NORTH-WEST OF FLOWER TOWN
The bandit yanked hard on the rope, gritting his teeth as he dragged the uncooperative rock beast across the dirt.
"Come on, you stupid Rock Beast! Move already!"
Each pull of the rope jerked the wooden cart behind Caesar — and with each violent tug, more golden wheat spilled out and scattered across the ground.
Caesar's eyes drifted down.
Wheat.
Fresh, cracked kernels rolling right under his nose.
His stomach rumbled.
The bandit tugged again. "HEY! Don't stop—"
Caesar lowered his massive, stone-like head and chomped down on the spilled wheat, cheeks puffing out as he inhaled it in greedy, furious mouthfuls.
The bandit screamed, "STOP EATING—"
SNAP.
Something broke.
Not the rope — not yet.
Something inside Caesar.
His eyes sharpened. His muscles — once sluggish lumps — bulged under his rocky hide. A low rumble vibrated from deep in his chest… then rose… then exploded—
ROOOOOAAAAAH!!
The ground trembled.
"What— what the hell!?""Tighten the rope! Hold it— HOLD IT!"
Caesar planted his hooves, bent his thick neck, and with one full-body surge—
CRACK–SHRRRIP!
The rope tore apart like paper.
The recoil flung the bandits backward, slamming them onto the dirt as they screamed.
Caesar stomped forward, snorting steam, wheat crumbs still stuck around his mouth. His eyes glowed with a righteous fury.
"HE BROKE THE ROPES!""STOP HIM!!"
But Caesar wasn't stopping.
Not for them.
Not for anyone.
Dust kicked up in clouds as Caesar thundered down the street, rope still trailing from his neck, eyes wide and wild.
"Stop that rock beast!" a bandit screamed, stumbling out of the way as the beast barreled past.
"Get it! Grab the reins!"
But Caesar didn't stop. He zigzagged through burning carts and fallen crates, biting the air as if daring anyone to come close.
Up above — on a cracked rooftop overlooking the chaos — Matsu crouched low, scanning the town below.
Then he saw him.
A familiar, stubborn shape charging through the smoke.
Matsu's eyes lit up.
"Caesar!" he shouted.
The donkey looked up mid-gallop, just in time to see a blur leap from the rooftop.
WHUMP.
Matsu landed hard on Caesar's back, arms wrapping tight around his neck as the donkey bucked in protest.
"I missed you too—GO!"
Caesar didn't need to be told twice. He charged forward, right into the fray.
Down below, Terry the Butcher stood with two blades resting across his shoulders, flanked by a wall of unconscious or whimpering townsfolk. His attention snapped toward the noise — toward the shouting, the hooves, the figure appearing from the smoke.
A boy.
Mounted.
Charging straight for him.
Terry's grin faltered in annoyance. "What now?"
Matsu didn't slow. Shovel in hand, he raised it high and lunged from Caesar's back, thrusting forward in a bold strike.
Terry moved like a blade — fast, deliberate. One of his cleavers rose and CLANG—met the shovel mid-air.
Sparks scattered.
They held there for a moment, weapons pressed together, faces close.
"You must be the boss," Matsu said through clenched teeth.
Terry's eyes gleamed. His tongue flicked out across his lips.
He smiled — slow and unnatural.
"Oh," he rasped, voice low and gleeful. "You're going to be fun."
Matsu tightened his grip on the shovel and jumped off Caesar's back, landing hard.
"Stand by," he said, giving Caesar a pat on the flank. The donkey snorted and trotted back, watching with wary eyes.
Across the square, Terry's smile faded. His brow furrowed in irritation.
He turned to one of his scouts.
"That the Rock Beast?" he asked.
The scout, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, that's it, boss!"
Terry stared for a beat.
Then—shhck.
With one clean motion, he swung his cleaver sideways and took the scout's head clean off.
The body dropped.
"That's just a regular donkey, you fool."
The rest of the bandits stepped back, stunned into silence.
Matsu's eyes widened in horror. He clenched his jaw.
"You kill your own men?" he said, voice low.
Terry slowly turned back, licking a smear of blood off his blade.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Without waiting, Matsu charged.
Terry came in low, fast. His long limbs moved like ropes in a storm, fluid and unpredictable. He ducked under Matsu's first swing, letting his right leg whip out in a sweeping kick.
Matsu jumped back, the kick barely missing.
Then Terry surged forward, both cleavers swinging in vicious arcs — wild, fast, efficient. Matsu parried with the shovel, sparks flying as metal clashed again and again. Each strike rattled his bones.
"You're not bad," Terry hissed, "for a farmer."
Two bandits joined the fray, trying to flank Matsu. One jabbed with a short spear. Matsu twisted, using Terry's own momentum to duck behind him — the spear stabbed Terry in the arm instead.
"Gah—! IDIOT!"
Terry backhanded the bandit across the face and turned back just in time for—
WHACK!
Matsu slammed the flat of his shovel into Terry's ribs with a sharp, clean hit. The blow sent him staggering sideways, breath escaping his lungs in a rough grunt.
Matsu didn't let up. He pivoted fast and went for the head.
Terry ducked, just barely avoiding the next blow.
He straightened, his face hidden in shadow.
Then he smiled again — wide, toothy, eerie.
"You know," he said, voice calmer now, "there's a reason they call me The Butcher."
He reached to his waist and unclipped something gleaming — a polished, circular metal ring with sharpened edges. Light danced across it like firelight on steel.
The air around him seemed to shift.
Bandits nearby froze.
One of them whispered, "Wait—is he really gonna use that?"
Terry held it up for Matsu to see. His fingers caressed its edges like it was something holy.
"You see this?" he said, almost lovingly.
"It's the Chakram Artifact."
"Another artifact," Matsu grunted. "I still don't know much about them—just that each one has a different ability. And I need to figure out what this one does, and quickly."
Terry stepped forward.
"By the time you find out what it can do… you'll already be in pieces."
Terry kept his distance, his eyes locked on Matsu like a predator playing with prey.
Then—whoosh—he hurled the chakram again.
Matsu dove sideways, the blade slicing past.
It curved back.
He ducked low, letting it pass overhead, then rolled forward, trying to close the gap.
Terry stepped back with a grin, already spinning the chakram for another throw.
Matsu gritted his teeth, circling. This is just like the spear guy, he thought. Same tactic — stay at a distance, wear me down. I can't let this turn into that again.
The chakram came again.
Matsu ran, weaved, dodged.
He needed to get closer — but how?!
Then the idea struck.
The next time the chakram came, spinning straight toward his chest, Matsu didn't dodge.
Instead, he planted his feet, locked his arms, and—
CLANG!
—thrust his shovel with precise timing, smashing the chakram down into the stone road.
Sparks exploded as metal hit stone.
Terry smiled-
Matsu's eyes lit up. Now!
He charged forward, legs pumping, shovel gripped tight.
But then—
CUT!
Pain exploded through his ankle.
He stumbled, dropped to one knee.
Blood trickled down his leg.
The chakram was back in Terry's hand.
Matsu stared, wide-eyed. "But how… I killed its momentum…"
Terry tilted his head. "You really thought it worked like a boomerang?" He chuckled. "Wrong."
He spun the metal ring slowly on one finger, then pointed to his face — specifically, the piercing on his nose, which was still rotating slightly.
"It reacts to spinning," he said. "That's the trigger. It's drawn to rotation."
He reached up and flicked the ring in his ear, making it spin.
"And as you can see…"
He took off his jacket.
Matsu's breath caught.
Terry's entire body — chest, arms, neck, even his back — was covered in piercings, each one hanging or rotating with subtle movement.
"my whole body is a trigger!"
Terry grinned wide, eyes gleaming.
Blood dripped from Matsu's arms, his legs, his shoulder. Dozens of thin cuts burned across his skin — reminders of every close dodge, every failed counter, every second Terry's chakram danced around him like a predator.
Terry kept smiling.
Another spin. Another cut.
Another step closer to the end.
Matsu fell to one knee, shovel scraping the ground beside him.
His breaths came in sharp gasps. His vision blurred at the edges.
I can't win this, he thought. I can't even get close.
His grip loosened.
Is this it?
Maybe I should've just stayed at the farm…
These things — Artifacts, knights, bandits — they're too much for someone like me.
He looked up just in time to see Terry stepping forward, chakram spinning like a blade of judgment.
"Time to carve you down to size," Terry said, lips curling.
He lunged.
CRACK!
Terry stumbled sideways as a heavy bat slammed into the side of his skull, knocking him off balance.
Matsu blinked, stunned.
Terry staggered, turning with a snarl.
Standing between him and Matsu, a dented metal bat in one hand, was Geum Ferdinand.
The flowerpot on her head was chipped. Her robes were singed. But her eyes were calm, steady.
"Old bag!" Matsu shouted hoarsely. "What are you doing here?! Get out of here!"
Geum didn't look back. She kept his eyes on Terry.
For a moment, she was silent.
Then, in a low, even voice, he spoke.
"Do you know why I was in the ground earlier? Watching the townspeople?"
Terry growled, wiping a streak of blood from his temple.
Geum continued. "It's because I love them. Every single one. And if I want to protect them, if I want to keep them safe and happy… then I should watch over them in person"
She tightened his grip on the bat.
"I don't care if someone's a farmer, a merchant, a visitor, or a stubborn boy with a shovel who picked the worst day to come to town."
She stepped forward, planting herself between Matsu and Terry.
"I'm the mayor," she said, voice rising now. "And that means no one gets left behind."
She raised the bat again, feet firm, flowerpot steady.
"I'm going to protect all my citizens."
Terry straightened slowly, blood trickling from the side of his face, his smile now gone.
"You dare hit me?" he growled.
His chakram spun at his side like a living blade, humming with tension.
Geum didn't flinch.
She glanced back at Matsu, voice calm. "Run. I'll hold him off."
"What? No!" Matsu shouted, reaching out. "Stop!"
But it was too late.
Geum charged forward.
Matsu's hand hung in the air as if time had slowed.
Terry moved fast — faster than he should've. With one fluid motion, he hurled the chakram again.
WHIRRR—
Matsu watched helplessly as the spinning blade sliced through the air toward Geum.
Geum ducked.
SHK!
The chakram tore clean through the flowerpot on her head, shattering it into pieces.
But Geum didn't stop.
She dashed in, closing the distance.
Terry spun his piercings, activating the chakram's pull—readying for the return.
But Geum was already acting.
She spat the flower from his mouth, sending it spinning through the air — straight into Terry's face.
Terry flinched instinctively, just for a second.
That was all it took.
The chakram, reacting to the spinning motion of the flower, veered off its original path.
Matsu's eyes widened as it shot straight toward Terry's head.
Terry barely dodged, leaning sharply with his unnaturally long body — the chakram missing by inches as it tore through the space beside him.
And in that instant—
Geum leapt.
For a woman her age, her form was flawless — knees tucked, bat raised high overhead, eyes locked in.
He brought the strike down—
WHAM—
But Terry's hand shot up.
Long fingers closed around Geum's throat mid-air.
The momentum stopped.
Geum's legs kicked.
Matsu's breath caught in his chest.
Terry's eyes were wide with rage now. His grip tightened, lifting Geum higher.
"Stupid old hag?" Terry hissed. "You think you can beat me?"
Terry's grip tightened around Geum's throat.
He spun one of his piercings.
The chakram, now far behind them, trembled — then shot forward like a hunting hawk, curving through the air, returning to its master.
Terry caught it mid-spin, lifting it for the final blow.
"You've served your purpose, woman," he growled. "But now… the boy's gone. My real prey slipped through your fingers."
Geum choked back air, her hands weak against the vice-like grip, but she smiled faintly.
Good.
Matsu had escaped.
She had no regrets.
"Let's have a drink in the afterlife someday, Salatin," she thought.
Terry pulled the chakram back to strike—
CRACK!
The ground beneath them erupted.
From the dust and broken stone, a shovel shot upward — and smashed Terry square in the jaw.
MOLE STRIKE!
The impact sent him stumbling back, releasing Geum from his grip.
Geum fell to her knees, gasping.
She looked up.
Through the haze of dirt and smoke stood Matsu — bloodied, battered, and barely upright, but holding the shovel like it belonged to him.
"Matsu…?" Geum breathed.
"You idiot!" she shouted, coughing. "Why didn't you run?!"
Matsu's chest rose and fell with each breath. His body ached. His vision blurred.
But he didn't step back.
"As if I'd just stand there and watch an old granny get killed in front of me," he said.
Then he lifted the shovel slightly.
"And besides…"
His eyes narrowed on Terry as the man growled and stood again, rubbing his jaw.
"Thanks to you, I found a way to win."
Terry's face twisted into fury, his eyes bloodshot, his jaw swelling.
"What is with you people?" he barked. "Always jumping in to save each other like it means something!"
He spun the chakram in his hand again, the metal ringing like a bell of death.
"It disgusts me. The only thing that matters in this world is yourself."
Matsu didn't flinch.
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His arms trembled beneath the weight of the shovel. But his eyes — they were steady.
He looked straight at Terry.
"Then you've never had something worth protecting."
Terry snarled.
Matsu kept going, voice low but unwavering.
"Because that is what makes us human."
He shifted his stance.