Chapter 14: The Wooden Sword’s Power

Kuro's hand hovered over the hilt of the wooden sword. Its plain appearance belied the depth of its significance, a weapon that seemed far too simple for the task at hand. Yet, as he stepped forward, his companions—Reika and Xero—flanked him, each of them preparing for an inevitable confrontation.

The square was eerily silent, save for the growls of the mechanical wolves surrounding them. The wolves, once an impressive display of engineering, were now more like shadows of their former selves—iron-armored, three-headed monstrosities, with snarling, snapping jaws, ready to devour anything that came too close. Their metallic bodies shimmered under the harsh sun, and each movement seemed to hold a deadly precision. They had come for blood, and nothing less than destruction would satisfy their ravenous hunger.

Kuro knew this would not be an ordinary fight. After all, those Fire Fly bunches are involved, so he must use his top power to get-go.

Reika, eyes narrowed, glanced at Kuro, whose face remained unreadable. "What's your plan?" she asked, voice heavy with skepticism. "You don't even have a weapon—how are you going to deal with these things?"

Xero, standing beside Reika, folded his arms, his gaze flickering to Kuro. "He's right, Kuro. These things are formidable. You're telling me we're supposed to believe that you, with a wooden sword, can defeat them?"

Kuro's only response was to raise a hand, signaling his companions to hold off. "Let me handle this," he said, his voice calm but filled with a quiet authority that made them hesitate. Neither of them were used to Kuro being so confident, especially not in the face of such danger. Reika opened her mouth to protest, but a subtle shake of Kuro's head silenced her.

Instead of pulling out some legendary weapon, Kuro reached behind him, unclasping the leather strap that held the unassuming wooden sword. He drew it slowly, allowing the weapon to rest lightly in his hand. It was a simple piece of wood—unvarnished and rough around the edges. No ornate carvings or magical sigils marked its surface. It looked nothing like the finely crafted swords of skilled blacksmiths, nor did it resemble the energy-infused weapons of the warrior mages they had encountered in their travels.

Reika's expression twisted into one of disbelief. "Are you serious? That thing's nothing but a stick!"

Xero's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "I don't like this, Kuro. There's something you're not telling us." But in the end, he smiled anyway.

Kuro did not answer. He merely stood tall, his feet planted firmly in the dirt, eyes fixed on the wolves that circled them like predators preparing for the kill. He felt the pulse of energy gathering around him, a quiet hum beneath his feet, and with a steady breath, he drove the wooden sword deep into the ground.

The moment the blade sank into the earth, something profound happened.

A deep rumble seemed to reverberate from the core of the earth itself, as if the land was awakening to an ancient, forgotten song. The very air seemed to darken, thickening with an unseen power. Reika and Xero exchanged wary glances, unsure of what was happening, when they felt it—the unmistakable feeling of a presence far older than anything they had known.

Without warning, the ground beneath them split open, jagged tendrils of thorn-covered vines breaking through the earth. Blackthorn trees, twisted and gnarled, erupted from the soil like monstrous giants. Their trunks were dark and rough, their branches adorned with long, curling thorns that seemed to pulse with life. The trees' movements were far from natural; they were alive, aware, and responding to some primal instinct.

Before the mechanical wolves could react, the blackthorn trees began to lash out. Thick vines shot forward with unnatural speed, striking at the wolves, their thorn-covered whips cracking like thunder against the metallic bodies. The wolves yelped and snarled in surprise, their iron hides creaking under the pressure. They attempted to retreat, their three heads snapping in unison as they tried to evade the vines, but it was no use—the trees were relentless.

The vines wrapped around the wolves, constricting them with terrifying precision. The metal of their armor groaned as the thorns pierced through, splintering the machinery and causing sparks to fly. The wolves growled, their movements becoming sluggish as the energy seemed to drain from their mechanical bodies. The blackthorns weren't just ensnaring the wolves; they were feeding off them, siphoning whatever energy they had left.

The once-feared pack of Cerberus wolves, so formidable with their three snapping heads, was being slowly reduced to nothing. The mechanical creatures' movements slowed, their bodies buckling as the trees drained the life force from them. They howled in agony, their attempts to break free growing weaker with each passing second. And just like that, the once-mighty wolves fell silent, their bodies crumbling into nothingness, reduced to lifeless husks of metal and dust that scattered in the wind.

Kuro slowly withdrew the wooden sword from the earth. The blackthorn trees, their purpose fulfilled, began to wither away, their vines retreating back into the soil, leaving nothing behind but the faint echoes of their ancient power. The air returned to its normal state, the ominous weight lifting as the world around them began to settle.

Reika and Xero stood frozen, their mouths slightly agape, struggling to comprehend the scene they had just witnessed.

"What… what was that?" Reika whispered her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. "That was no ordinary trick. You just… you just took down the Cerberus wolves with a stick. What kind of devilish stick is it, that releases branches of trees from it?"

Kuro stood silently for a moment, his gaze distant as he looked over the remains of the wolves. "It's not just a stick," he said, his voice low and measured. "It's an ancient weapon, like 7 swords of the mist. This wooden sword is not just a simple piece of wood—it's a conduit. A conduit for the earth's power."

Xero's brow furrowed as he took a step forward. "A conduit for what? You're telling me that sword is linked to the earth?"

Kuro nodded slowly. "Yes. The wooden sword taps into the life force of the land itself. It's ancient magic—power tied to the earth, to nature, and to the creatures that once roamed these lands. The blackthorn trees are part of those living beings' remnant soul power."