A Strange Figure Appears

Haunted by the day his family was slain, Yami made a solemn vow: to obliterate this desolate world. Lifting the sword his father had given him from the ground, he reflected on his reluctance to let it feed. He rarely allowed it to feast on blood. When starved, the sword would start to leech his own blood. This delicate balance between feeding the sword and preserving his humanity was why Yami's progression was slow; His level was only 16, despite two years of relentless pursuit of his goal. He refused to become a corrupted by over consuming blood and demon souls.

"It's time to head back," Yami thought, leaving the forest where he had dedicated himself to mastering swordsmanship. He preferred to rely on his own skills rather than the cursed power of his sword. As he walked, a bizarre object streaked across the sky, heading straight for him. Instinctively, his hand moved to his sheath, but the object zoomed past, crashing with a thunderous boom not far away.

His sword began to quiver intensely, as if urging him to investigate. Yami considered ignoring it, to simply head home. But the sword's vibration grew more insistent, almost as if pulling him in the direction of the crash.

Gripping the sheath tightly, Yami tried to still the sword's relentless vibrations, but to no avail. "Fine, I'll check it out," he conceded, turning toward the direction of the crash. With each step closer to the site, a strange, uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut.

Approaching what appeared to be a large boulder, Yami noticed something odd protruding from it. Abruptly, a voice pierced the air, chilling and laced with malice. "Step any closer, and I'll kill you, human." Yami halted, the voice's killing intent more menacing than anything he'd ever encountered.

His hand instinctively moved to his sword. "Show yourself," Yami demanded, scanning the surroundings. Yet, no one was in sight. Cautiously, he took another step toward the rock. In response, a massive slash of energy hurtled towards him. Reacting with lightning-fast reflexes, Yami drew his sword and countered, deflecting the slash. The force of the attack was so immense it tore through the forest behind him, cutting down hundreds of trees.

Yami winced, feeling his shoulder painfully pop out of place from the impact.

"I warned you, human," the voice taunted, its chilling tone promising death. This only fueled Yami's anger. With a swift motion, he reset his dislocated shoulder and tightened his grip on his sword. The prospect of something valuable being fiercely guarded spurred him forward. He charged towards the boulder.

In an instant, Yami was surrounded by hundreds of phantom slashes, materializing from thin air. But fear was a stranger to him; his resolve was unshakeable. Yami unleashed a flurry of counterstrikes, his blade clashing and sparking against the relentless assault. He advanced, each step a battle, as he parried the barrage.

Despite his skill, a few slashes found their mark, slicing through his flesh. Yami knew hesitation meant death. The invisible onslaught was unyielding, and fatigue began to set in. "I don't like using this, but I have no choice. Let's go, Scar!" Yami screamed, his frustration reaching its peak.

In response, a dramatic transformation overtook him. His long black hair turned stark white, and his eyes glowed a fierce red. He had activated his cursed form, drawing upon the full power of his sword, Scar. Each cursed weapon bore a name, a secret shared only when the demon inside the weapon deemed its wielder worthy.

As Yami embraced his cursed form, his movements became a blur, each strike faster and more forceful than the last. A dark aura enveloped his sword, and a wild exhilaration overtook him. "This... this is so fun!" he yelled, but his exhilaration was a mask for a deeper, more sinister transformation. His skin grew pale, his features began to resemble a demon's, and his grip on sanity wavered.

Amidst the chaos, a haunting memory surfaced — the day his family was tragically taken from him. Yami stood motionless, gazing at his lifeless family, the ruins of his favorite noodle shop around him. "Why... why..." he whispered.

Overcome with grief, he fell to his knees, the sword his father had given him now pressed against his own throat. "Everything will be okay, guys. I'll just meet y'all in the afterlife. We can be together again," he murmured, tears finally breaking free.

But as he braced to end his own life, the sword vibrated intensely, slipping from his grasp to the ground, near his family. It began to absorb the blood of his family, glowing with a golden light. As Yami reached for the sword, visions of his family appeared before him. His mother approached, comforting him, "Don't cry, my son." His father looked on stoically, urging, "Be sure to train hard, son." His sister simply smiled warmly at him.

As they began to fade, Yami cried out, "No, don't leave me! I don't want to be alone." But in a harmonious chorus, just before they disappeared, they assured him, "With that sword, we will always be with you."

Snapping back to reality, Yami found himself still surrounded by the relentless slashes. Regaining his mental clarity, he took a calculated risk and leaped back, creating distance between himself and the unseen assailant. To his relief, the attacks ceased. He plunged his sword into the ground, dropping to one knee, using the weapon as a support to prevent himself from collapsing. Exhaustion gripped him, and he deactivated his cursed form. "Whatever this is, it's too strong for me," he gasped.

Then the voice returned, tinged with a hint of intrigue, "You are a very interesting human, the first to survive any of my attacks." Out of thin air, a figure materialized before Yami. It was a demon, with long black hair and eyes as blue as the sky, a sword hanging at his waist.

"How am I able to see you, demon?" Yami questioned, pain evident in his voice.

The demon approached him, placing a finger on Yami's forehead. "You're perfect," he declared cryptically, and in that instant, the world around Yami faded to black.