The scorching heat of Natlan pressed down, but Capitano paid it no mind. He had not come here for the climate or the war. By order, by duty, by habit—he never questioned it. Snezhnaya had long since hardened him, making him impervious to everything that could break an ordinary man.

But not to this.

The monster had appeared in these lands recently. Caravans vanished without a trace, and the bodies that were found were drained dry, not a single drop of blood remaining. Even the local warriors dared not approach its hunting grounds, and the traveler had been unable to catch the creature. Capitano took on the task without hesitation, determined to help the common people.

He did not believe in terrifying fairy tales. A monster was merely a beast that could be slain. Surprisingly, he tracked it with ease. After all, centuries of experience gave him an undeniable advantage. He made arrangements with the traveler, and together they set traps in the very places where human remains were most often discovered.

The monster revealed itself quickly, falling right into their trap. But before Capitano and his men could emerge from hiding, it sensed them—and disappeared into a dark cave among the nearby cliffs.

Capitano gave chase.

He stepped inside. Then another step. And another.

Somewhere in the depths, a faint movement stirred—nearly silent, but all too obvious to him.

The monster struck first.

Capitano parried the blow. Its strength—monstrous. Its speed—inhuman. But there was something else. It fought too deliberately. Not the mindless fury of the Abyss, but a technique—precise, familiar.

A strike. A parry. A dodge.

And yet, the nagging feeling remained—he had seen these movements before.

A shadowed spear grazed his shoulder, nearly tearing the fabric of his uniform. In response, Capitano delivered a sharp blow, ripping through the monster’s armor.

The black mist dispersed, and he saw the face.

His fingers trembled on the hilt of his sword.

— …{{user}}