Otherwordly Guidance ~ My Students’ Path to Success and Fall to Yandere - Chapter 2 - First apprentice, the blind swordsman part 1

I found myself in a world named Kikōkai, which, at a glance, could easily be mistaken for Earth. However, beneath its familiar façade lay a tapestry of enchantments and wonders.

Unlike Earth, Kikōkai is inhabited by various magical beings, from majestic dragons soaring the skies to diminutive sprites playing tricks by moonlight. And the true differentiator? The concept of “mana.”

In Kikōkai, mana isn’t just energy; it’s the lifeblood of all magical processes. Derived from the ancient word meaning “essence,” mana is a physical and spiritual force intertwined with one’s soul. Those adept at harnessing it can weave this energy, molding and directing it to cast spells or enhance physical abilities. Think of it as the oxygen for spellcasters; without it, no magic can come to life.

True to Adam’s promise, I was presented with an impeccable dojo when I arrived. Nestled beside the mysterious Kenja forest in Kyoju Mori, my dojo stood tall. But the Kenja forest wasn’t just any forest. It was a realm of allure and danger, where massive creatures lurked in its depths. These weren’t your ordinary woodland animals; they were behemoths with powers unknown to most mortals. Their presence transformed the forest into a siren call for adventurers, drawing them from distant lands, each eager to test their mettle or uncover its many secrets.

The town that prospered on the edge of the Kenja forest was named “Ryokari.” Over the years, as more adventurers flocked to test their courage against the forest’s beasts, Ryokari grew from a humble hamlet into a bustling hub for monster hunting.

Ryokari’s economy was inextricably tied to the bounties of the forest. From trading monster parts, which were valuable in medicine, crafting, and arcane arts, to inns that catered to weary hunters, every aspect of the town thrived on the lucrative industry of the hunt. Local blacksmiths were renowned for forging weapons imbued with forest essences, and apothecaries concocted potions using rare ingredients from the forest depths.

Seeing the rising tide of adventurers and the potential risks they faced, the “Ryokari Guild” was established. This institution, housed in a grand edifice adorned with banners depicting legendary hunts, became the backbone of the city’s operations. They organized hunting parties based on skill levels, ensuring no novice would accidentally face a monster beyond their capabilities. Their mission boards were always filled with tasks suitable for all—from gathering rare herbs to meeting the mightiest of beasts.

But the guild wasn’t just about coordination; it was the custodian of the forest’s sanctity and the city’s order. A code of ethics was strictly imposed. Any adventurer who violated these rules faced severe consequences. The guild held the authority to grant or deny access to the forest. Exiled from the Kenja forest was a hunter’s greatest dread; it stripped them of their livelihood, rendering them pariahs in the society they helped flourish.

Indeed, for a master like me, this forest and its adjoining city offered a ripe environment. Eager apprentices abounded—both in those wishing to hone their physical prowess and those keen to tap into the more profound magics of the world. Ryokari was more than just a city; it was an academy waiting to be molded.

◆◆

Days I have turned into a blur in Kikōkai. My initial enthusiasm for opening a dojo close to a bustling town like Ryokari was met with a humbling realization. Despite its proximity to such an adventurer-rich city, no soul had entered my dojo. It’s not that they didn’t notice — the massive 20-meter wooden sign emblazoned with “Hiroshi Dojo” was hard to miss, mainly since I used my newfound mana to craft it. But the concept of a dojo seemed alien to them. Maybe they saw it, scratched their heads, and walked on, unsure of what to expect.

Harnessing mana was strangely second nature to me in this world. From the moment I set foot in Kikōkai, the currents of magical energy flowed through me effortlessly. Every flex of muscle every movement was amplified, enabling me to perform feats I’d never imagined. I never underwent the rigorous training I assumed the locals did to master mana — it was like an innate gift. A deep part of me suspected this was Adam’s doing, a perk from the god who sent me here. It felt too seamless, too organic to be anything else.

Yet, as powerful and skilled as I might be, I longed for the chatters of eager students, the shuffling of feet on wooden floors, and the spirited cries of practice sessions. I didn’t just want to harness my skills for personal gain; I wanted to share my knowledge. If they didn’t know what a dojo was, then perhaps it was time I showed them.

Pondering over the correct term, ‘Academy’ resonated with me. The word weighted prestige and promised structured learning. Ryokari, like many cities, indeed had its academies. Why not introduce a martial arts academy to its fold?

Lost in these musings, a commotion outside snapped me back to the present. The muffled sounds of laughter and a faint cry led me to the entrance. Pushing open the dojo’s grand doors, a sight unfolded before me that tugged at my heartstrings.

A frail boy, no older than fifteen, was at the center of this little spectacle. His gaunt face and tattered clothes suggested a life of hardship. With an ashen complexion and hair that seemed to have forgotten the touch of a comb, the most striking feature about him was his vacant, clouded eyes – clear indicators of his blindness. His fingers trembled as they tried to grip a wooden sword, its weight causing his frail form to sway.

Surrounding him were three burly boys, likely a few years his senior, taunting and jeering, their laughter echoing with cruelty. Now and then, one of them would lunge at the blind boy, pushing or hitting him, each time drawing more laughter from the group.

“Isn’t it a bit skewed in your favor?” 

I chimed in, stepping forward with a calm yet firm demeanor.

“This blind waste of space is the reason our training’s stagnant! We always have to loop back to basics for him.”

The most vociferous of the trio, with a sharp glare, shot back. 

“But resorting to violence? That’s your way of teaching?”

The one who seemed to be the leader snarled, “Mind your business, old man.”

His sword swiped the air with practiced ease as he lunged towards me, but it was too predictable. I deftly sidestepped his thrust, lightly tapping the back of his knee with my foot, causing him to stumble forward. 

Before the other two could process what had happened, they charged. One attempted a wide arc with his blade while the other went low, trying to trip me. 

Using their momentum against them, I pivoted, causing the arcing blade to miss the boy attempting to trip me narrowly. With a light push, the two collided, tumbling onto the ground.

“You’ll pay for this, old man! Our families won’t let you off easy!”

Their faces flushed with embarrassment and rage.

Their threats echoed as they retreated, but I focused on the blind boy, who was palpably shaken. 

“It’s alright now, come with me.” 

I led him into the safety and refuge of the dojo.