Inazuma swordsmith named Senko Muramasa

"So, please be sure to come to the festival on time tomorrow."

Tomorrow, the fourth day—that was the date of Aru's death that Michiyo mentioned.

However, there was no fear on the boy's face, and he even revealed a calmness that said, "You don't have to save me."

"Just for this?" Muramasa raised his eyebrows.

"Just for this y/ue/yi-shou/shou." Alu nodded.

"You guys are really indifferent to life and death..."

Muramasa had just declared that he would cut off all ties with Michiyo, but this guy had no intention of stopping him.

“I just do my job.”

Aru smiled and added:

"Unless necessary."

"For example?" Muramasa asked with rare curiosity.

"Hmm~ I'll judge." Ru said, using the nickname of "Don't Know".

"What an annoying little brat."

Muramasa made a "tsk" sound, stopped asking questions, and looked in Chiyo's direction.

The distance was too far to hear their words clearly, I could only see the expressions on their faces changing: confusion, reluctance, determination in saying goodbye, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Perhaps there is also an apology that is five hundred years late.

"Well, it's time for me to go to work."

Seeing that Chiyo seemed to have finally said her last words, Mura turned around and walked towards the thatched hut where he was temporarily staying, while Chiyo was looking back at him.

Then Chiyo followed, and only Aru was left standing there.

The corners of his mouth curved steadily as he raised his hand in an empty direction, and an inky black crow immediately landed on his arm.

Her eyes swept over the crow, and a rare thoughtful look appeared on Aru's face. She then plucked two feathers.

Like throwing away scraps of paper, he "released" the two black crow feathers, letting them be carried away by the wind.

The feathers flew for a long time, with the airflow sometimes dense and sometimes sparse, but they maintained their own pace and landed on "Raiden Shin" and "Sasa Yuri" respectively.

The next second, the two feathers melted and disappeared into thin air.

……

The wooden door of the thatched hut was gently closed, blocking out the last bit of light and sound from the outside world.

"I'm ready."

Miyu Chiyo's voice rang out in the dim room, with a hint of uncontrollable trembling.

"Although... I'm still a little uneasy."

It's not just the fear of the unknown, but also the uneasiness about the future that is about to flow again after five hundred years of stagnation.

"Ah."

Muramasa hummed in understanding. "That guy Shenzi said that the ley lines here are twisted, and the soul can't return to its normal cycle. Your so-called 'death' is nothing more than being disassembled by this island and reassembled into another replica."

Life, after all, is the arrangement of particles. As long as the order is right, every body needed for every life can be reconstructed.

It’s what’s inside that counts.

As he spoke, he casually pulled the sword in the air, and the projection of "Yaegaki Muramasa", which originally possessed a certain swordsman, quietly appeared in his palm.

"Simply severing your connection with this place will only turn your soul into a wandering ghost without a master. That is not our goal."

"so……"

Muramasa paused for a moment, no longer explaining, but demonstrating the answer with his actions:

"The essence, the explanation."

In an instant, the reality shattered like glass.

The boundless barren land, the rusty red sky, and the endless swords that pierced the entire world instantly filled the entire thatched hut.

"I will separate a part of this world to house your soul."

Since the soul can reside in the sword, and this world can accommodate the unknown Asmodeus, there is no reason why Chiyo Miyano cannot.

After all, this body was created by the sword, and the inherent world was also created by the sword.

As long as "Yaegaki Muramasa", where Michiyo resides, is melted into this world, the other party can stay in his own world.

As for the body—according to the Son of God—just create another one.

"Ah."

Miyu Chiyo could no longer fully understand his words, but she could feel that this man was not joking.

She slowly closed her eyes and let out a long breath, releasing all the fatigue, apology and unwillingness of five hundred years.

When she opened her eyes again, her eyes were clear.

"rest assured."

Then, Muramasa also restrained his cold and indifferent attitude, and his words were rarely comforting:

"It won't hurt."

After saying that, the blade stained with fire passed by.

The raging fire engulfed the place where Chiyo was, holding a funeral for the body that had lingered for five hundred years.

There was nothing left in its place.

The Swordsmith from Another World: I'm sick, please take a leave

I wanted to carry the code, but I really don't have the strength...

Lesson learned the hard way: don’t eat cold seafood stew, especially in this hot and humid weather.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… ………………

The Swordsmith of Another World: Chapter 124: Worship You, What Does It Have to Do with You?

"Sure enough, just as that guy said, there is no fog today."

Muramasa sat in the thatched hut, silently counting the hours as the early morning approached, and the fog did not reappear.

At least I don't have to worry about how to deal with the mountain, for now.

"In that case, if nothing unexpected happens... we will also experience what Chiyo mentioned, reincarnation."

At this point, she recalled what she had seen, Muramasa's memory:

"What kind of world do you think you would create?"

For Michiyo, the place that makes her feel most at ease is Inazuma five hundred years ago.

So, it is really exciting to see where this seemingly lonely knife maker will choose as his final destination.

A dilapidated temple filled with statues? A small workshop with giant machinery? Or perhaps a fantasy world that requires a seven-fold pilgrimage?

No matter which one it is, the Son of God is actually quite interested in taking a look.

"Who knows..."

Muramasa murmured, his mind flashing through the place the other party was expecting, and he felt no attachment in his heart.

I have no intention of going back. To say that this is my final destination would be a stretch.

"Forget it, there's no point in thinking too much now."

I shook my head to clear the thoughts in my mind and had a rare good sleep.

……

On the morning of the fourth day, the world was immersed in a rich milky white.

"The fog today is thicker than before."

Muramasa, who was walking in front, spoke, his voice sounding a little muffled in the humid air, as if most of it was absorbed by the fog.

Relying on his memory of the terrain, he moved forward on the grass where the path was almost invisible.

"It's like walking in the clouds. Perhaps once we step out of this fog, we'll find ourselves in another world."

She spoke with a light smile. "Come to think of it, you haven't answered my question last night. In your 'reincarnation', what kind of place do you think it will be?"

"..."

Muramasa paused, "I don't know."

The answer he gave was still simple, but it contained a hint of hesitation compared to last night's "Who knows?"

"Perhaps... a place where I can work as a blacksmith in peace is enough."

"Oh? That's all? I thought there were going to be a few more girls~"

She seemed to be making a casual guess, her words full of sarcasm.

Silence stretched out in the mist, but it wasn't awkward.

The noise from the festival grounds could be faintly heard in the distance, also blurred by the thick fog.

"The festival is about to begin."

Muramasa didn't respond to her, but just gave her a reminder and quickened his pace a little.

As we passed the last clump of dew-soaked bushes, the noise suddenly became much clearer.

The festival venue lay out before our eyes, the light of the bonfire blended with people's laughter, and the air was filled with the aroma of barbecue.

"It's really lively."

A man held a wooden bowl, handed the milky drink inside to his companion, and said with a smile:

"This year's harvest is as bountiful as in previous years."

"Yes, thanks to Aru." His companion took the wooden bowl and looked towards the depths of the island with gratitude. "I hope we can have such a bountiful harvest next year."

"Yes, yes, as long as the ceremony goes smoothly." A woman next to her clasped her hands together, a smile mixed with joy and piety on her face, "Lord Thunderbird will definitely be very happy."

While they were chatting and laughing, a melodious flute sound came from afar.

The singing stopped, the laughter died down, and everyone tacitly stopped what they were doing and turned in one direction.

A flute sound as clear as flowing water in a mountain stream came slowly from the depths of the thick fog, and every note was still stuck to the beat.

And the thin figure slowly walked out of the fog.

It's a boy, it's Aru.

He was wearing a clean white linen robe and his feet were bare.

Unlike before, he wore a crown woven from thorny vines on his head. A few drops of bright red blood oozed out from the thorns and fell on his smooth forehead, like some kind of sacred cinnabar.

There was no trace of pain on his face, and his eyes were clear and calm, as if the crown of thorns was just an ordinary decoration.

As he walked, he played the wooden reed flute, and the sound of the flute echoed over the silent festival ground.

"...What a strange welcome ceremony."

Shenzi's voice sounded in Muramasa's mind, with a hint of inquiry.

The villagers spontaneously made way for them, and the previous joy on their faces turned into a tranquility mixed with reverence and pity.

They followed Aru silently, heading deeper into the island.

No one spoke, only the rustling of footsteps on the wet grass and the lingering singing.

Muramasa mixed in at the end of the crowd, watching this strange team pass through layers of archways and finally arrive at a circular altar surrounded by huge stones.

Aru's singing stopped here.

Two elderly villagers came forward, took his hands, one on each side, and led him to the quaint altar.

The whole process was solemn and dignified. Alu stood obediently in the center of the altar, looking at everyone quietly.