Sword Progenitor

Ken opened his eyes, and he was faced with a stormy sky. Lightning could be seen flashing inside the layers of gray clouds, and thunder rumbled from afar every few seconds from all directions.

He laid in a plain full of lush, green grass. Powerful gales from the storms above made the grass sway according to its rhythm, but otherwise, it seemed that the sky and the ground were completely detached from one another. There was no rain. Only storm, and the lush green grass and dry ground didn reflect the nature of a natural disaster on that scale. He found it fascinating.

What he found more fascinating, though, was the fact that he had been transported to this sprawling plain of pure grass while he was taking a shit. He magically stopped needing to poop, and his pants had also been pulled back up for him. He touched his butt, hoping that he didn accidentally poop in his pants. When he confirmed that wasn the case, he sighed in relief.

What is this place, anyway? he thought, standing up and looking around.

He tried gripping his hands, but noticed that there was something in his right hand. It was a jian. A jian was a Chinese sword. Its guard was small, and the hilt was the same width as the base of the blade. Its small, round pommel had a small red trinket tied to it.

Waving his sword, he thought, It looks kind off.

He couldn describe it. There were slight distortions around the sword, but the movement in space was so miniscule that he could barely see it.

After fully understanding that he had been transported to another world, he began wondering, Do I have powers? Even if he did, he wasn sure how he would activate them, so he began testing, Powers, activate!

Nothing happened. Of course, he was expecting that.

He stayed calm, and tried various ways to activate his powers, yet it seemed that he had none, so all he could do was take a seat on the rolling plain and think, What am I even supposed to do here? Am I supposed to find a way out, or something else? There was definitely a reason he was sent here, at least he thought so as he looked around for anything.

Soon, he decided that he couldn remain idle. If he wanted to survive, he had to find sources of life, and that included trees and animals. He could always eat the grass, but he would still prefer meat over unwashed plants pulled from the ground. Obviously.

The day passed by as he trekked. The lightning never ceased to flash, and the thunder never ceased to rumble. Ken started to wonder how long that annoying storm would take to pass.

Plains. That was all there was, plains. He grew steadily more tired as he walked across the infinitely stretching grass plain, but the lack of sunlight helped him to conserve the amount of liquids in his body by not making him sweat it all out.

Still, he lips grew parched as his trek continued for the sixth hour. He had never felt so tired before. Even his hikes up the mountains with his friends and family hadn been so tiring. HIs legs were aching, and his feet probably had blisters on them. Yet, he continued to walk, determined to find some kind of life source.

Suddenly, he heard something. Except for the occasional rumble of thunder and the sound of his steps and complaints, the entire plain was completely silent, so it was easy for his sensitive ears to pick up on any sound.

He searched around with his eyes, but couldn see anything. The sound was the rustling of grass, so he looked downward.

A little figure was running through the grass, leaving a trail of disturbed grass behind it. He darted toward the creature and tried his best to catch up with it, but it stopped and turned toward him, giving Ken a good look at the being he was chasing.

It was a rat. A small, little rat. Its teeth were poking out from inside its mouth, and Ken retched when he smelled it.

Sewage, he thought, stepping back. It eyes seemed to be glimmering slightly, which made Ken doubt his own vision. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Its eyes really were glowing! A blood red, at that.

He then looked down at its paws. They were small and tiny claws protruded from their tips. Those rats were built for combat.

Ken leaped backward, holding his jian out as he gulped. It was his first fight, and he was quite tired. I hope this won be too hard, he thought. Fantasy monsters were often stronger than ordinary people. The only reason why one would be able to survive was because of the special armor or skills they got to fight those monsters, or they were just built different.

As of now, he has neither. His sword was blunt, and he had no superpower to decimate his enemies.

All he could do was hope for the best.

The nasty, sewage-covered rat launched itself toward him, dashing at speeds that Ken could barely see. He held the jian up, and slashed toward the rat in mid-air.

Once he felt the slightest amount of contact, he swung downward with all his might, not giving the rat any time to even cling onto and climb up the jians blade. The rat squealed as it was thrown into the ground, but regaine