The lone samurai sprinted through the forest, lungs burning and heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The night air stung his throat as he ran, his sandals kicking up dirt and roots, his armor clattering against his body. He did not look back—he dared not. The echoes of that battle still rang in his ears: the clash of a beast born of sin and the impossible sight of a towering armored giant.
"Faster," he muttered under his breath, forcing his weary legs to move. Ten miles separated him from the village. Ten miles that stretched like eternity.
At last, the faint outline of wooden palisades rose against the moonlight. Two armored sentries stood vigil at the gate, their hands resting lazily on their spear shafts—until they noticed the wild figure barreling toward them.
The samurai raised both arms and shouted, his voice raw with urgency. "Open! Open the gate, now!"
The guards exchanged a startled glance, then quickly stepped aside. Mechanisms creaked and groaned as the gate slid open, just wide enough for the man to squeeze through. He stumbled past, bowing his head in quick gratitude.
"Thank you, brothers!"
He wasted no time. His destination was clear—the chief's hall.
The Chief's Office
Bam!
The doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
The village chief—an obese man draped in silken robes—nearly choked on the rice cake he had been chewing. His pudgy fingers slapped the table as he shot up in outrage.
"What the devil—!? How dare you barge into my office without permission!" His jowls quivered as he scowled, cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment.
This was no warrior, no hardened veteran. The chief was a merchant dressed as nobility, a man who grew fat not on courage, but on profit. He had never once set foot on a battlefield, unless one counted bidding wars over silk and sake.
The samurai dropped to one knee, head bowed low. "Forgive me, milord. But this is urgent."
The chief huffed, lowering himself carefully back onto his cushion. He tapped the table with impatient fingers. "Very well. Speak."
The samurai steadied his breath. "My lord, I witnessed something beyond imagination. A beast of sin… battling a giant."
The chief's brows shot up, then furrowed again. He waved a dismissive hand. "Tch. You barge into my office for this? Giants are not uncommon. Beasts of sin, yes, dangerous—but hardly unheard of. You waste my precious time." He sipped calmly from his cup of green tea, as though the matter were no more than gossip.
The samurai shook his head. "No, chief. This was no ordinary beast. I recognized its aura—it was a beast of Envy. And the giant… his armor radiated the essence of beast lords. Forged from materials of the highest quality."
Pfft!
The chief spat tea across the table, coughing violently. His beady eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what?! Beast of Envy? Armor with the aura of the lords themselves? Why didn't you say so immediately, fool! This must be reported to the shogunate at once!"
"Yes, village chief!"
At once, the office exploded into motion. The chief clapped his hands, summoning servants who scurried about like ants. "My pen! My paper! Quickly!"
Within moments, elegant ink brushes and scrolls were placed before him with ceremonial precision. Despite his bulk and pampered lifestyle, the chief's hand moved with surprising speed. He scribbled down every word of the report, leaving not a single detail omitted. Sweat dotted his brow, but he finished in record time.
The completed report was wrapped in exquisite fabric embroidered with gold and silver thread, then handed to his assistant, Toga Kiryuu.
With a solemn nod, Toga summoned his phantom messenger bird. The ethereal creature—its feathers shimmering with otherworldly blue light—accepted the letter in its beak. With a flap of its ghostly wings, it vanished into the night sky.
The chief slumped back into his cushion, exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. His memory often betrayed him these days; had he waited even a moment longer, the details might have slipped away.
"You did well, my lord," Toga said respectfully.
The chief gave a tired nod. "Mm. Thank you."
At last, the hall grew quiet again.
Ymir's Journey
Far from the village, amidst broken trees and scorched earth, Ymir towered above the battlefield. The beast lay dead at his feet—its body already devoured, leaving not a single bone behind.
He patted his stomach, voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Ha… now that was a meal worth the trouble."
Two weeks had passed since his brutal clash with Hiroko. His wounds were healing, though his power still felt tethered, limited. For now, leisure was his ally.
Step by step, Ymir wandered through the wilderness. Forests parted beneath his stride; rivers trembled when he drank from them. Along the way, he encountered countless beasts: tiny critters that darted at his feet, wolf-sized predators that snarled before retreating, and even colossal creatures that could rival small mountains. Some were hostile, charging him with primal fury. Others were cautious, watching from the shadows.
Ymir treated them with a curious patience. Small and medium beasts sometimes clambered up his legs, perching on his shoulders as though he were a living mountain. He allowed it. For them, his presence was sanctuary. For him, it was a reminder of his place among creation—not ruler, but witness.
The larger beasts, however, trembled and scattered at the mere sight of him. Fear was natural, but Ymir did not let it inflate his pride. His training had carved humility deep into his bones.
Hours passed. When fatigue whispered, he lowered himself onto a hillside, folding his massive form into stillness. He closed his eyes, letting silence wash over him. No thoughts, no worries—just peace, a rare gift for one of his size and burden.
The Shogunate
Meanwhile, the phantom bird's journey reached its end. It descended gracefully upon a high window, dissolving into a swirl of azure dust as it delivered its burden.
Inside, Lord Kashigawa extended his hand, plucking the letter from the air. He unwrapped the fine fabric and read the message in silence.
Sightings of a beast of Envy. A giant clad in armor of lords. Location: near the border village, three hundred miles distant.
Kashigawa's expression darkened. His jaw clenched, his brow furrowed. A shadow of old resentment flickered in his eyes.
(So… that giant shows himself again.)
He crumpled the letter slightly in his fist. (That thing is drawing closer. If I allow this, my carefully woven plans will unravel.)
"Come out." His voice was a deep growl that rolled through the chamber.
Without hesitation, armored figures shimmered into view, appearing from the very air itself. Samurai clad in lacquered armor bowed low before him.
"Yes, Shogun!"
"Prepare for battle," Kashigawa commanded. His voice was iron, unyielding. "We hunt."
"As you command!" The samurai vanished once more, slipping into the unseen.
Kashigawa remained seated, his hand pressed to his chin, lost in storming thought. (So, you choose to walk into my territory, monster. Good. Saves me the trouble of seeking you out.)
Just then, a pair of slender, porcelain hands slid around his neck from behind. Fingers, smooth and white as moonlight, caressed his throat. A breath of warmth tickled his ear.
"My, my… what troubles you, dearest?" The voice was soft, lilting, and dangerous. A voice that could be both comfort and curse—sweet as honey, sharp as poison.
Kashigawa's eyes narrowed, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.