"Live, live, you must live!"
"Survive!"
Whispers grew into shouts as a pair of grey eyes woke up in the cosmos. His memory was faint and sharp stabs of pain would surge whenever he attempted to think of his past.
In the faint reflection of a dirty piece of discarded steel he saw his own reflection, a straight hair bob cut and having half a fringe. His own clothes looked vastly different from what he could see around him.
They seemed to be some kind of martial uniform from an army. A sharp pain surged in his head as a piece of information came through. This body was not his original but was rather based on a character from a game, Taigong Wang.
Perhaps it was only the looks of the character he took after but he did not feel much different. He did not even know his own name. However, after taking in all available information he could come to the conclusion he had arrived at a different world through some strange chain of events.
His panic only grew as he observed cosmic garbage floating around. No, not garbage but rather corpses mixed in with metal scraps. The remnants of a war and it seemed like the war would only continue from the sounds of the explosions in the far distance.
He was just an ordinary person before, but he was still stunned by the terrifying scene.
"Live...keep living..."
He then looked around and began to examine the bodies. The corpse was quite strange. Some were clad in armor and wielded large swords, while others resembled werewolves with gaping maws. People with blue blood, and some whose bodies are covered in branches.
Only one word appeared although he knew not of its significance, "Xianzhou". His ears perked up as he heard the rough thumping footsteps. His adrenaline spiked as he felt fear crawl through his body.
A large werewolf looking thing was charging savagely towards him. In that instant his mind thought through the logic, he could run but he wouldn't get far. He could stand and fight but he likely wouldn't get far either.
With both options producing the same potential results only fighting gave him a negligible chance of living. Running was certain death but fighting had a small tiny chance of survival.
In that instant he saw a small metal rod and grabbed it. A strange sensation flowed through his body as he calmed down and stared at the incoming... "Ah borisin, that's what these were called."
His body instantly felt it, the flow and usage of the "weapon." A phrase came to mind, Eternal Grandmaster at Arms. The ability to use anything and everything as a weapon to it's most optimal potential.
Here within this small barren section of the battlefield, history would begin as the very first battle of the Eternal Grandmaster at Arms would begin. A small shimmer of light reflected within a faint mirror from the far distance of the cosmos.
Sounds of steel rang out as parries and sparks flew.
He could only rely on the foresight and instinct to seek out the optimal path to victory. His arms were dragged full of lead and his body was leaking life from the wounds inflicted by the claws of the borisin.
The borisin was not fairing well either. This strange human was weak, he should have been defeated long ago.
Yet almost like magic, he would move in ways that would inflict minimal damage on himself while striking vital points on its body.
Both were on their last legs. And only by their own wills to live would they win.
The steel pole shook as he stood staring at the equally shaky borisin. The borisin flew into rage as a wave of energy pulsed. Lupitoxin, a specialty of the borisin in which it would stimulate fear within the amygdala.
However, one fatal mistake was the lack of information.
The skill granted to him allowed him to fight to his full potential even under mental ailment statuses. A clear path to victory.
He gave up the range of the polearm in order to deliver a guaranteed fatal attack.
The fangs of the borisin attempted to sink into his shoulders.
Its teeth met only steel as he had defended the upper canines, although the lower canines had reached their mark, it was not fatal.
Two small kicks were delivered behind the joints as the borisin was forced to kneel down.
In a desperate attempt the borisin opened its maw to once again try sink its teeth into his head. Instantly the pole was shoved deep into the back of the borisin's throat before piercing the back of its skull.
A thud met the ground as the borisin fell dead revealing a sharpened pole.
The previous sparks were not just from blocking but rather parrying and sharpening the steel pole at the same time.
Blunt attacks with his strength would do nothing hence why he opted to sharpen the pole for a single decisive attack.
He fell down only to feel a wave of relief crash over him. It was at that moment he had discovered his path to survival.
The moment the borisin's life signal ceased, he felt a wave of comfort as his injuries healed and his stamina restored until he could move again.
His mental gauge of his stats noticed that his body seemed to get stronger.
His eyes soon took to the distant battlefield in which sounds of fighting continued to echo.
Memories relating to his predicament were slowly coming back, although he had a strange feeling his past wouldn't come back any time.
To survive he would need a big fist. And in order to have the biggest fist around, he already knew his only way of continued survival was either for an Aeon to glance at him or to get stronger through winning battles.
And the odds of both were instantly deduced.
The task of finding his name was even discarded as he grabbed a random spear and headed towards the sound of battle.
[Chapter Lightcones]
[Born of a Single Strike] [⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]
"Every master has a first kill. Every legend begins with one impossible blow that should not have landed, yet did."
Amid floating corpses and broken weapons, he carved purpose out of instinct.The pole in his hand was dull, bent, unfit for battleso he made it fit.
With each parry, sparks leapt like dying stars.With each clash, the metal grew sharper, truer, answering his silent intent.
When predator met prey, and fear met resolve, he abandoned hesitation and embraced certainty.He lunged.He struck.And in that decisive instant, where the borisin's fangs closed and his own mortality trembled,the sharpened strike pierced through fate itself.
[In the Moment of Survival][⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]
"Life does not announce itself. It erupts, in panic, in pain, in the single heartbeat where death reaches out its hand and you refuse to take it."
He awoke in a graveyard of stars, nameless, shaken, and armed with nothing but a scrap of steel. The cosmos demanded his tribute: flee and perish, or fight and endure.
In that breathless instant where fear tries to swallow thought, something else rose within him.
A clarity. A certainty. A voice that was not a voice whispering: Live. Live, you must live. Steel clashed. Blood spilled.
And in that single, fragile moment, he discovered the shape of his will, not to triumph, not to conquer, but simply, defiantly, to survive.