a lot, lot more than their small number. However, only those currently within the room were acknowledged by him, accepting their gesture of bending the knee all those months ago.

The same had happened with the Elf that was now in charge of their art gallery, Cellica. In all honesty Yamamoto had thought her to be a poor choice when they sat down and interviewed all those who had come forward to apply for the position of art director. In his opinion many others would have been a better choice back then.

Yet Fuzen had accepted her back then, something he did not budge on. And to Yamamoto's surprise the Elf woman had performed exceptionally in her position. She had brought in far more profit than he would have thought possible, partnered up with people he thought would be unreachable for a couple of years at the very least and she had grown La Muse's popularity exponentially since the opening ceremony.

Sure, she creeped Fuzen out.

Cellica was eccentric and downright weird at times, being such an avid art addict. Yamamoto and the others were just as creeped out by her as he was. But Fuzen had looked past all that and seen the worth in her as an art director, making an unbiased decision to hire her while putting his feelings and opinions to the side.

That was a good trait, and one for which the old man adored him as much as he did.

"...My opinion, is it?"

Fuzen nodded. "You are the only one qualified to make an educated guess as to our chances of pulling this off. As such, this plan will not be put into motion unless you believe it to be realistic. However, even if you say Yes and we still fail, I will take the blame upon myself. I am only growing stronger by the day, so I will be able to pay back any losses those within the room would suffer in case of failure within a year and a half, at the latest. Make your decision freely."

'...Freely, huh…?'

One more aspect of his Master, a less positive one: his inability to understand how his underlings felt at failing him.

He might have said to make a decision freely, but being the reason for why his Master would be indebted was hardly a reassurance for Yamamoto. If anything, it made deciding even harder.

'Then again...If we think about this realistically, in terms of benefits to both ourselves and the city at large…'

"...My Master."

"Speak."

"I will not say it will be easy, as the administrative work of legally bringing something like this into existence will be a migraine and a half on it's own, but...If we play our cards right, I believe we can make this loaning company a reality. That is my honest opinion."

At the sound of those words Fuzen simply nodded, his face as always not betraying a hint of emotion. "Understood. We will begin preparations to start this company, then." He then turned to look over the others. "Is anyone against this plan?"

Luckily it seemed like no one was against it, prompting a nod from their Master himself. "Mhm. Let us, then, discuss how we will split our manpower to make this happen."

"You wish to continue now, Young Master?"

The confusion on Fuzen's face was visible. "Yes, I would like to get started as soon as possible. No point in wasting time. Why?" He asked, his head tilting to the side a moment later. "Are you perhaps tired? If so, speak up. We can post-pose this to another date in that case."

His response managed yet another faint smile from the old man and a couple others. Indeed, there he was: their hard-working, dedicated Young Master.

"No, I am not tired, my Master. Quite on the contrary. Let us begin."

Taking a look around to see if anyone else wanted to quit but failing to see any signs to suggest as such, Fuzen continued. "Mhm. Then let us discuss what we need exactly to successfully open such a business."

Cellica did not waste any time in speaking up. "A place of operations would be necessary. There are some properties I know of located in the western side of Orario-"

"No." Fuzen cut her off. "While the suggestion is appreciated, it has to be located in the East District. We are doing this for the sake of the District, after all."

"My apologies, then."

Jin was next to speak up. "What about Saibara street in the southern part of the District? There is that old warehouse that used to belong to old man Hiroto. He died a couple of years back, and he had no family...Should we use that place?"

Their Master took a moment to consider. "Hmm...Tetsu." He turned over to the owner of the housing complexes. "Check if Hiroto truly has no family left alive. If he doesn't, then we will use the place. If any family of his is alive, we will pay them for it. Report to Yamamoto whatever you find." The slightly balding man simply nodded in return.

"I shall get in contact with the city administration to get the rights to the building, in that case." Yamamoto replied, but to his complete surprise and that of the rest of the occupants of the room, Fuzen hummed as he crossed his arms and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, obviously deep in thought.

"...No." Came the long-awaited reply.

"...My Master?"

"The city administration has done less for this District in years than a child and a group of self-employed people have haphazardly managed in a couple of short months, with our own funds no less. We do not need their permission to do anything within our own District. While I was not around to live it for myself, many of you have lived through the madness of Evilus, have you not? The city has barely thrown in a Valis for the reconstruction of this District: we will not allow them to believe they can yank us around just because they could profit from this."

Yamamoto half-agreed, but he could see the foolishness of this action as well. "My Master, if that is the mentality we are going to use, what about that housing complex you had me get the rights for? We have gone through the legal procedures for it..."

"That building was build by the city. It is theirs: as such, we have to pay for it. We are not thieves, after all. But Hiroto's warehouse is a building he paid for while his construction company was still around. It is not owned by the city, it is owned by one of our District."

"Even so, simply starting constructions on a piece of land under the simple claim that this is our District is a bit..."

"Ahh, I misspoke before. I apologize, let me rephrase myself." Fuzen replied, genuinely looking apologetic for a single moment. "This is indeed not our District. It is my District."

The old man's eyes widened at the statement, and yet he was unable to control the corner of his lips from perking upwards. "...As you wish."

"Mhm. I'll deal with those guys when the time comes by myself. Don't worry about it. So we have the place down. Next would be...employees?" Unsure if his guess was right Fuzen looked over to Yamamoto, who offered a short nod.

"Yes, my Master. A business cannot run without employees, after all. However...if we are to run a loaning company, then the employees should have administrative and legislative knowledge. Where will we find those qualified for the position…?"

His worries were well justified: the Guild employees, for example, were people who had to study in order to be qualified for their positions. Reading and writing was paramount, as was proper etiquette and knowledge of all things Dungeon-related.

Proper education, in other words.

Their employees would need to be similarly educated if they were to loan money to Adventurers and forge contracts with all types of Familia.

And yet, his Master simply threw him a distanced look in return. "There are enough unemployed people in the District. Get word around and have them all apply, then get the ones you think would be able to work in such an environment."

A good idea by itself, the definition of killing two birds with one stone. Indeed, opening a business meant providing work places for people. And instead of bringing in people from outside the District to work for them, his Master wanted them to provide those work places to their own people.

Truly, Yamamoto was glad to hear such a proposition from his Master.

And yet…

"My Master, there is still the problem of qualification. I doubt too many of those who are unemployed would be suited for such work."

In return, Fuzen simply raised an eyebrow at him like he was looking at stupid. "...Then teach them? You are the single most over-qualified person we have on our side. And you said you will help me with all the matters which I cannot deal with by myself. This is one such matter I cannot resolve by myself. So you deal with it, instead."

Silence set in for the next couple of moments, his mouth agape as he looked on at the boy staring at him.

For most, this would be a moment of dread. Your Master giving you a monumental task to complete, one which you were unsure you could complete.

But not Yamamoto.

No, instead he felt overflowing joy and pride at the trust his own Master had in him to see this matter dealt with. "...I hear and obey, my Master! However...this task might be a bit too much for just myself…" He turned to his left. "Kata, mind giving me a hand with this?"

The woman nodded. "Of course, Yamamoto. All will be as our Young Master desires."

With that out of the way it was time for the next topic, which Yamamoto himself brought up. "Next would be finances…Right now, we have no more than thirty million Valis left, with all the recent expenses involving the District. I take it you wish to contact Goibniu Familia again for the construction, Young Master?"

"Mhm. They are the most reliable and fastest at this type of work, and I would like to get everything started within a month or two."

"Are we not rushing it, my Master?"

"Are those who would harm us slowing down?" He countered with a question of his own, something quite unusual for him. Noticing the silence he continued. "Then we are not rushing, no. With that said, what is a realistic cost estimate in your opinion?"

"If I had to guess, my Master...around fifteen to twenty million Valis. More or less half our entire budged, if not more."

Another hum from his Master followed by a moment of silence.

"We also need capital to start the business, do we not?" Sachi asked.

"That would be another couple dozen Millions, at the least."

"How do we even go about getting that kind of money?"

"Should we call in favours?"

"I doubt favours would help us get that kind of money. Combined, we could maybe gather five Million Valis, if even that."

"...Ask the District residents for donations?"

"We will lose credibility if we do that. That would be unwise as we just managed to get back morale in the District over the last couple of months."

"...What if I sold my restaurant? It should be worth a pretty penny seeing how it's the best restaurant in the District."

"Hey Goro, you wrinkled prune...Who died and named your restaurant the best?"

"Ayame, making threats with a smile on your face is highly disturbing…"

As the back and forth between the confidants went on, Yamamoto looked over to his Master and noticed him still crossed-armed, a scowl on his brows as his eyes drilled holes in the floor. Finally, after a couple of moments he raised his eyes. "We will have the Guild take over half the cost of everything, from constructions to the needed capital."

To say the room fell silent in a heartbeat would have been an understatement. The understatement of the century, probably. "...And how, exactly, would you have them do that, esteemed owner?" Asked Cellica, the first to break the awkward silence.

Though those in the back had probably missed it, Yamamoto saw it then: a twitch in his Master's eye before he decided to answer. "We will blackmail them."

Anyone else would have declared Fuzen a madman just then and there.

However, Yamamoto knew his Master was speaking a fact. He had said they would blackmail the Guild, and so that would soon turn into reality. If there was anything one was made painfully aware of working closing with the young swordsman, it was the fact that his words became reality.

He would be the one to decide what was possible and what was impossible, and unfortunately for anyone else, impossible was not part of his vocabulary.

Be it the destruction of an entire well-established and funded criminal network, victory over a whole country or the taboo act of punishing a Deity of all things for their actions, anything his Young Master decided upon would become reality, one way or another.

As such, Yamamoto could not find a single ounce of wariness within his heart upon hearing the words.

However, instead of wariness he had felt a great shame set in instead.

His Master was a swordsman, one who lived by a code of honour he did not fully understand, but was nonetheless aware meant a lot to the boy. And that code prevented him from doing dishonourable acts like killing unarmed opponents...or blackmailing others for his own gain.

And yet, here he was: deciding by himself that in order for them as a group to advance forward, blackmailing was necessary.

Was this, in turn, not simply a testament to their incompetence as his confidants?

He wondered, right in that moment, if there was anyone alive who actually understood the turmoil this decision must have caused his Master.

"B-But to blackmail the Guild...Master, that is irrational. I insist that you reconsider." The one to speak next was Tetsu, drops of sweats already visible on his forehead at the mere visualization of such an act.

"What can they do?" His Master, in contrast, seemed hardly concerned. "It will of course make our early stages of partnership awkward, but they will not do anything that could see a quarter of their military might turning against them."

For once, Yamamoto was just as confused as everyone else within the room. "A quarter, my Master? What do you mean?"

In response Fuzen raised a finger. "Freya Familia." Then a second one. "Loki Familia." A third one. "Then myself." And finally, a fourth one. "Then every other Familia in Orario. That is how the might of Orario is split right now."

"...My Master, you mean to say you are a fourth of Orario's might?"

"Alone? No. With Raiju? Yes. With him at full power I could wipe out half this city before the others would be able to subdue and kill me. Likewise, I could have Raiju destroy that unnecessarily big lid over the Dungeon and let the Monsters flow into Orario once again, and they all know it. In his true form Raiju could just wrap his serpentine body around the base of the Babel and crush the structure, which would crumble shortly after from the sheer weight...What?" He asked as he noticed everyone except Cellica look at him with mouths agape. "...You did realize that I am a city-level threat when you bent the knee to me, did you not?"

No one answered with anything but silence however, still taking in how casual their Master had said those words not unlike how someone might talk about the breakfast they had the day prior.

"So you plan on using this bluff to your advantage then, esteemed owner?" The Elf in the room asked a moment later.

Fuzen nodded, glad that someone understood his line of thought. "Yes. Obviously, I have no need of doing any such thing. It is not required for my goal. But worst case scenario, I can make them aware of what couldhappen if I don't get my way." He added. "So, we have the location, the cost and the employees down. Next would be…"

'...Competition, right?'

"Goro, Ayame. I want the two of you to head to the bank. Pretend you are there to take on a loan and figure out their interest rates, as well as their way of operating. Once that is down, bring that knowledge to Yamamoto. You can use that to figure out a plan to make our business more appealing, can't you?"

Yamamoto nodded in turn, glad to see his Master showing such insight. All those lessons he had forced the young boy to take regarding finances seemed to have been worth it...despite the glares he had received for making him go through them. "If I have a model to work after it should help me figure out how to design our own interest rates, yes. However, there is another problem, Young Master. It is something we will no doubt figure out later, but…"

"Speak."

"Well...Interest rates aside, what should the company do in case of a loaner's inability to pay?"

A good question, one which Fuzen had not really considered until now. He only got the idea of the loaning company less than half a day ago, after all. With a hum he closed his eyes, trying to think of something. "How about...in case of inability to pay, we forbid them to dive into the Dungeon and instead have them work for us?"

"You mean...free workers?" Jin asked, a bit taken aback by the suggestion.

"I mean, there is enough work to be done around the District. If a Familia with multiple members loses manpower and are weakened enough that they can no longer make sufficient money to pay us back by Dungeon diving, we will forbid them to dive to avoid the remaining members dying and instead put them to work wherever we need."

"But if they are forced to work for free, isn't that like-"

Fuzen's glare stopped Hiroshi from saying another word. "If you compare us to damn slavers I'll have you cut off your tongue and offer it to me as an apology." His words were enough to make the man gulp and stay quiet. "We will not ask anyone to sell their bodies. Nor will we have them do work that is considered illegal. And we will pay for their daily necessities, as they would be Adventurers unable to make money from Dungeon diving."

"So we would be taking care of them in the end, then?"

"Even with all that said, the ones who benefit are still us, would you not agree? Since we would be the ones to gain superhuman individuals. Helping on a construction site or doing patrol duty around the District is hardly a slave's work, especially for those blessed by a Falna. And if they are moderately experienced, we could have them train loaners who are less experienced, ensuring that our means of income have the best chances of survival."

"That sounds like a good way of going around this problem, my Master. I'll take notes immediately!" The old man agreed excitedly as he pulled out a notebook from within his robes and started to vigorously note down everything Fuzen had said.

Noticing that everyone took this moment of silence while Yamamoto prepared to share hushed opinions, Fuzen closed his eyes and inhaled, then exhaled softly so that no one would hear him.

It was good that they making progress in the planning stage of things, but they all knew this was nothing more than a brainstorming session. This thing would take days, if not weeks to plan and prepare accordingly. A business could not be started without the proper preparations after all.

The art gallery La Muse taught him that much.

Granted he had involved himself in that project far less as the others wanted to prove themselves to him, but this loaning company specifically targeted Adventurers this time around.

His involvement this time around had to be thorough.

Fuzen wondered, in that moment of silence, how many kids his age would ever find themselves in a similar position. Dealing with all of this, mind going a mile a minute.

He knew he couldn't complain, however.

This had been his idea to begin with, and he was an avid believer of the saying 'I made my bed and I'll lie in it'.

"Ahem. Before we continue let's first see if anyone has anything to add or any suggestions to make on what has been discussed so far…"

XXX

Another day, another hell to experience.

If Mikoto had to describe her life lately that sentence would have probably been the most accurate description.

Lately she even found herself questioning if the memories of her life before the Lightning Sword Style were perhaps just an illusion, an escape concocted by her mind to help her cope with reality.

Fortunately that was not the case: she had met her former Familia a while ago and they were not figments of her imagination. She could touch them, they were real for sure.

That gave her hope.

"You are starting to get slower." The tall individual watching her from a distance voiced in his usual, carefree tone. "Master would be disappointed with that, you know?"

She knew and she would have replied but that was not possible. Her current training required absolute focus on breathing and speaking would have disrupted her.

Inhaling slowly Mikoto did her best to maintain her form and lowered herself down methodically, keeping that position for five seconds as Raiju had instructed, then exhaled and just as methodically pushed herself back up, then repeated the whole thing again.

How long had she been at it?

Frankly, she could not say. An hour, probably longer if she had to guess.

The puddle of sweat that wet the soil underneath her airborne body was the result of at least that much time invested in the training.

Weeks ago when Fuzen had first introduced the still rings to her, Mikoto had thought that the exercises he wanted her to perform would not be so bad. That thought had disappeared from her mind within the first hour of training.

It wasn't just hard or painful, it was excruciating. Doing it for a couple of minutes would have been fine, but the amount of time her Master had imposed upon her for the rings alone was insane.

Had it truly been an hour then she was only halfway done with the rings for today.

After a certain amount of time the pain would double then triple, but that was not all: the passage of time itself seemed to slow, Mikoto feeling her sanity slip away every time that happened.

Having been forced to keep herself from drowning in the water pit for a whole week in the cold dark just before this training started had been hardly helpful to her sanity, as well.

"Careful, you're shaking too much. The weights might fall off." Raiju pointed out from the distance with an almost jokingly tone, pointing out the weights that had been placed on her back and legs.

Because obviously Fuz-...her Master was not satisfied with her having to keep her body suspended in air with only the help of two rings while holding her body in a straight angle, he also had to add weights to it.

Iron weights, the cylindrical ones that merchants and the likes used for their scales. There were a couple of them, ranging from five kilograms to two kilograms ones. Two of the heaviest ones had been placed at the back of her knees, Mikoto forced to keep them balanced there while the rest were placed on her back, totalling somewhere around twenty-five kilograms in total.

While the added weights themselves made the task at hand hard, the hardest part was balancing them on her body and not letting them fall to the ground. It is why her breathing and her movement had to be precise, methodical.

Each time she spread her arms to the side and lowered herself they would stabilize a bit, and each time she brought her arms together and pushed herself up they would move around thanks to the change in her shoulder plates and contraction of the back muscles.

Too slow and her arms would start to shake and they would fall off, too fast and the weights would fall off just the same.

And if that happened, punishment followed.

'No more punishment. No more punishment. No more…'

That thought repeating itself like a mantra in her mind was one of the reasons she was still going at it.

"Training hard, I see. At least you are not making her slack off."

Just when Mikoto thought it couldn't get any worse she heard her Master's voice, his boots coming into her view as he came closer to her. Her heart began to sank in her chest as she noticed him just standing there, watching her perform her exercises with a glare that she could not see, but which sent shivers down her sweaty spine nonetheless.

Worse yet he slowly started walking around her as he went on with the exercise, observing her form most likely.

Which was half the truth.

Though he also observed her form what Fuzen was truly observing was the Ki in her body, its fluctuation and vibration, its pulse and its quantity.

She obviously had no control of it yet, that much was expected. Natural, even. Training had started barely a couple months ago after all. At most he could compare her with someone who had unlocked their Mind stat upon getting their first Spell, but still needed to get their Deity to update the Falna so that they could really tap into new power.

Her Ki was there, having grown at least somewhat compared to the beginning...but it was yet to be awakened and tamed.

'Still...she has progressed quite a bit already. A natural, maybe?'

It was then that Raiju's intrusive thoughts assaulted his mind. 'Well, compared to you, my Master, she is. You were the slowest one in your generation, after all.'

And as always, the lizard just happened to know what to say to irk him. Enough so that a Tsk escaped his lips, Fuzen unaware that the sound drained all the colour from Mikoto's cheeks. The girl thought his annoyance was caused by her, after all.

'Keep your slimy comments to yourself. How many boosts did you give her today?'

'None, my Master~ She did everything by herself so far.'

This managed to surprise Fuzen: had she really grown enough to pull through with only her grit alone?

It was the natural process of Lighting Sword Style training to have a senior Disciple oversee one's training and share a bit of their Ki with the trainee whenever they were on the brink of collapse, both tricking and forcing the trainee's body to tap into its own Ki reserve to go on.

That is how that retired shitty geezer had trained him and his late friends, and how he would train Mikoto.

That was one of the reasons Raiju was tasked with keeping close to Mikoto: whenever she was about to give up he would change his own Ki vibrations to match that of Mikoto's then sent a tiny bit of that Ki to her, her body unconsciously jumping on the spare energy and giving her the means to do just 'one more rep, one more lap, one more swing'.

Just one more.

Just one.

Then two more.

Then three, and so on, until her body finally realized it had a hidden pool of energy to draw from by itself.

'I could perform the awakening ritual on her...But it's too soon for that. The shitty geezer didn't perform the awakening on me until I could tap enough into my own Ki to both defend myself from him and use it to attack with...A few more months are needed, otherwise she could burn through all her Ki at once and die on the spot.'

Now back in front of the girl Fuzen hummed ever so slightly as he watched her. The training had improved her significantly, he could say that much with confidence. The training he planned for her was not as diverse as his own had been, but it seemed for someone older than he was when he trained this seemed to be a better option.

He would make a Disciple out of her before long...if she survived her Ki awakening that is. While the first stage was hardly as fatal as the second and third one or the ones after, deaths during the first awakening had been documented in the past.

Hopefully she would not be one of the few.

'...She has also learned well during Raiju's lesson on our school's history. Still, our history spans over six hundred years...I won't commend her before she has everything memorized.'

Next he observed her breathing, which was a bit lacking but overall satisfactory. She could do better but given the intensity of the exercise at hand...Fuzen could overlook this much as long as she tried her best and didn't mess up in a major way.

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

'Mhm, that is good enough. Her breathing and movement are more or less in sync-'

Exhale-

Unfortunately for the rather shy Mikoto being under scrutiny by her no-nonsense Master for so long got to her and for a single moment, she lost her sync she had focused so hard to maintain.

Before she could even lift her eyes Fuzen's back fist struck her across the face and her head shot to the side from the impact, Mikoto more than sure she saw black before her eyes for a single moment.

Yet somehow, she had managed to maintain her form despite the powerful hit but felt the weights on her back and legs starting to shake thanks to the sudden impact. Acting quickly she spread her arms to the side and lowered her body down as much as possible, feeling the weights stabilize again.

She wanted to exhale and spit out the blood gathered in the mouth but she had not been told to do so yet. If Mikoto learned anything in the past few months it was that unless Raiju or Fuzen told her to stop, she was to continue training without complaint.

And so, gathering her strength she brought her arms back together and pushed her body up again, letting the blood slip out of her mouth with each exhale.

This continued in awkward silence for who knows how long before Fuzen walked away for a short while, coming back minutes later. "You may stop."

Having heard the words she would have killed for Mikoto slowly straightened her body, hearing the weights she had been balancing falling to the ground and sighing in relief. As soon as her soles touched the ground she fell down to her knees, the accumulated fatigue overwhelming her in a single second.

It was then that she realized how much her cheek hurt, now swollen and pulsating with pain each second from the cut on the inside which she felt.

"Here." A glass of water was extended to her a moment later, Mikoto looking up at her Master. "Wash your mouth."

Moments like these were instances where Mikoto failed to get a good grasp on this boy that she decided to train under. First he put you through hell and hit or electrocuted you when you failed to maintain a standard, but then he extended a helping hand with an unreadable expression on his face...She just didn't get it. Not at all.

"...Yes."

She nodded and reached out with a hand for the glass but found herself unable to grab it, her hand simply too shaky and weak for such a task. Turning her palm up Mikoto noticed how the skin had long since peeled off from the constant friction on the rings, now just a bloodied mess she could barely feel.

Fuzen noticed this and walked up to her side, taking a knee and bringing the cup to her lips. With a short nod she accepted the gesture and took a long sip which she used to wash her mouth with, spitting it out moments later.

As soon as she was done with that Mikoto felt something cold and soothing against her cheek, realizing it was a wet towel Fuzen was pressing against the wound. "Does your neck hurt anywhere?"

"...No."

"Good. Why do you think I hit you?"

"I lost my body-mind-breathing sync."

"Obviously. I was not asking about the why, I was asking about the actual reason."

At that she was at a lost of words. Not because she couldn't think of anything, quite on the contrary. It could have been for a multitude of reasons, but she also knew her Master would be disappointed if she answered in the wrong. "I...don't know."

"Because it is significantly better for you to suffer now than to die later."

She took a moment to process the words. Better to suffer now than to die later...that was a bastardized way of putting the Lightning Sword Style's mindset into words.

A lifetime of discipline for a moment of victory.

He had made sure to drill that into her head as soon as she started her training: the mindset that still sent shivers down her spine repeating it in her head.

Was she even the kind of person suitable for something like that?

Would she ever be able to adhere to the code to an extent that the exalted Founder would find acceptable?

Could she truly follow a path of endless training and discipline?

Had Fuzen made a mistake in choosing-?

"Hmm?" All such thoughts were lost as she felt something dripping on her head, lifting her eyes up to notice Fuzen squeezing the wet towel above her head.

"Your face tells me you are deep in thought. I'd much rather you focus on the present."

"...Yes, Master."

"Good." He gave a nod. "Well, that has half the reason I hit you. The other one…" Fuzen then reached out for his pouch, taking out one low-tier potion and uncorking the lid then throwing the liquid on Mikoto.

Within moments she felt the healing effect kick in, the bloodied mess that was her palms healing to resemble actual palms. However…

'...The wound on my cheek...It's still there.' The girl thought to herself, still feeling the metallic taste of blood on her tongue.

It made no sense: even if the healing potion Fuzen used was of the lowest tier, its potency should have been high enough to deal with a small wound like that. And yet, it did not.

"The other half of the reason as to why I hit you...well, you should have realized by now." He voiced as he tapped his own cheek. "It is not healing, is it?"

"No…"

"That is another aspect people with my kind of ability can impose upon others: wounds that cannot be healed."

"You...are not joking, Master?"

"I just used a potion on you, did I not? Why did your palms heal, but not the wound from my hit? It would be the same if you were to use an Elixir, or if Dea Saint would try her healing Magic on you."

"How is that possible?"

Fuzen took a moment to think of a reply.

He had yet to explain to Mikoto what Ki was, or even just mutter its name around her. For now he simply wanted her to focus on the history of the Lightning Sword Style and on physical training.

After all, while he placed his bet on her, that was no guarantee she would not break before her training was complete. And he really did not want to expose his school's secrets to her before he was sure.

"...Because the wound is not simply physical in nature. If it helps think of it as a curse. All people with my skillset are able to imbue both armed and unarmed strikes with this curse. And I wanted you to experience it sooner rather than later."

That, too, was only half the reason.

While Mikoto knowing about this side of Ki was good, Fuzen had also wanted to see how her body reacted one such hit imbued with Ki now that she had been indirectly exposed to the energy thanks to both him and Raiju.

Surprisingly enough, the moment his hand hit her across the face her body automatically tried to redirect the little bit of Ki she possessed to the afflicted area in an attempt to counter the foreign energy it knew to be bad for her.

This was a wonderful revelation: it meant her Ki circulation was starting to take shape, however underdeveloped it was. This could very well save her life at some point.

Fuzen himself probably only survived his first encounter with Sakda thanks to that very same automatic reaction from his body. The moment he lost both his swords and his senses dulled as Sword Disciple was no longer active it all became a blur to him.

The Were-Jaguar was simply too fast for him to react to anything. Yet before even his mind could process the fact that he was getting punched in the face, his Ki automatically flared up and covered him in a defensive veil, blocking as much of Sakda's Ki as possible so that the least amount would reach Fuzen.

Perhaps, someday, Mikoto would find herself in a similar situation. If so it was best for them to train her reaction to such attacks.

'...Guess I have to copy that damn geezer's training for that. No shortcuts for that, unfortunately.'

'Do you even have the heart for it, my Master?' He heard Raiju's intrusive thoughts, and this time around he could not reply immediately.

After all, the training method they would need for improving automatic reaction to Ki imbued attacks was not the cruellest one, but it was the most brutal one. Any notions of a normal Master-Apprentice relationship between him and Mikoto would disappear into thin air if they were to include that in her training regime.

'...We will train her accordingly to what she needs. If by the end of her training she will hate me as much as I hate that fricking geezer, so be it.'

"That is...hard to believe…" She finally responded, having taken a long moment to process the information.

Fuzen could not blame her. Hexers were rare people indeed, imagining whole schools like the Lightning Sword Style able to inflict incurable wounds would baffle everyone. "I just gave you the example on your own skin, have I not? You two will be able to use such powers once your training is complete and you become a full-fledged Disciple of our school."

"That is a scary thought."

"As is should be. This skill is not something we should use haphazardly nor whenever we feel like it. The only ones who can cure such wounds are people with a similar skillset to mine. Do you remember the rumours of that Were-Jaguar that was killing Adventurers in the Dungeon?"

Mikoto nodded, having heard of that incident only by accident, mostly because everyone was talking about how Kenshi walked out of the Dungeon dragging the corpse of the Were-Jaguar after him. "Yes."

"Just like me, that Were-Jaguar was able to use this same supernatural power I possess."

"So there are others…"

"Obviously. The martial arts world you are training right now to be a part of has many such individuals. Though, in all honesty...the number of people I met who can use this power is not higher than what I could count on two hands."

With a shrug he approached her again and placed his hand on her cheek, focusing on absorbing his own Ki that was now imbued in her wound. Mikoto must have realized something was up, no doubt because this process usually felt rather prickly, like needles piercing just the skin but no the flesh underneath it.

A couple of minutes later, having absorbed as much of his Ki as possible he drew back and pulled out another potion which he threw on Mikoto, her eyes immediately widening in surprise upon realizing the untreatable wound from before was no more.

"It's...gone now…"

"Yes. You too will learn such things when the time is right. For now however you will simply continue your training."

"Y-Yes…"

"Mhm. Right, I didn't come by today just to see how your training was going. I wanted to let you know that I will be going on a solo expedition into the Dungeon in a couple of days and that I will have Raiju help me out. For a couple of weeks you will be training on your own."

"On my own?" Fuzen simply nodded, showing no sign of concern on his face. "But...what if I slack off?"

His response managed to surprise her. "That is not my problem."

"...What?"

"If you actually want to get stronger, you will train. If you don't have that desire, you will not. That is your decision and not something I can choose for you. I will however instruct some of my housemaids to come here and help you with the exercises you need help with and to get you back home."

That last statement made Mikoto cringe a bit as most days she would fall unconscious from exhaustion and be brought back to Fuzen's house by someone like Raiju and only then woken up for her bath and meal. "...I understand."

"Mhm. I'll drop by again before I go on my Expedition, and I'll have a plan ready for you. Raiju will also come back to the surface regularly to drop off Magic Stones and he'll check on you." With that said Fuzen turned around and made to leave, having enough to do for today that time was now a luxury.

Against his will, however, his mind seemed to drag him back to the past, to a time he hardly ever wanted to remember again…

…

…

…

Again, he was the only one left in the dust.

It was infuriating: while everyone else advanced to the next stage of the training, he was still only catching up.

To his young mind, it made no sense. He was capable of imbuing his Ki in a sword, to make it an extension of his body. He had been the second one to get a grasp on that technique.

So then, why...at something as basic as enhancing his own body he found himself lacking?

Another two swings, one from each arm and yet no progress whatsoever. In order to show that he had a good grasp of the basics he found himself lacking in the old geezer tasked him with ripping a chunk out of a boulder with his bare hands.

That had been five days ago and no matter how much he swung his hands at the boulder in front of him there was no progress.

His hands were numb from the hundreds, thousands of times he had hit it and besides his thumbs all the fingernails on his other fingers had peeled off. It had hurt enough the first two days to make him cry, but over the next three days it became too normal to worry about it anymore.

If he tried to close his fists he had no doubts the skin would burst open from how swollen both hands had became over the days he had done nothing else but try to rip a chunk of stone.

Another right, another left…

Splash

Splash

And yet only the wet sound of his blood-covered hands hitting the boulder could be heard, without any progress in sight.

'Damn it…'

Splash

Splash

For five days he failed to time the pulse of Ki correctly so that his motion would be boosted to levels his unblessed feeble body would be otherwise unable to bring forth. A 'ripping' motion wasn't an action that only required the hands, after all.

Fingers, wrists, forearms, biceps, chest, shoulders, back, hips...So many parts of his body needed to work together to make completing his task a reality, and he could not boost them all at the same time.

All the others had already moved on to the next part of their training while he remained behind in their dust.

Incompetent.

Useless.

Inferior.

Failure.

Only him, again and again.

'Damn it…'

Splash

Splash

Again and again.

'Damn it…'

Splash!

Splash!

Again and again.

'Damn it!'

Splash

Splash

Splash!

Splash!

SPLASH

SPLASH

SPLASH!

SPLASH!

…..

….

…

The Lighting Sword Style taught that a Disciple needed a clarity of mind, body and purpose to effectively use the sword in their manner, a serene unity that those who had been originally weak and talentless like them needed in order to survive and persevere in the talented world of the strong.

A unity he had lacked from day one.

And yet when he snapped from his hate induced anger, he noticed chunks of rocks in both of his hands.

How much time had passed, he had no idea. Hours maybe, judging by the fresh stains of blood on the boulder in front of him.

He had completed his task.

And still it was a failure. He had failed to make use of the fundamentals of his school in order to complete the task. A task completed through anger and hatred was a failure.

But, in that moment, he did not care.

He had done it.

Did anything else really matter?

He just wanted some water and sleep. Anything else was of no concern.

Robotically, in a daze, he made his way back to their current camp. He was sure he blacked out a couple of times on the way, but it didn't matter: his legs simply kept going even if his mind was absent.

And sure enough, that geezer was there by the camp fire. There was no sign of the others: they had probably been brought somewhere else for their training.

Without any words he simply dropped the two chunks of rock by the geezer's feet and dragged himself to the waterskin he had eyed from the very beginning.

He just wanted some water. Just a few drops would be enough.

But that would not happen. A hand grabbed him by the back of his head and before he could even realize it he was slammed face-first into the hard ground. He heard a snap and a crunch and the pain from his now broken nose came a moment later.

'Why are you back?' The geezer asked, pushing his head in for a second more before he pulled back.

It took him almost half a minute to push himself to his knees and hands, feelings the stream of tears running down his face. Was it because of the pain? Because of the humiliation? Or because of the hatred?

Perhaps it was all of them, combined.

'Haaa...Haaa...I did as you asked, what more do you fucking want?!'He shot back with far more energy than he should have been able to spare, but the geezer only answered with an upwards kick to his abdomen that lifted him off the ground before he fell down again a moment later.

'You did it once and you are already satisfied with yourself? If that is your mentality then you are a lost cause already.' The geezer voiced, throwing one more kick at his ribs which managed to leave him breathless. 'Can you not honour the school you are trying to join even once in your life? Have you not thrown enough mud on its name already?'

No words of encouragement, no pat on the shoulder, not a single positive thing to be had. Not that it was a surprise. Neither the geezer, nor his God or Mistress would ever be satisfied at anything he did.

No matter what he accomplished, no matter how he did it, no matter how fast or perfect, they would never be satisfied with him.

Why, he did not know.

It was simply the norm.

'Unlike the others which I recruited from all over the country, you have been training with God Hachiman for years now. So why, then…' Another kick came next,one which sent him sliding away a couple of meters. 'Are you still incapable of completing the simplest of training? Training that others with less years of practice can do?'

Going on and on like a damn parrot started to really piss him off, hatred of magnitudes no child his age should ever be capable of feeling swelling up in his heart with each word and each kick thrown at him.

Did the geezer really think he was saying something he wasn't telling himself every single day?

As the kicks to his ribs stopped and he had a moment to catch his breath before he would no doubt fall unconscious, he turned his head just enough to look up at the senior, retired Disciple who acted as their trainer and mentor. 'Eat shit...and die.'

His response had been hardly appreciated however and a moment later the geezer's one good foot stomped on his face and pressed him into the ground once again. 'Watch your mouth you little shit.'

He tried for a couple of seconds to push the foot away from him, but his strength was quickly fading away. The fatigue of days upon days of training with no rest was catching up to him and he knew he would soon black out. 'I'll...rip...you...apart…'

'You would want that, wouldn't you? It's in your nature after all.'

…

…

…

Thinking back on it, Fuzen realized just how messed up that chapter of his life had been. His relationship with his mentor was impossibly bad, so bad in fact he doubted any person alive could ever understand it.

In the beginning he had of course respected the old shit: he was a former senior Disciple, retired only after losing one leg in a duel a long time ago. His retirement and his decision to go and live away from the school is what saved his life in the end, as he was not present when the massacre that almost wiped out the Lightning Sword Style happened all those years ago.

To Fuzen the geezer was a link to the past that he never got to see. He had known all the Disciples from the previous generation, he had known a time when their training halls were not empty and hollow.

Or at least, he should have been a link to the past.

Unfortunately he turned out to be anything but such a thing.

'I'd like to think that the current me no longer troubles himself with that man...but that would be a lie. Just like the old me, I also cannot feel anything but absolute hatred towards that old shit...Haaa…'

Shaking his head Fuzen turned around and looked at Mikoto, already back to her training under Raiju's surprisingly vigilant gaze.

The girl's training was hard. It needed to be so if she was to ever awaken and wield her Ki proficiently without dying in the process.

Still, it was nowhere near the level of hardship Fuzen's own training had been. He at least didn't want her to wish to take her own life every other day.

But it was still hard.

She was still struggling.

And yet she was giving it her all.

She was trying her best, without complaint, without giving up.

Driven not by the same hatred he had used to remain relatively sane and to survive, but by something else entirely. Something he could not see, nor understand.

'That expressions of hers...No, I'm more than sure I did not have the same expression back then. Mine was different. Different from hers, different from the others'…'

Even his now forgotten friends back then had nobler expressions while going through their training, thought it was the same difficulty as his own. They had all been driven by worthier aspirations, all except him.

However they still struggled. They still cried.

They all had.

'...Back then, when it hurt the most, what was it that he desired the most?'

A moment passed, then two. He had found the answer to his question immediately, it was still him after all, just another version of him, but he still kept his quiet despite having the answer.

Would words really change anything for her?

Sure, it had been his childish desire back then, but he was older now. He was sure that even if he heard them back then, it wouldn't have changed anything at all. "...Mikoto."

Hearing him call out her name Mikoto paused her training and jumped down to her feet. "Yes, Master?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"...Uhhh...Master?"

"...You...are doing good."

"...W-What?"

"...I said you are doing good."

"...Oh…" A second passed as the girl processed what her Master just said, and yet to his own surprise a smile appeared on her lips. It almost seemed as if the tiredness in her eyes subsided, impossible as that was. "Thank you, Master!"

"...Mhm."

Whatever it helped, Fuzen didn't know. Only Mikoto could figure that one out. He had meant it however and he hoped she would understand that.

She was doing good, after all.

She was not giving in to hatred or self-loathing just because it was painful and harsh.

Though the geezer who trained him would no doubt be of a different mind, Fuzen saw worth in that.

XXX

"That was...unexpected." Mikoto whispered as she watched her Master depart, speaking only when she thought he was out of earshot.

From her side she heard a low grunt as Raiju crossed his arms around his chest, likewise watching his Master walk away, his draconic eyes lingering on the boy's small back. "...Unexpected? Not really, actually...More like something he would not say, now or ever."

"Is that not the same thing?"

"Get your sweaty ass back to your training in five seconds or I'll use my tail again."

Feeling a cold sweat wash over her just from the mention of the tail punishment being used again Mikoto wasted no time in jumping on the rings once more and proceeding with her exercise.

Raiju's eyes, meanwhile, were still fixed on the gate through which his Master had just left, one clawed finger tapping against his arm as he tried to figure it out.

A moment ago, when his Master spoke the words, he had felt the change. It was brief enough for Fuzen to not realize there had been a change to begin with, but Raiju sniffed it out through their connection.

And yet, he could not figure it out.

Heads...or tails?

Which side had the coin landed on in that brief moment?

Or perhaps...the coin had not landed on either sides, but rather miraculously spun around in a circle, neither side overshadowing the other?

That was...worrying.

That was...not allowed.

XXX

In all honesty, months ago when he had decided how to move forward, Fuzen had not expected his decisions to lead to so much work that was not dedicated to his main goal.

To his duty.

Perhaps that was a sign that he had lacked the proper maturity to realize where his decisions at the time would lead him towards.

Because of that he now had to play a game he had not been trained to play.

He now had to be a central figure to a group he, to this day, didn't fully understood how it formed in the first place.

Back when he decided to use the money he had gained from his war with Altena to financially take over the East District, he had not expected things to blow up to where they were right now.

The truth of the matter was that while he had asked Yamamoto to help him buy off businesses, he had only personally asked four individuals he believed to be crucial to his plans to bend the knee to him, Yamamoto being among those four.

Yet for every business that he approached, one more person would take a knee before him. That had been...unexpected, to say the very least.

Before he knew it all the influential people in the East District had offered their loyalty to him. Overwhelmed by the reality of the situation he had simply agreed to it, hoping that in time they would go away by their own free will.

Yet even when he was at his lowest, after his lossat the hands of the Were-Jaguar, those people still didn't go away.

Masochists, perhaps?

He didn't know.

Still...it wasn't bad.

It would be easy for any one person who knew of his actions to say that all Disciples of his school were no more than glorified killers, murderers who fancied themselves honourable for following one rule or another.

He knew he had done little to help in that regard.

But the Lightning Sword Style had been anything but simply armed killers.

Fuzen had heard the stories from Hachiman, he had read the journals left behind by those who came before him.

His late seniors had done many great things which had helped and improved a lot of lives. They had hunted wild Monsters who threatened villages, brought punishment upon those who would hurt and enslave those weaker than them, even went as far as to stop wars between regional lords if the harm inflicted on the populace would become too great.

They had been good people...but not heroes or solely justice-driven individuals.

Though their numbers had never been intimidating, the individual strength of each Disciple could have been used by the Lightning Sword Style of old to outright prevent wars from happening by means of threats.

They could have prevented much more suffering by imposing their strength on their region. Had their numbers been high enough Fuzen had no doubt his school could have imposed whatever they desired on the whole Far East.

But they did not. Not once in their long history which spanned over six hundred years.

They were, first and foremost, warriors on a life-long path of self-improvement after all. As cruel as it may sound to any one person out in the world suffering and seeking help from those with the power to make a difference, their goal had never been to make the world a better place.

Yet with all that said, the teachings of the exalted Founder were clear: extend a helping hand when it is deserved, draw your sword at spreading injustice when encountered, don't let the arrogant strong believe the one born weak is without a bite.

Indeed, his school could have done much, much more.

Had all those Disciples and Masters who achieved even greater individual power than Fuzen in the long history of their school decided to set out to right the things others would consider wrongs, they could have achieved great results. Had they done so, perhaps their war-plagued country would have looked differently.

And yet, what would that have truly achieved?

Had they done so, would they have managed to change human nature? Would they have managed to extinguish evil from mortal hearts? Would they have been able to prevent bad people from being born, or prevent those very same bad people from putting into motion actions that would lead to people suffering?

The answer was No.

Just like you could not prevent the night from coming after day, you could not prevent any of those things from happening whatever you had six hundred years or six thousand years worth of trying.

Even if they had managed all of that, would it have truly meant a better world?

Would their exalted Founder have became someone worthy of undying respect because she continued on with her quiet life as a farmer, or was it because she picked up the sword after her children and husband had been killed in front of her eyes?

Would her life and her achievements still have inspired someone like Fuzen, born more than half a millennia later after her death, had the exalted Founder never encountered suffering and hopelessness in her life?

Would she have became someone worthy of being titled the greatest swordswoman by no other than an immortal God of War had she not seen the lifeless faces of her family before her eyes with each swing of the sword she performed in her long life?

No.

He knew it. Those who came before him knew it. The Founder herself knew it.

Mortals were weak.

Even though within their school they spoke of those who were born talented and strong and those like the Disciples themselves who were born talentless, even Fuzen knew that mortals as a species were weak.

Despite all their achievements, despite their sentience, despite their technology and advancements they were still weak.

The weakest.

Despite everything, ten mortals armed with spears and bows still needed to work together to bring down a single lion.

Despite weapons and armours a mortal man still had no chance against the weakest of Monsters.

And even when a mortal managed to slay a Monster it was simply thanks to the grace of an immortal Deity sharing with them a single drop of their unimaginable power, exalting them to heights otherwise impossible.

Mortals were weak.

So very weak.

But...their potential was bottomless, that much Fuzen could say without a second thought.

Even without weapons or armours, even without speech or great intellect, even without the grace of a Deity upon their backs mortals were capable of feats no animal, Monster or never-changing Deity would ever be capable of.

Indeed, such potential lay within every mortal soul...if only they suffered enough.

Such was the damnable truth: only he or she who experienced the greatest of sufferings would be able to achieve true power, the power that was rightfully their birthright as the weakest species.

Power unaided by armaments or the intervention of godly figures.

Power that was yours and yours alone.

It was simple, really: as long as mortals would posses desires, the likes of wars, injustice and suffering would never end. In turn, from among those who would be victims of wars, injustice and great suffering individuals with a hunger for power would rise up, determined to never again be subjected to such things.

Determined to take charge of their own lives. Determined to not let others ever experience what they had.

Determined to be weak and hopeless, nevermore.

Such was the truth behind the potential, the power of mortals.

A truth known to any one Disciple of the Lightning Sword Style.

As per the instructions of the exalted Founder, they would help whenever possible. They would train so that they could both extend a helping hand as well as swiftly draw their swords, depending on the situation.

Only that however, and nothing else.

It was neither their goal nor their duty to do anything more than that.

Some would mock them for it, no doubt. Others, especially those who suffered, would without a doubt throw insults at them.

But in the end the past would repeat itself and those who experienced enough suffering would, no matter their age, gender or origin, find their way to the gates of the Lightning Sword Style.

It is why Fuzen said this wasn't bad.

He knew well enough that he was the one Disciple in their entire history cursed with the fate of being alone, the sole member of his generation. There was of course still his Mistress...But her presence did not change the fact he was on his own.

If there was any hopes of him not being the last ever Disciple of his ancient school...well, it all depended on him.

It all depended on his decisions, on his course of actions.

Mikoto accepting his invitation had been the first thing in years to ignite the smallest spark of hope in his chest.

But her initiation hardly meant his duty was any easier now.

If all went the way he planned then once she finished her training and became a Disciple herself Mikoto could take over and embody the spirit of the Lightning Sword Style that Fuzen would never be able to embody.

Not with the circumstances he had been cursed with.

Not with the dark whispers that plagued his mind from the day he was born.

Yet even if all that came to pass their school needed to survive long enough for it to matter. Mikoto was still weak, after all. Little more than a weak link. Even after her training, even after unlocking her Ki she would still be weak.

Years would be needed for her to be tempered, to become strong enough to survive on her own.

Until then it was all up to him.

Fuzen could not allow himself to be like his predecessors: his circumstances simply did not allow for that. He could not be as free as them. He could not set out on his own journey to find himself. He could not engage in the same activities the Disciples of old undertook.

Even if it meant going against the instructions of the exalted Founder he needed to prioritize the survival of the school first and foremost.

As much as he wanted to be an honourable Disciple of the school, deep down Fuzen knew that such a thing was no more than a pipe dream. To ensure that the school survived long enough heh would need to make questionable decisions, to take less than honourable actions.

Perhaps the generation after Mikoto or the one after that would frown at the mention of his name. Perhaps they would expunge his name from the journals.

He could already see what some might call him in the future, whatever near or far:

Fuzen the dishonourable.

Fuzen the shameful.

Fuzen the cold-blooded murderer.

Who knows what else they might associate with his name, once all his plans were put in action?

But that was fine: they would at least be alive to do so. The Lightning Sword Style would be alive once more to criticize him and his actions, to scorn the stains of dishonour he smeared on their history and the fact he was ever one of them.

That was all he could hope to be.

He wasn't one of the Masters.

He wasn't his Mistress.

He wasn't the exalted Founder.

He wasn't one of the greats of his school and he would never reach such a level.

He was just one man...just one kid.

People both in his homeland and in Orario often liked to make rather absent-minded remarks about him: how he didn't act his age, how his speech was too elaborate for a boy, how he didn't act like a child at all.

It was in those moments that Fuzen wondered how many of those thoughtless people were burdened with the weight of over six hundred years of history.

He wondered how many of them were the last practitioners of an ancient martial arts style that once replaced heaven with earth.

He wondered how many of them had the eyes of countless generations of past Disciples staring at their backs, scrutinizing their every action and wondering if the school they devoted their entire lives to would have a future or if their entire history would be lost to the incompetence of the present.

Most of all he wondered if anyone else had the legacy of the strongest swordswoman pressing down on their shoulders, their existence alone deciding whatever that legacy would be lost to the winds or not. As much as others would like to say otherwise, he had no time to act his age, to be a kid or even to act human.

His duty was clear to him, set in stone long ago when he could not question nor make the decision himself.

It is why this wasn't bad.

He couldn't live the same life those who came before him did. But all of this: the East District, the Genyutai, even the women who lived at his place…

It was all a pain in his ass, but helping them, overlooking the District, helping the members who made up his Genyutai to become stronger, the women who looked brighter and stronger with each passing day…

He had no time for feelings of satisfaction, but for the first in years...or perhaps for the first time ever, Fuzen felt that he was actually a Disciple of the Lightning Sword Style.

For the first time he felt a closeness to his school and to all those who came before.

It...wasn't bad.

It wasn't bad…

XXX

With his focus deep on his thoughts Fuzen had reached his destination before he even knew it. Looking up at the sun to get an idea about the time of day he nodded and walked to the other end of the gigantic plaza at the foot of the Babel, the part that faced the direction they would be coming from.

'One hundred and sixteen...'

Finding an area that was not as crowded with Adventurers Fuzen crossed his arms across his chest and simply waited.

Hardly the most efficient way of doing this but, well...He felt like he needed the time to prepare anyway.

Prepare how exactly though?

That he did not know.

'Four-hundred and thirty-two...'

All that was clear to him after pondering quite a while on the matter at hand was the ridiculousness of what he had decided to do.

'This is so fricking stupid.'

No matter how he tried to think about it, what he was doing right now was a total waste of time. There was no reason to actually do this nor any merit.

Likewise, whatever he would do it or not the actual results would not change, as that depended solely on them and not him.

'Seven hundred and fifty-six…'

Honestly he had not even given his word that he would do this so frankly he could just turn around and go, then never mention this to himself or anyone else ever again. That actually sounded pretty good, all things considered.

But...though he had not promised to be here, Fuzen felt like this course of action was more or less what was expected of him. Not that he needed to meet those expectations, of course.

'One thousand and eight…'

He knew that.

With all that said, he could not forget what he owned either. As annoying as this gesture was he knew he should at least be grateful there wasn't something more expected of him.

"...Ah. That's them."

'One thousand one hundred and sixty-eight.'

About nineteen minutes and a half after his arrival at the plaza. Not bad, given the fact he had half-believed they would already be in the Dungeon by now. Lecturing Mikoto had taken a bit longer than expected.

Time management was starting to slowly slip through his fingers. Right now it was still acceptable to some degree but he reckoned once the plans for the loaning company would be in full swing that would become far less acceptable.

'Haaaa...Fulfilling my duty is still so far away…'

While he stood there waiting for the group to draw nearer, they were still quite far away after all, Fuzen realized something else.

Nineteen and a half minutes.

Time during which he pondered on his thoughts, yet still subconsciously counted down the time. It was nothing new: he had done the same back when he agreed to accompany Chloe on her shopping trip for half a day, counting the seconds down to the last before knocking the she-cat out cold for trying to manipulate him.

The way to do this thing others would consider highly obsessive was actually quite easy.

Blinking.

Even before his initiation training, years before that actually, his former God had been sure to train Fuzen to only blink at intervals of eight seconds. Why eight? Hachiman's explanation had been that eight seconds was a balanced amount of time to blink.

Any less and you might fail to see a surprise attack coming your way, any more and your eyes might betray you when you need them most.

Back then the explanation came off as somewhat stupid to his younger self. Now...well, he still thought it was stupid to some degree, but Fuzen could not deny it had helped him, if not in battle then at least to keep a nigh perfect track of the passage of time.

But as of late, perhaps he had unveiled the actual truth behind that training: control.

Right...because they needed to control even the interval at which he blinked. It was plausible enough.

The green-haired figure which had been quite far off now walked in front of him, the tip at the end of her staff clinking against the floor as she came to a stop. "Fuzen. Most unexpected to see you here."

'One hundred and forty-...God damn it…'

"Haaa…" It wasn't even a second later he understood his mistake, hazel eyes looking up to see the High Elf throwing him a confused, one-eyebrow raised look.

"I did not realize my presence is a reason for sighing."

"...No. I was merely lost in thought." He added quickly, lowering his head ever so slightly. "My apologies."

"I know." Riveria's features eased up. "It was merely a jest. I truly did not expect you here, however. Any particular reason?"

"I was simply thinking of…" He looked to the side at the couple dozen members of his Familia that Riveria was leading this time around. A sizeable chuck of their numbers, though those were mostly just the Level 2's mixed with a couple of Level 3's. The only exception being the Amazon girl at the far end of the line, chatting with some of the girls. It wasn't long before she looked up ahead and spotted him, a big smile creeping its way on her face as she took off in a light jog towards him and Riveria. "...seeing you off."

"...Again, unexpected."

"...Mhh."

Well aware that she would not get much else in terms of explanations out of the boy, Riveria turned around and ordered her party to take a moment and run inventory one more time to make sure they didn't forget anything for the small-scale Expedition they would soon embark on.

"Heya!" By now the Amazon had also reached them, stopping just a step away from Fuzen. He had to force himself not to take a step back and gain some distance from how close Tiona was to him. "Hey, you."

"...Mhh."

"What are you doing here?"

To his own surprise, instead of replying immediately Fuzen found himself once again crossing his arms across his chest first. Why, he did not know. "Obviously, to see you off."

"Owww~ You didn't have to~" The Amazon replied on a tone that made him angry for no reason, having the audacity to poke his face with her finger for some reason.

"I'll cut it off."

"Nah, you won't." Nonetheless, she retracted her finger. "Hmm? Wait, is this about that time-"

"Yes, obviously."

That time being the last Expedition Fuzen had been part of just recently, one led by Tione. Back then Tiona had slept in and missed them, waking up only after the group had already dived into the Dungeon.

On their return she had voiced her disappointment quite clearly: 'I never got to see you off until now...Nor did you, for that matter…'

It had confused him greatly. Though he had later asked around to get a better understanding of what seeing someone off actually was, in the end he could only come up with dictionary meanings.

To say goodbye to someone who is starting a journey.

To accompany a person who is leaving to their point of departure.

Neither of those meanings made any sense to him. They were Adventurers going on an Expedition: it was not a journey. Not really. Not in that sense.

And even if it was, how did it help anyone? How did having a person see you off help in any way, shape or form? At most Fuzen felt like having someone do that for you would only put unnecessary pressure on you.

"Well, you didn't have to-"

"I am not as naive as I was when I first arrived in Orario. Your desire for...this was implied."

"Owww~ So you care about what I want, after all?"

"...You accepted when I asked for help in unarmed training."

"I sure did!" Tiona replied with a thumps-up.

"Mhm. Is this sufficient?"

"What?"

"Does what I am doing count as seeing you off? I have no experience with this...ritual."

For a moment the girl was silent as she stared at him, but a small smirk slowly showed itself on her lips. "It sure does! But…"

"Hmm?"

"People usually end it with a hug, you know?" Tiona informed as she drew half a step closer to him, her gaze suddenly feeling heavier for Fuzen.

She...wanted a hug.

Fuzen considered the request for a single moment before finally taking a step back, his head shaking to the left, then right, then to the left again. "No."

"...Oh."

"You want too much, too soon."

It was no secret, not even to him, that he grew far more...amicable with the younger Hiryute twin over the last couple of months.

From her helping him when he was at his lowest after his defeat at the hands of the Were-Jaguar, to her agreeing to his request for training and finally to her eyes never looking at him differently despite his...unconventionality, Fuzen knew that those were all points worthy of being appreciated.

In a way, she and Chloe had a similar effect on him.

Those who did not judge him.

He...appreciated them both for it.

And perhaps he would not feel the crawling insects on his skin if he were to touch her in a non-combat scenario, like right now while he was seeing her off. But whatever that was true or not, it was nonetheless too soon.

After all, if he did not feel the crawling insects on his skin upon touching her, it would mean he was at least somewhat closer to either forgiving or forgetting.

He was...not ready for either of the two.

The memories made him stronger.

And it was his duty to be strong. Parting with something that made him stronger would be...looked down upon.

"Well, no worries then!"

She said that with a smile, but her slight disappointment at the rejection was pretty obvious even to someone socially challenged like Fuzen. He didn't like that. He disliked it enough for a faint Tsk to escape his lips.

Though he hesitated for a moment Fuzen drew a step closer to the girl and to his own surprise raised his arm, letting his hand rest on her head. Even more surprised at the sudden pat was Tiona herself, her green eyes widening as she felt him ruffle her hair ever so slightly to the left and right.

It lasted no more than two seconds before Fuzen pulled his hand back, Tiona staring at him in silence as he did the exact same for a long second afterwards.

"...Was that too much?" He asked, choosing to ignore the stares both Riveria and the others who were part of the Expedition threw his way. Instead of replying with words Tiona wasted no time in grabbing his arm and placing his hand on her head once more.

No words were needed, the sheer look in her eyes was enough to tell him she wanted another pat. Fuzen complied after a faint sigh, patting her head for two more seconds before stepping back for good. "Enough."

"Oww...It was just starting to feel good."

"Pleasure should not be the focus of seeing someone off."

"Stick in the mud…"

"...Though Riveria is the leader of this Expedition, you are nonetheless the only other Executive. You should be an example to others."

Tiona had of course expected him to bring up something of the sort, but unlike any other time she did not call him silly names for his seriousness. No, this time around she simply nodded once. "I know. And hey, I'll let you know I helped with inventory and preparations."

If that was true, it was big news indeed for Fuzen.

He had observed everyone, and he meant everyone from his Familia for the last two years he had been a part of Loki Familia. If there was one fact he knew about Tiona by now it was that she never helped with preparations for Expeditions. She more often than not made it quite clear that she was just a fighter and was good at little else.

Something that was no longer the case, if her words were to be trusted. "...Surprising."

"...That just had to sound like an insult, didn't it?"

"Working seriously one time does not erase all the times you were lazy in the past."

"Hey, I wasn't lazy! I am simply playing to my strengths!"

"You underestimate yourself, then." He added, his words not allowing her to retort. A moment later his eyes darted downwards towards her waist. "And you did not buy a Potion pouch like I advised you to do."

"It gets in the way, Fuu." Tiona replied, reaching for the inside of her pareo and taking out two healing Potions she had stashed there...somewhere. "Besides, I am prepared."

"...Low tier healing Potions, only two of them and no means of protecting them from breaking if a hit lands on you. Hardly what I would call 'prepared'."

"It's fine, isn't it? I'm strong after all!" Tiona replied as she puffed her chest up, but she only got a blank stare from the boy in return.

"Yes, and also dum-...Mmh."

"You were just about to call me dumb, weren't you? Come on, say it!"

"...You are strong." He nodded as his eyes trailed to the rest of her group. "But they aren't. Not as strong as you." Not wasting time he unbuckled the pouch at his waist and held it towards her. "Example, remember? Be one."

Taking a moment to let his words sink in Tiona sighed and grabbed the pouch from him, wrapping the belt it was attached to around her waist and above her pareo. Of course he had to be right…

"...Thanks."

"...Don't mention it. It's magically enhanced fabric, so it will withstand impact and keep the Potions from breaking. You probably don't need the anti-poison ones, but one of the others might."

Tiona nodded just as she heard Riveria giving the signal for them to move on, the Expedition resuming now that they ran inventory one last time. "I'm going, then!"

"Mhm."

"And hey, thanks for seeing me off!"

"Mhm."

She flashed one of her goofy smiles along with two thumbs-up, then took off to catch up with her party. Halfway through she stopped suddenly however, turning around to face him. "Hey!"

"…?"

"Next time I'll be the one seeing you off, okay?! It's a promise!" Tiona shouted far louder than she should have as she waved him goodbye with both arms and drawing the attention of everyone nearby to her.

Fuzen had simply planned to nod in return to her words but his eyes quickly darted to his side: stopping his right arm halfway through the motion of raising up.

What exactly was that damn arm trying to do without him willing it to move?

Was it trying to...wave back at her?

What for, exactly?

She was a Level 5, she would come back safely without a doubt. Whatever that stupid arm was trying to do, it was pointless and unnecessary.

Shaking his head in disappointment he let his arm fall down to his side again, turning around and walking away.

He had done what he came here for, it was time to get back to work.

While the others would go on to collect the information they needed to start laying the groundwork for the loaning company, Fuzen had some things to take care of as well.

Kato had already been tasked with finding some dirt on the Guild they could use to persuade them into helping out financially, but money was hardly the one hurdle in their way. A little bird reported on some rogue elements located in the south-eastern part of Orario a while ago, after all, and giving the history of those rogue elements they could prove to be a thorn in their side, once the plans of the loaning company would become public knowledge.

It was up to him to investigate if those rogue elements could be contained or if they needed to be removed to ensure a smooth process for their District.

After that he needed to write down a training plan for Mikoto, choose the most competent among his house maids and task them with helping his apprentice with her solo training, then finally go into the Dungeon himself for a couple of of weeks to get the money needed for their plan...after making sure Yamamoto could put the plan into motion without anyone getting into his way.

Worst case scenario he would need to pay the city council administration a visit himself and persuade them to mind their own damn business and stay out of theirs.

Now that he thought about it, it would probably be wise to drop by the Familia before going into the Dungeon, see if there were any Quests he could take on while he was at it.

He could not deny the fact that as of late, without counting the Expedition he was recently on, his contribution to the Familia had been...lacking.

Granted, it all fell within the terms he and Loki agreed on when he joined the Familia for the second time, the perks of being able to summon a strategically invaluable Monster Rex level dragon no doubt playing a role in it, but for all the freedom he had over a regular member it still left a bad taste in his mouth to hardly contribute and solely focus on his personal matters for so long.

Perhaps one of the Familia they were on good terms with would have need of materials or Item Drops. That would be like killing two birds with one thrust of the sword.

Lost in thought once again Fuzen failed to realize immediately that he slowly looked over his shoulder at the entrance into the Babel, looking for something...someone that was no longer there.

"...Hmm."

He had been right, after all.

This was all so fricking stupid.

'...What the hell am I doing…?'

They were not visible, yet he could see them, however faint: cracks.

Cracks in what should have been impenetrable.

Cracks born of...what exactly?

He couldn't say, not on the spot.

All he could say was one thing with certainty:

'This is so fucking stupid…No, not even that.'

"It is me who is fucking stupid…Worse, even."

XXX

To anyone else it would have been a day like any other.

The sea was calm, a gentle breeze washing over the small village located on the coast. With the sun still up and hours away from hiding under the shadow of the night the ships of the local fishermen could still be seen in the distance, just a regular day hard at work for them to provide for their families.

The colony of black-tailed gulls flew above the wooden shacks that made up the village as the women cooked meals that filled the streets with the smell of fish heavy dishes while the few children a village as small as their had ran around filling the surrounding with playful laughs and shouts as they waited for the merchant selling fresh vegetables and fruits doing the rounds around the nearby villages to arrive at the village centre, no doubt all of them fantasizing about having a bite out of a juicy, sweet fruit.

This and more he observed as he stood by the gate of the school under his care. For how long he had been standing there overlooking the village further down the coast, he did not know.

It was a peaceful sight and though he had seen the seasons change for hundreds of times from that very spot already, he could simply never bore of it.

However, though the peaceful sight would usually momentarily put his mind at ease, it did not have that effect on him today.

Withholding a sigh from escaping his lips, the man turned around and walked inside the school's garden.

Once, there would have been dozens of Disciples training in the stone garden, the sound of wooden and metal swords alike striking against each other echoing against the stone wall that surrounded the large, almost temple-like halls of their school.

Now however...there was only the silent gusts of winds blowing over the empty gardens, the hollow quiet unfit for a place of learning, a place of self-improvement.

Such was the reality of the matter, however.

Such was the reality for Hachiman.

God of Warriors.

God of Eight Banners.

God of Nothing.

The walk itself from the gate to the porch was not unlike walking on rusty nails, each step through the maddeningly empty garden just making him aware of what had been truly lost, the sensation not once weakening in intensity despite the many years that have passed since everything had been lost.

Taking a left once on the porch the dark-haired God walked over to the lower left of the reverse U-shaped main building, where his room was located.

Sliding the door open the walked inside, not bothering to slid it closed. Even before he made the first step into the room his eyes darted to the table on the far right of the room and to the single, opened letter that was placed on it.

Finally he sighed, no longer able to keep it inside.

Hachiman slowly sat at his table and reached for the letter he had received from the sea merchants that regularly visited the nearby port town, having received money and gifts of all kinds along with the letter from them just earlier that morning.

As always, he had asked the Captain about the boy who had him deliver the goods.

And as always, what he heard drowned his heart in thorn-like pain.

The same description as always: 'Well, he has that cold and empty look in his eyes. I still get a bit freaked out by how mechanical and calm he talks, in all honesty.'

That is how the Captain described him.

Hachiman sighed once again.

He had hoped that spending time with Loki, despite all her faults as a person, would help Fuzen at least in some capacity. That is why he suggested the boy search for Loki Familia once he arrived in Orario, years ago when he left the Far East.

But it seemed that his hopes had not been answered.

He looked down at the letter on the table and a faint, barely visible smile appeared on his lips.

It was not a happy smile.

No, this was a phantom smile, of a man who knew he had committed a grave sin. As always, there was a single line written on the piece of paper.

He smiled because he knew that Fuzen, in his own mind, probably imagined himself writing a full report to Hachiman, a report that contained everything down to the tiniest detail.

And he probably lived with that illusion, as well.

Even now he didn't doubt that Fuzen still believed himself to have written a full report back to Hachiman. A mental defence mechanism, no doubt.

But he didn't write any such thing.

As always, there was a single sentence written on that letter.

And the reason for that was Hachiman himself.

He knew this.

He knew this too well...

"I am succeeding. - Fuzen Katsumi, Lightning Sword Style Disciple and Successor"

That is all the letter said.

A shiver went down the God's spine.

He was the one responsible for all of this.

And as always, he realized his mistake too late. The damage was done and not even the distance between them which Hachiman had, quite ridiculously, prayed to be of some help to Fuzen had no positive effect.

There was a monster out there, in the world.

In Orario.

A monster capable of feats and evils no one in the world could probably comprehend the magnitude of.

A monster in mind, soul and skills, devoid of all that made mortals what they were.

A monster devoid of emotions, devoid of his own thoughts and morals.

A monster living by the sole morals and mindset another had raised him to live by.

A monster who had never been given a chance to be his own person, who had never been loved, nurtured or cared for.

A monster whose short life had been filled with suffering, pain and coldness, raised in the shadow of hatred and obsession of those who should have been his role models, preparing him for the uncertainty of life.

A monster for whose creation Hachiman was solely responsible for.

A sin committed by a Warrior God who had once made a promise to she who came before Fuzen, hundreds of years ago.

A promise broken by a weak man who pretended to be strong, who pretended to know the way forward.

Hachiman knew that Fuzen Katsumi was his sin.

The biggest sin he had ever made.

And it was unfair.

Because while Fuzen would be forced to live his life the way Hachiman had moulded him to be, all the God would suffer was an eternity of self-hatred.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair how multiple children died undertaking the training he had amplified tenfold in the hopes of creating a superior Disciple who could burden the loss of the previous generations on their shoulders.

It wasn't fair how their blood covered his hands, now and forever, yet still his greatest sin was what he had done to the only one of the last generation to have survived the merciless training, the only one he had thought completely useless in the past.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair...

And yet what could he do now, when the damage had already been done?

For years now he had tried to think of any way he could do right by Fuzen, if only the smallest bit.

He had tried to find others who could take on the mantle of a Lightning Sword Style Disciple, hoping that restoring numbers to their school would lift off the pressure he had placed on Fuzen's shoulders, yet his searches had been fruitless.

None possessed the necessary traits, the necessary strength of will to survive even just the normal initiation which every Disciple in history with the exception of the last generation went through.

He had even...He had even thought of disbanding the school altogether, letting it's name fade into history. After all, he had already failed to keep his promise.

But...doing something like that, it would be little more than throwing dirt into the face of Fuzen, the one he had burdened with its survival in the first place.

What a joke this was.

He was a God, a being above death and mortality, yet even so...he had failed children who trusted him, taking away their futures from them and rewarding their trust with nothing more than death and misery.

Why could he not realize his mistakes sooner?

Why?

It would be Fuzen's birthday soon.

Hachiman remembered.

Fuzen did not, he could bet on that. He did not remember because Hachiman made sure he would not.

Instead of lending him a guiding hand, Hachiman had used the whip, the sword, the stick and the rope.

Instead of helping the boy when he realized he was born...without a stable mind, he used that boy's weakness to his advantage.

Ripping him apart from the inside out.

Breaking him.

Shattering his sense of self.

Picking up only the broken parts that would be useful.

Then remoulding him in the image he thought most convenient to his plan.

A mortal raised with a single duty. One who was not allowed to be anything else but dedicated to that duty.

A mortal taught to be nothing more than what he needed to be.

To deviate from that duty was to be dishonourable. Shameful. Lacking.

It was a reason for self-hate.

It was to be...no longer someone worth living.

To be human, above all, was the greatest insult to his duty.

Such was the creed he had drilled into his young mind.

Such was the origin of the one who now called himself Fuzen Katsumi.

'I am sorry.'

A disgraced God of Warriors' greatest sin.

And also…

'I am sorry.'

His greatest…

'I am sorry…'

One and only…

Masterpiece.

XXX

Ayo, so you actually read all of that?

Not bad.

And no doubt you are asking yourself: "First you came up with a damn art gallery, now you have this kid bring up ideas about starting a loaning company? What even do you smoke, bro?"

And I can assure you, I don't do drugs.

Actually, the art gallery, though it has little value right now, it will play a medium to major role in the aftermath of some future events.

As for the loaning company...Well, as stated in the first scene the East District needs some weight, you know?

Something that will add value to the District and make it harder for outside forces to want to attack it.

I think a business that deals in lending out money is pretty good. It is even better if you think how it is catered to only Adventurers. We as readers / anime watchers get to see the flashy Level 4s and 5s and 6s and 7s, but statistically there should be hundreds, if not thousands of faceless Level 1's and 2's in Orario.

And most of them no doubt are part of very, very minor Familia that have no money.

So here you have now a loaning company that says "Hey, we can lend you money. Not just 10000 Valis, but enough for you to buy actually good gear and Potions for your levels."

Sketchy, sure, but also a good deal to those who don't have plot armour.

Will it help them become the Hero of the story?

Nah, they still noobs.

But the money will help them survive longer. It will help them get a weapon that won't break as easily, buy armour that will withstand an otherwise fatal blow or afford a pricy Potion that would save them in a pinch.

And if all of that combined helps them reach Level 2 or 3 faster, who are they gonna be grateful to?

The loaning company that lend them the much needed money.

Will all of them be grateful?

Hell nah, most of them are arrogant pricks (Soma Familia, Apollo Familia etc).

But even if they are arrogant, they will not be able to deny the value of the company. Nor will they be able to deny that the same company could help them get from low-tier Level 2 to mid tier, then from mid tier to high tier, then to Level 3.

An overly positive idea, I know, but when you consider that most people aren't like Bell or Ais and Level up at mind-boggling speed...well, it is a long-term source of customers and money.

Since, you know...Interest.

Anyway, I will explain all the major rules and guidelines of the loaning company in the next Chapter. It's pretty well thought-out, if I may say so myself and pat myself on the back because of it.

The amount of OC characters I introduced this time around (the East District guys) might be a turn off to some, but let me assure you that they won't play that big of a role, now or in the future.

I simply wanted to show at least once that yes, Fuzen does have people who bent the knee to him, and most of them actually respect him. Both for his strength and for being a Tsuwamono (a noble title you only get if you are strong, so yeah...they respect his strength two times over XD).

As for the Guild and whatever Fuzen will actually be able to force them to become a partner with the help of Kato (the shinobi he slipped into Hermes Familia) and Yamamoto (the old man experienced with finances and administrative work)...well, I think I will be able to shock you a bit with what I came up with.

Next topic: Tiona.

Where might I be going with her, I wonder…?

As for the last scene, first appearance of God Hachiman in the fic, after 55 Chapters.

You make up your own mind about him.

And with that I think we covered everything.

I hope you enjoyed the read and will be around by the time I drop the next Chapter.

Until then, peace out and stay safe.

Kay bye.