A hand rested gently on the cover of the book. It belonged to Vashuki. A sudden gust of wind swept past him, causing his hair to sway through the air for a brief moment.
Vashuki slowly opened the first page of the book. His eyes fell upon the image of a small sun, beneath which stood a lone man on the ground, gazing up at it. The man held a parashu in his hand.
Vashuki remained silent, his eyes fixed on that page. It was as if the sight filled him with immense joy. His emerald-green eyes began to glow brightly... as though they already knew that something terrible was about to happen today.
The very same book that Vashuki possessed was now in Hiruma's hands. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"How did Vashuki get this book...?" she whispered.
Deep inside a prison, Ajina spoke to a man standing before him.
"Go to my house and deliver a dark philosophical book to Vashuki," Ajina said calmly. "But make sure it reaches him in a way that he never realizes where it came from."
Vashuki turned the page and began searching for the meaning behind the words written within it. Before long, he immersed himself in the book, carefully reading every line.
It was a tale that had brought the entire land of Kazime to its knees.
A single woodcutter had plunged the nation into an age of terror.
He was a man consumed by pride, a believer of a different faith. His arrogance had grown so boundless that it seemed no words could leave his lips except those born from his own pride. He rarely spoke, but whenever he did, those who heard his voice never lived to hear another.
Some claimed he had once been a king, yet fate had reduced him to nothing more than a wandering axe .
Now, he stood alone upon a barren wasteland, drawing quiet breaths beneath an empty sky.
His name was Makhulu.
A massive axe rested firmly in his hand, while an unrelenting obsession burned within his heart. His long, untamed hair framed him like the mane of a lion.
Then, in a deep, unwavering voice, he spoke:
"As far as my eyes can see..."
"...not a single living soul should remain."
Before Makhulu stood mountains of corpses. The most horrifying part was that every single body remained standing upright, as if death itself had refused to let them fall.
A lone man stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Makhulu.
So... this is the man who slaughtered a thousand priests...? he wondered.
Suddenly, he came to a halt.
At that very moment, a radiant bow emerged from the ground. It gleamed brilliantly, suspended motionless in the air as though an invisible hand was holding it upright.
The man slowly reached out.
As his fingers drew near, the layers of ash covering the bow began to drift away with the wind.
He gripped the bow firmly and declared,
"I am the GOAT... and it is my duty to eradicate criminals."
His voice carried both unwavering determination and wisdom.
Just then, a stream of water flowed across the ground, reaching his feet.
This is the perfect time to bring the flood," the GOAT said.
Instantly, the water level began to rise. Powerful waves surged forward, rushing far beyond him.
"I shouldn't waste any more time."
The moment those words left his lips, he burst forward.
His speed was impossible to comprehend.
It was broad daylight...
Yet it felt as though darkness had swallowed the light itself.
In an instant, the entire battlefield was consumed by shadow.
The man suddenly came to a stop and drew the string of his bow.
At that moment, a gigantic scorpion-like apparition manifested behind him. Its razor-sharp stinger was poised to strike, glowing with a brilliant white radiance, as luminous as the moon itself.
A single arrow tore through the darkness and shot straight toward Makhulu, piercing deep into his throat. The impact was so tremendous that his head was forced upward.
Then, carried by a gust of wind, the same white scorpion appeared. Its massive claws had locked Makhulu's arms in place, while its razor-sharp stinger trembled with anticipation, ready to drive straight through his body.
Makhulu slowly lowered his gaze toward the scorpion...
...and a deep, unsettling smile spread across his face.
The GOAT, still holding his bow, burst into laughter.
"A mere woodcutter can't even leave a scratch on my Animal Soul."
At that moment, a gentle gust of wind brushed past Makhulu's ears...
...as though the wind itself had whispered something only he could hear
The white scorpion slowly brought its razor-sharp stinger to Makhulu's chest.
Then, with overwhelming force, it lifted Makhulu high into the air, suspending him helplessly above the battlefield. The gleaming stinger hovered only inches from his chest, trembling with deadly intent, ready to strike at any moment.