The sound of footsteps trampling through the mud echoed alongside the heavy rain that night...
"Another rainy day—" His words were cut short by lightning that revealed his figure: a 22-year-old young man in a black robe, named Takeshi. His features were sharp, his dark gray eyes empty and hollow, his rough hair the same color as his eyes. He wandered through a pine forest known as The Wet Woods, named so for its constant dampness and rare dryness throughout the year.
After several minutes of walking, Takeshi reached a high cliff. Below, golden lights shimmered in the darkness. It was a village called Thessalia, the most dreadful in the land. He glared at it with bitter disdain, his gaze accompanied by words: "It has already been four years..."
Suddenly, a rustling came from the bushes behind him. Takeshi drew an ancient sword from beneath his robe, unsheathing the sharp blade, its steel covered in blood. Out from the shadows emerged strange, misshapen entities—creatures with enormous heads carried by four legs ending in corroded claws. They stared at their prey with eyes void of emotion or humanity. They were called Rivarge. Some claimed they were demons, others swore they were the creations of man.
Takeshi drew in a breath as a faint crimson aura enveloped his sword. He muttered to himself: "It's time... Renzako!"
The monsters lunged at him, claws poised to tear him apart.
Six years earlier
The darkness slowly lifted as Takeshi awoke in a decayed cabin. He looked around—on one side, piles of old papers and books; on the other, his sword, the only thing he considered family. He grasped it, drawing part of the blade, and whispered: "Another dream... just another dream."
Carrying his sword, he stepped outside with steady strides, sunlight shining directly into his face. His cabin lay deep within a pine forest, surrounded on all sides by towering trees. He walked into the forest's gloom, and after a short while arrived at a lake beside a flowing waterfall. He washed his face and drank the first sip of the lake's clear water before heading back to find something to eat and satisfy his hunger.
"The same routine every day... no progress, no change. Yet this unsettling feeling lingers." Takeshi reproached himself for being stuck in the same cycle, seeing nothing of interest, achieving no progress toward his goals. And yet, he was seized by a strange sensation unlike any other.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a black bull with two sharp yellow horns nearly a meter long. Takeshi drew his sword, aiming it at his target. The bull lowered its head to drink from the lake before returning to its herd—but in an instant, the clear water turned dark red. The bull collapsed, blood pouring from its neck.
"This is the law of life—" Takeshi stood over the beast, lifting the sword in his hand as he scattered its blood across the ground. "Kill, or be killed."
The bull let out its last breath before its killer. Takeshi hoisted it onto his shoulder, proof of his physical strength. From among the trees appeared a cow and her calf. Takeshi's gaze lingered on them as they fled in fear.
"You must fight. You must kill, or you will die—whether by blade or by hunger. No one looks after you but yourself. Everyone else seeks only their own gain." With the bull's carcass on his shoulder, he made his way back to the cabin, carrying enough food to feed several people for days.
As he neared his place, an uneasy feeling overcame him—then he noticed fresh footprints leading inside.
"Who's there!" Takeshi shouted, waiting for a reply.
"Hahahahahaha!" Laughter from within confirmed the presence of an intruder. Takeshi raised his sword, wary of the visitor. From the cabin emerged a man with a killer's visage, light gray hair, a white robe, and a necklace bearing a skull-like mask.
Takeshi demanded answers: "Who are you? Did you come alone? What are you looking for?"
"Pleased to meet you, pest." The intruder sneered, his voice thick with contempt. Takeshi tightened his grip on the sword, anger rising in his face. Before he could speak, the man continued: "The one who lost his aura some time ago... the one with the miraculous memory."
Takeshi inhaled lightly, then replied: "Too bad my memory won't help me recall the face of an insect like you once I've crushed it." The man smiled in return: "Don't worry—" he raised a finger to his own face, "You'll remember this face for the rest of your life, along with my name. I am Yamkaji!" he declared with unwavering confidence. But Takeshi gave him no chance to continue. He lunged forward, swinging his sword toward Yamkaji's neck. The man leapt back inside the cabin just as more footsteps sounded behind Takeshi. He turned to find two other men in identical attire: one red-haired with an eyepatch, carrying an unconscious child; the other in a hat and sunglasses, a cage upon his shoulder containing a frenzied Rivarge beast.
"Another move, and this cursed monster eats the child," the red-haired man threatened, his face twisted with anger. Yamkaji stepped calmly from the cabin, holding one of Takeshi's books. "'Tales of the Forgotten World'? What nonsense!" he mocked.
"What do you want from me?" Takeshi shouted in frustration. Yamkaji's tone shifted, now cold and serious: "Our demand is simple—" he pointed at Takeshi's sword, "We want that sword, the source of the aura."
"My sword? The source of the aura? What are you talking about—have you lost your mind!?" Takeshi clenched his teeth, rage boiling inside him. No answer, only riddles. Why did they want his sword—the last thing he truly owned?
The man with the cage unlocked it slightly. "Your screams prove your refusal, so—"
"Stop at once! Fine... I'll give you the sword—" His words were cut short as a wooden stake burst from the ground and impaled his thigh, erupting near Yamkaji's feet.
"Did you think we'd trust you so easily, fool? Hand us the sword, then strike when our guard is down—that was your plan, wasn't it?"
Pain surged through Takeshi, his body trembling, his other leg barely holding him upright. Yamkaji spoke again: "We've gathered enough about you, Takeshi the pest. Your hesitation over that boy was your mistake. He's already dead."
Takeshi's eyes widened at Yamkaji's words. "Am I going to lose this easily? Did I fall for this trick? Am I the prey?"
Tree roots coiled around him, binding him tight. The man holding the child dropped him to the ground, then seized Takeshi's sword, handing it to Yamkaji. Takeshi's strength was spent—he was powerless.
"Put the cage down and let's leave," Yamkaji ordered. But before departing, he whispered into Takeshi's ear. Then they left, heading south toward Galleon City—the city of criminals and the most dangerous gangs in the land.
The Rivarge cage broke open. The beast lunged straight at the fallen child, tearing into him, devouring him as blood splattered in every direction. Takeshi could not rise, could not intervene—he could only watch.
"Yamkaji!! I will sever your head and crush it without fail!" Takeshi swore to himself, filled with hatred and rage. He vowed to reclaim what was taken from him—the last of his possessions, the only thing he considered family. Shouldering his grief, he was left with countless questions...
To be continued!
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Explanation & Notes:
The Rivarge are shapeshifting monsters with heads the size of a human's or slightly larger, carried by four legs, each ending in two sharp claws. They can only be killed by crushing, severing, or exploding their heads. They are divided into types, each with unique traits, living in different environments.