Rain trickled through the thick forest canopy, blue mist shrouded the floors of the jungle, and the sound of a frantic pair of footsteps rang throughout the oddly silent Jungle.

"H-Help!" The man coughed out, as he desperately willed his strained legs to carry him faster. 

"P-please! Somebody?!"

He had been chased by a strange monster for several hours now, and he didn't know what was even behind him, nor did he want to know.

It was supposed to be an easy escort mission. Simply protect the western noble back to his domain. But who would've known that fool chose the shortcut straight through the Abyssal passage instead of a nice and safe month long voyage through the seas?!

No amount of money would've convinced him to take the mission if he had known. 

But there were no pills for regrets.

"A-AH!" He felt the swiping of claws right behind, the unmistakable sound of a tree being felled drove him further into a panic.

Suddenly, he burst into a clearing. In it, he saw the caravan he was supposed to escort. The bodies of his comrades, the pack animals, along with that suicidal noble lay scattered near the carriage.

The monster had ran him in a circle. 

In a small part of his brain, he noticed how the bodies had their blood seemingly drained from their body.

*Grrowlll...*

He ran and stopped in front of the broken carriage. Now he knew he was cornered.

Glowing red eyes appeared from all around him in the low blue mist and dark jungle shrubbery. The low growling of the apex predators sent shivers down his spine.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of something shiny. It was the sword that the nobleman bought. It was partially unwrapped, the silvery white sheath hid an edge that even he, a third-rate mercenary, could sense was sharp beyond comparison.

He hesitated. The blade, even through the sheath, seemed too thin, too frail, and he felt like that it would break if he swung it the wrong way.

But it was life and death now, and he had lost his only weapon hours ago. This will have to do.

Suddenly, his instincts screamed. The thing that was chasing him from before leapt at him.

His mind screamed one simple command at him. DODGE!

And so he did, using the last bits of strength to propel himself sideways, towards the blade. The monster's claws swiped at where he once was, narrowly missing his legs.

He tumbled onto the rain-soaked dirt, panting, but safe from harm. Now with sword in hand, he unwrapped the partially wet silk cloth that protected the sheath, revealing a majestic white scabbard etched with scenes of the moon, the land, and the wind, alongside several eastern runes he couldn't understand.

The monster from before circled him, more emerging from the blue fog and the shrubbery around the clearing.

Now or never. He swallowed, and tried to unsheathe the blade.

What? Now is not the time for that! 

Mentally, he screamed 'Accept', as he watched the monsters approach him from all directions.

He didn't even process the words as the monster that chased him leapt at him again. His instincts as a broadsword user kicked in, as he gripped the sword tightly, raised it, and swung it downwards. 

The monster that had chased him relentlessly for the past few hours had been cleanly sliced in twain in midair, crimson blood and split guts showering onto him like a bloody piñata, temporarily blinding him.

Each part of the monster tumbled lifelessly to the side.

He didn't even have time to process what has happened before his instincts told him another one is coming from his left side. Still blind and making sure he kept the sword flat, he turned and used his sideways momentum to swing the sword like a bat, cleanly freeing the tiger monster that leapt at him from its head. 

More blood sprayed from the cut, mixing with the rain to create to a scene from the slaughterhouses of hell.

"Ahah." He chuckled. Another one leapt at him, determined to avenge its fallen comrades. It meant the same fate as its previous mates, dissected and split in half midair.

"Ahaha." The man's vision turned red. Scarlet red blood covered every inch of both his clothes and body. 

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!" His crazed laugh rang throughout the forest, as he cut through each and every monster that dared approached him. Even when they ran, he chased after him, his eyes a deep crimson red, laughing all the way.

None of the monsters were spared that night, and only when entire patches of the Jungle were dyed the color of blood did his frenzy stop. 

He held up his sword, admiring the blood-soaked sword, finally out of his blood-filled stupor.

“Good sword.” He smiled. The past few hours of his life played on repeat, he replayed how easily the sword cut through any material, how he performed feats that he never even knew he could do before.

This sword was definitely a treasure.

There was a saying, the man remembered, by a wise man that said, “Suffering is merely the prelude to fortune.” He felt that those words could not be truer.

He had suffered all this time, and finally, he was rewarded by the gods with this magnificent blade.

“Masamune… What a beautiful name.” He grinned.

As he continued to admire Masamune, the blood coated on the blade slowly disappeared as it glowed a soft red. All the blood from its surroundings flew towards the blade, coating themselves onto the blade, forming a swirling crimson current that hid the white blade. 

Only the blood on his body was untouched, still staining his body.

He held the sword as the blood continued to swirl, likely to continue for some time. 

Ah, right, his class change opportunity. He had almost forgotten about that.

His grin grew even wider. Most people would not even break 5 levels in 3 months, and yet here he was, gaining more than 15 levels in the span of a few hours, and he even got the rare chance to change his class!

“Change class.” He commanded, and the blue boxes obeyed.

Options 1 and 2 were immediately struck off the list for him. They were the common trash classes he could get anywhere whenever he wanted.

He had also struck off option 4, although it was kind of tempting to him, he didn't want to risk being branded as a user of Demonic arts and bringing the whole civilized world upon himself.

That left him with the options 3 and 5. Option 3 was enticing, especially with the massive XP gains for swords, the skill [Masters form] would make his strikes deadlier, faster, and stronger, so he could take on greater foes than himself. The ability to create his own skills also intrigued him.

But ultimately, it just couldn't compare with the 5th option,[MASAMUNE wielder]. Not only was it tailor-made to his sword, it also meant that he could unlock the inner strength hidden within the blade. The only downside was that it was solely based on the Blood arts, which although technically not demonic, was looked down on by the civilized world.

He bit his lip, as his finger quivered between options 3 and 5. He glanced at his bloodied hand and finally made up his mind.

Shyberu

Hi! This is le Author speaking! First time writing a story outside of my little box in google docs for other people! Let me know if you have any constructive criticism for my work (Ill try my best to use your advice)! Ill use this story as a sort of test bed for my future ones... I'm not that good with English (still learning & in school) and will do my best with grammar and punctuation. (let me know if Grammarly isn't enough). A few more chapters are coming out later these few days, and I'll try not to disappoint with my first work!

Thanks for taking some time to read!

*bows* *exits*