Chapter 3

Akame rode along the dirt road, the wheels of the wagon creaking in harmony with the steady hoofbeats of the black stallion, her mind was a maelstrom of contemplation. The world around her seemed to blur as she delved into the enigma of her own existence.

The notion of reincarnation, a concept that she knew of very well thanks to anime, hovered in her thoughts like an elusive spectre.

Why her? The same question of before still continued to echo in the recesses of her mind. Why couldn't the others get a chance as well? they may have wanted it. The faces of those she had lost in the war flickered in her memory, a stark reminder of the price paid in the pursuit of a cause that had consumed so many.

Her thoughts drifted to her brother, the one who had become a shadow of himself, consumed by a thirst for revenge. In the quiet moments between hoofbeats, she pondered why the gift of another chance hadn't been bestowed upon him. He, too, deserved redemption and the opportunity to rewrite the narrative of his existence.

The dirt road, a silent witness to her musings, stretched endlessly before her. Akame couldn't fathom the cosmic machinations that had led her to this point. The thoughts swirling with questions about her reincarnation and the unexpected generosity of the mysterious lord, she found herself seeking solace in the company of the black Friesian horse. The rhythmic sounds of hooves against the earth provided a steady backdrop to her contemplations.

Unable to contain her musings, Akame spoke softly to the horse, as if sharing her thoughts with a confidant. "I don't understand why it's me," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the ambient sounds of nature. "Why this chance at a new life when I never asked for it? And why does he give me all these stuff for free without any payment?"

In the midst of her pondering, a realisation struck her—a sudden awareness that she hadn't yet named the loyal companion that carried her forward. Fingers idly tracing the reins, she wondered if there might be a note somewhere on the saddle, wagon, or even the horse itself that revealed its name.

Akame shifted around on the saddle, examining every inch for a clue. Her gaze lingered on the wagon, the saddle, and even the horse's elegant form. Alas, no note revealed itself.

Sitting back in the saddle, she contemplated a name. "Hmm" she rubbed her chin for ideas.

"What shall I name?" Akame mumbled. Her red eyes fixed upon the horse's majestic beauty; its noble stature reminiscent of tales she had heard in another lifetime. A name surfaced in her mind; seemingly drawn from the echoes of fantasy literature she once knew.

He brought a sense royalty to him. It was like seeing a majestic king.

"King huh?" she pondered some more. That's when it hit her. A name so grand. A name of an honourable and mighty King from the Tolkien Universe.

"Your name shall be Aragon," she declared, a nod of certainty accompanying her decision before patting the side of Aragon's strong neck. The black Friesian horse, now bearing the name of a legendary figure, seemed to respond with a subtle grace, as if acknowledging the weight of the name bestowed upon it.

"You like it." Akame grinned. "So do I." she seemed so proud of herself for naming a horse such a fine name. It also went with the medieval theme of this world. A great way for them to fit, she thought.

As Akame continued to ride, the thoughts of possibilities of this new world stretched before her like an uncharted canvas. Her mind buzzed with ideas, each option weaving a different tapestry of potential futures.

Aragon trotted steadfastly beneath her, as if sensing the weight of her contemplation. Akame sighed in frustration, a subtle exhale that mirrored the uncertainty looming over her path. She reached up to shuffle her hair, a physical manifestation of the mental turmoil that churned within.

Her thoughts danced between divergent paths, each presenting its own allure and challenges. Should she embark on a grand journey, traversing the corners of the world and documenting its wonders in a journal? The allure of exploration tugged at her, promising discovery, and adventure.

Alternatively, she considered the prospect of contributing to the well-being of others. Saving up money to open a clinic, where she could treat illnesses and ailments, offered a sense of purpose. The idea of becoming a healer resonated with a different kind of fulfillment.

Then there was another idea —buying a farm and cultivating tea leaves, a nod to a connection with her past and the comforting aroma of tea. The notion of grounding herself in the soil, tending to the land, held a certain charm.

Her thoughts continued to spiral and then a whimsical idea surfaced—a cabin in the woods, a solitary refuge where she could embrace a simpler life. The image of a wild-haired woman, wielding a wooden crane to chase off intruders, brought a fleeting smile to Akame's face.

As Akame pondered the potential paths ahead, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. The spectre of wars and power struggles between kings and queens loomed large in ancient worlds, and the very thought of it cast a shadow over her aspirations. She knows herself that in ancient society there is always a power struggle, there isn't a hundred years of peace because there is always at least one person who desires power, it same goes in the modern world.

It made her feel a little worried of what it might it bring towards her if she accidently gets caught up in another war.

Aragon continued its steady gait, seemingly attuned to its rider's internal struggle. Akame, haunted by the memories of a past filled with conflict and bloodshed, hesitated at the prospect of immersing herself in the machinations of war once more.

She sighed again, a sound that carried the weight of both weariness and determination.

The fear of being drawn back into the world of war gnawed at her. Her hands tightened around the reins of her horse, her knuckles turning pale white from the strength placed in her tight grip. The echoes of her brother's words resounded—the cruel reminder that, no matter where she went, war would find her, and she would become a loyal servant to the whims of a higher power all over again.

She may have freed her hands but her feet are still shackled to the very reason her creation.

Akame's gaze fixated on the horizon, her expression a mix of contemplation and trepidation. She didn't want to bow her head again, to become a mere pawn in the grand game of conquest. The scars of her past were still fresh, and the prospect of surrendering herself to another commander was a spectre she wished to banish.

The dirt road stretched ahead, winding through landscapes unknown. Akame, caught between the allure of various possibilities and the haunting shadows of her history, grappled with the fear that her destiny might once again be entwined with the call of war.

Although she hoped for a peaceful and tranquil life instead. Away from the strife of wars and the political intrigues that had marred her past. She might be able to avoid any noble man who would want to make her a loyal subject of their court or just another loyal dog like she has always been.

Her gaze shifted down to the nebula weapon, her katana, a silent companion with a history steeped in battles and bloodshed. Its blade, tempered in the crucible of countless battles, held the scars of her past.

Akame's fingers traced the hilt of her katana, a weapon not just of steel but an unknown history of latent power. It was a one-edged sword, not only capable of defending but also tempting fate by inviting the covetous eyes of those hungry for dominion.

Akame understood the potential dangers that lurked within the intricate folds of her katana's abilities. The very nature of its power could attract unwanted attention from those hungering for supremacy. High nobles, hungry for the might encapsulated in the weapon, could see it as a means to further their own ambitions.

She seen in the eyes of the politicians, war generals and corrupted people. How does it make it any different the ones in the ancient world?

It doesn't because there all the same.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, carrying with it the weight of caution and the wisdom born from harsh experience. She understood the allure that such a weapon held, especially in a world unfamiliar to her. The ancient world might have its own share of ambitious nobles and power-hungry individuals, a truth that resonated across the annals of time.

The soldier made a silent pact with herself—a commitment to conceal the true nature of the nebula weapon. The intricacies of its power, the ethereal force it could unleash, would remain shrouded in mystery, a secret that she would take to her grave. Akame recognised the danger that lay in revealing the full extent of its capabilities; it could become a beacon, drawing unwanted attention, and potentially plunging her once again into the currents of another war.

Her experiences, both in the ancient world she found herself in and the echoes of her own past, taught her that power often invited peril. The world, regardless of its time or place, seemed to harbor those who craved dominion over others.

However, the weight of the nebula weapon's potential consequences pressed upon her. The ethereal power contained within the katana held the potential to destroys tanks, war machines and, armies.

She knew from her own world's history that the nebula weapons responded to anyone who had strength and power. It was if it chose it's hosts. If, by some unfortunate turn of events, she were defeated and her life extinguished, the katana would acknowledge the prowess of the victor. In the wrong hands, it could become an unstoppable force, capable of shaping the destiny of nations and plunging the world into another chaos.

The notion that the nebula weapon could answer to a new bearer after her defeat troubled Akame. In the hands of an unworthy wielder, someone driven by malice or power-hunger, the consequences could be catastrophic. The ancient world she found herself in might lack the knowledge and understanding of the nebula's true potential, making it even more perilous.

Even the people in her world didn't know much about them, it's history or their full potential but yet still were able conquer and wield them to extreme levels.

She contemplated the dire scenario where the katana fell into the wrong hands—someone who couldn't match its power.

Akame's resolve solidified. The nebula weapon's abilities would remain a closely guarded secret.

As she rode Aragon, the black Friesian horse, Akame was acutely aware of the responsibility she carried. The katana, a weapon of immense power, demanded careful stewardship. She frowned, now another problem was added to her plate and that was to babysit this weapon and make sure it doesn't just run off, even though it wouldn't.

As Akame contemplated the gravity of her katana's potential consequences, a wry smile played on her lips. "Well," she mused, nudging Aragon gently with her heels, "if all else fails and this sword decides to be a bit of a troublemaker, I might just have to bury it deeper than my hidden dark secrets."

She snickered, imagining a scenario where the nebula weapon, stubborn as it might be, could find itself entombed in a makeshift vault of dirt and leaves. "Here lies the most dramatic sword in all the realms," she said with hint of sarcasm, "buried not six feet under, but six dimensions under. Good luck finding that, aspiring conquerors!"

Aragon, seemingly in on the joke, snorted in what could only be interpreted as equine amusement. As the duo continued down the dirt road, the notion of burying a powerful weapon like a misbehaving pet added a touch of levity to Akame's thoughts. After all, a good sense of humour might just be the most potent weapon against the unpredictability's of ancient worlds and ethereal katana dramas.

Just as it came, the humour of burying her katana beneath the earth faded away, leaving a quiet introspection in its wake. She glanced at Aragon, a companion whose presence offered a sense of solace amidst the uncertainty. The corner of lips perched up and a small smile crossed her expression, her fingers gently caressed the horses neck. If she was to be alone this world than she wanted to be alone with Aragon, the horse is all she needs. Akame doesn't want to burden her soul with anyone else, she doesn't have time to worry about other people anymore.

The lone soldier has already lost a number of good people, friends, family, comrades and even her captain, the man who hated her guts from the very beginning, the man who hit her with the back of his gun to knock her out but he was the man that embraced her with open arms and acted as fatherly figure during his time with her.

Akame doesn't need anyone else in her life anymore. They were enough. She couldn't help but smile, thinking about all the times with the Delta Raptors, one of the strongest American military squads formed during WW3 to battle the Elite Soldiers of Japan. Yet, beneath the surface, a more profound reflection took root. The absence of war, revenge, and the unyielding loyalty to a cause left a void.

Her gaze drifted upward to the expansive canvas of the clear blue sky, unmarred by the scars of war. The azure sky, barely visible through the shifting veils of clouds, mirrored the nebulous nature of her own thoughts.

Her mood changed and she found herself feeling empty all of a sudden.

With a furrowed brow, she stared up at the sky as if seeking answers from the lord above. The ethereal dance of clouds seemed to echo the complexity of her own emotions. She thought about her past—how the entirety of her life had been defined by war, allegiance, betrayal, and revenge.

She sighed, the sound mingling with the rustle of grass and the gentle breeze. "Most of my life was just fighting," she admitted, her voice a mere murmur. "There was never a moment to dream about what comes after the battles. I was trained to stay by the general's side, a loyal dog in his service. After I betrayed my nation and fought alongside America and its allies with only revenge on my mind, I never really thought about the future."

As the clouds continued their silent journey across the sky, Akame felt the weight of the unknown pressing upon her. A profound emptiness settled within her, echoing like a hollow chamber in the depths of her being. The rhythmic sounds of Aragon's hooves on the dirt road seemed to accentuate the vacant space that lingered within her chest.

With each passing moment, the landscape unfolded around her, yet Akame's internal landscape remained shrouded in uncertainty. She felt adrift, as if a part of her had been left behind in the battlefield she had known for so long. The absence of war, revenge, and the immediate pursuit of justice left her grappling with an unfamiliar emptiness.

"I don't know," she admitted to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet expanse. The nebula weapon, once a symbol of power and purpose, now felt like an enigmatic weight against her side. For years, her life had been a relentless march from one conflict to another, and now, in the absence of such struggles, she found herself facing a void.

The black kimono, billowing with the wind, seemed to mimic the aimlessness she felt. It was as if the fabric itself had become a canvas for the emptiness that clung to her—a void that demanded to be acknowledged.

Aragon, the silent companion, continued along the winding road, oblivious to the internal turmoil of his rider. The dirt road seemed to stretch infinitely before her, mirroring the vast expanse of uncertainty that now coloured her future.

She didn't know what to do with her life. Nor had any idea what to expect.

As Akame continued to gaze at the shifting patterns of the sky, her contemplative expression gradually flattened into one of mild boredom. A sense of detachment settled over her features, and she muttered to herself, "Whatever. I'll think of something eventually. It's not the end of the world just yet."

Aragon, sensing his rider's shift in demeanour, continued to tread the dirt road with unwavering composure.

With a casual shrug, she urged Aragon forward, the dirt road stretching out before them like an open invitation. The journey continued, and while the destination remained unclear, Akame still had the time in the world to think of what she wanted, even if it took months or maybe even years.

It didn't matter to her; she would gradually find another purpose in life instead of war….

She hoped.

"Whatever it is," she mused, "I'll figure it out. It's just another challenge, after all." And with that, the black-clad duo pressed on, leaving the thought behind and continuing on with wherever they were headed.

Minutes soon turned to hours and Aragon still trotted along the dirt road with Akame now leaning on her back on Aragon's back her hands behind her head, her leg swing back and fourth as she watched the clouds slowly move from across the blue sky. Although thanks to the saddle it was a little uncomfortable but that didn't bother Akame.

At some point during the day merchants with their wagons, men in medieval attires and even sell swords passed by and yet the reactions of the occasional passersby varied, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion, awe, and sometimes simply a lingering gaze as they tried to make sense of the black-clad woman with a curved sword attached to waist on horseback either leaning or sitting up straight.

Ignoring the curious glances, Akame pressed on, the rhythmic sounds of Aragon's hooves resonating with the steady beat of her thoughts. Occasionally, she broke her stoic demeanour to inquire about the nearest village, seeking to understand the geography of this unfamiliar land.

One encounter with a merchant peasant proved enlightening. As Akame asked about the direction to the nearest village again hoping for another leading conversation of her whereabouts, the man looked at her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Heading North, are you?" he asked, eyeing the black kimono with curiosity and the nebula weapon at her side.

When she nodded in confirmation now knowing that she the direction she is headed is north which gives her idea where south, east and west is, the man pointed in the direction she was headed. "Well, you're on the road to Riverrun. A couple more miles and you're there unless you're heading to the nearby village which is not far."

The merchant peasant, eyeing Akame's attire with a mix of concern and bemusement, couldn't help but remark, "You know, it's cold up there in North. You might want to dress more warmly."

Akame, maintaining her stoic expression, gave a small nod in acknowledgment. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, hiding the fact that the cold held little sway over her.

Riverrun—a name that held a place on the map of this unknown world. It provided a point of reference, a marker in the uncharted territory she now traversed. Akame thanked the man for the information before urging Aragon to continue.

With a newfound awareness of her location, Akame pondered the significance of Riverrun. The road stretched ahead, leading her toward a destination she knew little about. The encounters with curious onlookers and the revelation of the town's name added another layer of intrigue to her journey.

The words of the peasant merchant lingered in her thoughts. Riverrun lay ahead, but her curiosity about this unfamiliar world gnawed at her.

That's when it hit her. If God was generous enough to provide her all this maybe somewhere in those bags or wooden boxes there could be answer to questions. The wooden crates and sacks attached to the wagon Aragon pulled became the focus of her contemplation.

A subtle frustration crept into Akame's demeanour. Why hadn't she thought to inspect the crates earlier? Were there answers within, a guide to navigate the intricacies of this land? With an annoyed sigh, she guided Aragon to a halt, dismounting to approach the wagon.

Akame felt stupid and cursed herself for not bothering to look further into the stuff that was given to her on her arrival to this world.

The wooden crate boxes stood as silent witnesses to a mystery waiting to unfold. Akame, feeling a twinge of self-admonishment, began to inspect each one. She ran her gloved hands over the wooden surfaces, seeking clues, maps, or any hint that might illuminate the path ahead.

She first started with a small crate, hoping to fond maybe a map or another note.

As the lid creaked open, the contents revealed themselves—The first item she laid eyes on was a small pouch, undoubtedly a medieval wallet meant for coins. It held a handful of unfamiliar currency, and she couldn't help but muse on the irony of being bestowed with money in a world where its value remained a mystery.

However, that ticked one box of things needed for this world.

Money.

She didn't have to worry about money until she ran out of it but it still wouldn't hurt if she gathered more in case.

In the corner of the crate, she discovered an old book. Its cover, though hardened by time, bore the marks of wear and tear. The soldier picked it up and gingerly opened it, revealing pages filled crests and sigils of houses.

There was a head of a wolf and beside it wrote, House Stark and what seemed to be their motto was Winter is Coming in which Akame rose an eyebrow in disbelief. 'The hell that means, I don't know'. 

Another was a of giant squid, an upside-down squid maybe a kraken she didn't know but beside it wrote House Greyjoy and there motto was We do not sow.

'Probably better than the Starks no offence' she thought.

Akame turned the page ignoring the information written about them as she was eager to see more houses.

There was Lion in which Akame was not surprised and wrinkled her nose disappointment because there is always a Lion in any ancient world, she seen it on T.V, in anime and in books.

Always. There is always a family associated with Lions.

It was House Lannister and there motto was 'Hear me roar'. Akame mouth went agape and she was taken back by the ridiculous motto that sounded so cheesy and ridiculous.

'Whoever thought of this motto needs to shut themselves in the room and not come out. The Lannister's are probably cursing him for such a motto like this.' 

Akame turned the page ignoring the family history written on this one as well when stopped at a certain page. This one caught her interest.

The crest featured a red three-headed dragon.

"House Targaryen, Fire and Blood" Akame muttered softly to herself.

"Interesting."