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"Ooooh!"
Setsuna's bellow echoes through the horde of monsters. The four-eyed beasts freeze, their gazes locking onto him.
This isn't a dream. Nor a mirage. Accepting this, he reels at the grim reality: summoned to an alien world, ambushed by a swarm of creatures. The spear, a miraculous weapon for a powerless boy, is his only salvation. Yet Azmaria, the orchestrator of this chaos, offers no aid.
The monsters multiply. Beyond the initial fifty, perhaps a hundred now crowd the forest's darkness. Four-legged, machete-clawed, their four eyeholes blaze red, fixated on him.
He grips the black spear, over two meters long. Too massive for his untrained frame, yet it moves like an extension of himself. The initial weight has vanished.
His consciousness surges, a dormant instinct awakening. Joy or sorrow? He shakes his head, unsure. Here, it's essential. Without defeating these beasts, escape is impossible.
No ordinary logic could prepare him for this facing raw killing intent with a weapon he's never wielded. A mere student, basking in peace moments ago, he's never known true malice or held a blade. Fights? Sure. But brawls aren't battles. Killing isn't their aim. Who among students truly fights to kill?
Don't harm others. Don't fight others. Don't kill others.
Those words flash through his mind. He smirks faintly. Amid this sea of malice, such morals are dust in the wind.
He kicks off, lunging forward as a monster leaps, claws raised to rend him. Its chest exposed, his spear pierces it. Landing amid its death scream, he swings, flinging the corpse aside. The beasts' wails sharpen, their hatred surging.
(Like I'm the villain.)
They struck first, he sighs. If they cared for his feelings, this wouldn't be a fight. The Ouma meant to kill him from the start.
In this forest, dodging trees is impossible. He's an amateur first battle, first weapon, first monsters. The spear's power keeps him alive.
He's lost count past a hundred Ouma. Their discordant shrieks, growing harsher, pound his head, testing his patience.
"Shut up!"
Roaring, he charges. A cluster of ten Ouma to his left braces for him. He grins, but a killing intent from above snaps his focus.
"Hah!"
He thrusts upward, skewering an Ouma mid-leap. Warm blood drips down the spear. He shakes off the corpse.
No time to wipe his hand. The ten Ouma close in. He smirks, diving into their conical formation.
KISHAAA!
The central Ouma raises both claws to shield its face, likely planning to let its allies strike. But the black spear pierces its claw-shield and skull effortlessly. A shrill scream rings out.
"Quiet!"
Furious, Setsuna sweeps right, cleaving the beast's head and severing another's foreleg. Blood sprays as it lunges with its remaining claw. His return strike obliterates its head.
A twinge of unease hits.
(Huh?)
A leftward killing intent triggers his reflexes. He blocks a flurry of claws with the spear's haft, sparks flying as metal clashes. The spear is unscathed; the Ouma's claw chips. They lock eyes, its four glowing eyeholes blazing. Its faceless visage is grotesque, its malice electric. But he can't linger.
Twisting the spear, he repels the claw, slamming the haft's gemmed end into its head. It screams as he drives it into the ground, using it as a springboard to leap for the next foe.
A sudden rustle courses through him.
"!"
The rear Ouma crouch, rumps raised, their back protrusions sparking. Lightning gathers between them, forming six glowing orbs, expanding with crackling energy. The forest's darkness lifts, revealing countless Ouma encircling him.
Pain sears his left thigh. Not deep, not fatal, but his stance falters. His vision spins. The pinned Ouma's spiral tail has pierced his leg a weapon he overlooked. He stabs it dead, its cry echoing.
He curses inwardly. Failing to kill it outright was a mistake. It seized his distraction, nearly hitting a vital spot.
(Death…?)
He glances at his thigh. The tail remains lodged, but the pain is bearable. He grits his teeth. Better than death.
"Death… huh."
As he mutters, the six lightning orbs unleash. Pure killing intent, unlike anything he's faced, shakes his soul. His vision whites out. He can't move, can't dodge.
This isn't a dream.
Death whispers in his ear.
"No way I'm dying!"
Roaring, he swings upward. The spear glows gold, inexplicably. The orbs collide with it, exploding in blinding light and thunderous booms. The destructive surge uproots trees, scorches grass, and obliterates Ouma. Hidden animals flee too late, crushed by the relentless force.
In the whiteout, Setsuna sees nothing, but his mind paints the chaos: collapsing trees, a crumbling forest, dying Ouma, and fleeing creatures. The devastation spares no one.
He registers surviving Ouma turning to flee. That's enough. He kicks off, leaping through the destructive light.
Spotting a dozen Ouma retreating, he grins, gripping the spear now black again, its gold faded. More than enough to annihilate them.
But
"Enough."
Azmaria, in crimson, blocks his path. Midair, he can't stop. The chance to crush these monsters, interrupted, sours his mood. Why spare them? Destroy, shatter, break, erase them.
"Huh…?"
His dark thoughts halt him. His body, unyielding, arcs over Azmaria.
Her eyes narrow, her beauty radiant in the storm, goddess-like. Her lips move smoothly.
"Weapon Summon."
A massive gate materializes in the empty air before him.
From his core, Setsuna screams.