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Sword Emperor

Autor: DreAm_b0At
Eastern
Contínuo · 195.5K Modos de exibição
  • 33 Chs
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Sinopse

A promise he made embarked him onto the path of strongest swordsman...... A vow to his friend hardened his will to strive forward even if it means death...... The sword is my path..... and I shall become the strongest!!

Chapter 11. Death

A vast green field.... the field was occupied by several small hills, the lush green colour brought out the sublime beauty of nature.

Among one of these small hills stood a lone tree, it was several tens of meters in height, vibrant green leaves filled its branches. As the wind swept past it, the leaves would dance in joy.

Nature had an unspeakable beauty that everyone at some point would find mysterious. One would fell drawn into it, the worries and sadness experienced in the past and the present would melt away in the presence of such beauty.

Underneath the tree sat a man. His hair was grey and his face had wrinkles, indicating his old age and he wore green robes. Several scars could be seen beneath his robe through the opening on his chest.

Three swords rested on his lap, mysteriously his breathing seemed to be blended with nature. If a person isn't looking carefully they would miss him even sitting there.

After some time the old man lifted his eyelids, he gently caressed his swords and murmured

" Still can't breakthrough. * sigh *....

I am sorry my friends, my time has come to an end.."

As if answering to his words the swords hummed. The old man smiled gently and returned to his meditation.

' Sorry... I couldn't fulfill my promise. If only I was given another chance..... '

Time passed away slowly, silently the world bid it's farewell to one of it's greatest talents. The swords on his lap hummed saying their farewell to their master.

A young man was walking up the hill, he too had three swords on his waist. His back was straight and his figure gave off a serene but powerful vibe.

" Master has been spending a lot of time here lately, he has even forgotten to come back. Does he not care about his health? "

The young man scolded his master but worry was apparent in his eyes. He looked up to see his master sitting in meditation, his eyes showed respect and care as he watched him.

" Mast....er... MASTER!!! "

Halfway through his voice cracked, his eyes widened in shock. Like thunder his voice echoed through the air, he was tens of meters away from the old man but now in a split second he was beside him.

He touched the old man with shivering hands, his eyes were wet as he gazed upon the serene smile on the old man's face.

" MASTER!!! "

A mournful roar escaped from his mouth. He held the old man tightly and cried like a kid. To him the old man was everything, it was from the slums the old man took him. He gave him food, clothes, education, training... he made him the man he is today.

Several shadows flashed through the air, men wearing training robes with swords by their waist appeared around the hill. All of them stood shocked as they saw their old master in the young lord's arms, dead.

Unknowingly their eyes teared up, they were respected masters known throughout this world. Their dojo was one where people all over the world longed to train in, each student aspired to take any one of these men as there Masters but now...

All of them wailed, all of them cried seeing the old man with a serene smile laying lifelessly in the young lord's arms.

The sun was suddenly covered by dark clouds, thunder echoed and rain drops fell.

There is a saying in their world, that when a beloved son leaves them the world will ache.

The young man was drenched in water, he held the old man, his master in his arms and said lightly

" Prepare the funeral. Call Master's friends, he would want all of them to say farewell."

" Yes Young Master! "

The Young man picked up the old man and walked. Three among the other masters held each sword and walked orderly behind him. Rain fell down endlessly, wiping away their tears as they walked.

Even after hours the rain didn't stop, it fell down ever so gently. The islands coast was filled with all kinds of ships, hundreds of people could be seen wearing black clothes. Each of these people had influence on this world, but all of them came today to bid farewell to this great man.

Inside the Dojo, several figures were standing before a coffin. Some on them were old, some young but all of their figure seemed to contain world crushing power, especially the old ones.

Silently all of them bid farewell to their friend. The funeral was carried out in the presence of every single leader of this world, noone dared not to show up. Not because of fear but because of respect.

The Young now stood before his master's grave, several figures stood behind him, all of them old.

" Sirs, Madams.... what should I do? "

An old man who seemed to be the leader among the group spoke gently

" He choose you, he passed onto you his strongest style and he has left you his precious Swords, he has complete trust in giving you his inheritance. Don't let him down."

The young man nodded slowly but his eyes were resolute and a fire burned within.

" I will leave you to say farewells."

He bowed and left.

The group of old men and woman stood before the old man's grave. All of them stood silently until..

" One of us left this world."

" * sigh *.... our time is over, atleast he died while doing what he liked most."

" But he must have died with regrets."

All of them sighed, they knew their friend well. He was a Swordsman to his bones, he loved to explore what's next in his path. Even after their adventure he wanted to train his Sword to the next level but....

" He always did say some kind of shackles were binding him from achieving the next realm."

" Now he is gone... I hope he can achieve it in his next life.

" Of course that's certain."

Among the two old woman, one of them spoke with confidence. Silence dawned upon them, the others looked at her weirdly before coming to realisation.

" You didn't....

" Reincarnation ability... it's mysterious but at the same time unpredictable. Anyway using that ability would sap you of what little life force you have left!!."

The old woman waved her hand and consoled

" We are already old, I don't know how long I will live but..... if I can help him, one last time to achieve his dream then wouldn't my last moments be worth it? "

" You!!!..... * sigh *...

" Let it be, I hope it worked."

All of them looked at their friends grave and smiled. A bottle of sake was opened by the old man infront, he poured it over his friends grave.

" Drink up old buddy, hope you find what you wish for! "

He poured out every drop of it. All of them gave a final look at the grave and left.

The sake dripped down the stone, moonlight reflected upon it making the engraving on it visible.

" Here lies A Friend, A brother, Master, and the Strongest Swordsman of all times.....

RORONOA ZORO!! "

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