Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

The sword descended in a hissing arc of steel, its edge catching the cold moonlight as it sliced through the space where Sezel had been sitting just moments ago, but he moved on time. He clenched the katana and slowly raised his gaze.

A figure stood before him, his form glowing in the voilet illumination of the Spirit Essence, clad in a full olive-brown uniform that spoke of military discipline and a foreign allegiance. A mask covered the lower and upper half of his face, leaving only a pair of sharp brown eyes that reflected the triplicate moons. A human.

Raelion's cynical words echoed in Sezel's memory: the greatest threat to a Slayer in the Spirit Realm was often another human. And here it was, the absurd, deadly nature of humanity playing out in a forgotten world. An enemy defined not by monstrous nature, but by the color of his uniform.

Sezel stood up, eyes squinted. The opponent too turned towards him, both locking their eyes on their foe. But Sezel's gaze shifted under the tree. Mari was still sleeping. Seems like the enemy was not a ruthless killer. He sighed in relief.

The man didn't wait. He rushed forward, his sword a blur of silver in the ethereal light. Sezel stood his ground, parrying the first furious blow with a jarring clang of steel on steel. He deflected another, then rolled backward, creating a precious few meters of distance.

From his moves, it was clear. The man was a professional; it was evident in his stance, the practiced, lethal economy of his movements. He was everything Sezel was not—formally trained, confident, and likely part of a team.

Sezel rose again, this time straightening his posture and deliberately lowering the tip of his katana to the earth. It was a universal sign that the opponent was not interested in fighting.

And it was for the better. Sezel was at a disadvantage if the fight dragged on. The opponent was more experienced and a human. Humans are a bigger threat than the beasts around here. Sezel was quite sure he would be the one losing if the fight continued.

"I want to talk," he announced, his voice steady, cutting through the tense silence.

The man's eyes widened in surprise above his mask. He, too, straightened his back, his posture relaxing slightly.

"Who are you?" the person asked, his voice muffled by the cloth.

Sezel stayed silent for a moment, thinking of an appropriate answer. It would not be so clever to reveal his actual name. "I am Gabriel," he answered, pulling one of the assessment devices from his pocket and holding it up. "I'm a Slayer, just like you."

"Okay," the man said, his tone softening further. "Put your weapon down. Slowly."

Sezel complied, carefully placing the katana on the ground before straightening and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. The man in front of him sheathed his sword, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Sezel's eyes remained fixed on him, wary and calculating.

"So, what do I do next?" he asked, looking at the top of the tree like questioning the moons themselves. Sezel stared, a flicker of genuine shock breaking through his hardened composure. Is this guy sane?

But it turns out he was right in the mind—or maybe not. Another Slayer jumped out from the tree and cuffed him sharply across the back of the head. "You dumbass," a new voice hissed. "Who told you to give away my location?"

'Another Slayer?' Sezel inspected them closely for a second and turns out the other Slayer was a female, her chest pressed by the tight overclothes but still visible. She wore the same olive-brown uniform.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped Sezel's lips before he could stop it. The two Slayers were now locked in an acerbic argument, but Sezel didn't relax. Slayers are sent in as a cohort of three, so the third member must still be somewhere out there.

"Excuse me," he interjected, his voice polite but firm. "What do you want with me?"

The pair snapped out of their squabble. "Oh, right, I forgot," the boy muttered.

The girl smacked him again in the head. "Shut up, useless fool," she roared, her voice undeniably feminine and laced with command.

She then turned her full attention to Sezel, her presence far more imposing than the boy's. "So, you are an ally it turns out," she spoke, removing the mask from her face, revealing a face of stark, arresting beauty, her piercing eyes, two large red rubies and long black hair, catching the soft purple light from the Spirit essence around.

Sezel froze, momentarily lost. So beautiful, was the only thought his mind could form, a brief, stupid lapse in the face of such lethal elegance.

"I have a question for you," she began, her voice pulling him from his trance.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, forcing his own voice to remain level.

"Why are you wearing the jacket of an enemy?" she asked, her words blades, stripped of pleasantry. "And you said your name was Gabriel, but I don't remember someone with your features to be sent on this expedition. White hair and crimson eyes, quite a rare combination you got there."

Her tall figure was imposing enough to make Sezel think that he had been caught. But Sezel was, if nothing else, a professional liar. He had learned the craft in the slums, where a believable story was often the only thing between a meal and starvation. He looked down, allowing a shadow of pain to cross his face. "Oh, I… I wouldn't know you either. I was part of a supplementary cohort, sent in later than the main expedition," he said, his voice laced with carefully measured grief. "The other two members of my team… they're already dead."

The girl's gaze shifted to Mari, who lay asleep under the tree. "And who is she?" she asked, her voice bold.

"I found her inside that castle, all alone so decided to save her," he answered, pointing towards the large castle which could be seen from even this distance.

The woman's crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of disbelief in their depths. "You… you came from that castle?" she asked.

Sezel hesitated for a moment, but didn't let it show out on his face. "Uhh… yes," he confirmed, forcing a nonchalant tone. "I was transported inside it when I entered the Gate."

The girl and the boy both looked at him with quiet shock and disbelief, as if they couldn't believe what Sezel said.

Then came the final question, the one that mattered more than any other in this world. It came uninvited like a blade designated to cut.

"What rank are you?"