Chapter 6: Is This the Joy of Leveling Up?
Kucha Natsumi
Ability Level: 37
Body: 17
Technique: 9
Mind: 11
Wind Breathing: LV.2 (231 / 1000)
Life Skills (7):
LV.2 Physical Training
LV.1 Simple Vibration
LV.1 Running
LV.1 Camping
LV.1 Cooking
LV.1 Fishing
LV.0 Gathering
Achievement Points: 6
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Moving through the forest, Kucha Natsumi scanned his surroundings while thinking about how to unlock other breathing techniques as quickly as possible.
Logically speaking, these man-eating demons had been trapped around Lake Ashi for years.
They should be starving.
The moment they sensed living prey, they ought to swarm like mosquitoes to blood.
Gripping his Nichirin Blade, Kucha felt anticipation rather than fear.
For most candidates, the Final Selection meant being ambushed in the dark—reacting, struggling, surviving.
For him, it was different.
All he needed was for an enemy's name to enter the system's detection range.
Sure enough, a faint line of text appeared in the forest to his right.
It rapidly expanded.
[Brain Paint ???]
Ability Level: 33
Body: 22
Technique: 6
Mind: 5
Threat Level: Low
"Haha! Finally, something alive! I'm starving!"
With a burst of dust and broken leaves, a monster that looked seven parts human and three parts toad crashed down from a tree.
Its bulging eyes greedily traced every inch of Kucha's body.
"Kid, don't resist. I can give you—"
Wind Breathing.
Second Form: Claws — Koto Wind
Several slashes burst forth like the claws of a wild beast.
The demon's body was torn apart mid-sentence.
Its neck was severed cleanly—its head flying into the underbrush.
"…Give you… a quick death? Eh?! My head?!"
The demon screamed belatedly as its head hit the ground.
Its body began to dissolve.
"I remember now… it was that monster… that monster turned me into—"
[Skip]
I'm grinding experience here.
No time for your tragic backstory.
Wind Breathing LV.2
Progress: 231 → 265 (+34)
"Oh? Thirty-four experience points?"
Kucha raised an eyebrow.
He'd assumed this toad-like demon would give less than the previous one.
As that thought crossed his mind, movement stirred behind him.
The accelerated flow of time snapped back to normal.
A new battle had begun.
Kucha turned, blade raised.
Claws raked across his Nichirin Blade, sparks scattering.
"That idiot Naotu actually died to a brat…"
"In that case, I'll just take this meal myself."
The newcomer was thin—almost human.
Aside from its twisted limbs, it could easily pass for a normal person.
[Dead Pole ???]
Ability Level: 52
Body: 41
Technique: 6
Mind: 5
Threat Level: Low
"…Interesting."
Its stats were far higher than the last demon's.
Yet the threat level was the same.
Kucha stepped forward, blade sliding back to his waist.
A thrust.
The stored momentum turned the blade into a streak of cold light.
"What an arrogant brat."
"Looks like I'll have to discipline you."
Dead Pole retreated with uncanny ease, bending joints at impossible angles to dodge the thrust.
At the same time, its claws slashed toward Kucha.
Kucha stayed calm.
Mid-thrust, his stance shifted.
His body lowered.
His right hand released the hilt—
And his elbow slammed directly into the demon's arm joint.
Thud.
Dead Pole hissed in pain as its attack was deflected.
As long as it's humanoid…
Movement is bound by joints.
Muscles pull bones.
Bones define motion.
Force follows structure.
The more realistic the game, the stricter these rules become.
Humanoid monsters are predictable.
Kucha had learned this through countless action games.
Not to mention, this game offered generous system assistance.
Before enemy attacks, a fleeting red warning appeared.
During slashes, trajectory correction adjusted based on stats.
At higher attributes, faint dotted projections of enemy movement even appeared.
At critical moments, time slowed—entering a near bullet-time state.
Honestly?
Compared to Souls-like titles he'd played before, this was child's play.
Dead Pole grew furious after losing the initiative.
It charged forward.
In its mind, even if this human had skill, it was immortal.
It could make endless mistakes.
The human could make only one.
Before it closed the distance—
Crack.
Kucha stomped hard on the demon's instep.
Not a kick.
A downward stomp.
The foot slammed into the ground, pain exploding upward through the demon's leg.
Before it could scream—
Clang.
The metal hilt of the Nichirin Blade smashed into its face.
At point-blank range, Kucha didn't retreat.
He gripped the blade sideways, driving the hilt into the demon's philtrum.
Dizziness and agony hit at once.
Dead Pole staggered backward—but its planted foot prevented retreat.
It lost balance and toppled sideways.
"You brat—aren't you supposed to use a katana?!"
Elbow strikes.
Foot stomps.
Now blunt-force strikes?
Dead Pole tried to curse—
But Kucha had already straightened his sword.
The blade tip wasn't useless.
An upward slash.
Dark red blood sprayed.
Dead Pole barely avoided decapitation, rolling away in panic.
Kucha didn't pursue immediately.
He observed.
"…Your blood's pretty red."
Wounds regenerated at visible speed.
No wonder demons didn't feel pain.
Some kind of physical mutation.
Across from him, Dead Pole was terrified.
This human's aura was weaker than his—
So how was he being overwhelmed?
No wonder Brain Paint had died instantly.
"You're not… trying to run, are you?"
Why did it feel like he was the prey?
"If you don't come at me," Kucha said calmly,
"I'm moving on."
Dead Pole snapped.
"Don't underestimate me!"
It charged with everything it had.
What met it was the Nichirin Blade.
Under moonlight and drifting wisteria petals, the blade traced elegant arcs.
It was almost a dance.
A forced waltz of death.
Sparks burst from claw and steel.
Blood sprayed into the night.
Each clash was a step.
Each strike, a turn.
As the firelight dimmed, terror consumed the demon's face—
While in the reflection of the blade, Kucha's eyes burned brighter.
Finally—
Silence.
Wind Breathing LV.2
Progress: 265 → 377
The dance was over.