The universe is vast—boundless beyond prehension, indifferent to the tiny flickers of life that rise and fall within it. The giant blue p called Earth has a boundless history, despite humanity existing for only a short time pared to the p’s billions of years. Yet, in that brief span, humans have made immense progress, surpassing all other native species on this blue world. Humans are creatures of limitless potential, capable of being whatever they desire.

  They have ied things that defy nature, created cultures and religions, and built civilizations that thrive. They have waged wars, rewritten history, a behind legacies that ehrough time. Some individuals have achieved such greathat their rahe ages, etched forever into the annals of history.

  A white sphere of light floats among the sea of stars, closely Earth. It has watched this p for millennia, long before mankind took its first breath, before empires rose and fell, before history was ever written. One day, it will bear wito the final story—the st chapter of both Earth and humanity.

  These beings, known as the Watchers, are entities of pure light, a being without form or desire, created for one purpose: to observe. They are mere spectators, existing solely to observe peeming with life. To witness civilizations bloom and wither, to record their triumphs and tragedies, but o intervehey follow a single, absolute rule: never interfere with the natural progress of any world. This is the absolute w. The unbreakable rule.

  A, for the first time in its endless existence, ocher feels something. An unfamiliar longing, a huo see something greater than mere life ah. Not just the iable end of Earth and its people, but humanity at its greatest peak. The slow, predictable march of time no longer fasates it.

  It is the first time in its existe has ever wanted anything. It desires more. A story that defies fate. It has seen heroes and querors rise, but all eventually submit to the same fate—age, weakness, ah. Every legend, no matter how mighty, is swallowed by time.

  But what if one could challe? For the first time, the Watcher decides to break the one singur rule. It will not simply watch. It will test.

  And so, it begins…

  …

  June 13, 1645, Japan

  Deep within secluded forest, the whisper of wind carries through t trees, rustling their leaves in aernal symphony. Life thrives despite the ck e animals in sight. tless species still exist, waiting to be noticed. Today is particurly beautiful. The warm air carries the perfect temperature for a stroll, and the surroundings shimmer with the vibrant energy of life. The grass tio grow, the animals sing, and nature’s st fills the air, leaving all who breathe it breathless.

  Amidst this pure, undisturbed world, a lone figure walks along a man-made dirt path through the dense greenery. He is a tall, well-built old man, whitish-pink eyes and long hair of the same hue, with promi u. Deep wrinkles mark his face, yet he retains an air ed handsomeness despite his old age. He wears a simple kimono of white with pink highlights, and at his waist, a single wakizashi rests in its sheath—ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

  This man was once a renowned deadliest swordsman to have walk this nd, a warrior who sought battle to prove himself the best. A man who turned battle into an art. He killed without hesitation, dreng the ground in crimson, carving a legend that would be remembered long after his time. But now, in his twilight years, he has long abandoned violence, devoting himself io the creation of art. They say that each stroke of his brush mirrors the deadly precision of his sword.

  But his body has failed him. Old age has caught up, and illness weakens his breath with each passing moment. He has e to this forest to draw his final breath, away from the distras of the outside world. He believes that his sword teiques, passed down to his disciples, will carry on his teags. With that, he feels s.

  After walking for some time, he reaches his destination—a cave, her too deep nor too shallow, illuminated just enough by the faint light filtering through the trees. The interpy of shadow and foliage creates an almost serene se.

  The old man lifts a massive rock—at least ten times heavier than himself—and pces it in the ter of the cave. Climbing atop it, he sits cross-legged, clears his mind, and takes several deep breaths.

  Then, suddenly—

  “AHHHHHHHHHH!”

  His sudden shout pierces the air, eg through the forest. Every living creature within earshot hears the cry of this dying warrior. Then, he immediately erupts into a fit of violent coughing, blood staining his lips, his breath ragged and weak. After breaking down he sobs heavily.

  “If only… If only you could just die, you piece of sh*t!” His voice cracks. His body shakes. His tears mix with snot and blood, his dignity shattered by the cruelty of time

  His life had been a relentless pursuit of battle, an endless search for excitement. He had never feared death—on the trary, he had weled it. He had sought a glorious demise, to fall at his peak and leave behind a legend.

  A, here he was.

  “I’m too old for this sh*t. ’t believe I’m dying at the same damn age as my me*ss father…”

  For a brief moment, he swears he sees a ghostly figure in the distant sky, fshing a peace sign, ughing at his misery.

  He chuckles bitterly.

  “Even ih, you still mock me, old sh*t.”

  The old man exhales deeply, his mind drifting to his younger days—whehrill of g swords drove him forward, wheh was always just a breath away. He does not fear dying, nor does he see his life as meaningless. But he wishes he had never grown this old, that he had met his end long before time wore him down.

  “The heavens must be pying a joke on me…” He mutters bitterly.

  “How cruel, that they won’t even grant this old bag of bones his final wish… to die in battle.”

  With a weary sigh, he finally closes his eyes, surrendering himself to fate. He accepts his end, choosing to let nature take its course. As the weight of his years crushes him, he closes his eyes, accepting his fate.

  And then—

  A brilliant light floods the cave, its radianing everything in sight. The entire cave is swallowed in pure, dazzling light, nearly engulfing the old man himself.

  A white sphere of light floated above the old man. Witnessing something so unpreted, he briefly believed he had died and asded to the heavens. However, he quickly posed himself, sensing that he was still within his body. With the many years of experience he had accumuted, he remained calm—like still water—even in the face of su abnormal phenomenon.

  “We are called The Watcher. Our purpose is to observe worlds teeming with life. So be not afraid. I only wish to verse with you—nothing more, nothing less.”

  Ahereal yet emotionless voice echoed throughout the cave, carrying a soothing tohat instilled an eerie sense of tranquility.

  Five minutes had already passed in plete silence, almost caught in a daze. To most, witnessing such a phenomenon would be akin to receiving a divine blessing, as if an angel or even a god had desded before them. But iy, it was merely ay that had taken the form of a radiant sphere of light—nothing more, nothing less. The old maated, torween staying to observe or fleeing. However, his instincts urged him to remain, for he khis moment would ge his life in an unimaginable way.

  Stammering “Where are my manners? he says, straightening his back. “I should introduce myself. ’t have great pany to keep waiting for!”

  Before he could finish, The Watcher interrupted.

  “There is o waste your precious breath. I already know who you are—the renowned sword master and creator of the Niten Ichi-Ryu sword teique. A famed duelist, victorious in tless battles, never once defeated, and known across the nd. You are the great Miyamoto Musashi.”

  Despite keeping it brief, this thing knew him—truly knew him. Miyamoto Musashi uood the gravity of the situation. Quickly calming himself, he recalled everything that had happehis strange, shining orb wished to speak with him, and he could guess it wanted something. After all, it had only appeared before him at the moment of his death.

  The realization made Miyamoto Musashi break into a sweat—something few could ever make him do. Throughout his tless battles, he had developed an uny ability to sense danger. And right now, he could smell it lingering in the air.

  Yet, just because he repared to die didn’t mean he would go easily. After all, he was the very definition of a challenger. He wipes the blood from his lips and leans forward.

  “Tell me, Watcher… what do you want?” Miyamoto Musashi asked directly.

  “Straight to the point, I see,” the orb of light responded. “I ask you—do you have regrets? It doesn’t matter how big or small. Just answer holy.”

  Miyamoto Musashi quickly sidered the question, p the reason behind it without any hostility.

  “Yes… I do,” he answered sincerely.

  “May I ask for a reason?”

  “Oh, nothing too grand, yet something that might sound crazy to others,” Miyamoto Musashi said, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “You see, I don’t want to die in such a pathetic way. I lived in an era of glory, one where legends are fed and tales of great warriors are told. Granted, I never really cared for fame nition, but I saw it as something ceremonial. Every warrior I killed left behind a light—satisfa, yet alsret. The way they died… it left me curious. What would it feel like to experience such a thing myself? Heh, maybe I’m just a demon seeking pleasure in battle.”

  Miyamoto Musashi spoke with plete hoy, revealing his true feelings without a hint of deceit. Strangely, the orb of light’s prese him at ease, as if its very existence radiated a calming aura.

  However, he did not allow himself to lower his guard. No matter how peaceful it seemed, he remained wary—his instincts sharpened, his body ready to move. If danger arose, he repared to flee at a moment’s notice.

  “I see… I uand that feeling,” the orb of light admitted. “As I told you, I am merely an observer of this world. I watch, but as time passes, I begin to think about myself as well. I wish to feel. Humanity has fasated me for a long time. Eadividual has a driving force, something uhey bring to the world. If I’m being ho, I am jealous. That is why I have sought something greater than what I have seen before—a will strong enough to move even me.”

  Ihe cave darkened even more a hint of unbending doom awaits. Hearing this, Miyamoto Musashi felt a sudden unease. Every fiber of his being warned him—if he tihis versation, his very existence could ge in this moment.

  Still burdened by worry yet drawn in like an addict to his vice, Miyamoto Musashi answered with solemn respect toward the orb of light.

  “And what, oh great observer, do you seek from me?”

  “I have created a grand opportunity for those t—a ce at another life. You have the right to receive a sed ce. Whether to be reborn as another, relive your life, or reinate into airely different world. If you accept, you must undergo a trial to prove your worth.”

  A divine, radiant light tore across the sky, apanied by a thunderous roar. It was as if the heavens themselves seethed with fury, enraged by the bsphemer who dared to defile the very essence of life.

  Miyamoto Musashi’s weathered face darkened, his eyes widening in shock, almost bulging out from his head, a creeping smile form unnoticed. For the first time in decades, his blood burns with excitement. In aales, the heaveed mortals through trials, rewarding only the worthy with divine blessings. A sed ce at life—such a thing did not e freely. There was always a price.

  Having already abandoned any will to flee, Miyamoto Musashi couldn’t help but feel a rising anticipation as he eagerly awaited the oute.

  “W-What do you wao do?” He barely hid the excitement in his voice.

  “Simple. Do what you do best—fight and win.”

  Miyamoto Musashi’s eyes gleamed like a predator’s, his battle spirit awakening as if it had never left. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped down from the rock, kneeling before the orb of light, head bowed—not in submission, but a call for challenge.

  His body trembled. “I accept! What do you need me to do now?” His voice was so eager, filled with the fire of an unbroken warrior.

  “Now, you wait… for the others to arrive.”

  Miyamoto Musashi’s grin widens.

  “Good!”