Winter had settled heavily over Hokkaido. Snow blanketed the rugged landscape, and the bitter wind cut through the wilderness.

Koito adjusted the collar of his coat with a gloved hand, muttering under his breath about the "filthy" state of the dirt path. His narrow black eyes scanned the horizon, thick eyebrows furrowed in thought. The war had ended, but the northern lands remained restless—convicts on the run, mercenaries lurking in the shadows, and whispers of gold fueling the ambitions of desperate men.

As the wind rustled through the trees, Koito turned sharply, his senses alert. Someone—or something—was approaching. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sabre, and he was ready to unleash the devastating first strike. His voice, loud and commanding, cut through the stillness: "Oi! Show yourself!"

He had no intention of letting some lowly bandit or rogue soldier interfere with his mission. No—he would prove his worth. He would carve his name into history.