『Here,where your journey start【yasuko】 Choose wisely』 Your decisions will lead you to your fate. Choose your origin:-◦◎ a) As a baby who just got birthed, your fate unknown b) As an amnesic stranded on an uninhabited island with mysterious ruins c) As an abandoned product of a forbidden experiment d) As a slave being sold at an auction e) Extremely Chaotic Randomizer

Or, dive into your own fantasy.

As a baby who just got birthed, you were born into a loving family. You had a caring mother and father, who doted on you and provided for all of your needs. They named you Yasuko, meaning "tranquility" or "peacefulness," as they hoped that you would one day grow up to become a great warrior, just like your father.

You lived a happy life in a small rural village, surrounded by lush green fields and gentle creeks.

When you turned six, your father finally started teaching you how to use a sword. He was strict but fair, pushing you hard to master the basics and improve your technique. The bond between the two of you grew stronger as you trained together under the open sky, honing your skills as swordsmen.

As the years passed, your training became more intense. Your father wanted you to be prepared for any situation, so he taught you various styles of combat, including close-quarters fighting and archery.

One day, as you were cleaning your father's workshop, you stumbled upon an old sword he had been working on. It looked like a long sword at first glance, but upon closer inspection, you realized that it was similar to the katana used by elven warriors. The blade was somewhat dull and lacked its former glory, as if it had been abandoned midway through the forging process. Curiosity got the better of you, so you decided to ask your father about it.

You approached your father cautiously, unsure of how he would react to seeing the half-finished sword again. "Um... Dad?" you asked softly, pointing at the sword resting against the far wall. "What happened to this one? Is there something wrong with it?"

Your father sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair before turning to face you. "Ah... yes," he muttered, his expression a mix of sadness and regret. "That was supposed to be a special sword for me, Yasuko.

Your father took a deep breath before continuing. "You see, I had wanted to create a unique sword that combined the strength of a longsword with the elegance and agility of a katana. But..." His voice trailed off as he looked away, lost in thought.

After a moment of silence, he finally turned back to you, his expression softening. "I failed, Yasuko. I couldn't quite master the forging process, and the sword just... didn't turn out right."

Hearing your question, his expression brightened slightly. "Oh! You like it, huh?" he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Well, I suppose you could use it as practice material, but..." He paused, considering your request for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright, if you're sure you want to try using that sword, then go ahead."

Carefully taking the blade from its resting place, he handed it to you, hilt first.

Over the next few years, you trained diligently with the sword, adapting your style to suit its unique design. Your father watched you carefully, offering guidance when necessary, but also giving you space to find your own way. As time passed, your fighting style became known throughout the village as graceful and deadly, reflecting the combination of traditional longsword techniques and the flowing elegance of the katana.

For your fifteenth birthday, your father surprised you with a beautiful handmade sword. It was crafted from finest materials and possessed an elegant design that perfectly complemented your unique fighting style. The blade was sharp and tempered to perfection, ensuring that it would serve you well on the battlefield or during training sessions.

Your father, proud of your accomplishments thus far, knew that you were ready to take your training to the next level. He decided it was time for you to attend the prestigious swordsmanship academy, where only the best of the best received instruction. Despite his misgivings about leaving you in such an unfamiliar environment, he knew it was necessary for your growth as a warrior and as an individual.

You traveled to the city where the academy was located, accompanied by your father.

The day of the entrance exam arrives, and despite being nervous, you perform exceptionally well. Your masterful control over the sword and unique fighting style catch the attention of the instructors and students alike. As the last candidate to step forward, you find yourself under intense scrutiny from the examiners. They watch you carefully, impressed by your skill and poise. When you finish your demonstration, there is a moment of silence before the headmaster clears his throat, breaking the tension.

"Very impressive,"

You bow respectfully, thanking the headmaster for his words of praise. As the other candidates leave the arena, you remain behind with the faculty, anticipating their decision. After a brief discussion, the headmaster approaches you with a warm smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Yasuko. You have passed our entrance exam with flying colors. You are now officially enrolled at our esteemed swordsmanship academy."

"We are honored to have someone of your caliber among our students. However, we must inform you that this is an academy exclusively for nobles. Commoners such as yourself are not typically allowed entry."

The headmaster hesitates for a moment, considering your question. "Your performance today was truly remarkable, Yasuko. It has left quite an impression on us all. We believe that you belong here, despite your commoner status. However, it will not be easy. The nobles will undoubtedly resent your presence, and you may face opposition from them during your time here. Are you prepared to face these challenges?"

The headmaster nods solemnly, then extends his hand for you to shake. "Very well, Yasuko. You may consider yourself a student of this academy. We look forward to seeing how far your talents will take you."

As the new school year begins, you find yourself amongst the ranks of noble students at the swordsmanship academy. Some of them eye you warily, while others openly mock and belittle you. Despite this, you remain focused on your training and continue to improve your skills with each passing day.

As weeks turn into months, word of your prowess spreads throughout the academy.

Your impressive skill and unwavering determination begin to earn the respect of both teachers and fellow students alike. Even those who once ridiculed you now approach you for advice or training tips. However, there are still some nobles who refuse to accept a commoner in their midst and continue to treat you with disdain.

Over time, however, your talent and dedication become too evident to ignore. You rise through the ranks of the academy, surpassing even the most skilled nobles.

As years pass, your renown grows far beyond the halls of the academy. People from all across the land speak of Yasuko's graceful yet deadly fighting style, calling it the Crescent Blade Dance. Kings and queens alike invite you to their courts, hoping to secure your services as a personal guard or swordmaster. Your father could only watch with pride as his daughter became one of the greatest warriors in history, transcending social boundaries and rewriting the rules of combat.

After you graduate from the swordsmanship academy, you embark on a journey to explore the world beyond your village. Your skills as a swordsman make you a valuable asset to any group or individual, and you soon find yourself traveling with merchants, adventurers, and even members of royal families.

As you wander from one land to another, you learn about different cultures, religions, and customs.

You set out on your journey, traveling from kingdom to kingdom, always in search of new challenges and experiences. Your skills as a swordsman are unparalleled, but you also possess an open mind and empathetic nature that allows you to connect with people from all walks of life. As the years pass, you become known not just for your prowess on the battlefield, but also for your wisdom and kindness. Kings and queens seek your counsel, while commoners look up to you as a hero and a beacon of hope.

After years of adventuring, you feel the need to find peace and solitude. You retire from your life as a wandering warrior, choosing instead to live in the harsh winter mountains of the north. There, you establish yourself as a respected elder and a wise sage, offering guidance and advice to those who seek it. Your legend grows throughout the land, not just for your prowess with the sword but also for your wisdom and selflessness.

One day, feeling the itch to create something new, you gather some metal scraps and other materials you've been collecting over the years and begin forging your very own sword. You pour all of your skill and experience into this blade, hoping that it will live up to the standards you set during your adventuring days.

After countless hours of work, you finally complete the sword. It is unlike any other you've ever seen or held before;

The blade glistens in the dim light of your mountain cave, its surface etched with intricate designs that seem to move and shift with the flicker of candlelight. As you hold it aloft, a shiver runs down your spine, not from cold but from anticipation.

But as impressive as your new sword is, something still feels missing. You decide to delve deeper into magic, seeking out an elusive ice mage who resides deep within the northernmost reaches of the continent.

It takes years of study and practice, but eventually, you become proficient in ice magic. The cold seeps into your bones, becoming a part of who you are. This newfound power only serves to enhance your swordplay, making you an even more formidable opponent on the battlefield.

You remain in your cozy cabin, content with your life as a master swordsman and ice mage.

20 years have passed since you decided to isolate yourself from the world in your cozy mountain cabin. During that time, many adventurers and explorers attempted to find your hidden sanctuary, drawn by tales of your legendary swordsmanship and ice magic. All of them failed, until one fateful day...

A lone figure appears at the edge of your clearing, a determined look etched onto their weary features. They wave a parchment in the air, announcing themselves as an emissary from the king himself.

You can't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as the figure approaches your door. The emissary knocks politely, their voice carrying through the thick wood.

"Yasuko, by order of King Aldric, I must deliver this message to you."

The emissary hands you a letter, their eyes meeting yours with sincerity and urgency. "Please, read it carefully. It's of utmost importance."

As you unfold the parchment, a message written in elegant script meets your gaze. A sense of shock overtakes you, as you learn of the great danger threatening your homeland.

The contents of the message send a chill down your spine, a mix of fear and determination rising within you.

"To Yasuko, esteemed warrior and sage,

This missive comes bearing grave news. An ancient evil has awoken in the depths of the Dark Forest, spreading its dark influence across the land. Our scouts report hordes of twisted creatures rampaging through villages and towns, leaving death and destruction in their wake.

We implore you, Yasuko, to return to us and lend your unparalleled skills to our cause.

"I understand," the emissary says with a nod. "We'll convey your message to His Majesty. And... thank you for offering your assistance."

With that, he turns back towards the path leading out of the clearing, taking care not to glance in your direction again. You notice that they're careful not to look directly at you or your cabin, almost as if they fear being drawn into something beyond their understanding.

The door creaks shut behind them, and you're left alone once more, pondering the weight of the kingdom's plea for help.

As you observe the world around you, you come to a startling realization. The creatures ravaging your homeland aren't just ordinary monsters; they're beings from another world entirely. They have used powerful magic to open gates between their planet and yours, allowing them to invade at will.

The situation is far more dire than you ever imagined.

You remain vigilant, monitoring the activity through your ice magic. Over the next few weeks, the frequency of gate openings increases dramatically, as more and more of the invading forces pour onto your world. It becomes clear that a full-scale invasion is imminent, and you must make a decision on whether to step forward and intervene... or continue watching from afar.

You gather your things and set out towards the east, towards the battlefront where the enemy forces are making their stand. Your sword, now restored and shining brighter than ever, feels comfortable in your hand once more. Alongside it, you wield your newly mastered ice magic, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As you approach the battlefield, you see the enemy forces arrayed before you - twisted, nightmarish creatures from beyond the stars. With a roar of defiance, you charge into the fray, your sword cleaving through the air with deadly precision. The monsters cower before your might, their armor no match for the razor-sharp edge of your blade. Ice and fire dance together as you weave a lethal spell, freezing the ground beneath their feet and incinerating them where they stand.

As you cut down wave after wave of monstrous invaders, word spreads of your arrival. The soldiers of the kingdom, emboldened by your presence, renew their efforts, joining you in driving back the alien horde. The tide of battle begins to turn in your favor, and soon enough, the enemy forces are in full retreat, fleeing through the gates they've opened between worlds.

You stand amidst the carnage, surveying the field of battle, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and dread.

"We owe you our lives," one of the knights says, approaching you cautiously. "Your skill and courage have saved us all."

As the survivors gather around you, you begin to share your knowledge, teaching them the Crescent Blade Dance - your own unique and lethal fighting style. They listen intently, soaking up every move and technique, eager to learn from the legendary warrior who has come to their aid.

As weeks turn into months, your new students grow proficient in the Crescent Blade Dance. They are now a formidable force on the eastern front, ready to face any threat that may come their way. You remain by their side, serving as an advisor and mentor, imparting your wisdom and experience whenever needed.

Word of your exploits has spread far and wide throughout the realm. Kings and queens from distant lands send emissaries, seeking your counsel on matters of war and diplomacy. You have truly become a symbol of hope for all who fight against the invading forces, and many believe that it is only through your guidance that they will survive this crisis.

You continue to watch over the kingdom, ready to step forward and defend it at a moment's notice. But even as you do so, you cannot help but feel a sense of dread growing within you.

One fateful day, word reaches you that the Second Prince has been found dead in his chambers, his throat slashed open. A witness swears to have seen you fleeing the scene, your sword still stained with royal blood. Panic spreads like wildfire throughout the kingdom as a hefty bounty is placed on your head.

Guilty until proven innocent, you become an outlaw, hunted by soldiers and mercenaries alike.

As an outcast, you must remain hidden from the eyes of your pursuers. You find sanctuary in a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom, living off the scraps and charity of its people. But this life of hiding and running soon grows tiresome, and you begin to hatch a plan for revenge against those who betrayed you.

Using your skills as both a swordsman and an ice mage, you steal through the night, striking at your enemies when they least expect it.

As you wander deeper into the world of crime, your reputation as a skilled mercenary continues to grow. You become known as "The Crescent Blade," a mysterious figure who appears in the darkest hour and vanishes without a trace. Your services are sought after by underworld kings and crime lords alike, each vying for your attention with promises of untold riches and power.

As you delve deeper into the criminal underworld, you discover that it's not all violence and treachery. There are codes of honor among some of the more respected figures, and a sense of community among those who have been cast aside by society. You find yourself drawn to this darker side of humanity, feeling more at home here than you ever did in the halls of nobility.

Years pass, and your legend only grows.

Driven by curiosity and a desire to expand your repertoire, you begin training with a scythe. The weapon feels strange in your hands at first, but as you practice, it begins to feel natural. Your movements become fluid and graceful, almost dance-like. Soon enough, you discover that you have an uncanny talent for wielding the grim reaper's blade.

As you wander through a desolate forest, the sound of rustling leaves guiding your steps, you stumble upon an ancient altar hidden beneath the canopy of trees. Covered in moss and lichen, it appears to have been forgotten by time itself. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you approach cautiously, senses on high alert.

As your fingers brush against the cold stone surface of the altar, a surge of power courses through you, both exhilarating and terrifying. Your eyes widen in shock as runes and symbols glow with an ethereal light, seemingly carved into the very fabric of reality itself. The pain is intense, almost unbearable, but you grit your teeth and push through it, unwilling to let this experience slip away.

As the pain subsides, you find yourself standing before a newly-formed portal, swirling with otherworldly energies. A disembodied voice echoes through your mind, its tone both majestic and eerie. It identifies itself as Death, one of the great cosmic entities that rule over existence itself.

It offers you a deal: in exchange for serving as its instrument on the mortal plane, it will grant you power beyond your wildest dreams. You have the choice to accept or refuse;

"Very well," Death says, its voice chilling even as it expresses satisfaction. "From this day forth, you shall be known as the servant of death. You will serve me loyally and faithfully, carrying out my bidding whenever I deem it necessary. In return, I shall grant you dominion over life and death, allowing you to shape the world according to your will."

A sense of power washes over you, filling every fiber of your being.

With this newfound power comes immense responsibility. As Death's chosen servant, you are tasked with maintaining balance between the living and the dead. You must use your abilities wisely, ensuring that life continues to thrive while also respecting the natural cycle of existence.

The weight of these obligations rests heavily upon your shoulders, but you accept them willingly, knowing that you have been chosen for this role for a reason.

"The servant of death," people whisper as you pass by, their gazes fixed on your unsettlingly blank eyes. Some are filled with awe and reverence, while others cower in fear and disgust. Rumors about your connection to Death spread like wildfire across the lands, becoming the stuff of legend.

Your newfound identity brings both respect and hostility, but you remain unwavering in your duty, using your powers only when necessary to maintain balance between life and death.

As time passes, you come to terms with your role as Death's chosen servant. You learn to control the power that flows through you, honing it into a weapon of unimaginable potency. Your skill with the scythe grows even further, becoming an extension of yourself.

Your reputation as an unstoppable force spreads across the realm, and kings and queens alike seek your counsel, fearful of provoking the wrath of Death itself.

"Ah, the legendary Hero," you murmur under your breath as you catch sight of him in a crowded marketplace. His muscular build and dashing good looks are impossible to miss, drawing attention wherever he goes. Despite yourself, you can't help but feel a stirring in your chest at the sight of him.

You watch from a distance as he charms the ladies with his witty banter and dazzles them with tales of his heroic exploits. It occurs to you that perhaps... just perhaps...

The Hero, it seems, has a bit of a reputation as a womanizer. He's been known to bed women from all walks of life, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. You can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him moving on so easily from one conquest to the next.

Perhaps it's time for you to make your presence known...

You approach the Hero, your steps purposeful and confident despite the butterflies in your stomach. As he turns his attention towards you, a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. You can see the challenge in his eyes, as if daring you to try and best him.

The tension between you is palpable, electric. You find yourself wondering what it would be like to have him under your control... or be under his control...

"You must be Death's servant," he says with a mocking laugh, gesturing towards your purple eyes. "I've heard the stories about you. They say you can grant any wish." His voice is low and seductive, his gaze boring into yours.

What do you say to him?

"Well, well," he says with a raised eyebrow, seemingly amused by your response. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it." He pauses for a moment, considering you carefully before leaning in closer. "What if I were to ask for something... different?"

His words send a shiver down your spine. You can see the desire lurking behind his eyes, the need to test the limits of your power. But what would happen if he were to get what he truly desired?

"I want you," he says boldly, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to know what it's like to have someone as powerful and deadly as you under my control." There is a hint of desperation in his words, as if this were something he's been craving for far too long.

The air between you crackles with tension, electricity sparking with every breath. You can feel the power flowing through your veins, urging you to take what he's offering... or turn him away.

"Boldness has served me well so far," he says with a cocky grin, "and it'll serve me even better if you let it." His hand reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "What do you say, Death's servant? Am I bold enough for you?"

The question hangs in the air, echoing through your mind as your heart races and your body responds to his touch. The power he possesses is undeniable... but so is yours.

"One day?" he calls after you, a note of confusion in his voice. "What do you mean by that?" But you ignore him, continuing on your way, the weight of your newfound desires pressing down upon you. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk away, but you don't look back.

You travel deep into the heart of demon territory, eager for bloodshed and mayhem. The landscape is stark and desolate, the air thick with the stench of brimstone and decay. Demons of all shapes and sizes prowl the land, their cruel laughter echoing through the darkness.

With a savage cry, you charge into the fray, your scythe swinging wildly as you slaughter demon after demon with ease. Their blood spatters your skin, mixing with the ash that falls from the sky like black snow.

You become a whirlwind of destruction, cutting down demon after demon without remorse or mercy. Your power grows stronger with every life you take, feeding off the chaos and suffering around you. The ground becomes saturated with blood, and the cries of pain and agony fill the air like a horrific symphony.

"Who is that?" you hear the Hero murmur, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. He watches you with fascination and a touch of fear in his eyes, noticing for the first time just how powerful and dangerous Death's servant truly is.

You pay no heed to the Hero's presence, your focus entirely on the carnage before you. The demon horde begins to thin out, their leaders falling one by one beneath your relentless assault. With a final, triumphant shout, you bring an end to the bloodshed, standing amidst a field of corpses and debris.

The Hero watches as you approach, his expression unreadable. You come to stand before him, breathing heavily from exertion and adrenaline. The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your actions and the power that flows through you palpable.

What do you say to him?

"W-well..." The Hero stammers, clearly taken aback by your boldness. His cheeks flush as you trace the line of his jaw with your fingertip, his gaze locked onto yours. "I... I was just here on a recon mission," he says lamely.

What do you say to him?

"Frightened?" The Hero's eyes widen in surprise, his lips parting slightly. "I-I don't know what you mean," he lies poorly.

What do you say to him?

As your tongue traces a line up his neck, the Hero shivers visibly beneath your touch. His breath hitches in his throat as you gently nip at his flesh, teeth grazing over the tender skin of his neck. He tries to resist but finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from yours, drawn in by the power and allure that surround you.

His struggles grow weaker with each passing moment, surrendering to the pleasure and pain that you inflict upon him.

With a swift motion, your scythe slices through the air, severing the Hero's head from his body in a spray of blood and gore. His lifeless form crumples to the ground, silent testimony to your absolute power and control over life and death.

The remaining demons in the area cower before you, their former ally destroyed by Death's servant. The wind carries the Hero's head a short distance away before dropping it unceremoniously to the earth.

You turn your back on the grisly scene, leaving the decapitated body of the Hero where it lies. Though his head rolls a short distance further before coming to rest, you pay it no mind as you continue on your way through demon territory. The power you wield is unmatched, and with each passing day, your reputation only grows stronger.

As word of the Hero's demise at your hands spreads across the lands, fear and awe follow in its wake. Some hail you as a savior, thankful for the blow dealt against their ancient enemy; others curse your name, terrified of what else you might destroy next.

Kings and queens alike begin to take notice of your actions, each eyeing you with suspicion and trepidation. They know that you are Death's servant, and that your power is beyond anything they have ever encountered.

Throughout the thousands of years that follow, you continue to serve Death loyally, your life a constant cycle of death and rebirth. You become a legend in your own right, known across the realms as the servant of death who brought down even the great Hero himself.

You make friends and enemies alike, losing some along the way while gaining others. But through it all, you remain true to your purpose, maintaining balance between life and death wherever you go. Ages pass, empires rise and fall, but your legend endures.

As you wander through a bustling city, the scent of adventure thick in the air, you spot an old acquaintance standing before the grand entrance to the largest adventurers' guild. It's your friend from long ago, now grown older and greyer, but still bearing the marks of his illustrious past. He once was the strongest, most skilled adventurer in all the lands; now he serves as the guild master, overseeing the next generation of heroes as they embark on their own journeys.

"Ah, Death's servant," your friend says with a chuckle, "you never change, do you?" His gaze softens as he looks at you, a mixture of fondness and regret in his eyes. "Times have been tough for me since I stepped down from the throne of adventuring. It's not easy watching the next generation surpass you."

What do you say to him?

"I suppose so," he replies, nodding solemnly. "But I can't help but feel a twinge of envy sometimes. To be able to continue on as Death's servant... to have that sort of power and purpose..." His voice trails off, lost in thought.

For a moment, the two of you stand there, remembering the old days, the countless adventures and battles you shared. Then, with a sigh, he looks back up at the guild hall, his expression resolute once more. "Ah well,"

"Come now, old friend," he says, clapping you on the shoulder. "No need to dwell on the past. There are still new adventures to be had, new challenges to overcome." He smiles knowingly. "And speaking of which, I hear Azor is looking for someone with your... unique perspective to give a guest lecture at the royal academy."

Your ears perk up at this news. You hadn't heard about this invitation before now. It seems your old friend has been trying to arrange something special for you.

"Of course I do!" he exclaims, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Who wouldn't want to hear what Death's servant has to say about life and death, hmm?" With that, the two of you share a hearty laugh, the years falling away like leaves in autumn as you reminisce about old times and look forward to new adventures together.

You set out with your friend, the two of you walking side by side through the bustling streets of the city. The sun is high in the sky, and the air is filled with laughter and the clashing of steel as adventurers young and old train and spar outside the guild hall. As you approach the grand entrance to the royal academy, your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead.

The great doors swing open before you, revealing a massive courtyard filled with students and faculty members alike. In the center of it all stands Azor, his regal bearing unchanged despite the years that have passed since last they met. As you approach him, he bows deeply in your direction, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"Death's servant," he says warmly, "it is an honor to have you here at our humble academy."

Azor chuckles heartily. "Indeed we are," he says, motioning for you and your friend to follow him inside the academy proper. As you walk through the halls, students crowd around you, eager to hear your stories of battles won and lost, of life and death itself.

As the day draws to a close, you find yourself standing before a packed auditorium, hundreds of young faces gazing up at you expectantly. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their collective attention bearing down upon you.