My gaze remained fixed on Haru's group, trying to pick up on the slightest detail that might reveal their intentions. Their restlessness was far from innocent, and the more I watched them, the more an obvious tension began to build between them. One of the members took a step forward, his body turned slightly in my direction, as if he were trying to join me or send me a message. Yet, before he could go any further, Haru intervened, placing a firm hand on him to stop him.
I narrowed my eyes, focused.
Their lips were moving, and despite the distance, I tried to make out what they were saying. "I know a way to solve the riddle…" That's what I thought I understood—or perhaps… what I wanted to understand. The reality was simpler and more frustrating: I'd never been good at deciphering this sort of thing. My mind was trying to fill in the gaps, to impose logic where there might only be an illusion.
The idea of using my spotlight immediately crossed my mind. That power would have dispelled all doubts, giving me direct access to their intentions. But one constraint remained, immutable: I had to be unconscious to activate it. And here, in this situation, I had no way to induce that state without putting myself in danger.
So I continued to observe, sinking deeper into my own analysis, trying to connect the gestures, the postures, the interruptions. Something was brewing, I was convinced of it, but I was still missing a crucial piece to understand the whole picture.
Just as I began to formulate various hypotheses in my mind, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. Several people were approaching me, their presence becoming increasingly distinct, breaking the thread of my thoughts and forcing me to return to the immediate reality.
The footsteps finally stopped a few meters away from me, forcing me to completely shift my attention away from Haru's group. I faced the new arrivals, quickly analyzing their faces and postures, trying to identify a threat… but nothing in their demeanor was hostile. Their gait was confident, almost purposeful.
The man at their head stepped forward.
"My name is Daikiro," he declared in a calm voice. "And I think I've found something that could give us an advantage."
I remained silent for a moment. An advantage?
The term was vague, almost too vague to be credible in a situation like ours. I couldn't immediately see what he might be talking about, nor what could justify such confidence after a battle that had already been so decisive.
Without adding a word, Daikiro then held out an object in my direction. My gaze fell upon it and froze.
"A firearm."
My mind immediately rejected the idea.
"No. That's impossible."
At least not here, not in this era.
Everything in this world revolved around swords, classical military strategies, and direct confrontations. A weapon like that had no place here. I slowly looked up at him, still struck by the incongruity of what I was seeing.
Daikiro gave a slight smile, as if he'd anticipated my reaction.
"It's not a 'gun,'" he clarified calmly. "We call it an arquebus."
He paused briefly before adding:
"A weapon introduced by the Portuguese."
I turned my attention back to the object. An arquebus… So this anomaly had a historical and seemingly logical explanation.
"I found it during our battle against Yoshimoto," he continued. "It had been abandoned."
His gaze fixed on me.
"I decided to give it to you."
A silence fell.
"Because I know you'll put it to good use."
I slowly took the weapon in my hands, feeling its weight, its coldness, and above all, what it truly represented.
I slowly shifted my gaze from the weapon to Daikiro, still weighing the meaning of his gesture.
"You could have kept it for yourself and your group," I said calmly.
My remark caught him off guard.
His expression shifted slightly, as if he hadn't expected that reaction. He remained silent for a moment, unsure whether to justify himself or simply nod.
I didn't give him time to answer.
I raised the arquebus, instinctively adjusting my grip. Strangely, the motion felt natural. The weight, the balance—everything seemed familiar, almost too much so. As if this weapon, though ancient, operated on the same principles as a modern one.
Without further hesitation, I aimed at a random target in the distance.
A breath.
A squeeze.
The shot fired.
The sound was brutal.
Heavy and deafening.
A sharp crack tore through the air, casting an immediate silence over the entire camp. Even from a distance, one could feel the power contained in that single shot—a clear demonstration of what this weapon was capable of.
I slowly lowered the arquebus.
"With that…" I continued, turning to Daikiro, "you could have staged a coup."
My gaze locked with his.
"Faced with such power, I wouldn't have been able to do anything."
A brief silence fell.
"Then why didn't you do it?"
This time, he didn't look away.
On the contrary.
His answer came without hesitation.
"Because I have faith in your system. Your meritocracy gives meaning to what we do."
He paused, then added:
"And with this…" he said, pointing to the weapon, "I can prove that I'm useful. "
I remained silent.
Deep down, that was exactly what I'd been trying to create.
I looked at the arquebus in my hands. Its weight wasn't just physical. It carried with it a truth far more unsettling than I could ignore.
I knew full well that my meritocracy system had its limits.
Without the quests, Daikiro probably would never have given it to me. He would have kept it for himself or his group. Because in a normal world, power is hoarded; it isn't shared.
But here, nothing was normal. We were forced to play roles, compelled to follow a narrative that was beyond our control.
Every decision we thought we were making freely was, in reality, influenced by something greater. Something that guided our choices, that rewarded certain behaviors and discouraged others.
This realization hit me with cold clarity.
If this weapon had been given to me, then it meant one thing.
I would have to use it, sooner or later.
I lifted my head slightly, adopting a more assertive tone.
"You were right," I said, looking at Daikiro. "This item will be very useful to us."
I paused.
"I'm going to go find some more, actually."
Around us, certain reactions were quick to emerge. Eyes gleaming with interest, almost fascinated by the power we had just added to our arsenal. For them, it was a decisive breakthrough. A clear advantage over the other clans.
But not everyone shared this enthusiasm.
I could see it.
In some more discreet glances.
This rise in power wasn't reassuring; it was worrying.
Because the stronger we became, the more of a threat we posed.
A little further away, away from our commotion, the tension in Haru's group finally erupted.
"See, I told you we shouldn't have mentioned it to him," Haru snapped at one of his teammates.
The man in question didn't respond immediately. His gaze had just fallen on a more frail figure, standing slightly back. Shun.
His condition spoke for itself.
Exhaustion. Hesitation. Perhaps even resignation.
They approached him, and very quickly, the man let slip, almost in spite of himself:
"Look at him. A kid like him shouldn't have to go through this."
His voice hardened slightly.
"Meritocracy my ass, yeah! We should stick together, not try to step on each other's toes. "
His words were raw, charged with a rage he no longer even tried to contain.
But Shun lifted his head. Against all expectations, his gaze did not waver.
"No," he replied simply.
A silence fell.
"He's right. "
The two men froze.
"A real man has to prove his worth to be respected," Shun continued, more confidently. "And I've always lived in my daydreams. Without ever daring to take action."
His fists clenched slightly.
"This time I want to change."
Haru looked at him for a long time.
His expression was neither hard nor angry.
It was almost sad.
"You don't need to adopt that kind of mindset," he replied calmly.
He looked away slightly, as if refusing to see what Shun was becoming.
"If you want to survive, there's another way. "
Shun remained silent.
"There is a sanctuary," Haru continued. "A protected place. They say it offers a form of divine protection to those who enter. Warrior monks live there. They can repel attacks—even those from the Oda clan."
The message was clear.
Haru turned his gaze back to him.
"You should go there," he said. "As soon as possible."
A brief silence.
Then, almost like an inevitable conclusion:
"Before that Bun becomes a tyrant. "
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the movement.
Haru and his group were slowly breaking away, taking advantage of the commotion in the camp to slip away without drawing attention. Their departure was discreet, almost calculated, as if they knew exactly when to leave so as not to arouse suspicion.
I watched them for a few seconds, without intervening.
I still didn't understand what they were trying to do.
But one thing was certain: they weren't fleeing aimlessly.
Meanwhile, their journey led them to Mount Hiei.
A place whose aura already seemed different from the rest of the world. There, they quickly discovered they weren't the only ones who had made that choice. Other clans were already there, some settled in, others still arriving. The sanctuary was not merely a refuge.
It was becoming a gathering point.
A place where those who rejected the brutal logic of conflict seemed to be gathering.
But this gathering was not without consequences.
Haru quickly grasped the opportunity that presented itself.
He took the lead.
Facing the temple monks, he stepped forward, his gaze filled with a newfound determination.
"We must act," he declared.
All eyes turned to him.
"There is a man…" he continued. "Bun."
A brief silence.
"If he continues down this path, he will become a threat to everyone."
His words were measured, but their meaning was clear.
"We must stop him before it's too late."
In this sanctuary meant to protect, a new war may have just begun.
Faced with Haru's words, the monks remained silent for a moment, as if they were already assessing a situation they seemed to understand better than he had imagined. Then one of them, clad in a battle-worn robe, stepped forward slightly.
"We already have the situation under control," he replied calmly.
Haru frowned.
Very quickly, he understood.
Around the temple, several armed figures stood in the background. Some carried arquebuses. Other groups, recognizable by their banners, also seemed to have rallied to their cause. Mount Hiei was not merely a refuge.
It was a force in the process of forming.
"We are ready for war," added the monk. "If it becomes necessary."
The message was clear.
Bun was already considered a threat.
But Haru shook his head slightly.
Something inside him refused to accept this brutal conclusion.
"Not everyone shares his intentions," he replied. "There are people who are stuck with him. Who have no choice."
His gaze hardened.
"I don't want to condemn them along with him."
A silence fell over the group.
One of his teammates turned to him.
"So what do we do?"
The question was simple.
But the answer was far from it.
Haru stood motionless for a few seconds, aware of the weight of the decision he had to make. To confront Bun head-on meant accepting war. But to do nothing was to abandon those he wanted to protect.
Finally, he looked up.
"I'm going back to camp," he declared.
All eyes froze.
"I'm going to gather everyone who wants to leave. Those who reject this system, those who want to survive another way."
He paused briefly.
"Before the sōhei attack."
Without waiting any longer, they turned around.
Their progress was swift, almost frantic, as if every second counted now. The wind accompanied their run, carrying with it a growing tension.
But when they finally reached their old camp…
They stopped dead in their tracks.
Total silence. No movement, no voices, no one.
The camp was completely empty.