Giants?
There were actually monsters from myth like this on Sicily.
Damian arched a brow.
On second thought, not so strange. In this world, gods walked the earth and the strong were everywhere, with god-wars that could last millennia at the drop of a hat.
This was a high-martial mythic world. Odd mythic creatures showing up was no surprise.
The giant before them looked like a modded Yao Ming—lengthened, thickened, fattened—and face-melted with acid.
Ugly didn't begin to cover it!
On that hideous slab of a face was only one scarlet eye, radiating an evil gleam and aura.
And yes, the pressure he exuded was intense.
The Saints couldn't help but brace fully.
Misty waved a cautioning hand.
Moses clenched his fists, a razor edge of killing intent flashing in his eyes.
Tumors covered the giant's body as he slowly opened his maw. An eerie pulse rose from his throat.
"Not good!"
Damian had a hunch and snapped his telekinesis on, yanking tight on the giant's throat. The unseen force clamped it shut.
"Eagle Claw Flash!"
Marin sensed it too and launched a flying kick—an eagle in the sky, lightning-swift—slamming the giant's throat and shutting him up.
The result: his whole bulk of fat quivered, his body swayed, and cracks scored his throat.
What a tough monster!
The Silver Saints traded glances, horror in their eyes.
Any Silver Saint's finisher could smash the hardest stone.
This giant had only a slight wound on his chest.
He hurled a punch that punched a deep pit into the ground. Luckily, Marin flickered aside before the earth and rock blew.
"Careful—this giant is no simple thing."
Seiya was taut with nerves, fully on guard.
"Seiya, are you scared?"
Moses snorted and stepped forward. "Scared of what? Even if it's a trap, we'll charge through."
"My turn! Soul Bomb!"
Moses barked low. His Cosmo surged wild; great force flooded his hand; and his fist whipped up a gale of gang force.
A powerful blast rose under the giant like a storm tide, like a volcanic eruption, flipping that mountain of flesh to the ground, bloody cracks opening everywhere.
"Let me! Cloudstone Tornado!"
Misty swept a hand, and invisible wind blades spiraled out like a tornado.
The giant had barely gotten up before a cyclone of blades tore into him, etching bloody lines as flesh flew.
"Pegasus Meteor Fist!"
Seiya on that side leapt in, flinging hundreds of blows in a blink—each one drilling straight into the wounds.
Under the flurry, the seemingly invincible giant could no longer bear it and loosed an inhuman shriek.
It must have hurt!
Even so, he wasn't defeated—just looked miserably battered.
Misty flicked his hair with flourish, a wind-scar slanting across his palm. He glanced at Damian with a cocky, dazzling smile.
Why did this effeminate guy look like he was flirting with me?
Goosebumps prickled over Damian.
Misty was strikingly pretty—claimed to be the most beautiful among Saints—and now, with that manner, felt a bit camp.
Compared to Aphrodite, his beauty fell short, and he had more of that sissy air.
Saints weren't ordinary men. In attack and defense they were fearsome—cutting down a pack of freaks like chopping meat and bone was no trouble.
Even facing mythic monsters like giants.
"Giants? Strong, sure—but only so much."
"Your turn, Marin."
Misty's face brimmed with disdain.
"We stick to the plan—rendezvous at the nearest town in three teams. One team escorts the attendants to the nearest town, one searches for Shaina and the other Silver Saints, and I'll go alone."
With orders given, Marin focused on the foe.
The others didn't worry about her and split up as planned.
Seiya clenched his fists, fighting spirit hot with Cosmo, wanting to fight beside Marin, but he was still held back.
Right—Marin alone could handle this.
Damian withdrew with Seiya; both joined the team searching for Shaina.
Night fell; darkness draped the land.
The woods reeked of blood and rot, steeped in endless slaughter. Green eyes glimmered, and strange roars sliced through the gloom.
Danger all around, crisis at every step.
The Saints didn't dare get careless. Even in Cloth, facing such legendary creatures, they stayed sharp.
"Fss-pop!"
They hadn't gone far when a flare blossomed in the sky.
A call for help.
Another team was signaling—likely ambushed.
Damian tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
The five exchanged a look.
Seiya turned. "Shall we move to support?"
"Mm."
Moses stepped forward.
Misty nodded; another Silver Saint had no objection either.
The four were about to move.
"Everyone, I'm not a Saint and I don't have a Cloth. I won't add much in a fight. I'm afraid I'll hold you back. I'll head to the town and wait for you there."
Damian's face didn't so much as twitch.
He just wanted to fly solo.
Truth was, he found these Silver Saints too much in the way.
Seiya said, "You must be joking. Marin says you're stronger than Saints in Cloth."
Damian said solemnly, "My relationship with Marin isn't what you think."
They all traded looks—and rolled their eyes.
Everyone had heard the bathroom noises.
Not close?
What counts as close—inviting us to your wedding?
Seeing their faces, Damian knew what kind of dirty thoughts filled their heads.
He couldn't be bothered to explain.
Moses snorted. "You're overestimating yourself. It's safer to stay with us—or you'll die ugly."
Misty nodded arrogantly. "As a gravekeeper, you'd best stick with us—or there'll be no body left. If danger—"
Before he finished, Damian was already striding toward the northern town—feet light—vanishing from sight in a blur.
"Definitely got a screw loose. In a place this dangerous, he chooses to go alone? Suicidal?"
Seiya murmured in surprise, "Why would Marin fancy someone like that?"
These monsters weren't much threat to Saints in Cloth—but for someone without a Cloth, who knew.
Damian wandering off alone was basically courting death.
Moses and the others curled lips. They'd heard the gravekeeper was nuts—seemed he really was one of a kind.
"Doesn't matter. It's urgent now. If he insists on his own way, let him. We split per plan!"
Misty glanced at Damian's vanished direction, a contemptuous smile at the corner of his mouth.
Better if that sort dies.
No doubt His Holiness would be pleased…