"I finally found you, monster!" Hiroko's voice sliced through the forest, low and dangerous, yet restrained with fury.
Let's rewind about five hours.
Hiroko had ordered his forces to fan out in every direction, spreading wide to track the giant with speed and precision. Talismans glimmered faintly in the dark, each one a magical beacon, ensuring that every squad member could report the giant's position back to him.
Meanwhile, Hiroko slipped quietly through the northern edge of the dark forest. His senses were taut, his instincts screaming. The trees here were older, the shadows deeper, and the air smelled of decay — a warning sign he couldn't ignore.
A shrill screech split the forest. Hiroko reacted instantly, rolling aside as a skeletal wing smashed into the ground where he had just been. From the shadows, he glimpsed the attacker: an undead phantom vulture, its eyes glowing like dying embers.
"Alone? Not quite," he muttered. Another dozen vultures emerged from the canopy, their wings creating a gale that knocked leaves and small branches into his path.
"This is going to be annoying," he muttered, crouching. The creatures lunged with unnatural speed. Hiroko's reflexes were honed from years of deadly training. He dodged, rolled, and flung a kunai.
It struck one of the vultures. The metal bit deep, but the creature didn't even flinch—it could not feel pain. Instead, a hollow, mocking cackle echoed across the clearing.
Hiroko's grin was cold. "Purify."
A sphere of radiant light exploded among the flock. Feathers and bone shattered under the holy magic. Some vultures were scorched beyond recognition, while the rest screeched and recoiled, enraged.
(Undead creatures were resistant to conventional attacks. Only divine or exceptionally potent techniques could harm them without dragging on forever. Hiroko had learned that the hard way.)
The surviving vultures began calling for reinforcements. Hiroko cursed under his breath. Any loud commotion could attract even greater predators — monsters far larger, far deadlier. He needed distance.
Transforming into a shadow panther, he vanished into the trees. But the vultures, relentless and cunning, pursued him, breathing undead flames. Hiroko held his breath as he weaved through the poisonous miasma, aware that a single misstep could spell his doom.
Despite the danger, Hiroko's mind worked like clockwork. He spotted a patch of vermilion birds in the distance — legendary creatures, territorial and fiery, natural enemies of the undead. A plan formed.
Leading the vultures toward the vermilion birds would create chaos, giving him the perfect escape.
He melded with the shadows, approaching the birds quietly. The undead flock followed blindly. At the last moment, Hiroko leapt from the treeline, and the vermilion birds launched their ambush.
The forest erupted into a violent battle. Flames clashed against poison and bone. Screeches echoed, claws and beaks tore through flesh and feather. Hiroko seized the moment, slipping through the chaos, disappearing into the deeper shadows of the forest.
Hours passed. Hiroko pressed onward, eyes scanning for any trace of the giant. He encountered beasts he had never seen before — some monstrous, some intelligent in ways that made him pause — but none left any trace of his true target. He dispatched them efficiently, silently, leaving no sign of his passage.
The deeper he ventured, the stranger the forest became. Trees twisted impossibly, their roots forming natural barricades. He stumbled upon luminous fungi, predator insects with armored shells, and creatures that seemed to defy known biology. Each encounter honed his focus. Distraction could be fatal.
Hiroko imagined the fight ahead. The giant — a creature of immense size and cunning — could crush even the mightiest of his forces with a single swipe. Would he prevail? Would the battle end before it began? The uncertainty sent adrenaline surging through his veins, sharpening every sense.
Finally, near a misty pond, Hiroko smelled it: the unmistakable scent of cooked meat. His nostrils flared, recognizing the aroma of the legendary mountain bull, a creature known to rival the largest predators.
And there it was. Towering above the clearing, the giant devoured the beast. Every movement of its colossal arms made the ground quake. Bones crunched under its massive teeth. Hiroko's anger ignited.
He crouched, muscles coiled like springs, fury coursing through his veins. Every thought, every calculated movement, honed on this one moment.
"I finally found you, monster!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees like the promise of death.
The giant's head turned, slow but deliberate, its eyes glowing with a chilling intelligence. It smelled the anger, the intent, and for the first time, the hunter became the hunted in its perception.
Hiroko's gaze hardened. He knew this would be no ordinary fight. Every step, every strike, every ounce of skill would be tested. But failure was not an option. Not today. Not ever.
He drew his blade, feeling the familiar weight in his hand — the culmination of every training session, every battle, every sacrifice. The forest stilled around them, as if holding its breath for the clash to come.
And then, Hiroko charged.