A sudden thump cracked through the air.
The warlord had stomped the damp earth beneath him.
The long moss gave way with a wet rip, and a violent gust of wind exploded outward in every direction. Trees shivered. Dust lifted. The fire crackled. Even the stone pit groaned as if in response.
The trio flinched.
Around the clearing, the giants reacted instantly—battle instincts snapping into place like clockwork.
Weapons rose.
A massive battle axe scraped from stone with a grinding screech. A hammer swung to a shoulder. Towering shields slammed into place with a resonant THOOM. Gleaming broadswords gleamed in the filtered sunlight, hoisted with terrifying grace.
The warlord stood firm, still staring.
Ethan's breath caught.
Dianna's hand had already slid to her blade.
Sid, behind them, narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His hands remained half-raised, careful and poised. Without a puppet, he was exposed. But still—alert.
The three looked to each other briefly, then stepped out of the underbrush as one—cautious, tense, in formation.
Dianna took point, eyes sharp, sword halfway drawn. Ethan followed beside her, cleaver in hand, jaw clenched. Sid moved behind, footsteps light, ready to dodge or vanish into the foliage if needed.
It wasn't perfect. Their stance was green, nervous. They looked outmatched by miles.
But they were ready.
A strange silence filled the clearing, heavy as stone.
And then—
The giant warlord laughed.
A booming, deep-bellied thunder of sound that bounced through the collapsed buildings, rolled through the canopy, and made leaves fall from the vines above. It wasn't mocking. Just… massive. Joyful. Loud enough that even the earth seemed to chuckle.
"HAAAAAH! Look at that!" he bellowed in a voice like crumbling cliffs. "Three little human children! Hells, put your weapons down before they piss themselves!"
The gathered warriors—ten-foot giants in armor and horn—burst into laughter.
Weapons lowered. Shoulders relaxed. One even snorted and wiped his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.
The trio blinked.
"Did… did he just call us children?" Ethan muttered.
"We're armed," Dianna replied, still tense.
"Exactly. That probably is childish to them," Sid murmured behind them.
But the tension had broken. The warlord turned to the others and gestured toward the food with a wide, sweeping motion. "Let's not waste good meat being all stiff. We eat. And our little guests—" he turned his gaze back to the trio, eyes twinkling under that fearsome brow, "—can join, if they've got teeth to match those big eyes."
Dianna hesitated. Ethan gave her a side glance.
She sighed. "I swear, if this turns into a barbecue ambush…"
"We've had worse welcomes," Sid offered softly.
So they stepped forward—slowly, cautiously.
The scent of the roasting meat only got stronger. Rich, smoky. Glazed with oils and strange spices that shimmered gold in the firelight. The two large beasts over the fire sizzled with audible fat, the crackle dancing with every gust of wind.
The trio sat—awkwardly—on a tangle of old roots and crumbled cement just off to the side. One of the giants tossed them a piece of meat on a massive carved plank, like it was an appetizer. It still steamed.
Ethan blinked. "Is it… safe?"
Dianna took a sniff. "Smells better than anything I've had on Earth."
"Still," Sid said cautiously, "let's not say anything about not being from here."
"Agreed," Dianna muttered, biting down.
Her eyes widened.
Ethan followed—and immediately let out a groan of satisfaction. "Oh my fricking days. This is fire."
"Spicy," Dianna said, mouth full, "but sweet. Like smoked dragonfruit with pepper glaze."
One of the nearby giants overheard and guffawed. "Dragonfruit?! Hah! Never heard of it, little sword-girl!"
Sid, now holding a smaller bite with two fingers, simply hummed. "...Interesting. I think there's crushed bark in the seasoning. Sap-based."
The warlord sat across from them on a fallen slab of metal, like a throne. His greatsword rested against a stone like it weighed half a wagon.
"You three ain't from the underground cities, that's for sure," he said, voice loud but not threatening. "Too clean. Too polite. You all smell like fresh grass and confusion."
Dianna swallowed quickly. "We're… travelers. From a far place. Very far."
"All travelers are, little one," he grinned. "No need to explain the wind. We smell it on your boots."
Ethan leaned toward Sid. "Are they all this loud?"
"They're not drunk," Sid replied. "Just… built different."
Another giant thumped a jug onto the table and laughed, "No point being quiet in a world that screams all day!"
They clinked their weapons together like tankards and continued joking, roaring with laughter, retelling stories in their booming language—yet somehow the trio still understood them. It was as if meaning flowed through intention, not words.
They weren't brutes. They were warriors. Veterans. Some had old scars the size of swords, and armor etched with symbols of lost wars.
They were joyful—but not foolish.
Powerful—but not cruel.
And strangely—welcoming.
Ethan leaned back slightly, glancing at the vast jungle beyond. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot about the beasts. The chasms. The moons.
Just food. Fire. Company.
Dianna stretched her legs and let out a low breath. "Okay. I didn't see this coming."
Sid chuckled lightly. "That makes two of us."
From behind them, one of the giants slapped Ethan on the back—light for him, but enough to knock the wind out of Ethan's lungs.
"You swing that cleaver like you mean it, human," he laughed.
"Thanks," Ethan wheezed. "Do it again and I'll swing it at you."
The giant grinned. "That's the spirit!"
The fire crackled. Somewhere in the jungle, a distant roar echoed—but here, in this circle of rubble and roots, laughter won.
For now.