UNKILLABLE IN ISEKAI: Volume 2

I stood at the entrance of Kokoro Village, watching as villagers and passersby moved about their daily business. The atmosphere was peaceful, but my thoughts were far from it.

This isn’t what I expected…

I had hoped that rushing forward and selecting a random portal at the mystical junction would take me straight to Katsuragi, Victory Empire. Instead, I found myself in a village I knew nothing about, with no clue how to navigate my way back to where I was supposed to be.

This was not where I was supposed to be. Katsuragi, Victory Empire was my goal, but fate had other plans.

Frustration gnawed at me. How could I have been so reckless? I took a deep breath, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The scent of cherry blossoms mixed with the faint aroma of burning incense, giving the place a tranquil feel—completely at odds with the storm of thoughts in my head.

As I stood there, lost in thought, I hadn't even realized I had started muttering to myself, completely unaware of the bustling activity around me.

"Where is this place? And what is it called?" I murmured, my hand resting on my chin. "This is clearly a village. Anyone could see that… along with its traditional setting."

Suddenly, a voice behind me snapped me out of my thoughts.

"This is Kokoro—Heart Village," the voice said, carrying a soft but confident feminine tone.

I turned quickly, surprised by the sudden interruption. Standing before me was a young woman—stunning beyond words.

She had an elegant presence, her flowing robes resembling those of a high priestess, yet there was something effortless about her grace. In her hands, she carried a basket full of water—yet, oddly enough, not a single drop spilled.

I blinked. That’s impossible…

That has to be magic, I thought, realizing the impossibility of such a feat.

The woman offered a gentle smile. “Apologies if I startled you,” she said.

I quickly shook my head. “No problem at all.”

It was only then that I realized—I had been standing directly in her path.

"My bad. Sorry for blocking your way," I said, stepping aside.

But instead of walking past me, she stepped forward slightly, allowing me to take a good look at her.

And that’s when it truly hit me—just how breathtaking she was.

Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting against the intricate patterns of her robe. There was something otherworldly in her eyes, as if she had lived far longer than her youthful face suggested. Yet, despite this ethereal presence, there was a warmth in her gaze that made her seem approachable.

She must have noticed me taking in her appearance because she gave me a knowing smile.

"You’re an outsider," she said with certainty.

I wasn’t surprised by her observation. Even if not everyone could tell, my outfit alone made it obvious. I wasn’t exactly blending in.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess that much is clear."

But then she said something that truly caught me off guard.

"You have a powerful aura."

I raised an eyebrow. "A powerful aura?"

She nodded. “It surrounds you… but more than that, it is within you.”

Her words made me pause. She could sense my energy? That wasn’t something just anyone could do.

But before I could dwell on it, she smiled again.

“Forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself.”

I returned the smile, extending my hand. “I’m Joseph. Joseph Benjamin Carmen. But you can call me JBC for short.”

She accepted the handshake gracefully, her fingers cool and delicate against mine. “Nice to meet you, Joseph.”

“And you are?”

"Kokoro," she said simply.

I blinked, repeating her name. “Kokoro… Like the name of this village?”

She nodded, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

“That’s a lovely name.”

"Well, thank you, good sir Joseph," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Of course… If she shared the village’s name, it likely meant she was the daughter of the village chief—or someone of high standing. I had met many people before who bore the name of their homeland.

For a brief moment, silence settled between us after we parted from our warm handshake. But then, Kokoro broke the quiet with a gentle invitation.

"Would you like to come into the village?" she asked, her voice calm and welcoming.

I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” Given that I was a stranger with nowhere else to go, this was the best offer I could get.

Just as we were about to step through the entrance, I gestured toward the basket of water in her hands.

“Here, let me carry that for you.”

At first, she resisted, shaking her head with a small smile. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.”

But I insisted, and after a moment, she relented, handing me the basket. That was when I noticed something strange—it was completely weightless. 

I adjusted my grip slightly, expecting at least some resistance. Nothing. Not only that, but not a single drop moved, let alone spilled as I held it.

This is definitely magic… I thought, glancing at the perfectly still water.

Kokoro led the way through the village, and as we walked, I took in everything around me.

Traditional houses lined the stone-paved pathways, their intricate designs standing as a testament to the village’s deep history. The villagers moved about in flowing robes similar to Kokoro’s, their garments gently swaying in the cool mountain breeze. The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air, stronger than when I had first arrived, mingling with the faint aroma of burning incense.

I observed the people—how they greeted each other with kindness, how they spoke in soft tones, how reverence and warmth seemed woven into their daily interactions.

And then, there was Kokoro herself.

As we passed by, she greeted her neighbors with a soft nod or a warm smile, occasionally pausing to offer brief prayers or spiritual guidance to those who sought it. Watching her, I could tell—she wasn’t just respected. She was revered.

Finally, we arrived at her home—and it was unlike anything I had seen in the village so far.

The house stood grand and imposing, yet elegant in its design. The wooden pillars were adorned with intricate carvings, depicting symbols I couldn’t quite recognize. The roof curved upward at the edges, giving it a regal, almost temple-like appearance. There was no doubt about it—this was the largest residence in the entire village.

She’s definitely the daughter of whoever’s in charge, I thought, my suspicions all but confirmed. She has to be.

As if on cue, Kokoro gently turned to face me and pointed toward the far corner of the house.

“You can set the basket down over there.”

I nodded and did as she instructed, though my mind was still processing everything I had just witnessed.

Who exactly was Kokoro?

As Kokoro stepped inside, I waited briefly before she reemerged and invited me in.

The interior of her home was warm and inviting, richly decorated with fine furnishings and adorned with paintings of her ancestors. Each portrait hung with reverence, their gazes almost watchful as if guarding the home. As I glanced at each painting, taking in the detailed brushwork and the sense of history they carried, my attention lingered on one particular portrait.

Kokoro noticed and approached me with a smile.

"That was my great-great-grandfather," she said, pointing to the portrait I had been fixated on. "Possibly the fifth of my ancestors."

I studied the image—a noble-looking man with a strong yet wise expression. His robes bore intricate patterns, and his eyes, though painted, carried a presence that seemed to command respect.

"He contributed to this village in ways one could hardly imagine," she continued. "Just like every ancestor before him."

"Wow," I murmured in awe. "You must be proud of them."

She nodded slightly, her expression thoughtful.

Just as we stood there admiring the portraits, a soft clearing of a throat from behind caught our attention. We turned to see an elderly woman, a wooden staff in hand. Despite her age, she carried herself with a surprising agility and grace.

Kokoro smiled. "Grandma Haruko," she said warmly before turning to me. "This is my grandmother."

I immediately bowed slightly as a sign of respect. "It’s an honor," I said before rising. "You have a beautiful home."

Grandma Haruko smiled, her eyes filled with wisdom. She slowly took her seat, then gestured for me to sit as well. I obliged, just as Kokoro excused herself, leaving us some privacy.

With our attention now focused on each other, Grandma Haruko began speaking in a calm, measured tone, weaving a light history of Kokoro Village. She spoke of their trials and triumphs, the hardships that had once threatened to erase their way of life, and the resilience that had shaped them into the people they are today.

I listened intently, captivated by the story.

Soon, she shifted the conversation to Kokoro herself—her upbringing, the legacy she carried, and her sacred role in the village. Everything began to make sense. My earlier suspicions were correct.

Kokoro wasn’t just the daughter of the village leader—she was a high priestess, highly revered among her people.

Grandma Haruko then touched on their village’s hospitality, explaining that Kokoro Village welcomed travelers, adventurers, and wanderers, offering shelter and kindness to those in need.

"Speaking of which," she said, her wise eyes studying me, "Kokoro mentioned that you are either a traveler or an adventurer."

I took a deep breath and shared my story—my past journeys, adventures, and the experiences that had led me here. She listened intently, nodding thoughtfully, her intrigue evident in the way her gaze never wavered.

"You have faced much," she finally said, her voice filled with quiet admiration. "And you carry yourself well."

I gave a humble nod, appreciating her words.

Then, with a kind smile, she said, "You are welcome to stay as long as you please before continuing your journey."

Her generosity was more than I could have hoped for, and my gratitude was evident on my face. "Thank you. I truly appreciate this."

With that, I realized my path had taken a turn I never expected—but perhaps, this village held something I was meant to find.

Not long after our conversation ended, Kokoro reentered the room. She moved swiftly to Grandma Haruko’s side, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. I couldn't make out the words, but the shift in Grandma Haruko’s expression told me everything I needed to know—whatever it was, it was serious.

Her posture, once relaxed and welcoming, grew rigid. She rose from her seat with a surprising swiftness for someone her age.

"Please, feel at home," she said with a polite but distant tone. "I must attend to something."

Before I could respond, she and Kokoro were already heading for the door.

But something gnawed at me. The look on Grandma Haruko’s face—the tightness around her eyes, the way her lips pressed into a thin line—felt wrong. I told myself it might be some spiritual matter or a healing ritual, something that wouldn’t require my interference. But as the seconds stretched on, my unease deepened.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

Unable to sit still any longer, I stood up and headed for the door. The moment I stepped outside, a buzz of tension hit me like a wave. A crowd had gathered, murmuring among themselves, their faces etched with worry.

Then I heard it—a familiar voice addressing someone in the crowd. The tone was calm, even pleading, but it was met with another voice, one that was sharp, harsh, and dripping with arrogance.

I pushed through the crowd, my pulse quickening with each step. As I got closer, the scene became clearer. A group of warriors stood at the village's edge, some mounted on horses, others astride strange creatures with scales and tusks that gleamed under the sun. At their feet lay valuables—jewelry, tools, and heirlooms that clearly belonged to the villagers.

I frowned. Why were Kokoro’s people offering their treasures to these brutes?

One of the warriors, his voice booming over the murmurs of the crowd, barked, "Your village has yet to settle its debt! We protect your land, and this is how you repay us?"

My eyes snapped to Kokoro and Grandma Haruko, who stood at the forefront of the crowd. Kokoro’s face was calm, her voice steady as she addressed the leader of the warriors, a towering figure with scarred armor and a twisted sneer. But it was clear he wasn’t interested in diplomacy. His rage simmered, bubbling just beneath the surface.

I felt the heat rise in my chest. My fists clenched at my sides.

I stepped forward from the crowd, making my presence known. Kokoro’s eyes flicked to me briefly. There was a softness in her gaze, a silent plea to stay calm, but the other warriors barely acknowledged me. To them, I was irrelevant—just another face in the crowd.

But then, it happened.

Without warning, the warrior leader’s arm shot out. His backhand struck Grandma Haruko across the face with a sickening crack, sending her crashing to the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips as Kokoro rushed to catch her.

The world went silent.

My vision blurred, not from tears, but from the rage that surged through me like wildfire. I could hear the warriors laughing, their voices like nails on a chalkboard, as they hurled insults at not just Grandma Haruko but the entire village.

That was it.

I stepped forward, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. I approached Kokoro, helping her lift Grandma Haruko to her feet. As my hand brushed against Kokoro’s, I felt the tension in her body—the same fire that now burned within me.

But unlike me, she was still trying to keep it contained.

The warriors' laughter echoed around us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

They had no idea what was coming.

I memorized their faces—every single one.

I noted even the smallest details: their heights, the colors of their eyes, the way their hair fell over their brows or was slicked back with grime. I noted the markings—tattoos inked from shoulder to wrist, scars carved deep from battles past, and even the subtle birthmarks they couldn't hide. Their chins, some sharp and angular, others rounded with arrogance, were etched into my memory. I even noticed the texture of their hands, calloused from wielding weapons, and the physique beneath their armor—whether bulky or lean, every inch of them burned into my mind.

I was furious.

After helping Grandma Haruko back to her feet, I couldn't shake the fury bubbling beneath my skin. She had approached them with diplomacy, offering polite gestures, guidance, even the possibility of redemption through spiritual healing. But they had rejected it all. They craved violence.

These people have done nothing wrong, I thought, my mind racing as I stared them down. You’ve taken from them by force, and still, they showed no resistance. Isn’t that enough? But deep down, I knew the truth: for men like these, it would never be enough.

Finally, the warriors noticed me.

Their laughter died in their throats as their eyes met mine. They could see it—the rage burning in my gaze. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles went white, and my stare was locked on the leader—the one who had dared to slap Grandma Haruko.

I was seconds away from striking.

But then, I felt it—a warm touch against my clenched fist.

I glanced down to see Kokoro standing beside me, her eyes meeting mine with a calm warmth. She didn’t say a word, but the look she gave me was enough: Violence shouldn’t be met with more violence.

She had sensed it.

My aura was flaring, rage-fueled energy shifting between colors—a spectacle only Kokoro could perceive. To the villagers and the warriors, I was just standing there, but to Kokoro, I was a ticking bomb. Her touch grounded me.

Slowly, my fists loosened.

The warriors began loading the stolen valuables onto their beasts of burden—gnarled creatures with sharp horns and heavy feet. As they mounted their rides, the leader turned one last time. His eyes narrowed on Grandma Haruko.

"Who is he?" he barked, nodding toward me.

Grandma Haruko, her lip still bleeding, met his gaze without flinching. "A traveler," she replied evenly. "Seeking shelter before continuing his journey."

The leader scoffed, eyeing me suspiciously. His gaze lingered for a moment, as if sizing me up, then he spat at the ground.

"If you cause trouble," he snarled, "if you interfere when we come to collect again... we'll burn this village to the ground."

With that, they turned and rode off, their laughter fading into the distance.

The villagers let out a collective sigh of relief as the warriors disappeared from sight, but I stood still, my eyes following them until they were just specks on the horizon. My mind raced, already plotting ways to teach them a lesson—to show them what real power looked like.

But then Kokoro’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and steady.

"Come," she said gently, her hand still resting lightly on my arm. "Let’s go inside."

I took one last look at the road the warriors had disappeared down, my jaw tight, before turning to follow her back into the house.