The western plains came into view like a half-forgotten memory.
Kurana Alexanderia and Shogun Kurogami crossed the final stretch of open land in silence. The Great Wall rose in the distance, no longer a distant hope but a solid line of stone and steel. Beyond it, the western territories stretched under a clearer sky than the one they had left behind in the easternmost plains. The air itself felt different — less heavy with sulfur and black fire, more filled with the distant noise of human activity.
They were recognized long before they reached the main checkpoint. East Horizon scouts on the wall sent word ahead. By the time the two men passed through the gates, a small escort was already waiting. Neither Kurana nor Kurogami spoke much during the short ride into the capital. Both of them still carried the weight of the black volcano and the dragon that ruled it.
The vehicle stopped in front of the central administrative building that now served as the heart of the new government. Alexander Vane stood at the top of the steps. Olivia was beside him. Vanya Aether waited a few paces lower, her posture straight, the quiet authority of someone who had taken on heavier responsibility clear in the way she carried herself.
Kurana stepped out first.
For a moment he only looked at Alexander. The younger man had changed. The lines of command sat on him differently now. There was more weight in his stance, more certainty in his eyes. Kurana's own body felt older than it should, worn down by months of survival in a place that should not exist.
He walked forward without a word and pulled Alexander into a tight embrace.
Alexander stiffened for half a second, then returned the hug with equal force. Neither of them spoke. The silence between them carried more than any formal report could. Kurana's arms were steady despite the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. Alexander could feel how thin his uncle had become, how the long journey and the constant danger had carved into him.
When they finally stepped apart, Alexander kept one hand on Kurana's shoulder.
"You're back," he said quietly.
Kurana's voice was rough. "We almost weren't."
Alexander's eyes moved over both men. The dirt, the old blood, the deep fatigue that no short rest could erase. He had seen Kurana tired before. He had never seen him look like this. The sight alone told him that whatever waited in the easternmost plains was worse than any previous report.
"What did you find?" Alexander asked.
Kurana exhaled slowly. "Something that shouldn't be there. A black volcano. A dragon large enough to blot out the sky. It heals. It doesn't tire. We took a sample of the lava it lives on. That is all we could do."
Kurogami stepped forward. In his hands he carried the reinforced container. He held it out toward Vanya.
"You're the one handling guild matters now," he said. "This needs study. Careful study."
Vanya took the container with both hands. Her expression remained controlled, but her eyes sharpened the moment she felt the faint, unnatural pressure coming from inside.
"I'm the Guild Master of East Horizon," she confirmed. "I'll see that it's examined properly. No one opens it without full containment protocols."
Kurana glanced at her. "Guild Master."
Vanya met his gaze. "Alexander needed someone to hold the guild while he took the government. I accepted."
Alexander looked between them. "We'll talk properly inside. You both need food, medical checks, and rest. Whatever that dragon is, it can wait until you're not about to fall over."
Kurana gave a tired half-smile. "I've been about to fall over for weeks. A few more hours won't change it."
Still, he did not argue when Olivia stepped forward and quietly directed the medical team to take both men for immediate examination. As they were led inside, Alexander remained on the steps for a moment longer, watching the doors close behind them. The return of Kurana and Kurogami should have felt like a victory. Instead it felt like the opening of a deeper problem — one that the western territories were not yet prepared to face.
---
Far from the western capital, in the broken expanse of the central eastern plains, a different kind of struggle unfolded.
A woman ran hard across the cracked ground, her breathing ragged. In her arms she clutched a five-year-old child. Another child, slightly older, stumbled behind her, small hand locked tightly around the edge of her torn clothing. Behind them, the ground shook with heavy, irregular impacts.
The creature chasing them was a greenish-black grasshopper of unnatural size. A single massive eye dominated its head, glowing with dull predatory light. Its level sat somewhere in the forties — more than enough to end three unarmed humans without effort. The woman had already thrown everything she had at it. Nothing had slowed the monster for long.
The children cried. The woman did not waste breath on comfort. She only ran.
The grasshopper closed the distance in a final leap. Its front limbs scythed downward, ready to tear through all three of them in one motion.
A man stepped into the path of the strike.
He moved without hesitation. One hand shot upward and drove fingers straight into the giant single eye. The creature screeched, a high, scraping sound that cut across the plain. The man did not pull back. He twisted his body hard, using the momentum and his own weight to wrench the eye free from the socket in a wet, brutal motion.
Blue liquid sprayed across the ground and over his arm.
Before the monster could recover, the man brought the eye to his mouth and bit down with sharp canines. He tore into it and swallowed. The blue fluid ran down his chin. The grasshopper convulsed, limbs thrashing wildly, then collapsed in a twitching heap as its central sensory organ was destroyed and consumed.
The man stood over the corpse, breathing evenly. His hair was long and unkempt. A slight beard covered the lower half of a handsome face. His clothes were and torn in multiple places but his red armored longcoat is untouched, the t-shirt's fabric stained by travel and old fights. He wiped the blue liquid from his mouth with the back of his hand and turned toward the woman and her children.
The woman stared at him, still shielding the children with her body. Her voice shook when she finally spoke.
"Thank you… thank you. I thought we were finished."
The man looked at her for a moment, then at the two small faces half-hidden behind her.
"You can call me Hino Oni," he said.
His tone was calm, almost casual, as if ripping the eye from a level-40 monster and eating it was nothing unusual. He glanced once more at the dead grasshopper, then turned his gaze toward the open plains beyond.
"You shouldn't stay in the open," he added. "There are worse things than this moving through these lands."
The woman swallowed hard and nodded, still holding her children close. Around them, the central eastern plains remained quiet for the moment, but the silence felt temporary. Something new had stepped into the broken lands a man with long hair, a worn face, and a way of fighting that belonged more to a predator than to an ordinary hunter.
Hino Oni stood there a moment longer, then began walking without waiting to see if they would follow.