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Bellhill struggled desperately against the titan's iron grip, but her frail body was utterly powerless against such overwhelming strength. As she stared up at the creature's deceptively gentle face, recognition dawned in her eyes.
"So it's you, old Marcos," she whispered, her voice heavy with bitter irony. "I cheated you out of your money just last week, and now you want to eat me for it?"
The woman who had recognized her former customer closed her eyes, accepting what seemed to be inevitable fate as the giant's cavernous mouth opened wide above her.
But the moment Illya cried out in terror, a loyal knight burst from the depths of the shop to protect his princess.
Standing over two meters tall, the man's explosive musculature had reached the very limits of human physical potential. His dark skin gleamed with sweat, and his bloodshot eyes burned with berserker fury. This was a warrior who would rather shatter than bend, and he launched himself directly at the titan without hesitation.
For any ordinary human to collide with a fifteen-meter giant should have been tantamount to suicide, but this black-skinned colossus somehow gained the advantage despite the impossible odds. His massive frame slammed into the titan's leg with such tremendous force that the creature toppled backward like a felled tree.
Bellhill slipped from the giant's loosened grip in that moment of confusion. The berserker leaped skyward with inhuman athleticism, catching the falling shopkeeper in his powerful arms before landing gracefully beside the terrified Illya.
The space between life and death had been measured in heartbeats. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Bellhill found herself engulfed in the silver-haired girl's desperate embrace.
"I was so scared!" Illya sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I thought you were going to die, Bellhill! I can't lose you too!"
Still shaking from her near-death experience, Bellhill was deeply moved by the child's genuine concern. She gently stroked Illya's silken hair, her voice soft with emotion. "I'm safe now, little one. Thank goodness Uncle B was here to save me."
The woman glanced toward their dark-skinned protector, who stood nearby with an almost bashful expression completely at odds with his intimidating appearance. Gone was any trace of the violent fury he'd displayed moments before. Instead, he extended one massive hand toward Illya's head, his movements clumsy and uncertain as he attempted to comfort the girl in his own awkward way.
The man's endearing awkwardness reminded Bellhill of their first meeting years ago—a tiny silver-haired girl with red eyes perched on the shoulders of a mountain of black muscle. That little princess had been directing her mute guardian through gestures and broken words, searching desperately for food in the cruel streets. Only someone with Bellhill's sharp tongue and soft heart would have taken in such an unusual pair of outcasts.
"Berserker" had proven too difficult for daily conversation, so Bellhill had dubbed him "Uncle B." The massive man followed Illya everywhere like a devoted shadow, his sole purpose protecting the girl's safety with single-minded dedication.
Over the years, Illya had become an unofficial guide for the shop, her innocent charm bringing in customers that Bellhill's abrasive personality might have driven away. The girl had never received wages, not because her employer was stingy, but because feeding two additional mouths—especially Uncle B's bottomless pit of an appetite—consumed every extra coin the business earned.
Uncle B alone ate enough for ten grown men, transforming any profit Illya generated directly into grocery expenses. If Bellhill hadn't been running a restaurant, the arrangement would have bankrupted her within weeks.
Sometimes she wondered if it was right for a grown man to essentially freeload off a child barely ten years old, but Uncle B's childlike innocence and obvious devotion to Illya made it impossible to turn him away.
The titan that had been knocked flat began struggling back to its feet, and when it spotted three potential meals clustered together, excitement gleamed in its vacant eyes. The creature lumbered forward with renewed enthusiasm, completely unaware it had just made a fatal mistake.
Uncle B casually ripped the shop's front door from its hinges, completely ignoring Bellhill's horrified expression at the property damage. The dark-skinned warrior roared at the approaching giant—a sound that held no trace of human speech but conveyed pure, primal challenge. Without showing the slightest fear of his opponent's massive size, he coated the improvised weapon in Armament Haki until it gleamed like polished obsidian.
The berserker did not disappoint the two women watching. Uncle B launched himself skyward and brought the door down like an executioner's axe, cleaving the fifteen-meter titan cleanly in half from skull to pelvis. The entire battle lasted less than sixty seconds.
"Uncle B is incredible," Bellhill muttered, still holding Illya close while staring at the bisected corpse. "With power like that, he's still eating free meals at my restaurant. I'm definitely operating at a loss here."
A nagging thought had been bothering the shopkeeper for some time now. A rough, primitive man like Uncle B couldn't possibly be Illya's biological father—they shared absolutely no physical resemblance. It seemed impossible that the girl had inherited only her mother's features while showing no trace of paternal genetics. The idea was simply too far-fetched.
"Come on, Uncle B! Beat them all!" Illya cheered, pointing toward the slum's deeper recesses.
Five more titans were emerging from the maze of ramshackle buildings, their sizes varying but all bearing the telltale bloodstains around their mouths that marked recent feeding. They moved with the shambling gait of creatures driven by nothing but hunger.
"Please, someone save me!" a terrified voice cried out from among the fleeing figures ahead of the giants.
"They're gaining on us! Run faster!"
"Split up! Hide in the buildings!"
The titans were herding a group of survivors directly toward Illya's position. Rich or poor, educated or ignorant—in the eyes of these naked monsters, all humans were nothing more than walking meals.
Those who had returned early from the music festival had witnessed their neighbors' bodies erupting in golden light before transforming into these abominations. Now the newly-born titans were systematically cleansing the slums, seeking to assert their dominance over the district's most vulnerable residents.
Uncle B took aim at the lead giant, spinning his improvised weapon several times before hurling it with tremendous force. Just as the creature reached out to snatch up a fleeing human, the black door struck its extended arm and severed both limb and head with a single devastating impact.
The decapitated body toppled forward toward the running survivors, but a dark blur intercepted the falling corpse. In full view of the amazed refugees, Uncle B caught the ten-meter giant's body and held it aloft with pure muscular strength.
"RAAAAAAHHHHH!" With a roar that shook the surrounding buildings, the black-skinned warrior hurled the corpse directly into the approaching pack of titans, bowling them over like massive, grotesque bowling pins.
Uncle B's performance seemed like the intervention of a god, reducing the rescued survivors to tears of grateful relief. Finally, they had encountered someone powerful enough to stand against these monsters—no longer did they need to run a hopeless race against death itself.
The fallen titans were only temporarily hindered. As they struggled back to their feet and charged toward Uncle B, they were met with the purest expression of violent aesthetics—close-quarters combat stripped down to its most primal essence.
Though the berserker stood only two meters tall against opponents three to four times his height, he systematically dismantled them like a child breaking apart toy dolls. Titan limbs were torn free and repurposed as clubs to batter their former owners. Within two minutes, all five giants lay motionless on the ground.
As Uncle B used severed arms to cave in skulls, he noticed something peculiar. Unless the titans' heads were completely destroyed, steam would rise from their wounds and the damage would slowly regenerate—even severed limbs would eventually regrow.
The berserker mounted the final giant's neck and used his boulder-sized fists to pound its head into unrecognizable paste, ensuring no possibility of recovery.
When Uncle B stood victorious, titan blood dripping from his massive frame, his enhanced hearing picked up a new sound that made his heart sink.
Hundreds of thunderous footsteps were approaching, raising clouds of dust as they converged on the slums' last survivors. The first wave had been merely the beginning—now came the true test of Uncle B's protective instincts.
The berserker's bloodshot eyes surveyed the approaching horde with grim determination. No matter how many came, he would stand between them and his princess. That was what it meant to be a knight—even if the world itself stood against them, he would not yield a single step.