GUHIN

Bokun’s menacing grin stretched wider as he raised his greatsword high above his head. The massive blade caught the sunlight, glinting brightly as he bellowed a roar that reverberated across the battlefield. With the force of an avalanche, he brought the sword crashing down, its weight tearing through the air and cleaving the image of his enemy in half.

The ground trembled violently as the sword struck with the power of a mighty quake. The sheer impact obliterated the spot where Guhin and the woman had been standing, sending rocks and debris flying in every direction. A cloud of thick dust erupted, swallowing the battlefield whole. Bokun, breathing heavily, squinted through the dust, eager to see the devastation he had wrought.

But as the dust settled, Bokun’s grin faltered. His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw nothing—no bodies, no blood—just a deep, gaping wound in the earth where his sword had struck.

“Impossible…” Bokun growled, frustration gnawing at him. He knew he hadn’t missed—his strike was too precise, too powerful. How could anyone survive such an attack?

Then, faintly, a woman’s voice cut through the lingering dust. The sound was soft, almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” the voice said, sending a shiver down Bokun’s spine.

He whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice. And there they were, Guhin and the woman, standing far beyond the reach of his blade, unharmed and unscathed. The distance they had covered in mere moments defied all reason.

“How did they…?” Bokun’s voice trailed off, a low growl escaping his throat. His eyes narrowed as rage began to boil within him. “You little shit… I’ll show you…”

His grip tightened around the hilt of his greatsword, the muscles in his arms bulging as veins throbbed beneath his skin. His body pulsed with raw energy, a faint fiery glow beginning to emanate from his flesh as he channeled the power within him.

"先祖の呼び声"

"Senzo no Yobigoe"

"Ancestor's Call"

Bokun muttered, his voice thick with barely-contained fury. His eyes blazed with a wild, murderous intent.

“バーサーカー!"

"Bāsākā!"

"Berserker!”

As Bokun invoked the ancient technique of his ancestors, his body surged with raw power, muscles swelling as if fueled by the very essence of his lineage. The air around him crackled with energy, shimmering with an intense heat that radiated from his form. As his transformation reached its peak, his already formidable frame grew even larger.

The fiery glow that had ignited his power blazed brightly for a moment longer, before slowly dimming, the energy retreating into his core, leaving his skin tinged with a faint, smoldering heat. The power, now contained within him, seemed ready to erupt at any moment, a silent testament to the might he now wielded.

Meanwhile, Guhin knelt by the woman, his hands working swiftly to untie the last of the ropes that had bound her feet. She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, her mind struggling to grasp how they had moved so far in the blink of an eye.

“What… What are you?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and awe.

Guhin glanced up at her, the question lingering in the air. “Mmh,” he murmured, it wasn't an answer—it was an acknowledgment of the question, and perhaps an admission that he didn’t truly know how to respond. What was he, indeed?

The woman stood shakily, taking a step back to fully take in Guhin’s appearance. He seemed so ordinary, a young man with unremarkable features, beside the scar on the bridge of his nose that runs to his cheek. But when her gaze fell upon the golden necklace that had slipped into view from beneath his cloak, her demeanor shifted entirely.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped as the design of the amulet—a holy figure adorned with pearls swirling on its forehead—reflected in her pupils. She took a step back, her posture tensing as if confronted by a ghost from a forgotten past. The once soft curiosity in her gaze hardened, replaced by a wariness that made the air between them feel heavy, almost suffocating.

“Where… Where did you get that?” she asked, her voice laced with something between curiosity and venom.

Guhin paused, his hands stilling as he looked up at her with hollow eyes, a gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul. The air grew heavy, the world around them seeming to dim in the face of his silent stare. The woman’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she realized she had stepped into dangerous territory.

“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she took a step back. “That was rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked… Thank you for saving me… I’ll be on my way now… Goodbye…”

She bowed her head in gratitude, her body trembling with unease. And when she looked up again, her heart nearly stopped. Time seemed to slow as she watched in horror, as Bokun’s greatsword hurtled toward Guhin, mere inches from cleaving him in two.

But Guhin’s image flickered, fading out of existence just as the blade passed through where he had stood. A brief gust of wind rustled the air, the only trace of his presence.

Bokun’s eyes widened in shock. “What?!”

His frustration boiled over, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He launched into a relentless assault, his swings a blur of speed and power. Unlike his earlier attack, each strike was measured, his greatsword never touching the ground. Every muscle in his massive body strained as he tried to keep up with Guhin’s vanishing form, the force of each swing creating powerful gusts that knocked the woman off her feet.

“Why. Won't. You. Fall!” Bokun roared, his voice a thunderous bellow of frustration and fury, each word punctuated with the raw intensity of his effort.

The woman shielded her face from the wind, struggling to regain her footing as Bokun’s onslaught continued. But despite his newfound power, Guhin evaded every strike with an almost unnatural grace and speed. The enormous blade grazed him repeatedly, but it never found its mark.

Finally, Guhin grew tired of the game. As Bokun’s greatsword descended in another powerful arc, Guhin turned his body to the side, dodging the strike, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. With a single, devastating punch, he buried his fist deep into Bokun’s chest.

Bokun gasped as the blow landed, the force driving him to his knees. The berserker’s technique dissipated, the tension in his muscles releasing as his body returned to its normal state. He stared up at the sky, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Guhin stood over the fallen giant, his eyes scanning the battlefield. The woman he had just saved was nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't dwell on it. Perhaps she had fled in the chaos, escaping while Bokun’s attention was elsewhere.

Bokun, still on his knees, struggled to catch his breath. The berserker technique had drained him, leaving him weakened. Yet, despite his broken body and battered spirit, the fire of determination still flickered in his eyes. He coughed, trying to speak through the pain.

"At least… tell me… your name," Bokun rasped, his voice laced with frustration. "The name of the one… who bested me."

Guhin, however, did not respond, as if Bokun's words were nothing more than a distant murmur. The giant's persistence, though, refused to be ignored.

"Your name!" Bokun demanded, the intensity in his voice growing despite his weakened state. "I deserve… to know!"

Guhin’s attention finally shifted back to Bokun, but his expression remained indifferent. For a moment, it seemed as if he would remain silent, leaving Bokun’s request unanswered. But something in the giant’s unwavering commitment struck a chord within him.

With a sigh, Guhin finally turned his attention to the persistent giant. His expression was one of mild annoyance, as if he was dealing with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Guhin,” he said flatly, his eyes meeting Bokun's.

Bokun blinked, the name apparently bouncing around in his head before it came out in a barely recognizable form. “Guhon… Gahoon… Guh… Guhdjin…”

Guhin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Guhin,” he repeated, trying to enunciate clearly.

Bokun nodded vigorously, but his attempts to repeat the name only got worse. “Guh-HEEN?”

Guhin’s lips tightened in a thin line as his patience began to evaporate. Bokun, however, seemed oblivious to the growing irritation, as he continued to massacre his name in various creative ways.

“Guh… whatever…” Bokun grumbled, finally giving up. He stared up at Guhin, his expression one of sheer determination. “I’ll remember it… Yu-lin…”

Guhin just stared at him, completely unimpressed. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he gave a slight nod. “Close enough.”

Bokun, now satisfied, nodded back as if they had just shared a profound moment of mutual understanding. “Yeah… that’s it… Yu-lin…”

Guhin shook his head slightly, more amused than annoyed now, and turned to leave. Guhin’s gaze was already shifting away when Bokun’s hand shot out and grabbed the end of his cloak. “Where do you think you’re going?” Bokun demanded, his voice still strained but full of the kind of defiance that comes from a warrior who’s far too stubborn for his own good. “You didn’t really think I’d let you go after all that, did you? Not when I finally found a worthy opponent!”

As Bokun spoke, he let out a loud, piercing whistle, the kind that could summon a thunderstorm or at least get the attention of someone who really needed it. Off in the distance, Etro, Bokun’s faithful steed, lay unconscious, his hooves waving comically in the air. But at the sound of his master’s call, the horse sprang to his feet and began to gallop towards them, his hooves kicking up a small storm of dust as he was picking up speed with every stride.

Bokun watched with pride as Etro charged towards him “Look at him go!” Bokun laughed, still holding onto Guhin’s cloak. “He’s faster than he looks, I’ll give him that!”

Guhin, however, had little interest in the horse’s theatrics. He was more focused on the annoyance of Bokun’s persistent grip. With a barely audible sigh, he turned slowly, only for a flash of movement to catch Bokun off guard.

In the blink of an eye, a fist, slammed into Bokun’s face. His eyes widened in shock as his vision blurred and Bokun's legs gave way beneath him. The mighty berserker crumpled to the ground, his laughter cut short and replaced by the abrupt silence of unconsciousness.

Guhin glanced down at the fallen giant, his lips curling into a faint, amused smirk.

With Bokun dealt with and the woman nowhere in sight, Guhin turned and continued his journey westward, toward the village.

Some time passed before Bokun stirred, groaning as he slowly woke up. He gingerly touched his face, feeling the swelling around his eye, a fresh black eye from Guhin’s punch. As he sat up, disappointment washed over him when he realized Guhin was long gone.

“Damn…” Bokun muttered, scratching his head as he surveyed the destruction around him. His expression darkened, and his eyes widened with frustration as he scanned the area, realizing that the woman he had held captive was nowhere to be seen.

"No, no, no..." Bokun growled, slamming his fist into the ground. "How could I lose her?!" He pounded the ground again, his anger at himself evident for letting himself get carried away in the fight.

Taking a deep breath, Bokun struggled to his feet, his body still aching from the battle. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the surroundings, desperately searching for any sign of the woman. He moved through the clearing, his sharp gaze finally catching sight of something—pieces of rope scattered on the ground.

Bokun knelt, picking up one of the remnants. The rope, once sturdy and covered in intricate runes, now looked frail and decayed. The runed symbols were fading, their glow dimming until they were barely visible. The fibers of the rope began to crumble in his hands, withering into nothingness as if their purpose had been fulfilled and they no longer had reason to exist.

Bokun clenched his fists, his body trembling with frustration. “Damn it!” he roared, the sound echoing through the trees, sending startled birds fleeing into the sky, their wings flapping wildly in the aftermath of his anger at losing her.

His gaze darted around, searching again for any sign of the woman. Then, caught on a nearby branch, he noticed something—a torn piece of white fabric from her gown. He reached for it, recognizing it as part of her gown, now torn and left behind in her escape.

“Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered bitterly, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand. His hands clenched into fists as he shook his head, clearly angry at his own recklessness. Whatever reason he had for keeping her around, he had failed, and it was eating away at him.

As his faithful steed Etro reached him, Bokun mounted the horse with a groan, wincing at the pain that still coursed through his body. He tapped his heels against Etro's sides, urging the horse forward. But the steed hesitated, its gaze fixed on the north, where the other horses had fled.

"Oh, don't start, Etro. You and I both know they had it coming... Besides, we need to find her." Bokun's voice was more serious now, lacking his usual bravado. He held out the torn piece of gown toward the horse. "Take a whiff and tell me where she went."

Etro snorted in response but obediently lowered his head to sniff the fabric. His nostrils flared as he caught her scent, and then, with a determined huff, he started walking west, the same direction Guhin had gone.

Bokun’s mood was somber as they began their journey, his earlier disappointment etched into his features. He knew that he had to fix this mistake, to find her and complete the task he had been given. As they moved, Bokun muttered to himself, replaying the events in his head, clearly frustrated at having allowed himself to lose focus.

“This isn’t over,” he vowed, determination burning in his eyes. "I'll find her, no matter what."

Meanwhile, Guhin had been traveling for some time since his confrontation with Bokun, the image of the merciless giant still lingering at the edges of his mind. But as he approached the western edge of Valherya, the memory of the battle faded, replaced by the breathtaking view before him.

The landscape opened up into a grand vista, offering a clear view of the vast western region of Valherya. Below lay the lands of Elthan, where fertile plains stretched endlessly, scattered with farms and smaller homes in the distance. Amidst this peaceful landscape, the village where Ishu lived stood out prominently—a well-defended settlement, nestled against the gentle rise of cliffs that formed a natural barrier. Stout wooden gates guarded the entrance, and soldiers clad in light armor patrolled the roads with vigilant eyes.

Despite its formidable defenses, it was a place of life and commerce. The village was divided into four distinct quarters, each marked by a different colored awning. The traders’ quarter, with its white awnings, bustled with activity as merchants hawked their wares to eager buyers. The residential areas, marked by blue and green awnings, were quieter, with families going about their daily routines. The main plaza, a marvel of architecture, was dominated by a grand array of pillars and a towering bell tower that tolled the passing hours.

Beyond the village, the blue river teemed with fishermen, their boats lined up along the docks, displaying their catches prominently for all to see. The village was renowned not only as an economic hub but also for its fresh, varied fish, providing the surrounding regions with a steady supply. The southern region of Jhorfa, however, remained an exception. The mountain trolls had no interest in fish or produce, and their territorial nature kept them firmly within their own lands, with only a few stray wanderers venturing out every couple of years.

Guhin took in the scene, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Fukujin.”

As he spoke, a shadow swooped down from the sky, and landed gracefully on Guhin’s shoulder.

“Let’s go...,” Guhin said, his voice steady.

With a brief rustle of feathers, Fukujin shifted to the back of Guhin’s neck, his talons digging gently into the fabric of Guhin's hood. As they followed the edge of the western region, they stopped beside a giant wooden lift, ment to ferry visitors down to the village below. In the past, Guhin had always preferred leaping off the ledge, feeling the exhilarating rush of air and the thrill of landing with a mighty impact. It was the closest thing to freedom, a cherished memory. Even though it was bittersweet, today wouldn't be any different.

Taking a deep breath, Guhin stepped back and then leaped from the edge. Fukujin let out a sharp caw as Guhin began to fall, adjusting his wings to the rushing wind, balancing himself effortlessly as they descended. They plummeted through the air, the wind rushing past them, until Guhin landed with a thunderous impact that cracked the earth beneath his feet. The familiar rush and the ground beneath him brought him a sense of joy, a feeling he had lost over the years.

As Guhin rose from the crater his landing had created, Fukujin shook himself free of the dust, his wings flapping momentarily as he regained his composure. A guard, who had been stationed nearby, hurried over, his face pale with shock.

“Oh dear gods! I mean, halt! Who goes—Oh, it’s you… Tsk... You scared me for a second. Don’t you know it’s troll season?”

Guhin remained silent, his expression emotionless as he dusted himself off.

“You’re still the same,” the guard continued, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Talking doesn’t hurt, you know. Well, move it along then. That kid’s been nagging our ears off for a couple of years now. You better have a good excuse for making him wait this long.”

Guhin gave a simple nod of acknowledgment before setting off along the dirt road that would eventually lead him to the village gates.

The entrance guards recognized him instantly, greeting him with respectful nods. One of them knocked on the large wooden gates, and moments later, the rustling of chains and the groaning of hinges signaled the gates slowly swinging open. The lively sounds of music and the rich aroma of herbs and spices flooded Guhin’s senses as he stepped into the vibrant village.

As the gates fully opened, Guhin stood at the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the familiar scene. It was then that everything hit him, memories, emotions, and a sense of homecoming. The sight of the bustling village, the sounds of laughter and commerce, and the comforting scents of familiar foods brought a warmth to his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time. The village, he called--

“Aryan... It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Fukujin?” Guhin said softly, a nostalgic smile crossing his face.

He took a hesitant step forward, his foot barely touching the ground. The village held memories, both joyful and sorrowful. For a moment, he paused, as if the simple act of moving forward might somehow alter everything. Yet, with a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and took another step, pushing through the uncertainty.

GUHIN!