Swordsman Who Is Good in Bed

Chapter 5

The tip of the sword was right in front of Raka's eyes. 

Raka, with his wild, determined expression, was suddenly confused and surprised. It was as if he had woken up from a daze. 

Along with this newfound clarity, an unimaginable sense of regret washed over him. He cursed himself for his foolishness, and his thoughts turned to his family, wondering what would become of them when he was gone. 

He desperately wanted to stop the sword's movement, but the force of inertia was relentless. The sharp blade pierced his eye, and Raka let out a scream of pain. 

Whether it was the heavy rain outside or the excellent soundproofing of his room, his cries did not reach his family. He was consumed by pain, unable to think of anything else. 

What truly horrified him were the translucent figures emerging from the sword, entering his left eye through the wound. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from the pain or if this was happening. 

These figures seemed familiar, yet he couldn't place them. As they entered his body, Raka felt his head throb, as if it would burst. The pain was a hundred, a thousand times worse than the beating he had received from Oberon and Teddy. 

His weak body couldn't handle the agony, and he lost consciousness. He thrashed about for a moment before falling from the bed, landing weakly on the floor. 

Even unconscious, he couldn't rest. His body would tense as if struck by electricity, accompanied by a mysterious blue light flickering across his skin. 

Within his mind, strange figures battled each other, creating a chaotic scene. Raka, witnessing this, was filled with fear. He knew that if his soul was destroyed here, he would truly die. 

He desperately wanted to drive them out, but he was powerless, unsure of what to do. 

Just as he was about to think of a plan, a transparent figure approached him aggressively. Raka dodged, but his soul body was still injured. He could sense that these five figures were stronger than him. 

Despair grew within him. As if to add to his suffering, another group of souls joined the chase. Panic surged through him as he frantically dodged their attacks. 

After several attempts, he managed to escape the group, who were too busy destroying each other to notice him. It seemed they lacked intelligence and were simply destroying everything around them. 

Raka, initially relieved, hoped to manipulate them into fighting each other, allowing him to emerge victorious at the last moment. But the reality was far harsher than his fantasies. 

He realized that the longer these souls danced and wreaked havoc in his consciousness, the more intelligent they became. Their adaptation speed and computational thinking were astounding. 

His initial advantage had vanished, replaced by despair. He could only keep moving away from them, hoping they would forget him and kill each other, giving him a chance to execute his plan. 

However, they were becoming smarter. They seemed to know who to target first, and now they were all focused on him. He was constantly injured, his subconscious screaming at him to give up, to accept his fate, and to disappear. 

But Raka refused to surrender. He continued to escape, his soul body becoming increasingly transparent, vulnerable to the slightest touch. The strange souls, like predators upon dying prey, closed in on him from all sides. 

His soul body was surrounded, trapped. In the outside world, his body twitched more violently, the electric currents flowing through him growing stronger, making his movements even more chaotic. 

As his soul consciousness was about to vanish, Raka, with a desperate cry, filled with questions. Why him? Why did he have to die? This was his consciousness space! Why were they invading his body? 

His questions, fueled by his reluctance to die, caused his unconscious body to rise. He shouted a defiant challenge, but it was met with silence. 

There was no heroic moment where the invading souls were destroyed, no surge of power that would allow him to fight back. He could only feel his soul slowly withering, like a plant in autumn. 

His soul's weakness robbed his body of energy, causing him to fall to the ground. 

Bang! Puchi! 

The sound of his body hitting the floor was accompanied by the shattering of glass. A black and white aura filled the room, entering his body through the wound in his eye, just as the strange souls had done before. 

But this aura was different. It was more destructive, more chaotic. It attacked the five souls, dominating them. 

In the last moments of his consciousness, Raka saw a terrifying black-and-white apocalypse unfolding within his mind. 

It's unknown how long time had passed, but Raka's family had all woken up. 

His mother, noticing that the food Lusi had brought was untouched, became worried. She knocked on his door, calling his name, but there was no answer. 

She feared that something was wrong. Raka's father, sensing her concern, asked what was happening. 

"He hasn't eaten since last night. I'm worried something might have happened to him," his mother said. 

Raka's father, his brow furrowed, remained silent. His wife's anxiety grew. 

"What should we do? Should we just break down the door?" she asked urgently. 

Raka's father closed his eyes, then shook his head. "No need, Raka will be fine. It seems he's sleeping."

"Really?" his mother was still worried. 

He nodded, assuring her. She was slightly relieved, knowing that his Virtual Resonance was a special plant, sensitive to the breath and vitality of living beings. They went about their day. 

After breakfast, they were going to the plantation to deal with the mess, but Raka was still asleep. Their worries grew. They wanted to wait for him to wake up and check on him, but the chaos in the garden and the numerous calls they had received forced them to leave, hoping he would be alright. 

Time passed, and Raka, lying on the floor like a corpse, finally moved his finger. He woke up with a splitting headache, confused about his situation. 

"Crunch…" 

Before he could fully regain his senses, his stomach growled. He felt an intense hunger, as if he could eat an entire cow and still be hungry. 

Ignoring the discomfort, he rushed out of the room. He found his mother had left some food for him, and he ate quickly and ravenously as if he hadn't eaten in months. 

While eating, he noticed a strange smell, but he ignored it, focusing on filling his empty stomach. Even after finishing all the food, he was still hungry and resorted to eating bread and snacks. 

Finally, he was seventy percent full and felt a sense of relief. He returned to his room, but something felt wrong. The closer he got, the stronger the foul odor became a mix of fish and something else, sickeningly sweet. 

He opened the door and was shocked by what he saw. He stood frozen as if he had seen a ghost. His room was a disaster, with strange objects scattered everywhere. 

But it wasn't the mess that truly stunned him. It was the red liquid pooling on the floor, staining the blanket, bed, and everything else. He looked down at his feet and saw bloodstains. 

Memories flooded back, and he realized what had happened. His left eye throbbed with a burning, stinging pain. 

"Arghh!" 

He cried out in pain, a pathetic sound that would evoke pity in anyone who heard it.