New abilities lay before me, hanging before my eyes like a death sentence. Each one could tip the balance of this battle.
I had to choose.
But facing me, Yoshimoto Imagawa showed no sign of impatience. He slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his katana, with an almost disconcerting confidence. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't doubting. He was simply waiting.
That serenity unsettled me.
"Tell me…" I said, staring at him, "why do you seem so calm at the thought of fighting me?"
The rain slid down his face without altering his expression. His gaze remained fixed, penetrating, charged with that calm arrogance that seemed to inhabit him constantly.
"Because you don't understand yet," he replied in a calm voice.
He didn't move, but something in his demeanor shifted. As if, at that precise moment, he no longer saw me merely as an opponent… but as a man still in the dark.
"You think this battle will be between you and me," he continued. "That everything will depend on your strength… or your choices."
A faint smirk appeared on his lips.
"But you are mistaken."
He tightened his grip on his katana.
"What truly decides the outcome of a war… is not the power of a man."
His gaze grew more intense.
"It is the faith his army places in him."
Thunder rumbled overhead, as if to underscore his words.
"My men aren't simply under my command," he continued. "They follow me because they believe in me. Because they know I will lead them to victory."
"They are willing to die for me. Not out of obligation… but out of conviction."
His words were heavy with certainty.
"That is what you lack. Leadership."
A heavy silence settled between us.
"The men who follow you…" he added, pointing slightly at me with the tip of his sword, "do not do so out of faith. They do so because a system compels them to. Because they have no other choice. And when doubt sets in… when this battle seems lost… they will abandon you."
Those words resonated within me with unexpected force.
"Because an army without faith in its leader… is nothing more than a group of men doomed to flee at the first sign of defeat."
Yoshimoto then slowly drew his katana. The blade briefly reflected the light of a flash of lightning.
"I am never alone."
He took a fighting stance, perfectly steady despite the rain and mud.
"You… you already are."
Before him, his skills still floated before my eyes.
But for the first time since the battle began… it was no longer just a matter of power.
His words echoed in my mind for a moment, mingling with the sound of the rain and the rumble of thunder. Then, suddenly, something clicked into place.
My eyes widened; I had just understood.
A soft breath escaped me, almost imperceptible, before a smile appeared on my face.
"Thank you…" I murmured.
Yoshimoto furrowed his brow slightly.
"What did you say?"
I slowly raised my head, my gaze now far more confident than before.
"Thank you, Yoshimoto. Thanks to you… I know exactly which skill to choose. "
I took a step forward, tightening my grip on my katana.
"And if you want to continue your march on Kyoto…" I added, staring him straight in the eyes, "you'll have to get past me. Me… and my entire army."
A hearty laugh escaped Yoshimoto. A laugh laced with contempt.
"Now those are words worthy of a warlord," he replied.
But he didn't wait any longer. In an instant, he drew his sword.
His movement was so lightning-fast that I barely had time to react.
Out of pure reflex, I shifted to the side, feeling the blade's edge pass just inches from me. The force of the strike sliced through the air with such violence that I briefly lost my balance in the mud.
I regained my footing, my heart pounding.
That single exchange was enough to make me realize that the difference in skill between us was immense.
Yoshimoto didn't see me as an equal; he dominated me.
Without warning… The five-minute timer had already started.
The clash of our blades sends a jolt through me all the way to my shoulders, a sharp vibration running up my arms. From the very first exchanges, I understand. I am being dominated. Yoshimoto isn't forcing anything. His blade glides toward me with cold, almost elegant precision, as if every movement were already decided before I even react. I block a first attack, then a second, then a third. Each time, I'm just in time. Never ahead of the curve. Never in control.
I step back without even realizing it. My feet slide slightly across the floor, searching for a foothold that I lose as he advances. He isn't even breathing any harder. As for me, my breath is already starting to falter. Every blow he lands is heavier, more precise, more oppressive. I have no room to move. No rhythm. Just a succession of moments where I'm barely hanging on.
"So this is the famous Oda Nobunaga…"
His voice cuts through the battle without a hint of tension. His blade comes down vertically, and I barely manage to block it. The impact makes my knees buckle slightly, my arms trembling under the pressure. He's towering over me, in every sense of the word.
"I was promised a demon…"
He presses a little harder, just enough to make me understand the gap between us.
"I see only a cornered man."
He steps back with disconcerting fluidity and follows up immediately. His blade passes close to my side, so close that I feel the wind from the strike tug at my clothing. I take a step back, then another, unable to regain the initiative. I clench my teeth, trying to read his movements, to spot an opening… but there isn't one. Nothing. Everything is closed off.
"You're backing up a lot," he says calmly as he advances further. With every word, I lose ground. "Is that a strategy? Or just fear?" His attacks resume immediately, faster, more urgent. I block everything I can, deflecting his blows at the last moment, feeling my wrists burn with every impact. My body is starting to reach its limit, but I hold on. I have no choice.
He slows down slightly, just enough to observe me. I feel his gaze on me, like an extra pressure that prevents me from breathing properly. He circles me slightly, forcing me to pivot, to adjust my already unstable footing.
"What are you waiting for? An opening?"
I'm short of breath. My mind searches for a solution. Nothing comes.
The urge to strike back surges through me, but my body refuses to move forward. I remain on the defensive, trapped in the rhythm he imposes. He suddenly attacks lower. I block, but my foot slips slightly on the wet floor. My balance wavers.
His blade stops a few centimeters from my throat.
I freeze instantly. My heart pounds violently in my chest, as if trying to flee before I do. The world seems suspended. I feel the blade—cold, still, ready to cut me at the slightest movement. Yoshimoto stares at me for a long moment, without even catching his breath.
"You defend yourself well," he says finally, in an almost calm tone. Then his gaze hardens slightly. "But it's not enough to survive against me. "
He withdraws his blade, slowly. Not to let me catch my breath. Just to keep going.
As if all of this were just a game to him.
"Show me something, Nobunaga…" he adds, resuming his stance. I tighten my grip on my katana, feeling my hands tremble despite myself. "Or I'll end up getting bored. "
And without waiting, he attacks again.
The metal still resonates in my arms as I finally steady my footing. My breath is short, my body tense, but something inside me refuses to give in any further. Yoshimoto is still there, facing me, unchanging, his blade ready to strike again like a sentence. Yet this time, I don't step back immediately.
I lift my gaze slightly toward him.
"Tell me…" my voice is calmer than I would have thought, despite the pressure. "What is the name of your katana?"
For a moment, time seems to stand still. A strange question, almost out of place in the midst of a fight to the death.
Yoshimoto barely raises an eyebrow, then a faint smile returns to his lips. He doesn't suspect a thing. To him, I'm still just an opponent already defeated.
"This one?" he says, glancing at his blade. "The Yoshimoto Samonji. A work forged by the famous Samonji." "
His voice carries a certain pride, but without excessive arrogance. As if it were obvious.
I nod slowly.
"That's what… makes you so strong."
At that precise moment, without looking away, I invest.
[You have invested 3,000 coins in 'Physical Strength'!]
A brutal wave courses through my body.
My muscles contract violently; my fibers seem to tighten, reforging themselves under invisible pressure. My heart races suddenly, then stabilizes, more powerful. My breath becomes heavier… but denser. More grounded.
[Your 'Physical Strength' has reached Level 10!]
The world around me seems to slow down slightly.
Yoshimoto attacks, but this time… I moved first.
Our blades clash, but the impact is different. My arms don't give way. The vibration is there, violent, but I hold my ground without flinching. I pivot slightly, deflect his blade, and, for the first time since the fight began…
My katana slices through the air toward his side.
He then took a sharp step back.
A brief silence falls between us. Yoshimoto looks at me again, but this time his expression has changed.
His smile has faded.
"…Interesting. "
His posture tightens slightly. Lower. More grounded. Less relaxed. He becomes serious.
He attacks again, but I see it coming. His movement, once overwhelming, now seems predictable to me.
Each impact resonates with equal force on both sides. Neither of us gains the upper hand. Not anymore.
I feel my footing solid beneath me. My body finally responds the way I want it to.
Yoshimoto picks up the pace slightly, testing me. For the first time, he no longer dominated me.
"So… you still had something left in reserve," he says, his gaze sharp.
I didn't answer.
The rhythm of the fight had turned into a dangerous dance, where every movement was a matter of life and death. Our blades clashed, sought each other out, and pushed back in a tense harmony, but a single moment of inattention, however slight, was enough to tip the balance. I catch him barely hesitating, and that's when I strike. My blade cuts through the air and bites into his flesh with brutal precision. Blood spatters, vivid, undeniable. I see him step back, his wide eyes betraying an emotion he has never shown in my presence: surprise, fear. He brings his hands to the wound, clutching the fabric soaked in red, trying to stem the bleeding, but the blood is already flowing.
I notice his breathing quicken, slightly irregular, and in his eyes I see a new gleam...
He finally understood that he could die.
The serene, domineering man who had been looking down on me just moments earlier no longer exists. He stepped back, searching for a way out, sensing the gravity of the danger for the first time, and suddenly he turns on his heel.
He flees.
The contrast is striking. A moment ago, he was advancing with certainty, imposing his will, and now he runs like wounded prey, every step betraying his survival instinct.
I watch him disappear, my breathing steady, my body tense yet free, and in my mind the image imposes itself with icy clarity: I am the predator, he the prey.
The sensation is strange, almost exhilarating, and yet every fiber of my body resonates with the pure adrenaline of combat. I feel power surging through me, and in a deep, hoarse voice—almost like that of a ruler commanding his domain—I utter:
"Maestria nature."
The words fall, heavy and irreversible, and I see Yoshimoto running as if treading water, unable to outpace me despite his desperate flight.
I see him lift his head, convinced he has escaped the grip of battle. His gaze meets mine, and in that instant, I know he realized too late that he couldn't flee.
I place my hand on the hilt of my katana, drawing it with a precise, instinctive movement.
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Before he could even react, I was already behind him; a fraction of a second was enough to combine speed and mastery. My katana returns to its sheath as if nothing had happened, but the blow I struck hit him full force.
A few seconds later, he collapses, clutching his throat with both hands, breathing heavily and wheezing. Every breath seems like a monumental effort. I stand motionless, my gaze fixed on him, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins, aware that this lightning-fast attack has completely turned the tide. Yoshimoto, the master of combat and serenity, is on the ground, vulnerable, for the first time since our confrontation began.
I tilt my head slightly, watching Yoshimoto struggle feebly on the ground, his ragged breathing betraying a fear he has never known before.
"Earlier," I say calmly, almost with a smile, "you told me you had men at your beck and call… But now… Where are they?"
His lips move, but no sound comes out. His charisma, his serenity—it has all crumbled.
I crouch slowly before him, my gaze fixed on his. "Don't worry," I whispered, "I'll grant you the luxury of dying by the hands of the valor you admire so much."
My breath echoed in the silent air around us.
"FINISH HIM OFF."
Those words fell like a guillotine, cold and final.
The very moment my voice rises, the necromantic power I had chosen activates. The corpses of the Imagawa clan's soldiers—those who had fallen under my army's attacks earlier—rise to their feet. Their bodies, driven by a morbid will, rush toward Yoshimoto like raging undead, silent and determined. The air filled with a metallic clang as their weapons struck, surrounding the leader who could no longer move, unable to react.
Yoshimoto, the impassive master, the man who imposed his will on everyone, now finds himself at the mercy of his own men. The bodies rain down on him with relentless precision, and in a final gasp of terror, he finally understands… that he has fallen by the very force he once commanded. The scene is surreal, tragic, and perfect.
And so Yoshimoto Imagawa dies, murdered not by an external enemy, but by the hands of his own army, which has become his silent and relentless executioner.
No sooner had the scent of rain mingled with the smell of mud dissipated than my eyes were drawn to a familiar light, a sharp glow amidst the chaos. A floating window appeared before me, suspended in the air like a silent judgment.
[ Main Quest: Battle Against Yoshimoto Imagawa
✓Completed✓
✱ Objective Accomplished:
Yoshimoto Imagawa was eliminated before the 5-minute time limit.
✱ Consequence:
All members of your clan survive. ]