The Mortal vs Monster

The sky above the abandoned village had turned the color of dying embers. Cracked roofs leaned like broken ribs, and the wind whispered through empty windows as if the spirits of the dead were giving warnings the candidates refused to hear.

Ryouma tightened the cloth around his wrist, staring at the wooden gate that marked the boundary between the ruined village and the deep, shadow-infested forest.

“This place… feels wrong,” he murmured.

Beside him, an candidate clicked his tongue. “Good. Wrong places make strong samurai.”

Ryouma wanted to laugh, but his throat was too dry. The exam had barely begun, yet whispers of betrayal, secret alliances, and sudden disappearances were already spreading like wildfire.

Groups formed quickly—some out of strategy, others out of fear.

Three candidates approached Ryouma.

“Ryouma,” one said, “let’s work together. We saw how you handled the sparring rounds.”

Before Ryouma could respond, a fourth boy stepped behind the group and slammed his blade into the back of one candidate’s leg.

The boy screamed and collapsed.

“You think he’ll carry your dead weight?” the attacker snarled. “This is survival.”

Ryouma stepped forward, eyes burning. “Stop.”

The traitor smirked. “Or what? They can’t kill me, but nobody said anything about… injuries.”

He stepped closer to Ryouma, raising his short sword—

A sudden boom shook the ground.

The forest trembled.

Growls echoed.

Monsters had awakened.

And the chaos of alliances and betrayals was swallowed by fear as the first creature stepped out of the shadows.

A low-level forest beast—long, with a snake-like body, six legs, and a jaw lined with crooked fangs—slithered out from the trees. Its roar reverberated through the empty village walls.

The candidates scattered.

Ryouma’s hands shook, but he unsheathed his sword.

“Just one…” he whispered. “Just one kill. I can do this.”

The monster lunged.

Ryouma dodged, barely, feeling its hot breath graze his cheek. He stumbled backward over rubble, rolling across the dirt.

It leapt again.

Instinct took over.

He thrust forward, driving the blade into its side. The monster screeched, but instead of retreating, it wrapped around him—tightening, choking, crushing.

Ryouma gasped, ribs screaming.

“Let… go…!”

He twisted the blade, cutting deeper, blood spilling warm across his hands. The creature thrashed violently. Its teeth snapped inches from his throat.

With a final desperate swing, Ryouma slashed across its neck.

The creature fell limp.

Silence.

Ryouma collapsed to his knees, breathing hard, staring at his trembling hands stained with its blood.

“My first… kill.”

He didn’t know whether to cry or vomit. But a part of him—small, cold—felt the faint spark of a warrior awakening.

Deep within the forest, Masaru Aizawa stood before a towering creature—twice the height of a man, four muscular arms, and skin cracked like burnt wood. Dark veins pulsed across its body, leaking an eerie black mist.

Masaru whispered, “Black Magic…? Someone tampered with this beast.”

The creature roared, all four fists slamming into the ground and sending shockwaves through the trees. Masaru was knocked off balance, but he dug his heels in and drew his blade.

The monster charged with unnatural speed.

Masaru blocked the first strike—but the other three fists hammered him, sending him flying against a tree. Blood sprayed from his mouth.

He rose slowly, wiping his chin.

“You hit hard.”

He grinned. “Good. I like hard fights.”

He activated his breathing technique, the air around him vibrating.

The monster launched dark tendrils from its arms—corrupted magic twisting like shadows. Masaru sliced through them and sprinted forward.

One arm came down.

Masaru ducked.

Second arm swung.

He rolled aside.

Third struck like a spear—

Masaru parried, sparks exploding.

Then the fourth arm came from behind—

but Masaru leaped, planting his foot on the monster’s forearm and launching himself upward.

His blade cleaved through blackened flesh.

The monster screamed, flailing wildly.

Masaru landed behind it, panting.

The beast turned, fury in its corrupted eyes—

and then its head slid off its neck.

Masaru wiped his blade clean.

“Whoever used black magic…”

He looked deeper into the forest.

“I’ll find you.”

In the abandoned village square, Tetsuya stood before a monstrous creature with two snarling wolf-like heads attached to a hulking, muscular torso.

Both heads growled, drooling thick saliva that sizzled when it hit the ground.

Tetsuya cracked his neck.

“A two-for-one deal, huh? Fine. Saves me time.”

The beast lunged, both heads snapping.

Tetsuya leaped over it, twisting midair to slash across one head’s snout. Blood spurted, and the head howled.

The other head clamped onto his arm.

Tetsuya gritted his teeth as its fangs sank deep.

“Let… go!”

He headbutted the creature so hard it stumbled. Tetsuya ripped his arm free, flesh torn but eyes blazing.

The monster rushed him again.

Tetsuya didn’t dodge.

He grabbed both heads by their throats, veins bulging in his arms, and slammed the creature onto its back with brute force.

“DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!”

He pinned one head with his knee and drove his sword straight through the other skull. It shrieked, twitching.

The second head twisted and tried to bite him, but Tetsuya grabbed it by the jaw and ripped—

A sickening snap echoed.

The beast lay still.

Tetsuya sat back, breathing hard, blood running down his arm.

“Brutal… but that’s the exam.”

The Forest Grows Darker

Back in the village, Ryouma slowly steadied himself.

His kill.

His awakening.

The moon rose.

Monsters circled the exam grounds.

Candidates hid, fought, betrayed, helped, or abandoned one another.

This was no simple test.

This was war in miniature.

Ryouma stood, gripping his sword, eyes determined:

“I’ll survive. No matter what.”

In deep forest a big human figure shadow sitting on rock and an black horse beside him eating human organs. 

To be continue...