Flames still flickered among the scorched huts and swirling ash lingered in the air, but the main battle within the ruined village seemed to pause in a suffocating lull. Shunjiro, Itsuki, Tetsuo, and Yoshinori had overcome many of the raiders, but the danger was far from over. The final raider leader, Makoto, stood at the center of the chaos, dark energy radiating from his battered form. Before the final confrontation with Makoto began, Yoshinori stumbled backward. He braced his hand against a broken fence, sweat streaming down his brow. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the flickers of electricity that once danced around him flickered feebly before vanishing altogether. The ephemeral blade of lightning he had conjured earlier had long since dissipated. Tetsuo threw Yoshinori a worried glance. “What’s wrong?” he asked, chest still heaving from exertion. Yoshinori managed a bitter laugh, though frustration glinted in his eyes. “I’m…out of spiritual energy,” he rasped. “Those five raiders I took on drained me. Without my lightning, I’m…just a child with a broken sword.” Shunjiro’s eyes widened as he helped prop Yoshinori up. “Then rest. We’ve got this.” Yoshinori grimaced. “I’ll only get in your way like this. I can’t risk interfering.” He shifted his gaze to Itsuki, who was tending to minor injuries. “If something goes wrong, I might not be able to protect you. Or myself.” Though it pained him to say, Yoshinori carefully backed off, leaning against a half-collapsed wall. He clenched his fists, feeling helpless but unwilling to hamper his companions. At the center of the devastation, Makoto’s venomous aura seethed. A vile green miasma coiled around him, seeping into the charred ground and intensifying the stench of decay. Shunjiro stepped forward, ignoring the raw ache in his muscles. Tetsuo grunted and took position beside him, while Itsuki hovered close behind, poised to heal them if needed. Makoto staggered, a single bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His gaze flickered, an odd spark of regret. “You’re tougher than you look,” he panted, warhammer still in hand. Then, a haunted, desolate expression stole across his face. Tears brimmed in his eyes, shockingly out of place amidst the carnage. “I never wanted this…” he gasped, voice cracking. “I just wanted to survive. Get the hell out of my head!” For one fragile moment, Shunjiro faltered, fists lowering. Is he…fighting something inside himself? Tetsuo’s warning cry shattered the pause. “Shunjiro, move away from him, now! This looks bad!” But the moment to retreat was lost. The noxious aura twisted and thickened. Something malevolent stirred in Makoto’s body, seeming to devour the last vestige of his sanity. The man’s eyes rolled back, only to return as pools of black. A strangled roar tore from his throat. The swirling green energy warped into an inky, writhing mass, spiking the air with suffocating pressure. Shunjiro’s chest tightened in horror. So this is corruption? He recalled Yoshinori’s mention. The intangible gloom seemed to radiate from Makoto’s soul, expanding outwards like a living nightmare. Makoto grinned, a twisted caricature of a smile. “You wanted a fight?” his voice thundered, layered with a deeper, monstrous undertone. “Then let’s see if you can survive this.” A wave of concentrated poison lashed outward, thick with a rancid, necrotic stench. Shunjiro and Tetsuo braced themselves, but the unholy power sent them reeling. It hammered their senses, draining their strength as if mere presence in that aura were lethal. Itsuki cried out, struggling to conjure a healing barrier that fizzled and cracked under the pressure of Makoto’s vile energy. She coughed, tears welling in her eyes as the poisonous atmosphere ripped at her lungs. We’re losing… Shunjiro thought, swaying on his feet. This is too strong for F rank. Real fear clutched his heart, Makoto might obliterate them if his rampage continued. Just as Makoto raised his warhammer for a decisive blow, the air shimmered at Shunjiro’s side. In one breath, Ryuji appeared, grabbing Shunjiro’s shoulder and yanking him out of the warhammer’s crushing path. “Shunjiro, stand down,” Ryuji said, a calm determination sharpening his voice. “We’ll handle this.” “Ryuji?!” Shunjiro gasped, half-choking on the toxic smog swirling in Makoto’s corrupted aura. “But-how did-?” Before he could finish the question, a flicker of movement caught Makoto’s eye. Aiko was suddenly inches from him, her swift assault forcing him to jerk back. He swiped with the warhammer, but Aiko vanished, reappearing near a cracked wooden post behind him. A swirl of light hinted at her Swap technique, allowing her to exchange places with nearby objects lower in spiritual energy than hers. Makoto snarled, whirling around to face her new position. Again, Aiko flickered out of sight, reappearing next to a shattered cart wheel to his left. She pivoted into a flurry of strikes, aiming to force Makoto to drop his weapon. Confused and enraged, he swung blindly, each heavy blow missing as Aiko continually swapped with broken spears, a fallen door, or even loose debris around him. “Another F rank whelp?!” Makoto roared, voice raw with fury. The inky darkness pulsed from his body, trying to pin down Aiko, but her relentless teleportation around the scattered wreckage kept him guessing. Meanwhile, Ryuji struck whenever Makoto pivoted, landing calculated jabs at his ribs or ankles. In perfect sync, Aiko would appear behind Makoto to distract him, swapping with a loose floorboard while Ryuji slipped in to deliver quick, precise hits. Each attempt by Makoto to unleash a devastating surge of corrupt energy found him off-balance, forced to defend from multiple angles. Dark energy crackled, Makoto’s warhammer clanging against the ground in furious but ineffective arcs. The constant harassment denied him the chance to unleash his full toxic power, as every time he turned to target Aiko, she vanished in a shimmer of spiritual light, reappearing somewhere else with unstoppable agility. At last, during one frantic twist, Aiko managed to swap herself with a broken stool leg near Makoto’s feet, appearing low and hooking her foot around the warhammer’s handle. The clumsy pivot knocked the hammer right out of Makoto’s grip with a dull clang. Makoto howled in fury, lunging barehanded. Ryuji seized the opportunity, sliding behind him and wrapping both arms around Makoto’s torso in a skilled grappling hold. The corrupt aura sputtered in savage waves, but Aiko capitalized on Makoto’s exposed flank, landing two sharp blows to his temple, her fists charged with a faint spiritual current. Makoto’s knees buckled, and with one final, desperate roar, he collapsed face-first. The swirling darkness snapped and dissipated, leaving only a faint green haze of poison that faded rapidly. Aiko and Ryuji wasted no time; they bound Makoto’s arms behind his back with rope, ensuring no further outbursts of corrupted power. In the aftermath, Shunjiro and the others watched in stunned relief. Shunjiro and Tetsuo sagged with relief. The overwhelming pressure lifted, and the breathless hush that followed was punctured only by coughing fits as they tried to expel the lingering toxins from their lungs. Itsuki bent over, hacking as she struggled to gather enough healing energy to cleanse the worst of the poison. Finally, Shunjiro managed a hoarse, “Thank you…both of you.” He cast a stunned look at Ryuji, who gave a small, wry grin. Ryuji shrugged. “We happened to be in the area, saw the smoke.” Then, more gently, “Glad we got here in time.” Aiko, wiping sweat from her brow, nodded. “Teamwork is everything,” she said simply, echoing her usual motto. “Even a monstrous B rank can be taken down if you don’t give him room to strike.” Tetsuo limped over, leaning on a piece of broken timber for support. “That was… intense,” he breathed. “You two are amazing.” Ryuji grinned at the praise, his mischievous light returning. “We do what we can. Good to see you again, Tetsuo, and you, Shunjiro.” With the final threat neutralized, the group spread out to secure the area. Yoshinori, though still drained of spiritual energy, mustered enough focus to help tie up the unconscious or whimpering raiders. Itsuki quickly attended to the fearful captives, offering what healing she had left. Many of the villagers had been roughed up or half-poisoned, but her gentle spells alleviated the worst of their injuries. Aya, trembling in a corner among other survivors, spotted Shunjiro. Tears sprang to her eyes as she rushed toward him. He caught her, kneeling down to hold her trembling form. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’re here to bring you home. I promised your father.” Aya sobbed into his shoulder, relief flooding through her small body. “I… I thought… I’d never see Papa again,” she hiccupped. Shunjiro’s heart squeezed. “You will. I’m taking you to him right away.” Meanwhile, Tetsuo, Aiko, and Ryuji corralled the remaining captives who were healthy enough to move, guiding them away from the smoking wreckage of their homes. Some villagers wept openly, others offered shaky thanks, pressing small tokens of gratitude, pieces of jewelry, battered coins, even homemade charms, into the adventurers’ hands. Though weary, the group accepted the gestures with humble appreciation, aware these people had so little left. They had just begun binding Makoto’s unconscious body more securely when a sudden hush fell over the battered village. Footsteps approached, a figure emerged from the haze. Shunjiro’s head snapped up, heart skipping a beat at the sight of glinting armor. It was Akira, one of the Gilded Blades. Her presence exuded an aura of calm authority; she wore a sleek breastplate and carried a radiant sword said to be forged from pure spiritual energy. Her eyes swept the scene: burned huts, whimpering raiders, battered adventurers, and grateful villagers. “Which of you is in charge?” Akira asked, her tone even but commanding. Behind her stood several knights, Gilded Blades under her authority. Shunjiro, still cradling Aya in one arm, looked around at his companions before stepping forward. “I… guess I am,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. “We’re from a new guild-‘The Strongest.’ We came to save this village.” A momentary flicker crossed Akira’s face; she scrutinized Shunjiro more intently, her gaze tracing his battered form as if searching for recognition. “Wait… you’re Shunjiro, aren’t you? The one Kaito mentioned a while back.” Shunjiro blinked. “Uh-yes, that’s me.” Akira pursed her lips, taking stock of the bound raiders scattered around them. Her attention settled on Makoto, who remained unconscious, his expression twisted with the remnants of corruption. She knelt beside him, laying one hand lightly on his chest. Her spiritual energy rippled outward, testing the darkness lurking inside. With a frown, she rose again. “He’s definitely touched by corruption,” Akira said quietly, glancing sidelong at Shunjiro. Then, more formally, “Tell me, how did all this happen?” Shunjiro swallowed, careful not to jostle the trembling Aya in his arms. “It all started as a D rank job: a missing-person quest. We were asked to find this girl, Aya, by her father. We tracked her here, but by the time we arrived, we saw smoke… we couldn’t just walk away once we realized raiders were hurting these people.” Itsuki, still catching her breath, nodded. “We found out the raiders had captured Aya, so we fought them.” Shunjiro’s gaze shifted uncomfortably. “They were stronger than we expected, this turned into a B rank threat. Their leader became… corrupted. We only barely managed to subdue him with help from our friends.” Silence settled. Akira assessed the group and then offered a short, firm nod. “You’ve done more than enough here, especially considering your rank. You took a D rank quest and stumbled into a B rank nightmare, and you still saved lives.” Her praise ignited a flicker of pride in Shunjiro’s chest. He dipped his head. “We just… couldn’t ignore it.” “Indeed,” Akira replied, turning her attention back to Makoto’s limp form. “We’ll question him and see how he fell prey to this darkness. But for now, you should finish your original task, return Aya to her father.” Shunjiro exhaled, relieved. “Thank you. We’ll do that.” Akira gestured to her hidden entourage of knights. “I’ll secure the site and glean what intel I can. After you return Aya to her family, report to Kaito. He’ll want to hear this story firsthand.” Shunjiro nodded, stepping back. Tetsuo, Itsuki, Yoshinori, Aiko, and Ryuji all joined him, none of them wanting to remain in the poison-scarred ruins longer than necessary. Aya clung to Shunjiro more tightly, trusting him completely. “Thank you,” he said, gaze flicking from Akira to the knights behind her. “We’ll leave the rest to you.” Akira’s eyes lingered on Shunjiro a moment longer, as though measuring his resolve. Then, with the barest smile, she said, “Good work. Now go, complete your mission and see Kaito. You’ve more than earned a proper rest.” Worn and grimy, but feeling an immense sense of relief, the group left the village. Aya clung to Shunjiro’s hand, tears still occasionally slipping down her cheeks, but a fragile smile brightened her face at the thought of reuniting with her father. The villagers who could walk followed at a slower pace, praising the adventurers for their courage. “We owe you our lives!” an older woman exclaimed, pressing a crocheted shawl into Tetsuo’s arms as a sign of gratitude. Others offered tearful thanks to Aiko and Ryuji, while children swarmed around Itsuki, hugging her legs. Yoshinori trailed behind the group, maintaining a calm facade despite exhaustion gnawing at him. A few miles down the road, past the forest’s edge, they finally spotted the father who had sent them on this quest. The man sprinted forward, eyes alight with hope the moment he saw Aya. Father and daughter collided in a tearful embrace, the father’s voice breaking as he thanked them repeatedly. Aya sobbed into his chest, but these were tears of relief, no longer terror. Shunjiro stood to one side, a soft smile touching his lips. We did it. Tetsuo patted him on the back with a tired grin. Itsuki exhaled, letting tension drain from her stiff shoulders, and Yoshinori simply closed his eyes, relief warring with guilt that he couldn’t fight at the end. The father turned to them, voice trembling in gratitude. “I… I can’t repay you enough. You saved my daughter. You saved everyone.” Another wave of villagers arrived, some from the main settlement, others from a nearby refuge. They recognized the group as their saviors, offering heartfelt thanks and showering them with praise. Shunjiro couldn’t help but feel a blush warming his cheeks, unaccustomed to such adulation. Even Tetsuo, usually laid-back, appeared a bit overwhelmed by their ardent appreciation. One villager, a middle-aged man, knelt in front of Ryuji and Aiko. “I saw how you two took down that… that fiend at the end. You have my eternal thanks. If you ever pass by our village again, you’ll always have a place to stay.” Aiko, though composed, let slip a faint smile. “We only did what had to be done.” Ryuji nodded. “We’re just glad everyone’s safe now.” As evening approached, the father formally recognized that Shunjiro and his friends had completed their original quest: Rescue Aya. The man insisted on giving them a meager sack of dragon coins, the best reward he could muster under the circumstances. Itsuki, Tetsuo, Yoshinori, Aiko, and Ryuji all tried to protest, knowing the villagers had lost so much. But the father pressed it into Shunjiro’s hands. “Please. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me, my daughter’s life.” Shunjiro finally relented, bowing deeply to show gratitude. “Thank you. We’ll put it to good use, helping others.” Aya waved at them, wiping away the last of her tears. “Goodbye,” she said softly. “Thank you for saving me.” Shunjiro knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You take care now, okay? And stay close to your dad.” She nodded eagerly, hugging him briefly before returning to her father’s protective arms. With the quest’s success confirmed, The Strongest Guild, plus Aiko and Ryuji, set off down the road. Most of them bore injuries, bruises, or lingering aches from Makoto’s poison, but their hearts were light, knowing a family had been restored and villagers had been spared a horrid fate. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sun dipping below the horizon to paint the sky in soft purples. Finally, Tetsuo broke the quiet with a huge sigh of relief. “Man, that was intense. We gotta think twice before accepting something that escalates to high rank territory.” “I’ll second that,” Shunjiro agreed, though a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “But we pulled it off. That’s what matters.” Itsuki caught Yoshinori’s eye, concern flickering. “You sure you’re alright, Yoshinori? You used a ton of energy out there.” Yoshinori exhaled slowly, squaring his shoulders. “I’m alive. Annoyed at myself for running out of lightning, but alive. Next time, I’ll pace myself better.” Aiko and Ryuji walked slightly behind them, scanning the dimming forest. “Where to now?” Aiko asked, her tone warm. Ryuji folded his arms behind his head, relaxed as always. “We can stick around for a bit or move on to the next quest. But I’m game for traveling with Shunjiro’s guild a while longer if they’ll have us.” Shunjiro paused in his stride, glancing among his friends. “You’re always welcome with us. We definitely owe you big time for stepping in.” A flicker of happiness crossed Aiko’s face. “In that case, let’s continue this journey together…at least until the next fork in the road.” They all nodded in agreement, forging ahead until they crested a small hill. At the top, they looked back on the faint lights of the battered village behind them. Smoke still curled into the twilight sky, though the threat had passed. They tied up all the raiders; the Gilded Blade Akira was left to handle the aftermath and glean answers about Makoto’s corruption. And in that moment, as they watched the sun sink on a day filled with peril and triumph, The Strongest Guild knew they had taken their first real step into a wider, more dangerous world. But they had also proven that with unity, courage, and a little help from unexpected allies, they could protect the innocent, and perhaps one day become truly worthy of their name. Back in the village, Akira stood in the flickering light of the smoldering wreckage, her gaze focused on Makoto, who lay slumped against a half-demolished stone wall. Though unconscious moments earlier, he stirred now, coughing as he came to. Odd, Akira mused, narrowing her eyes. Moments ago, this man overflowed with dark, corrupt energy, enough to rattle even those skilled in spiritual combat. But from what she could sense now, that roiling darkness had faded, leaving only a weary, battered aura. Still kneeling, she pressed her palm lightly to his chest, allowing a small pulse of her own light energy to flow. What she felt was a faint residue of corruption, but nothing like the savage malevolence that had been described by Shunjiro. It’s truly gone? she wondered, brow creasing. A low groan escaped Makoto’s lips as he blinked awake. Dried blood stained his hairline, and he looked disoriented, more man than monster. Akira’s face hardened at the reminder of his crimes. She waved a hand, calling her knights, seven in total, to stand guard around them, their armor reflecting the last glimmers of twilight. “Makoto,” she said evenly, voice carrying an undercurrent of authority. “You’re going to explain everything. Why were you attacking these villagers?” He coughed again, then spat at the ground, eyes filled with reluctant anger. “We… needed supplies. We raid to survive,” he muttered. “It’s nothing personal.” Akira felt revulsion rise in her chest. He speaks as though stealing lives and burning homes is a trivial matter… She allowed a flash of anger to show. “You disgust me,” she said quietly. “You tore families apart for ‘supplies’? These people had no chance against you or your raiders.” In her mind, she pictured the terrified faces of the villagers, the children who had nearly lost their lives to Makoto’s cruelty. Makoto’s lips twisted, and he turned his head away. He was battered and weak, evidently exhausted. A haze of confusion hung about him, perhaps from that mysterious corruption that had vanished as quickly as it emerged. Akira tamped down her swirl of questions for later. She had more pressing duties. She stood, turning to her knights. “Secure him with the rest of the bandits. We’ll take them all back to Radiance for proper judgment.” She paused, scanning the area. “Stay vigilant. Whatever made him lose control could still be lurking.” One knight saluted crisply. “Yes, ma’am.” They hoisted Makoto up, binding his arms with thick rope. He neither resisted nor spoke further. Even so, Akira sensed a deeper unease gnawing at her, how did Makoto revert to normal? Normally, once someone succumbed to corruption, there was no going back. At that moment, a powerful shiver of energy brushed against Akira’s senses. She froze, heart pounding with sudden alertness. Someone was nearby, someone unbelievably strong. She summoned her light blade, the radiant weapon forming with a shimmer of spiritual power. “Knights, on standby,” Akira commanded, voice clipped. The sun had dipped below the horizon, plunging the ruined village into deepening shadows. Then, in the dimness of an alley, a red glow sparked to life, forming the clear silhouette of a scythe. Akira’s spine tensed in recognition of a threat. That aura… it’s enormous. This is no ordinary fighter. “Show yourself!” she shouted, light blade igniting brighter in her hand. A figure stepped forth from the darkness. He wore a hooded cloak, his scythe crackling with ominous crimson energy. The man’s slicked-back black hair glinted in the faint firelight, and a cocky smirk tugged at his lips. “You can call me Renjiro,” he said casually, spinning the scythe in a deft flourish. “And I’m here to collect that man you’ve got tied up.” Akira’s eyes flicked to the unconscious Makoto. “So that’s your plan. I’m afraid we have other ideas.” Renjiro laughed softly. “I guess I have my answer, then.” He dropped into a low stance, scythe held diagonally in front. “Careful now, you might get cut.” The knights moved on Akira’s unspoken signal, fanning out in a defensive formation. These were no ordinary soldiers, they each boasted B or A rank skill, enough to take down hardened criminals. But Renjiro only tightened his grip on the scythe, the red glow intensifying. Akira watched as her best knight lunged first, sword slicing the air. Renjiro’s scythe lashed out in a scarlet arc. The knight cried out and staggered back, eyes widening in horror. A dark, creeping energy consumed him from the point of contact, black veins spreading under his skin. Corruption? Again? Akira thought, dread clutching her heart. Renjiro moved in a blur, swinging his scythe with inhuman speed. The other knights attacked in tandem, but each fell to a single blow. Their screams echoed through the night as the scythe’s edge touched them, twisting their auras into a feral corruption that took hold in seconds. One after another, the knights collapsed or staggered to their feet with blackened eyes, minds lost to the vile power. “No!” Akira cried, fear snaking through her composure. He’s turning them… just like that. She tried to intervene, darting forward with her light blade raised, but Renjiro sidestepped her slash effortlessly. He flashed her a mocking grin, red scythe humming with lethal potential. Then Renjiro leapt back, letting out a low whistle. “Impressive. But I’ll let your own men handle you.” Behind him, the seven knights, now wracked with corruption, rose again, brandishing their weapons. They fixed their gazes on Akira, eyes blazing with savage intent. Akira’s throat tightened, torn between duty and horror. If that scythe even grazes me… will I become corrupted, too? The possibility burned in her mind. But the moment was short-lived. The newly corrupted knights lunged at her, spurred on by madness. “Forgive me,” she whispered, tears threatening to blur her vision. “I have no other choice.” She engaged the first knight, once a loyal comrade, deflecting his sword blow with her radiant blade. The darkness in his veins hissed against her light as though alive. He snarled, forcing her back. Over her shoulder, she glimpsed two more knights circling around, black auras swirling. I can’t save them, she realized, heartbreak lancing her heart. They’re lost to that scythe’s corruption. Summoning every ounce of skill, Akira launched a series of precise strikes. Light flashed with each swing, severing weapons or cutting lines of shadow. She moved swiftly, but each blow hammered at her conscience. These were her knights, men and women she had trusted, who had pledged loyalty to the Gilded Blades. Damn you, Renjiro, she thought bitterly. You turned them into monsters… One by one, the corrupted knights fell under her blade, their last gasps laced with twisted agony. All seven knights lay still at her feet, the inky blackness that once animated them fading away with finality. Akira’s breathing grew ragged, emotional torment flooding her chest. Why is this happening? she raged internally, tears stinging her eyes. I had no choice… A hush followed, broken only by her ragged sob. She raised her head, scanning for Renjiro, only to see him already near Makoto. The dark-haired man hefted Makoto’s limp body onto his shoulder. He spared Akira a sidelong glance, scythe glimmering ominously in the gloom. “Don’t worry about this one,” Renjiro said, his tone mocking. “He’s more valuable to me alive. Pity your knights had to die.” Akira lunged, light blade raised, but Renjiro leapt backward in a swirl of crimson energy, slipping deeper into the shadows. By the time her blade cut through the air, he had vanished, Makoto’s body along with him. She was left alone, battered and trembling among the remains of her own men. Slowly, she sank to her knees, tears escaping despite her best effort to remain stoic. The acrid smell of burning wood mingled with the metallic tang of blood. What in the world just happened? she questioned, mind spinning with shock and grief. Who is this Renjiro, and how did he command such terrifying power? The last embers of sunset died in the distance, leaving only darkness and the quiet crackle of the ruined village. Akira closed her eyes, clutching her blade as she forced herself to breathe. She still had a duty, to report this travesty, to warn the kingdom, and to unravel the mystery of Renjiro’s scythe. But for now, the pain of loss cut deeper than any wound inflicted by steel.