Ryo was a child blessed by the misfortune of being born into a military family. Both his father and his five older brothers served as soldiers, lieutenants, and majors in the West Midlands army. And despite all the daily training they had suffered through since their infancy, they all fell in battle one by one before Ryo had even seen thirteen summers. Thus, Ryo concluded that all their teaching was worthless throughout and set out to find a worthy master who would turn him into a swordsman most fine.
As had every young boy far and wide, Ryo had heard of Ryam, the Sword Hermit, as well as of his many heroic deeds and of the numerous battles he had won and of all the countless famous and infamous men he had slain. Thus, Ryo set his mind to seek the fabled Sword God and to learn the deadly sword arts from this unparalleled master and from no other. So he departed his childhood home, leaving his crying mother widowed and childless, and set out on the road, stopping in each and every village and settlement he came across along the way, asking whether they had heard of the famed Ryam’s whereabouts.
This way, Ryo had travelled for three years and three days until he finally found Ryam wandering the hills of Agradda. On the road, the boy had frequently been beaten and robbed and laughed at and spat at. Therefore, he had nothing of value on him any longer, as they had even taken his father’s fine sword from him, which had been his last inheritance, and his once fine woollen clothes were reduced to nothing but filthy tatters. Yet all that mattered not to him, for he had finally found the renowned Sword God Ryam, and when he saw him, Ryo threw himself at his feet and begged to be taken on as his student.
“Begone, filthy louse, and leave me be,” Ryam said, “I do not take any students.” And he turned to leave, but Ryo leapt in front of his feet and smacked his forehead into the dirt and begged with folded hands to be taught the sword arts. Ryam then broke off a branch from the nearest tree and thrashed the boy savagely until he couldn’t move any longer, and he left him there in his blood for the hungry wolves to find, upon which Ryam hurried away from the foolish boy.
But Ryo had no intention of abandoning his ambitions and took pursuit, catching up with Ryam just two months later in the Kraha desert, which back then was as flat as a calm sea as far as the eye could reach. And Ryo again threw himself before Ryam’s feet and begged him with folded hands to take him on as his student.
“How am I to teach an idiot who does not understand clear instructions?” said Ryam. “Have I not told you I do not take students? Have I not told you to leave me be? Now begone, you foolish child. Do not bother me again.”
Yet Ryo threw himself at his feet and held onto him and begged and begged again, and so Ryam took his wandering staff and beat him savagely with it, leaving him there in his blood for the vultures to find as he hurried away from the foolish boy.
But Ryo, a fool indeed, was not to be deterred. So he followed Ryam again, and it took him three months to catch up with the Sword Hermit in the grasslands of Otama. He found him by the muddy road, cleaning the blood and fat and guts off his sword on the garments of dead highwaymen who had attempted to rob him mere moments ago. Ryo leapt into the mud to his knees and begged again and again to be taught the arts of the sword.
“You are a comprehensive idiot, boy,” said Ryam. Then he took off an old, blunt, and rusty sword from the hand of one of the corpses beneath him and threw it in the mud before Ryo. “Here’s a sword, child. If you desire to be taught, then take it and do not return until you have killed one hundred men with it. But if you have a single ounce of working brain in that thick skull of yours, you will not lay a single touch upon this poisonous steel, and you will return from whence you came and learn a proper trade.”
But Ryo scrambled onto his feet and leapt onto the sword, which was sinking into the mud, as a man drowning in storm-enraged waves clings onto a piece of floating driftwood.
“Idiot boy,” said Ryam and shook his head. “Now go and kill with this cursed metal and do not dare come before my eyes a moment before you have killed one hundred, for now you too carry a sword and I shall cut you down where you stand like any other if you disobey.”
And so Ryo set out to kill, and kill he did. It was two years and two days later when he returned to Ryam, whom he found deep in the mountains of Kresh, which reached so high into the skies that no trees nor bushes survived there, and barely any grass grew at all. Instead, the winds combed and whistled through naked stones and rocks. When Ryam spotted him approaching, he shook his head in disapproval and said, “Fool of a boy. Why do you return?”
“I have killed one hundred men, as you told me to,” said Ryo.
“Have you still not learned?” said Ryam.
And Ryo, covered in bruises and blisters and cuts and the stench of death, said, “I have learned to kill with this sword.” And he showed Ryam the old rusty sword, whose blade now was covered in kinks and dents and cracks so much that it was a miracle that the metal held together at all.
“You have learned to butcher,” said Ryam, “you have learned nothing. You do not understand killing, for you do not understand death, nor do you understand life.”
“Then teach me, master, I beg you,” Ryo said, throwing himself at his feet.
Ryam then picked up a rock, eyed it for but a moment and then threw it before Ryo. “Take this rock,” he said, “and go kill one hundred men with it. Do not return before my eyes ere you have done so, or I shall cut you down where you stand the very instant I see you approaching.”
And Ryo did as he was told and descended the mountains and went on to kill, and kill he did. It took him one year and one day to complete this task, for he had indeed become more skilled at killing, but not at much else. When he finally sought out Ryam again, he found him sitting on a smooth stone deep in the dense, snowy forests of Hookrah, where the white frost covered the grounds and the trees’ branches. Black birds hopped through the snow as the setting red sun’s glimmer pierced through the woods.
Seeing him approach with the rock in his hand, Ryam said, “Why do you return, boy? Have you learned nothing?”
“I did as I was told,” said Ryo, “I have killed one hundred men with this rock. And I have learned that anything in my hand can be a sword, if I want it to be. Whether it is sharp steel or this rock, I will cut through my opponent’s flesh with it.”
“You truly are an idiot, boy,” Ryam shook his head. “What have you learned of death?”
“I have learned that it can reach everyone”, said Ryo. “The strongest and the smallest, the richest and the poorest. I have killed all alike with this rock and with the sword in my hands.”
“And why did you kill, boy?” said Ryam.
“Because you told me to,” said Ryo.
“Would you have killed if I hadn’t told you to?” said Ryam.
“Maybe,” said Ryo, “I don’t know.”
“Then, what it the point of killing?” said Ryam.
Ryo gave it a thought, and then said, “I don’t know. What is the point of living?”
“I’ll show you,” said Ryam and snatched the rock from Ryo’s hand. “Look here, boy,” he said and smashed the rock against the stone he was sitting on, and the rock in his hand split clean in two, revealing a fossilised ammonoid in its midst, and he showed the beautiful spiral to Ryo. “Do you see now?”
“I do not,” Ryo replied honestly. “What should a snail’s shell hidden in a rock tell me?”
“You are a fantastic idiot indeed,” said Ryam. “I have rarely seen a boy with a head this empty. Tales will be told about the void between your ears.” Then he stood up and said, “Come. I shall fill that void with the poisons you desire, and one day you will curse me for it.” Then he wandered off deeper into the snowy forest, and Ryo followed him.
And so Ryam took on his last student.