Title: White Form
Kumamoto was riding on the back of the mighty dragon, soaring through the sky toward the Weapon Master. As the wind rushed past him, he couldn't help but think to himself:
"Did I really jump into this battle without thinking it through? If I had just asked someone, they would've warned me about that shadow. Next time I meet him... I'll end his life."
He turned his gaze toward the dragon.
"Hey, tell me something," Kumamoto asked. "That 'White Form' your Dragon King achieved… what exactly was it?"
The dragon's voice echoed, deep and ancient.
"That form only activates when the Dragon King is close to death. If he doesn't reach his absolute limit, he attains immortality through the White Form. But if he does reach that limit… he falls."
"Then I should be grateful your Dragon King reached his limit," Kumamoto said with a smirk. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here right now."
"You've got quite the sense of humor," the dragon chuckled.
"How could I die," Kumamoto said, his eyes burning with vengeance, "when my revenge isn't complete yet?"
"How long until we reach the Weapon Master?" he asked, gripping the dragon's scales.
"The Weapon Master resides at the edge of another world," the dragon replied. "You'll meet him there. But to get there, we must pass over the Dragon Volcanoes."
As they flew over the molten peaks, Kumamoto shouted, "Are you trying to get me killed, you overgrown lizard?! Why are we flying through this?!"
"This is the only path to reach the Weapon Master," the dragon growled.
"But listen well… once you meet him, leave as quickly as you can. That place… is a battlefield. Fights break out there like breathing."
Title: Weapon Master
Kumamoto finally arrived.
After a long journey across blazing volcanoes and shadowy skies, he stood before the wooden door of the Weapon Master's house. The place didn't look like much—just a small, aged cabin nestled between otherworldly cliffs—but his instincts told him this was it.
He pushed open the creaky door.
An old man stood in the middle of the room, hunched and still, his white beard nearly reaching his belt. He stared at Kumamoto with eyes that had seen countless wars.
"Excuse me," Kumamoto said. "I'm looking for the Weapon Master. Is he here?"
The old man gave a small smirk.
"You're looking at him, boy. They call me the Bloody Monster."
Kumamoto's eyes widened.
The old man raised a hand and pointed at Kumamoto's fists.
"Look at those hands of yours. They've been used so much, I can almost see the enemy's bones in them. You don't even realize what kind of fighter you are… but I do."
Kumamoto blinked, confused.
"Wait, what? I've never even learned how to fight properly. I just swing wildly… even I don't know what my fighting style is."
The Weapon Master stepped closer, his presence growing heavier.
"You fight in both long-range and short-range," he said calmly. "That's rare. For someone like you, the right hand must wield a sword, and the left—a gun."
Kumamoto's brows furrowed. "How do you know all this?"
"I see more than most," the old man replied. "Now listen closely, kid. The gun I'm about to give you isn't ordinary. It's magical—comes with unlimited ammo, but you'll still need to reload it properly. Don't get cocky."
He stepped toward a cabinet and pulled out a strange-looking weapon.
"As for this sword," he continued, pulling a blade wrapped in cloth, "it will adjust to your strength. If you're weak, it'll shatter. But if you're strong… it'll turn red or black."
Kumamoto reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword.
The cloth unraveled. The blade flared—but not red, not black… it turned a glowing white.
And then, just as suddenly, it returned to its ordinary form, glinting in the light like nothing had happened.
The Weapon Master stared, stunned.
"…That's impossible. That sword has never turned white before. Not once."
Kumamoto shrugged.
"Red, black… I don't care. I'm here to kill demons. That's all."
Suddenly, a noise came from outside—shouting, clashing steel, something wild and chaotic.
The Weapon Master's expression hardened.
"Damn. Not again. Must be another brawl near the Gibblings' Outpost."
Kumamoto turned to him. "Gibblings? What are those?"
"Tiny creatures," the Weapon Master replied. "Fast, vicious, and constantly trying to kill each other—or anyone else who gets in their way."
Kumamoto grinned. A creepy smile stretched across his face.
"Well then," he said, stepping toward the door, sword in one hand, gun holstered in the other. "Looks like I get to test my new
toys."
And with that, he vanished into the chaos outside.
Title: Both Killer
As Kumamoto stepped outside, his eyes locked onto a swarm of strange, twisted creatures. Their small eyes glowed with malice, their noses were unnaturally large, and their sharp, jagged teeth gleamed under the sky.
So these were the creatures called Gibllings.
Kumamoto cracked his neck and smirked.
"So, little freaks… Am I gonna be your dinner today? Or will you be my prey?"
One of the Gibllings lunged forward, shrieking, sword drawn. It slashed at Kumamoto's stomach—but just before the blade could pierce him, it snapped in half, shattering on impact.
"What…?" the Giblling managed to squeal.
Too late.
Kumamoto's sword slashed through the air with a blinding speed, cleaving the creature in two.
And then another.
And another.
One by one, the Gibllings fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground like broken toys. Kumamoto danced between them, a blur of motion—his sword in his right hand, his gun in his left, both working in perfect sync. He was smiling, calm, lethal.
From the doorway, the Weapon Master watched in silence, then muttered to himself:
"So that's why they call him… the Bloody Monster. He's wielding both weapons like he's been training with them for years. But… this is his first time seeing them. How is that possible?"
In mere seconds, it was over.
Not a single Giblling remained.
Kumamoto wiped his blade on his sleeve, holstered his gun, and turned toward the Weapon Master.
"What's the name of this weapon?" he asked, still catching his breath.
The old man nodded, impressed.
"It's called Both Killer. Suits you well."
Kumamoto looked at his right hand, then his left. "Yeah… it does."
Then he raised his head.
"Tell me—how do I get to the Third World?"
The Weapon Master's tone grew serious.
"Twenty kilometers north of here, there's a portal. Step through it… and you'll find yourself in the Demon World."
Kumamoto gave a curt nod.
"Thanks."
Without another word, he turned and began walking north, disappearing into the horizon.
A new war was waiting for him.