Aaranya's POV
"So you're telling me you have no recollection of what happened to you?"
He squinted at me, suspicious.
"You just woke up and found yourself here?"
Liar, he thought.
I could feel it in the weight of his gaze.
This brat's clearly hiding something.
But whatever it is—it's not my concern. Not yet.
Still… curiosity itched beneath his skin.
A girl—barely armored, dressed like no one from this realm—wandering through a forest where even seasoned warriors wouldn't last an hour?
And yet here she was.
No aura. No presence. No signs of power.
Except…
Something.
Faint. Fleeting.
But it existed.
"You insolent brat! Come with me before I change my mind!"
I blinked.
"Okay, Grandpa—just checking. You're not some man-eating forest monster, right?"
"Hmph! If I wanted your blood, I'd've gobbled you up the moment you tied me up, you disrespectful gremlin!"
I sighed.
Honestly, not like I had options.
I couldn't fight off forest monstrosities with sarcasm alone—tempting though that was.
For now?
Temporary alliance.
Just until I find a safe escape route, I told myself.
But he growled.
Like he'd read that thought straight from my skull.
"You brat. Whatever scheme you're brewing in that shameless head of yours—don't."
I flinched.
"W-What?"
"If you're thinking of running—forget it. The moment you stray from my side, you're dead meat."
"What?! Old man, are you seriously this clingy?!"
His lips twitched.
"Stop."
"What now? Afraid I'll narrate your every inner thought aloud?"
"I said stop moving," he snapped.
I stopped.
He wasn't looking at me.
His eyes were fixed on something behind me.
Then I saw it.
A spider—huge and ugly.
Its legs looked like bent tree branches.
Its fat body was covered in slime.
It crouched over a dead body—eating slowly, like it didn't care.
The ground around it was covered in blood and guts.
Pieces of skin, bones, and organs thrown everywhere like trash.
It paused.
Spat something out.
Plop.
My eyes followed it.
An eyeball.
Wet.
Glossy.
Spit-slick.
My stomach twisted.
Bile surged.
My heart pounded like war drums—thump-thump-thump.
I staggered, reaching for a nearby tree—
Crack.
A branch snapped beneath my touch.
The spider's head whipped around, unnaturally fast.
Eyes—dozens of them—glistened.
Focused.
Right.
On.
Me.
I froze. Breath stopped.
My body forgot how to move.
It saw me.
And gods help me—I was so damn done for.
Its legs twitched—preparing to lunge.
I could feel it.
The hunger.
The tension in its limbs.
I shut my eyes.
Bracing.
This was it.
I'm about to become spider lunch.
Then—
"Open your damn eyes, you insolent brat! Face the challenge, not the end!"
His voice cracked like fire through fog.
I didn't respond. Didn't move.
But I heard it.
Agony.
Not mine. Its.
The spider shrieked—
A gurgling, wet screech that sounded like nightmares drowning.
I opened my eyes.
Its legs were spasming.
Its bloated body was—missing its head.
Clean sever.
No blood.
No mess.
Just emptiness.
The old man stood ahead of me, a white flame sword in his hand—
Glittering like moonlight sharpened into justice.
Its glow pulsed softly, sacred and strange.
Not a single drop of the monster's blood had touched the blade.
Because it wasn't struck.
It was erased.
I blinked hard.
My heart still raced from before,
But curiosity now prickled my skin.
"Old man… what is this?"
The sword gleamed like crystallized fire in his grip.
"No blood. No stains. That spider—it was a massacre. But the blade looks untouched."
I stepped forward, drawn to it.
Its glow radiated a quiet heat—warm.
"Can I hold it?"
He didn't look at me. Just grunted softly.
"You? That's not a plaything. It's Raudra-Kosh. A blood-bound sword. One of the Nine."
My breath caught.
"Wait… one of Nine?"
He nodded, eyes distant.
"The more it kills, the stronger it becomes.
But only a master with an extraordinary soul can bind with it.
Those who lack the strength lose themselves to frenzy—and are devoured by the blade."
I frowned.
"But how do you know all this? You just said it's one of the Nine… have you seen it before?"
"When a sword and its master form a pact," he said quietly,
"The memories of past wielders become part of the present.
I carry their legacy. Their warning."
I stared at the white-flame blade, still pulsing softly in his grip.
"It's dangerous. You said it can drive masters to madness. Devour them. So… why carry it at all?"
His gaze didn't waver.
"Child, it's not just a weapon. It's power—
The kind forged in countless battles, tempered by sacrifice."
I frowned.
"But couldn't you wield something safer? Something less… violent?"
He exhaled.
Not irritated. Not defensive.
Just old.
"This sword is one of the Nine.
To form a pact with it is not just rare—it's honor. Legacy. Pride.
Those who wield Raudra-Kosh are remembered.
The sword chooses few—and it chose me."
"Enough questions. Walk faster."
His grip tightened slightly around the blade,
But his eyes stayed locked on the dense shadows ahead.
"I cannot guarantee our full safety in this forest," he added.
"Even this blade has its limits."
As I followed him, we faced several monstrous creatures.
This time, I wasn't afraid.
Even though the old man talked like a lunatic, he was reliable.
And powerful.
I watched how he moved—how he dodged, how he killed.
Swift. Calculated. Precise.
"Old man… how can you protect yourself with just that sword?
I saw you cast a spell—and that shield thing formed around you."
"Mmm?"
The old man sheathed his sword and glanced back.
"You're telling me you saw the shield?"
And you saw me cast a spell?
You could see my movements?"
"Yeah. I mean, even though you were moving fast—I could still see it."
"But earlier," he said slowly,
"You couldn't see anything. Just heard the wailing of that monster."
"I don't know," I admitted.
"It's like… when I try to focus really hard on something,
I can see your movements. Everything becomes clearer."