Six years had passed since the Yokai attack that nearly claimed Daglan's life, but it was far from the last. Graybarrow lived in a constant cycle of destruction and rebuilding, with major assaults occurring every few months. This latest period of relative calm had stretched to nearly fourteen weeks, leaving the townspeople both grateful and anxious, knowing another attack was inevitably approaching.
The town bore the scars of these frequent battles - hastily repaired walls, patchwork buildings, and the haunted eyes of its inhabitants. Yet, with each resurgence, Graybarrow demonstrated a resilience that bordered on the miraculous.
Koshu and the hunters had abandoned their weekly schedule. Now, they ventured beyond the walls daily, driven by the endless need for resources. Wood and stone were required to mend the physical damage from each attack, while food was crucial to sustain the populace through the grueling repairs.
In these harsh times, Daglan and Rozeree, now fourteen years old, had found their roles. Daglan had become an integral part of the smithy. His days were filled with the constant clangor of hammers and the searing heat of the forges, working tirelessly to repair weapons and tools damaged in each hunt. The once scrawny boy was now as strong as many adults, his young muscles developed by the relentless labor. Yet, beneath his growing strength, the scars on his back served as a permanent reminder of the cost of vulnerability.
Rozeree, much to her chagrin, was stationed atop the town's walls. She was forced to scan the horizon for hours before and during hunts, searching for threats and resources. She had developed an uncanny ability to sense approaching danger, often detecting Yokai long before they became visible.
While Daglan had found his place within this harsh reality, approaching his work in the smithy with determination, and finding purpose in his growing strength and skill. Rozeree felt increasingly trapped. Each day on the wall was a bitter reminder of her confined existence, her dreams of adventure and freedom seeming more distant with each passing hour. The respect she had earned from the adults felt hollow, a poor substitute for the future she longed for beyond Graybarrow's suffocating walls.
As another day dawned, Daglan and Rozeree prepared for their assigned duties with contrasting attitudes. The aroma of sizzling meat and eggs wafted through the cottage, a siren call that stirred Daglan from his slumber. He bounded out of bed, a whirlwind of energy despite the early hour. In stark contrast, Rozeree lay motionless, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes. The enticing smell of breakfast couldn't penetrate the fog of melancholy that shrouded her.
Daglan's voice rang out, echoing down the hallway. "Rise and shine, Rozeree! Silvas is cooking up a storm!"
A muffled groan was the only response from Rozeree's room.
In the kitchen, Daglan burst through the door, his gray eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Morning, Silvas! What's for breakfast?" He plopped into a chair, drumming his fingers on the table in eager anticipation.
Silvas quirked an eyebrow at Daglan's exuberance. "The usual," she said flatly. "Eggs, meat, and greens. Eat up and don't waste it."
"Sounds perfect!" Daglan exclaimed, already reaching for a plate.
The floorboards creaked, announcing Rozeree's arrival. She shuffled into the kitchen, her bright blue eyes dulled by dark circles. Her arm hung limply in a sling, a remnant of yesterday's grueling training session. Silvas's eyes narrowed, taking in the girl's sullen demeanor and injured arm. Her voice remained gruff, but there was an undercurrent of concern.
"Arm still bothering you? We'll work on your blocking later." Rozeree shrugged her good shoulder, slumping into a chair.
"Fine," she mumbled, barely audible. Daglan, mouth full of eggs, turned to his sister.
"Come on, Roz! It's a beautiful day. We could go exploring after our duties. Maybe we'll find some new Yokai tracks!"
Rozeree's eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and anger. "What's the point?" she snapped. "We're trapped in this miserable town anyway." Silvas slammed a plate down on the table, her bright blue eyes flashing.
"Enough," she growled. "You think wallowing in self-pity makes you strong? It doesn't." Silvas paused, picking at her fingernails - a nervous habit - before continuing in a slightly softer tone. "Life's hard. Deal with it. You want to leave? Get stronger. Until then, you pull your weight here like everyone else."
As the tension in the room grew, Koshu lumbered into the kitchen, yawning loudly. His massive frame dwarfing the doorway. His old white shirt strained against his broad chest, untucked over loose trousers, while worn socks sagged around his ankles. The burly man's bald head gleamed in the morning light as he yawned again, his thick black beard still unkempt from sleep. He ruffled Daglan's hair affectionately, then paused, sensing the tension in the room. His eyes darted between Rozeree's sullen form and Daglan's worried expression.
"I think I may have something to cheer you guys up," he said, reaching for the untouched salad bowl. "I've noticed you two gazing at the sky each night," Koshu began, his gravelly voice softening. "The walls can feel suffocating, can't they?" He paused, studying their eager faces. "Your training has shown remarkable progress. Silvas and I have seen your strength grow." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So, I've decided—"
The words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, "You'll both join us on our next hunt."
The room erupted. The children's shrill cries pierced the air as they pumped their fists in the sky. Their combined excitement created a whirlwind of motion and sound that filled the small cottage.
Silvas's sharp voice cut through the chaos. "Koshu, they're far too young for this." Her brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
Koshu raised a hand, silencing the children's celebration with a gesture.
"Yes, they are," he agreed, his tone suddenly serious. His gaze bore into Daglan and Rozeree, pinning them in place. "Which is why you'll both be on your absolute best behavior. You're there to observe and assist, nothing more. You'll carry gear and collect supplies we find. If there's any hint of danger and I give the order to run, you do so without hesitation or question. Don't try to be a hero. Is that clear?" The shift in his demeanor was palpable. Gone was the indulgent father, replaced by the stern hunter and protector of Graybarrow. Daglan and Rozeree straightened instinctively, feeling the weight of his words.
"Yes, sir," they chorused, their voices steady despite the excitement still visible in their eyes. Koshu nodded, satisfied.
"Now, Rozeree, since you were injured yesterday, Daglan will go first. You'll switch the following day." Daglan's chair clattered to the floor as he sprang up, forgotten in his enthusiasm.
"Really? When do we leave? What should I bring?" The words tumbled out in a rush, his eyes wide and shining with anticipation. His chest heaved with each breath, barely containing his excitement.
Rozeree's face fell for a moment before she masked her disappointment, her eyes darting between Koshu and Daglan. She forced a smile, determined not to let her envy show. Koshu's eyes crinkled with amusement at Daglan's eagerness, but his voice remained firm.
"We leave at first light. Pack light—water, some dried meat, and an extra knife. Remember, you're there to learn and assist, not to be a burden or hero."
As Daglan nodded vigorously, already mentally preparing for the adventure ahead, Silvas watched the scene unfold with a mixture of concern and resignation. Her gaze lingered on Rozeree, noting the girl's poorly concealed disappointment. The walls of Graybarrow suddenly felt more confining than ever, and Silvas couldn't shake the feeling that this hunt might change everything.
The sun-bleached stone of Graybarrow's scouting wall bit into Rozeree's elbows as she leaned over the edge, her keen blue eyes fixed on the bustling preparations below. A knot tightened in her stomach as she watched Daglan, all eager smiles and boundless energy, struggling to hoist a heap of quivers and axes onto his back. Beside him, Koshu's burly frame cast a protective shadow, his dark beard barely concealing a proud grin.
Dad's favorite, Rozeree thought bitterly, her fingers digging into the rough stone. What happened to our dreams? To becoming ascendants? The grand adventures they'd once imagined seemed to crumble like the wall beneath her hands.
A sudden touch on her back made her yelp, whirling to face her aunt's attempt at a reassuring smile.
"They'll be fine," Silvas said, her voice softer than usual. "Your chance will come. One day, you'll see the world, make a name for yourself."
Rozeree's eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, Silvas pressed a pair of battered binoculars into her hands. "Look," she urged. With a dramatic sigh, Rozeree complied.
Down below, Daglan's heart raced with excitement as he caught sight of his sister on the wall. The weight of the quivers and axes on his back seemed to vanish as he waved enthusiastically, his scraggly gray hair catching the morning light.
"Look, Koshu! She sees us!" Daglan exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. The thrill of the upcoming hunt coursed through his veins, making him oblivious to the burden he carried.
Koshu's deep chuckle rumbled beside him. "I see her, Daglan," he said, his armor clinking as he waved beside the boy. "But we need to get going."
Daglan nodded, his grin widening. As they turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the wall, catching a glimpse of Rozeree lowering her binoculars. A twinge of guilt pierced his excitement—he wished she could come too. But the call of adventure was too strong, and soon his mind was filled with visions of the journey ahead.
Rozeree leaned over the town wall, her bright blue eyes fixated on Daglan as he awkwardly adjusted the gear on his back. Below her, the hunters gathered at the gate, their armor glinting faintly in the early morning light.
Daglan spotted her and waved eagerly, his gray hair catching the sunlight. Rozeree hesitated, torn between waving back and glaring. Finally, she crossed her arms and looked away, pretending not to care.
Silvas stepped up beside her, the older woman's sharp gaze scanning the forest line. "He'll be fine, Rozeree," she said, her voice brusque but softer than usual.
Rozeree didn't respond, her lips tightening.
"You know, Koshu's proud of you both," Silvas continued, her tone faltering. "He... he just doesn't always say it right."
Rozeree huffed. "Proud of Daglan, you mean." Her words were sharp, but her voice cracked. "He gets to go outside the walls. What about me?"
Silvas sighed, brushing her dark hair behind her ear. "It's not like that. We—" She cut herself off and placed a firm hand on Rozeree's shoulder. "We're doing the best we can."
Rozeree shrugged her off, glaring at the horizon. "Your best doesn't count for much."
The ancient hinges groaned in protest as the massive gate doors slowly parted, unveiling a world Daglan had only dreamed of. His gray eyes widened, drinking in every detail of the vast expanse before him. The sparse, stubby grass that carpeted Graybarrow's grounds stretched out beyond the walls, a familiar sight that gradually gave way to the unknown. But it was the left horizon that stole Daglan's breath away.
There, piercing the sky like nature's own fortress, loomed Hel's Peaks. The mountain range erupted from the earth, each craggy summit outdoing the last in its race to touch the heavens. Daglan's heart quickened, his imagination soaring higher than the peaks themselves.
Daglan's gaze shifted to the right, where their true destination lay. The sparse, weed-dotted grassland gave way abruptly to an explosion of life – Xaros Forest. His eyes widened, drinking in the sight of vegetation unlike any he'd ever imagined. It was as if the forest had greedily pulled all life from the surrounding area into itself, creating a stark divide between barren land and lush abundance. Towering trees formed the forest's core, but around them thrived a chaotic tangle of bushes, vines, and tall grasses. This verdant wall rose so high and grew so dense it cast an otherworldly shadow over everything in its vicinity, making it impossible to discern what lay beyond its green veil.
"Keep up, Daglan." Koshu's voice cut through the air, sharper than any blade. The boy's head snapped up, startled by the unfamiliar tone. It was harsher, more commanding than even Silvas at her most demanding. "I told you not to be a burden."
The words struck Daglan like a physical blow, propelling him forward until he fell in line with the rest of the group. As they neared the forest's edge, the temperature plummeted. Daglan's breath materialized before him in wispy clouds, despite the mild spring day. A chill wind whispered through the dense foliage, carrying with it sounds that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was as if the forest itself was alive, murmuring secrets of ages long past.
Shivers raced down Daglan's spine, but the fear only fueled his excitement. Every sense was heightened, his body thrumming with the anticipation of finally putting his training to use. Just as he felt he might burst from the tension, Koshu called for a halt.
The burly man crouched down, bringing himself to Daglan's eye level. He pointed towards a small stream that cut through the landscape ahead. "Do you see those plants by the water?"
Daglan squinted, focusing on a cluster of tall, crimson bushes that lined the stream's banks. Nestled among the deep red leaves, golden flowers bloomed, their vibrant petals a stark contrast to their surroundings.
"The flowers are extremely toxic," Koshu explained, his voice low and serious. "They're great deterrents for small yokai. The leaves, though – they have antiseptic properties."
Daglan's brow furrowed. "What's 'antespic'?" he asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
A ghost of a smile flickered across Koshu's face. "Antiseptic," he corrected gently. "It means it can help stop infections and things like that."
As they approached the stream, the hunters moved with practiced caution. With deft, precise movements, they began snipping the golden blooms, allowing them to fall into small cloth bags. Once full, they tied the bags securely and passed them to Daglan, who carefully stowed them in his pack.
"Be careful with those," Koshu warned, his eyes never leaving the task at hand. "Don't let them touch you, or you'll get a rash that'll make Silvas's training feel like a picnic."
Daglan nodded solemnly, his hands steady as he handled the precious, dangerous cargo. In no time the hunters had cut down and bagged a large portion of the plants before Koshu made the signal to keep moving. They still needed meat and wood.
Atop the wall, Silvas stood beside Rozeree, both scanning the dense canopy of Xaros Forest. The treetops interwoven tightly, a living tapestry concealing untold dangers.
"Been a while since you've been apart from Daglan this long," Silvas ventured, breaking the tense silence.
Rozeree's reply came flat, distracted. "All the other kids think our family is scary."
Silvas tried again, her tone lightening. "So, how's it feel? Weird?"
"No. I don't care," Rozeree sighed.
"What's going on with you guys? You've been arguing with him a lot lately."
"Nothing."
"You guys compliment each other well. You'll go far together, and you can learn a lot from each other."
"I don't care. He doesn't want to be an ascendant anymore anyways." She growled, her voice rising slightly.
Suddenly, Rozeree stiffened, her eyes widening. A familiar, inexplicable sensation washed over her – a premonition of danger she couldn't quite explain.
"Calm down. He still wants to travel with you…" Silvas continued, oblivious to Rozeree's shift in demeanor.
Without a word, Rozeree lunged for the signal fireworks. Her small hands moved with surprising speed and certainty.
"Rozeree, wait what—" Silvas started, before the firework screamed skyward. Exploding with a thunderous boom that shattered the forest's eerie quiet. The sound reverberated through the trees, a piercing intrusion that cut through the cacophony of rustling leaves and creaking branches.
Miles away, the explosion rang in the ears of the hunters, but the danger had already found them. The band of hunters surrounded Daglan, swords and guns at the ready. Koshu at the head, his focus ahead of him.
Daglan furrowed his brow in confusion. He had been ready to see disgusting abominations or huge vicious beast. But standing before him was a man with dark skin and multi colored eyes. One a deep, foreboding red, the other a calm, tranquil blue. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back, exuding an air of casual sophistication that seemed jarringly out of place amongst the nature around them. The boy's eyes darted between the stranger and the grim-faced hunters, trying to understand their extreme reaction.
"We have a child," Koshu's voice broke the silence, a plea soaked in grief and barely contained anger. "Don't do this."
Daglan leaned towards the nearest hunter, his whisper barely audible. "Do you guys know him?" In a heartbeat, the stranger moved – a blur too fast for Daglan's eyes. The boy's breath caught as a pistol materialized against Koshu's chin. Yet his father stood unflinching, massive fist pressing against the man's chest, just above his heart.
Time seemed to freeze. Daglan's pulse pounded in his ears.
"You of all people know why I'm doing this. I know you well enough to know you figured it out by now." The stranger's words dripped sorrow, but his eyes blazed with hatred so intense Daglan felt scorched by its heat.
Koshu's sigh seemed to carry the weight of mountains. "I do. But that doesn't make it right."
"It's the only way."
"Not my way." Steel resolve rang in every syllable.
"They can run."
"That's all I want."
The forest trembled, awaiting the impending storm. Koshu's gaze found Daglan, a lifetime of love and regret reflected in that single look.
"I love you," Koshu said, his voice soft but firm. "Tell Rozeree I love her." His eyes hardened with determination. "Please protect her, stay strong, both of you. The path ahead…" before he could finish there was a blur of motion and the battle had begun.
The world exploded into chaos. In a heartbeat, hunters snatched Daglan off his feet, their retreat a blur of motion. But even as they fled, the boy's eyes remained locked on the battlefield behind them.
The forest screamed. Trees shattered like glass, entire groves swept aside by the sheer force of Koshu's blows. His father's skin blazed a deep, terrifying red, each punch leaving craters in the earth. Yet the mysterious man danced through the destruction, his movements liquid grace, always a hair's breadth from annihilation.
Koshu's final words echoed in Daglan's mind: "Don't try to be a hero."
But heroism burned in the boy's veins. "Stop!" he screamed, thrashing against his captor's iron grip. "We can't leave him! What are you doing?!" Rage and terror warred within him, a maelstrom of emotion that threatened to tear him apart.
Through eyes blurred by tears and motion, Daglan struggled to track the fight. Both combatants moved with inhuman speed, their forms blending into streaks of color. Yet even to his untrained eye, there was a familiar fluidity to their movements. Lechi. They were both using Lechi martial arts.
And Koshu was losing.
A trail of crimson spattered the ruined landscape, marking his father's desperate dance. Daglan's heart clenched. He might not match their speed, but the blood told a tale he couldn't ignore.
Then, in a moment of horrifying clarity, time seemed to slow. The mysterious man scooped up a fallen branch, his movement a liquid blur, the wood shifting with a metallic sheen. Koshu's fist cratered the earth where his opponent had stood a split-second before. And then—
The steely branch plunged into Koshu's stomach.
"KOSHU!" Daglan's scream tore through the air, raw and primal. Adrenaline surged. His elbow snapped back, connecting with his carrier's spine. The hunter yelped, his grip loosening just enough. Daglan twisted free, feet hitting the ground running.
The battlefield stretched before him, a scene of impossible devastation. Koshu knelt, blood cascading from his mouth and impaled stomach. Bullet wounds peppered his massive frame. Opposite him, the mysterious man wavered on his feet, chest heaving. Blood matted his hair, sealing one eye shut. His once-immaculate suit hung in tatters, and his stabbing arm dangled uselessly, a mess of shattered bone and torn flesh.
The sight ignited something in Daglan. Hatred, pure and molten, flooded his veins. He launched himself forward, eyes locked on those mismatched irises, every fiber of his being screaming for vengeance.
"DAGLAN, GET OUT OF HERE NOW!"
Koshu's roar shook the world. The ground trembled, trees swayed, and Daglan felt the command reverberate through his very bones. But still, he ran, driven by a force he couldn't name, towards a fight he couldn't possibly win.
Pain exploded through Daglan's skull as something hard cracked against his head. The world spun, a dizzying whirl of stars and shadows. His legs buckled, and he hit the forest floor hard.
Rough hands seized him, hauling his limp body upward. The forest blurred as someone ran, Daglan slung over their shoulder. He fought to stay conscious, his head lolling with each jolting step.
As darkness crept in, Daglan's fading vision caught one last glimpse: two battered figures—one massive and crimson-skinned, the other lean and tattered—squaring off for another devastating clash.
Miles away, the forest trembled.
"I AM KOSHU! THE WORLD BREAKER!"
The roar shook the very foundations of Graybarrow's walls. Rozeree's heart leapt into her throat as she fought against Silvas's iron grip.
"Let me go!" she screamed, tears of anger and desperation streaking her face. "He's in trouble! Why aren't you helping him?"
Silvas remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the sea of treetops below. Her face was a mask of stone, betraying nothing. Yokai burst from the canopy in panicked flight, a storm of wings and terrified shrieks.
Suddenly, Silvas's gaze snapped to Rozeree, boring into her with an intensity that stole the girl's breath. In one fluid motion, Silvas yanked her close, enveloping her in a bone-crushing embrace. The abrupt shift from restraint to comfort left Rozeree reeling.
"Uhh... Aunt Silvas?" Rozeree mumbled, confusion replacing her fury.
Silvas's voice was barely a whisper, heavy with an emotion Rozeree couldn't name. "It's over, Rozeree. Let's go help the hunters back in."