Jiro and Hayato continued their way to Jiro's village while Samuel stayed behind to face off against Reina in the southern region.
Even though he was conscious of Jiro's mental state at the moment, his priority was elsewhere. The dirt path crunched beneath their boots as Jiro and Hayato walked toward what remained of the Yamato village.
The silence between them lingered—thick, uncomfortable. Hayato didn't break it. He never did.
It was Jiro who finally spoke.
Jiro: "Captain… why did you become a hunter?"
Hayato didn't even glance at him. He kept walking, eyes forward.
Hayato: "Don't ask questions you're not ready to hear the answers to."
Jiro: "…Then let me ask something else. Do you think I'm weak?"
That made Hayato pause—just for a second. He sighed through his nose.
Hayato: "What made you want this life anyway?"
Jiro: "I guess… I wanted to feel something. Danger, purpose. Everything else was just school and boredom. I'm not good at studying.
And… I wanted to protect people. My family. My friends. Anyone close to me."
He looked at Hayato, expecting something—approval, maybe.
Instead, Hayato gave him a cold, half-laugh.
Hayato: "Cute."
Jiro's face tensed.
Jiro: "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hayato: "You want the truth?"
Jiro: "Of course."
Hayato: "Then here it is. You're not a hero. Hunters aren't heroes. We're not warriors of justice. We kill to survive. We follow orders.
The battlefield doesn't care about your feelings or your noble goals. It only asks one question: do you want to die today?"
Jiro: "But isn't it okay to want to fight for others?"
Hayato: "And who fights for you?"
That stopped Jiro cold.
Hayato (continued):
"Say you fight for your friends. You die for them. What then? You think they'll be inspired by your corpse? That they'll feel stronger watching you die?
No. You drag them with you into the grave. Your weakness becomes their punishment."
Jiro: "…But isn't it better than doing nothing?"
Hayato: "Better for who? You? Them? Or the enemy who wipes you all out while you hesitate?"
He finally turned to face him.
Hayato: "You don't win because you care. You win because you refuse to lose. You win because you're willing to kill."
There was no rage in his voice. No passion. Just cold, worn-out truth.
Hayato: "You think you're ready for that? To gamble with your life? To throw it away for a dream? Because the only difference between a hero and a fool is who dies first."
Jiro couldn't respond.
The words didn't just cut—they cracked something.
He looked away, his fists clenched.
They kept walking.
Jiro didn't say another word.
At the same time, Reina and Samuel were facing each other. While Samuel was sweating, Reina stood calmly, wearing a smile that looked far too creepy to Samuel.
Samuel had made his choice.
When the enemy descended and retreat became the only option, he didn't hesitate.
He stayed behind.
Not because he thought he could win—he wasn't that naïve.
But someone had to buy them time.
And if that someone had to die, he would accept it.
Now, standing in the middle of a frozen forest, Samuel faced her.
Reina.
She stepped forward from the fog, the sound of her heels echoing sharply against the ice. Her long blue dress flowed with every step, but it was her smile that froze the air more than her power ever could—sweet, inviting, and filled with hunger.
Reina: "Mmm… they left you behind?
Poor thing. You volunteered, didn't you?"
She twirled a finger in her hair, then pointed it at him like a weapon.
Reina: "How adorable."
Samuel: "I didn't do it for you."
Reina: "Oh, but you're here.
Alone. Brave. So noble it almost turns me on."
She giggled, stepping closer.
Reina: "You're not even trying to hide it… that tense posture, that wild heartbeat.
You're afraid… but you're pretending you're not."
She licked her lower lip.
Reina: "I love that."
Samuel raised his arm. A quartz handgun formed instantly, glowing with power.
Samuel: "This ends now."
Reina: "Yes, it does."
She vanished—then reappeared behind him in a heartbeat.
Her arms slid around his torso, her breath ghosting along his neck.
Reina (whispering): "What's a body like yours doing in a place like this?"
Her fingers explored his chest—mocking, slow.
Reina: "You don't belong on a battlefield.
You belong under me."
He reacted instantly, shoving her away and firing at point-blank range.
She tilted her head, letting the bullets pass within inches of her face.
Still smiling.
Samuel: "I'd rather die."
Reina: "Oh, sweetheart.
You will."
She stomped the ground.
Ice bloomed out like lightning, freezing the entire forest in a matter of seconds. Trees, soil, wind—everything stopped.
Samuel shielded himself with pure energy, veins glowing under his skin from the strain. He could feel his bones ache, his body crackle, but he refused to fall.
Reina: "Still standing? Mmm. You're tougher than you look.
That makes this more exciting."
He jumped to a frozen tree branch, gaining high ground. From above, he fired rapidly. Reina raised a thin sheet of ice to deflect the bullets, bored eyes following his movements.
But Samuel wasn't trying to land a hit.
He was moving—creating angles. Setting up a clean shot.
Then he vanished from view.
Reina (mocking): "Oh? Don't go shy on me now."
Suddenly, a bullet grazed her shoulder. Not enough to wound—but enough to surprise her.
Before she could react, Samuel appeared behind her with his fist glowing—charged with condensed quartz.
He swung.
It crashed through her barrier and struck her cheek cleanly.
She flew backward across the ice, hair splaying, blood flying from her lips.
And then—
Laughter.
She rose slowly, her fingers wiping the blood from her mouth with something close to joy.
Reina: "Mmm… I felt that."
She began walking toward him again, slower this time. Her voice dropped into something softer, darker.
Reina: "No one's made me bleed in a while.
That punch… it was delicious."
Her tongue brushed her bottom lip.
Reina: "Want to see what I taste like?"
Samuel's hand trembled slightly. He steadied it. A machine gun formed in place of his arm, quartz energy pulsing within.
Samuel: "I'll fight you until my last breath."
Reina: "Mmm… good.
I want to hear how you sound when you're begging."
She summoned dozens of icicles from the frozen ground, launching them at him. Samuel retaliated, blasting them mid-air as fast as they came.
But Reina wasn't aiming to kill—yet.
She was savoring the moment.
And then she appeared in front of him again, this time slamming her knee into his stomach and driving her elbow into his back.
He collapsed.
She circled him, slow and graceful.
Reina: "All this energy. All this resistance.
But no special technique…
You're a candle trying to burn in a blizzard."
She knelt beside him and ran her hand along his bruised jaw.
Reina (softly): "So brave… and so broken."
She stood, lifted her leg, and brought her heel crashing down onto his chest, pinning him against the ice.
Samuel:"Nngh—!"
Reina: "You're lucky I like broken things."
She leaned close, whispering right into his ear.
Reina: "You're not dying today.
I want you alive the next time we meet… so I can break you properly."
With one last kick, she sent him rolling beneath the massive trunk of a frozen tree that split the field from the forest. Blood pooled beneath him. His vision blurred.
Reina: "Next time, beautiful… scream for me."
She turned and walked away—heels tapping against ice, echoing into the distance.
And then she was gone.
No frost trail. No flare. No trace.
Only her eyes remained in Samuel's mind.
They weren't just violent.
They were intimate. Personal.
And they terrified him more than death ever could.
As Jiro and Hayato neared the village, a sharp, metallic scent stung their noses.
Jiro: "Hayato… why does it smell like metal?"
Hayato: "Sorry to inform you, dumb kid… but that's not metal.
It's blood.
And it's coming from your village."
They stepped into the Yamato village.
Jiro's heart dropped.
There were bodies everywhere. Blood soaked the dirt roads, walls, and debris. One man lay half-crushed beneath a collapsed house—his face missing. Others were slumped against walls, their eyes frozen wide open.
Jiro didn't stop to look.
He ran.
The closer he got to his home, the worse it became.
Beheaded villagers. Limbs severed.
Half-eaten corpses.
A red river of blood led the way.
His stomach twisted.
He stopped, doubled over, and vomited.
Hayato remained behind him—calm, unaffected. He had seen worse.
He wasn't here to cry.
Hayato: "Do you still want to keep going?"
His tone was flat.
He already knew the answer.
Jiro: "Yes… I have to find my parents."
They pushed on, each step heavier than the last.
Jiro's breathing grew shaky. His eyes darted from corpse to corpse, recognizing too many familiar faces.
When they reached his house, it was gone.
Shattered. Collapsed. Burnt.
Empty.
Jiro: "Where are they?!"
His voice cracked.
Jiro: "Did they survive?! Where are they?!"
Hayato: "Follow me."
He led him past the wreckage—toward the outskirts of the village.
He could feel it. Denji's quartz energy. Faint. Dimming.
And then they found him.
Denji Yamato lay on his back, barely breathing. Blood pooled beneath him, leaking from wounds too deep to count. His eyes flickered open at the sound of footsteps.
Jiro froze in place.
Hayato crouched down and gently turned Denji's body, lifting his head slightly.
Hayato: "He's still alive.
But he won't be for long.
Say your goodbyes."
Jiro dropped to his knees beside him, shaking.
Denji: "I… I'm sorry… Jiro…
I won't… be able… to watch you grow… as a hunter…"
Jiro: "Don't say that! You'll be fine! We can heal you—Hayato can—"
Denji: "No… it's too late…
Even if he tries… I've lost too much blood… This… is the end…"
Jiro: "Stop it!! You're not dying!! You can't—!"
Denji: "Jiro… listen…
Do everything Hayato tells you.
He'll make you strong…
He'll… make you a man…"
He turned his head, looking at Hayato.
Denji: "Hayato… I want to speak to you… alone."
He beckoned him closer.
Hayato leaned in.
Denji whispered something—too quiet for Jiro to hear.
Words meant only for him.
Hayato's expression shifted.
For the first time, something flickered behind his cold gaze.
Doubt? Anger? Regret?
Hayato (quietly): "…Are you sure about this?"
Denji gave the faintest nod.
Denji: "Please… As much as I hate you…
You're the only one I can trust."
And then he let go.
His hand slipped from Jiro's.
His eyes dulled.
His breathing stopped.
Denji Yamato, hunter and father, took his final breath on March 11th, Year X013, at 11:47 a.m.
Jiro broke.
Tears streamed down his face. His entire body trembled.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out—only air.
Hayato watched in silence.
Then he stepped forward and, with one swift motion, struck Jiro at the base of his neck.
Jiro collapsed—unconscious.
Hayato (softly): "Don't worry, Denji.
I'll take care of everything…
From here on."
Hayato stood in the middle of the ruined village, the stench of blood thick in the air, the boy unconscious at his feet.
Smoke curled from the horizon. Ash drifted like snowflakes.
He glanced down at Jiro—silent, limp, broken.
Then he turned and walked into the smoke, carrying the weight of a promise he never wanted to make.
—
Jiro wouldn't remember what happened after that.
Only fragments.
A burning sky.
Screams without faces.
And Hayato—
standing beneath the stars, his left arm missing.
That was the last thing he saw…
Before the darkness claimed him for three full days.
No one knew what happened in that silence.
No one but Hayato.
And he never spoke a word.