Chapter 2: A Second, Stranger Death
Kobe Hikaru was dead.
This was not a metaphor, nor an exaggeration. It was a simple, literal fact.
He was also a transmigrator—an authentic, if spectacularly unlucky, one from the modern world. He had kept his name, Kobe Hikaru, but that was about all he'd managed to hold onto.
He was the kind of transmigrator who dropped dead on the spot the moment he arrived.
Three months ago, his soul had departed without warning from the bed of his rented apartment. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself sprawled in a pile of corpses on what looked like an ancient battlefield.
All around him, the bodies of samurai were strewn like discarded dolls, their limbs severed and their blood forming a river that soaked into the churned earth. The air was thick with the coppery tang of gore and the acrid bite of gunpowder smoke. In the distance, crows circled, their impatient caws echoing across the desolation.
He had looked down then and discovered that he was still in his own body—a physical transmigration, no doubt—but a broken spear was thrust clean through his chest. He had no idea when it had happened.
And then, he died.
Not figuratively. He truly, genuinely died. The thrill of transmigration hadn't even had a chance to bloom in his heart before it was snuffed out by the encroaching chill of death.
In the final moment before his consciousness plunged into darkness, Hikaru had only one thought.
'What the hell? Isn't this a little too unfair?'
Then, he woke up again.
He didn't know how much time had passed; it could have been a few hours, or perhaps a few days. When he opened his eyes this time, his vision was unnervingly strange. The whites of his eyes had become pitch black, and his pupils glowed a deep, unsettling scarlet.
The surrounding corpses had already begun to rot, yet he couldn't smell the stench.
That was because he no longer needed to breathe.
His chest didn't rise and fall. His heart didn't beat. The blood had long since solidified in his veins.
He had become a walking corpse.
More accurately, an Oni Samurai. A monster.
Perhaps because he was now a monster, his body, though clinically dead, still housed a mind that churned with the same thoughts as before. The reason for this 'resurrection' soon became clear as a translucent panel flickered into existence in his mind's eye.
It was a system called [Favorability].
The introduction was written with stark clarity.
[The host may initiate Favorability strategies on any non-sentient objects within visual and tactile range.]
[Increase Favorability through methods such as conversation, touch, feeding, and maintenance.]
[When Favorability reaches a certain threshold, bond storylines and special bonuses can be unlocked.]
[When Favorability reaches 100, you may choose to fully assimilate the target's abilities—retaining only its basic bonuses and conversation functions.]
Hikaru stared at the panel for a long, silent time.
A favorability strategy system? Wasn't this the kind of cheat ability common in harem novels? Wooing beautiful girls, collecting affection points, and reaching the pinnacle of life?
Just as he was about to let out a cheer, he noticed a key phrase—non-sentient objects.
'What does "non-sentient object" mean?'he wondered.'Rocks? Trees? Houses? Can you "woo" those?'He tried to initiate a'strategy' on a rock beside him.
[Soil and rock fragments: Cannot be targeted. Quality is too low; does not meet strategy conditions.]
It didn't work.
He then tried a broken spear lying nearby.
[Broken spear: Cannot be targeted. Damage level is too high; does not meet strategy conditions.]
Still no luck.
His gaze swept across the corpse-strewn battlefield, finally landing on the katana at the waist of a dead samurai not far away. It was a black-sheathed blade, relatively well-preserved amidst the carnage.
He crawled over, his stiff limbs protesting, and pried the sword from the corpse's rigor-mortis grip.
[Eligible strategy target detected.]
[Katana (Mass-produced)]
[Quality: Low]
[Current Favorability: 0 (Stranger)]
[Unlock Condition: Feed with fresh blood.]
It worked.
Looking at the prompts on the panel, Hikaru finally understood the logic of his system. It was indeed a favorability system, but his targets weren't people, monsters, or any living thing. Only "objects" like blades, bows, armor, and perhaps even divine artifacts—complete items with a certain intrinsic quality—were within its scope.
At first glance, it seemed utterly useless.
But upon closer thought, it wasn't unusable at all.
Although he didn't know what kind of world this was, the fact that he could turn into an Oni Samurai—a creature that was clearly supernatural—meant this was likely a place where such things existed. There had to be other monsters similar to him. And if there were monsters, there had to be items with incredible abilities to fight them, right?
Legendary blades, divine artifacts, magical treasures.
If he could max out the favorability of those things... wouldn't he be able to claim the abilities of all those divine weapons for himself?
However, he soon discovered another problem. Different objects seemed to have different methods for increasing their favorability. For example, the katana in his hand needed to be "fed with fresh blood." In other words, he had to make it drink.
Based on the system's hints, some objects might require 'conversation'to increase their favorability. Some required'maintenance.'Some required'companionship.'
Some might even require... celebrating a birthday?
Hikaru wasn't sure, but he had a vague feeling that wooing legendary divine artifacts would be far more complicated than simply feeding a blade.
But that was a problem for the future. At that moment, he was penniless and destitute. The only thing he needed to consider was surviving and finding a way out of this hellscape.
Nothing more.
...
The night wind in the forest gradually calmed.
Hikaru, carrying the Muramasa that had been 'fed' to its satisfaction, walked out from between the trees. This blade, of course, was not the original katana he had found. That one was just an ordinary, mass-produced weapon. In the three months since his transmigration, that blade had long since been used up—its favorability maxed out, its abilities assimilated, and its physical form shattered. The assimilation only took its abilities; the blade itself had simply broken down because its common materials couldn't withstand repeated, brutal battles.
Though Hikaru still kept its fragments, it was clearly no longer usable.
This new blade was a more recent trophy.
And at this moment, after feeding this mass-produced Muramasa—which also needed to be 'fed with blood'—he did not linger. Those five Blue-skinned Oni were merely grunts from some monster gang. Their true leaders were definitely still holed up deeper in the mountains. With his current strength, poking that hornet's nest would be deeply unwise.
After passing through a dense bamboo grove, Hikaru arrived at a low hill. The view here was open, revealing the rolling, ink-black mountains in the distance and the dilapidated village nestled at their feet.
He sat down on a large, bluish stone and placed the Muramasa horizontally across his knees. Moonlight spilled down from a break in the clouds, and the blade shimmered with a cold, eerie luster.
"You ate five Blue-skinned Oni today. You should be in a better mood, right?" Hikaru spoke to the blade, his tone like that of a parent coaxing a picky child. "I know you'd rather eat an Exorcist, but those guys are too hard to deal with. It won't be much fun if we get ourselves killed in the process. Let's level up first, and we'll talk once we're strong enough."
[Demon Blade Muramasa: Mood 'Calm'. Current Favorability: 15.]
The prompt on the panel didn't change. It seemed the blade wasn't buying his rhetoric.
Hikaru sighed and reached into a cloth bag at his waist, pulling out a small piece of oilcloth. It was a maintenance tool he had scavenged from a battlefield; though a bit rough, it was barely usable. He dipped the cloth lightly in oil and began to carefully wipe down the blade.
"See? Aren't I good to you? I even give you a spa treatment after your meal. If you were any other blade, where would you get this kind of service?"
[Demon Blade Muramasa: Feels 'Comfortable' with the maintenance.]
[Favorability +1.]
[Current Favorability: 16]
The corners of Hikaru's mouth curled into a faint, satisfied smile. Although it only increased by one point, every little bit helped.
He continued to wipe the blade, muttering all the while. This, too, was what the favorability system called 'communication.'Although weapons couldn't speak, the system could interpret their'moods.' As long as there was continuous interaction, the favorability would slowly rise.
"Once your favorability reaches 30, we can unlock the first special ability. Then we can fight stronger monsters and eat better blood. It's a virtuous cycle, understand?"
As Hikaru was speaking, his hand suddenly froze.
He looked up, his scarlet pupils contracting sharply.
On the distant horizon, a massive wave of Demonic Qi was rapidly approaching. The energy wasn't overwhelmingly strong on an individual level; it wasn't even as potent as the leader of the Blue-skinned Oni from earlier.
But the problem was the sheer number.
They were a dense, swarming mass, covering the sky and the earth. Like a plague of locusts passing through, the wave of energy almost dyed the entire night sky a turbid, sickly gray-green.
And within that tide of Demonic Qi, a completely different aura was mixed in.
It was bright, scorching, and carried a certain sacred scent.
That was the spiritual power of a human.
Humm—
The Muramasa in Hikaru's hand suddenly began to tremble, and the hamon line on the blade shimmered with a faint purple light.
[Demon Blade Muramasa: Detected a large number of prey. Mood changed to 'Excited'.]
[It conveyed a message to you: 'Want to eat'.]
Hikaru stared at the surging wave of Demonic Qi in the distance, his mouth twitching.
"I know you want to eat, but that depends on whether we can win."
He stood up, his grip tightening on the Muramasa's hilt.
"Let's check the situation first."
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