[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
[Virelheim Mountain Village]
Over eighty soldiers… and two Nil.
That was the count he'd tallied in his head.
The number itself didn't bother Mikoto as much as the two Nil part. That was the puzzle. How exactly would he deal with them, should it come to that? He caught himself wondering why he was even thinking that far ahead — why he was caring at all. By all rights, the 'phase' should've scraped away the last flecks of sentiment from him, leaving him cold and stripped of those softer instincts.
Apparently, he still had a few shreds left to spare.
("Suppose that's… a good thing?) he thought, leaning his weight lazily against the nearest support beam. ("I don't feel half as antagonistic as I did during the festival…")
It wasn't exactly a comforting revelation — but it was a distraction. And distractions were worth their weight in gold right now.
Gretel had stepped inside the longhouse to speak with Gerard a while ago, leaving him alone with the Oni.
"Is something the matter, Yuki?" Shuten-dōji's voice broke the silence. The casual calling made him blink once.
"…Yuki?" His eyes narrowed. "That's not my name. It's Mikoto, you buffoon." The correction came sharp and without the faintest hint of apology.
She didn't so much as flinch at his tone. In fact, she smiled.
"It's a cute nickname, no? Derivative of your family name, Yukio." Her tone made it clear it wasn't a guess.
He gave her a long look — more deadpan than irritated. "Figured as much."
"Tis only fair," she added lightly, "since you shall insist on calling me Shuten."
"That's different," Mikoto shot back almost instantly, rolling his shoulders as though brushing off the entire exchange. "Whatever." His red eyes shifted toward her fully now. "You said you were strong, yeah?"
"Indeed." Shuten-dōji inclined her head slightly, the movement not boastful. "I am one of great strength — though I am not one for empty boasting."
"You're not a Nil like Gretel," Mikoto said, his voice sharpening slightly. "So what makes you strong?"
"My sorceries," she replied without hesitation, "though I am equally adept with the blade." A faint, glint touched her eyes. "At present, however, I travel as a Shaman. We use spirit energy to weave our sorcery, or to call upon our charms."
("This world… seems broader than I gave it credit for.") His gaze lingered on her, weighing the way she held herself. He could feel it — even without proof — she was formidable. Still, he wasn't sure how her brand of fighting translated here. Shaman, in his understanding, meant one thing. But in this reality? The rules could be entirely different.
"You seem… unconvinced," she noted, smiling again, almost amused. "Shall we test each other, then? A small bout. We can examine each other thoroughly." The way she phrased it made him narrow his eyes.
Before he could respond, the longhouse door swung open.
"A duel would be exciting," came Gretel's voice — carrying that mix of curiosity and amusement she seemed to enjoy. She stepped out into the clearing, the talk with Gerard evidently short.
In her hands was a small rectangular black box. Mikoto recognized it instantly. It was the same object she'd stolen when they first met.
Shuten-dōji's grin sharpened as she glanced at him. "Then we are of the same mind? My instincts tell me you are… formidable. And I would see if they are still properly honed."
He didn't answer immediately. Truth be told, he didn't trust Shuten-dōji in the slightest. But a duel could strip away some of the unknown — let him glimpse her capabilities. And he was adaptable enough to keep most of his own cards hidden.
Low risk. Potentially high reward.
"…Sure. I'll see if you're worth the trouble."
Shuten-dōji's grin widened. Gretel, still holding the box, tilted her head.
"I'd like to see it too," she said, smiling faintly. "You both seem… dangerous in different ways."
Mikoto's eyes slid down to the box in her grasp. "That's what they're after, right?"
Her smile dimmed slightly. "Yeah. If the worst comes, maybe… we can bargain with it. Sue for peace." She exhaled through her nose, a sigh that seemed to carry more than she'd say aloud. Opening the box, she revealed a red-gemmed necklace. "Though… maybe that's just me being too optimistic. All this — for a necklace."
The gem caught the light, a subtle glimmer. Both Mikoto's and Shuten-dōji's eyes narrowed at the sight.
"That's a magical artifact," Mikoto said quietly. ("Strange. I couldn't sense the mana when we first met. Was the box suppressing it?") He reached toward it, watching as some of his own mana trickled into the gem, Shuten-dōji mimicked him. "It's absorbing ambient mana… the box must've sealed that effect."
"Mana?" Gretel asked, brow knitting. "You mean… what Wizards use?"
"My spiritual energy is being taken as well," Shuten-dōji added, withdrawing her hand. "A fascinating trinket indeed."
("So… not just mana.") Mikoto's eyes stayed on the gem. "Couldn't you sense anything the first time you saw it?" he asked Gretel.
"No. Should I have?"
"You're a Nil," he said flatly. "You've got more mana than most — same's true for kids, too. You should be naturally perceptive to it. Probably how that pale woman almost saw through my disguise."
"I see…" Gretel murmured. "Maybe it's because I haven't really… developed as a Nil yet." Closing the box with a small click, she glanced between them. "Either way, at least we know now this necklace isn't just decoration." Then a faint, fox-like smile returned to her lips. "Now, back to your bout. There's a plain nearby that's perfect for it."
Mikoto gave a small nod. "Then let's not waste time."
--------------------
[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
Blue eyes narrowed, fixed far into the horizon. They cut through the drifting mountain mist to where the silhouette of a sprawling settlement clung to the cliffside—its homes and walkways carved directly into stone, with layered platforms and narrow bridges connecting them. Even from this distance, the village seemed still.
The woman known as Snow, eighth seat of the Retorta Guild, made a quiet, dismissive sound in the back of her throat—a low grunt more of annoyance than effort. Perched with perfect balance on the knife-thin tip of a pine swaying in the wind, she stared with a cold, unblinking disdain.
"I suppose," she murmured, her tone carrying that cutting mixture of contempt and amusement, "some vermin would still feel at home here… hm." Her lips twitched upward in a humorless scoff. She didn't wait to savor the view.
Snow stepped off her precarious perch without hesitation. She let the pull of gravity take her, arms loose at her sides. The fall was long enough that a lesser fighter might have tensed. Snow didn't so much as blink.
She touched down on the barren, cracked earth below without the faintest thud—weightless, not a single grain of dust stirred.
Six Heart Kingdom soldiers stood nearby, all black armor and red emblems, posted as sentries. She hadn't announced her descent, yet every one of them felt it—turning sharply, bodies stiffening, hands brushing closer to their weapons on instinct.
That was the reaction she expected. The natural reaction of those who understood, even subconsciously, the vast difference in standing between themselves and her. She had seen it a hundred times.
And yet her mind tugged back to an image from earlier at the encampment. A woman among the soldiers, raven hair spilling over black armor, lilac eyes unflinching as they met hers. That woman had looked at Snow not as prey staring at a predator—but as if she were simply measuring her.
("She also seemed familiar…") Snow's brow tightened. The feeling had been faint at the time, a half-formed itch at the back of her thoughts. Not recognition in her face or voice, but something else. As if some long-forgotten meeting had left an imprint beneath her skin. She shook it away with a faint exhale. ("Now is not the time for vague feelings.")
Her eyes swept over the soldiers now. "Report. Were our targets in the village? And the artifact—has it been sighted? How many able bodies?"
A soldier stepped forward, straight-backed but clearly holding his breath. "A-ah, yes, ma'am. We managed to send in only one of our own to scout, through a breach in their outer wall. No direct confirmation of either primary target, but…" He swallowed. "Word in the village speaks of a girl—snow-white hair, ruby-red eyes. We… haven't located the artifact yet. And only twenty or so fighters, ma'am."
Snow's gaze lingered a moment, as if weighing whether his answer was worth her time. Then she gave a low grunt. "Good enough. We'll interrogate the girl. That should get us what we need on the other target—and the artifact. Was that all?"
The soldier hesitated. "No, ma'am. There's… a third element."
One of Snow's brows rose in silent instruction to continue.
"We observed a horned woman entering the village," he said. "She… appeared to notice our presence. But she didn't act."
Snow tilted her head, expression sharpening in mild impatience. "And the relevance of this…?"
Another soldier, armored plates rattling faintly as he shifted, took an uneasy half-step forward. "I—if I may, ma'am…" His voice trembled. "That woman was… Shuten-dōji." The name seemed to weigh on him, his eyes dropping to the lifeless ground at his feet.
Snow gave the faintest nod for him to continue.
"I was with the Twenty-Seventh Legion," he said quietly. "We were tasked with claiming the Eastern territories in the Heart Kingdom's name. Our main push was a mountain—inhabited by… strange creatures. The locals called them Yokai."
"Get to the point," Snow said impatiently.
"Y-yes, forgive me," he stammered. "We committed more than half the legion's strength to subjugating that mountain. We failed. The Yokai's abilities played their part… but more than that—it was her." His voice dipped. "One woman. She tore through our forces alone."
The memory hit him unbidden—horns catching the light, her towering form standing amidst the carnage. Thousands of bodies—his comrades—strewn across the slopes. And in her hands, a blade absurdly long, the steel dripping with fresh blood. He felt his stomach turn. "Even our advanced golems didn't last minutes. She even fought our Royal Guard to a standstill."
Snow regarded him silently for a moment. She could dismiss it as the exaggerated terror of a soldier still haunted by his first real defeat. But there was no mistaking the tremor in his words, the raw truth beneath them.
She turned her gaze back to the mountain in the distance, a faint, humorless hum in her throat. ("At least the slaughter shall not be boring. But I wonder what you're still doing here, hunter?")