When the water began to rumble, Kilgore knew the giant was close. 

He'd been hunting for The Chained Giant for the past few days, sifting through the Jungles of Rical to find him. But, Bullforger was a tricky bastard: despite being chained, his position always shifted in the green gloom. 

Eventually however, if one kept their nose to the wind and relentlessly pursued the giant, they'd find him. Of course, no one was insane enough to do that. 

No one except Kilgore. 

He raised his simple arms sword up and cut through a swath of green vines and foliage, making his way towards the sounds of rumbling fury. His bleary red eyes and slower movements spoke of days gone past without rest, without sleep. 

The mark on his neck didn't help. 

Yet he kept at it, swinging and marching through the greenery and brush, avoiding panthers and Killer Ents. Eventually, he came to a cliffside. 

Looking down, he witnessed the giant in its full glory. 

It stood sentinel under a waterfall, white eyes roving the clearing ahead of it. The crystal clear blue water fizzed white with motion as it cascaded alongside his back. 

His arms were outstretched — hands cuffed by chains which were strung around two pillar-like rocks, giant and overbearing. 

"Hello friend," Kilgore whispered to himself. "I've come to ease your suffering." 

Bullforger didn't hear him, evidently. Instead, the giant issued another one of its famous roars — roars that shook the jungle, making colorful parakeets take flight and scaring off the slick black panthers. 

Kilgore took a seat at the cliff's edge and watched the giant for a bit. He had to study his foe of course — it was a habit at this point. 

Bullforger had two horns protruding from his dark-furred head and three more horns along the sides of his arms. In olden days, the giant would storm about and use those horns to strike Mountains. 

Of course, that was before the Mountains settled and slumbered into stone for an age to come. 

Apparently, Bullforger also used to wield a great hammer of sorts. One that he would use to forge weapons for his brethren. Yet now the great forger of weapons and armor was imprisoned: made to suffer the whims of a teleporting waterfall that assaulted him endlessly. 

Kilgore raised his hand to block the encroaching sunlight. Two fiery orbs bloomed bright in the sky, casting forth burning glares upon the jungle. He sighed. It would be too bothersome to attack this creature in the daylight. 

Night served him best, as always. 

So, he waited until the two suns bit down on the horizon and the three moons of red, blue, and green rose to take their place. 

Only then, did he slide down the cliffside, making good use of ledges to stifle his fall. 

Three orbs of glassy-looking material jingled on his waist side: one was white and somewhat transparent; one dark blue, with oceanic water waving in its depths; one black, a void of nothingness. 

He chose the blue orb today. He knew its contents the most — the other ones would be trickier to figure out. 

When he reached the bottom of the cliff, he stood at the edge of the pool made by the waterfall. Green reeds tickled his ankles. 

The giant didn't seem to notice Kilgore yet. It was too busy roaring its pain, as it had done for more than a century by now. 

When Kilgore first set out on his journey, he thought he would learn to hate the overgrown beasts. Yet, he felt a strange kinship with Bullforger. Maybe it's because I'm as lonely as he is, sad as that may sound. 

He chuckled to himself. Eventually, I'll have to learn how to hate them; otherwise, I'll just go insane. 

"Hey!" Kilgore yelled. The giant didn't take notice. Its white eyes looked on ahead. 

This damned beast — "HEY!" Kilgore yelled, straining his voice this time. The giant turned its head down to him. Slowly. 

Then, it emanated some deeper rumbling. Not a scream. Or a roar even. What the — is this bastard laughing at me? Kilgore discerned. He couldn't but chuckle to himself upon the realization. For the giant was indeed cackling in its low, baritone manner — its laugh rumbling through the waters of the lake. It started stomping its feet too, adding more insult to injury. 

Keep on laughing. I'll make you stop soon enough, Kilgore thought. His feelings of kinship dwindled now, instead replaced by a petty rage that made him smile. 

And with that, he smashed the blue orb to the ground. It shattered along the banks of the lake, releasing a blue fog. The fog climbed up and Kilgore made sure to inhale its essence. 

[Hero of the Sea, Aritaka Bolshvik] 

[Level: 32]

[Health: 300] 

[Essence: 70] 

[Ki: 0]

[Mana: 0] 

[Abilities: Water Drill, Call of the Ocean, Commander of the Blue] 

[Status: deceased after the Battle of Caragear's Shore. Slain by Malkite, the Devourer.] 

[Would you like to transfer this system?] 

Kilgore read through the contents on the screen in front of him. This was his fifth orb break and probably his least successful. The others were much higher level. But, it would have to do — beggars can't be choosers. 

"Yes," he said, looking up at Bullforger with a measured sense of determination. I can do this. I can do this. I can— 

[System transferring] 

Pain. 

Sharp, beautiful pain. 

When he closed his eyes, he no longer saw the chained giant, but rather, the chaos of a fiery coast. Arrows and catapults, magic ki blasts and essence charges thrumming through the air. An atmosphere choked by smoke and ash. A beach of dead bodies — a sea stained with scarlet blood. 

And of course, Malkite, the man who had previously slain Aritaka. Wearing a black chestplate and a dark purple vambrace, Malkit strutted forth and attacked Kilgore. Except, Kilgore knew that he was not inhabiting himself. Rather, he was seeing through the eyes of Aritaka — bearing witness to his last moments. 

And Aritaka was tired. Tired of five years of war, of lost lovers and friends, of a war he kept on losing. 

The poor hero did his best to stave off Malkit's attacks. He defended against the dark Devourer with his spear, spinning it to parry Malkit's relentless sword thrusts. 

But eventually, Malkit's silver rapier cut through the chaos and struck deep in Aritaka's chest. Malkit pulled Aritaka close, twisting the rapier in. Kilgore shared the pain, feeling the blood flow, the twist of the steel. 

"I see you," Malkit said. It was the same thing the Devourer always said to his victims. After all, every single orb of the deceased heroes that Kilgore had pilfered from the graves of Caragear, without fail, had read the message ["Slain by Malkite, the Devourer"]. 

Aritaka died on the end of the Devourer's blade. And then… when Kilgore opened his eyes once more, he was back. Bullforger was still cackling, shaking his chains. 

Yet, now, a rampant power surged through Kilgore. 

He smiled at the titan. 

Kill every last one of them. For her. 

Don't let anything stop you. 

You are Calamity. 

"Let's begin, shall we?"