The battlefield was silent except for the cries of the dying. The clan warriors, enraged by the fall of their leaders, had rushed Ymir with every ounce of fury in their hearts. But against him? Their blades, their fire, their desperate cries—none of it mattered.
Ymir carved through them as if swatting flies. Steel shattered against his flesh, arrows splintered before reaching his chest, and warriors who roared with courage were silenced in an instant, trampled like ants beneath a storming colossus. The ground was painted red, a mosaic of futility.
When the last of them fell, Ymir exhaled deeply. His chest rose and fell, his fatigue from the battle against Hiroko and the others still gnawing at him. For once, the battlefield was quiet.
That was when he noticed it—something flickered across the horizon. A glimmer of light. Fast, impossibly fast. A streak cutting through the sky like a shooting star.
"A messenger…" Ymir muttered, eyes narrowing. "Hmph. Guess I know who my next target might be."
His body trembled slightly as exhaustion weighed on him, so he lowered himself to the ground.
For hours, he remained seated, regaining his strength. Around him lay the corpses of beasts and warriors alike. He did not leave them to rot. No—he consumed.
He tore into the flesh of the fallen beasts, great and small, roasting what needed to be cooked, savoring their cores with an iron stomach few species could rival. Humans feared eating cores, calling it forbidden, too dangerous. But Ymir was no mere man—his sealed skill [Divine Famine] made him hunger in ways mortals could never comprehend. To him, devouring was survival. It was evolution.
Bones, scales, feathers, sinew—nothing went to waste. From their remains, he reforged himself, crafting a new armor that gleamed with a savage majesty. Scales overlapped like plates of steel, feathers lined the joints, and bones reinforced the structure. What had once been prey now shielded their predator. His destroyed armor was replaced by one that screamed of conquest.
Only then, full and armored anew, did he rise again.
Meanwhile…
Far away, beneath the calm glow of lanterns, a warrior sensed the light before it even reached him. A man clad in unique, runed armor raised his eyes to the night sky.
"There you are," he whispered.
He darted upward, scaling walls and rooftops until he reached the highest point. The orb of light drew nearer, glowing like a falling star. With a leap, he caught it mid-air. The brilliance dimmed, reshaping into a delicate paper crane.
He landed softly, holding the crane in his palm. Its aura was unmistakable. The energy it carried pulsed with familiarity, like an echo of a friend long gone. Without hesitation, he sprinted across the rooftops, heading toward the tallest tower in the city.
At its summit stood a great hall. Guards in yukata parted as he entered. Within, the air was heavy with silence and reverence.
There he was—taller than any man present, his long black hair flowing down his back, his physique both refined and powerful. He was no ordinary leader. He was Kashigawa Shikuro, the Shogun of the Bloodmoon Samurai. A man who stood at 7'3, his presence eclipsed all others.
The messenger dropped to one knee. "Shogun-sama… a letter has arrived." He offered the crane with both hands.
Shikuro's voice was calm, deep, yet commanding. "You may stand."
He plucked the crane from the man's hand and let his Qi flow into it. Energy unraveled, and from it, a projection formed. Slowly, a hologram shaped itself—one that Shikuro recognized immediately.
"Hiroko…" he whispered.
The projection smiled faintly, weary and resigned.
"Shicky… my old friend. If you're seeing this, then I am already dead. I'll be brief. There is a new kind of giant—clad in iron armor—stronger than any we've faced. It killed one of my dearest companions. I tried to hunt it myself, hiding my intent even from the other clans. Foolish, I know… but I thought if I could slay it, no one else would need to die."
The image flickered. Hiroko's eyes were heavy, yet his voice held conviction.
"But fate was cruel. The Shinobi clans discovered my secret hunt. The giant summoned the Beastlords, and war erupted. Four of us fought against it… and still, we were nothing. It slaughtered us."
He paused, his tone softening. "Shicky, forgive me. This is my last message to you. Be careful. Don't repeat my mistake. This giant… is unlike anything we've known."
The projection vanished into silence.
Shikuro stood motionless, his fist tightening until the skin cracked. Rage burned in his chest like a furnace. Hiroko—his brother in arms, his comrade from the Hokugawa War—was gone.
The Bloodmoon Samurai had been forged in carnage. They had stood undefeated in the bloodiest war mankind had ever known, emerging without casualties, their blades red under the crimson moon. And yet… this giant had slain Hiroko with ease.
Shikuro's voice rumbled low, dangerous. "I will avenge you, old friend. But not blindly. I will not fall as you did."
Already, his mind began to weave plans. The Bloodmoon Samurai would not strike recklessly. They would prepare, strategize, and when the time was right… they would end the giant.
Back to Ymir
The feast was finished. His body, reforged. His wounds, healed. The battlefield around him was barren, stripped clean of flesh and bone. Nothing remained but the scent of ash and iron.
Ymir rose, towering 150 meters into the sky, each step shaking the earth beneath his feet. Yet his thoughts lingered not on the slaughter behind him, but on the streak of light he had seen.
"A messenger. A warning, maybe. Doesn't matter." He smirked beneath his helm. "Whoever's next… better be worth the effort."
His musings were cut short by a thunderous roar. The earth trembled, and from the horizon came a beast—reptilian, scaled, its eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. It towered high, glaring at him like a wolf staring down prey.
"Heh. What are you gonna do, little fella?" Ymir taunted, though his instincts told him this was no lone predator.
Sure enough, the ground shook. Smoke rose. A stampede of massive shapes emerged from the haze—dozens of reptilian beasts, scales glistening, jaws dripping venom. Not one. Not five. Fifty.
They encircled him, a pack of predators circling a titan.
Ymir grinned beneath his helm. "Perfect. Come on, you little fuckers. Let's see if your bones make good armor."
The lizards roared in unison, charging. Their claws raked the earth, their tails shattered stone.
And Ymir charged back, sword in hand, laughter booming across the battlefield.
Another feast was about to begin.
(Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on chapters, boys and girls. Been busy, but I'm cooking more ideas. If you've got suggestions for scenarios, clans, or beasts to add, drop them in the bonus chapter comments. Appreciate y'all.)