1048 B.N. - October 30
A Few Months Ago...
Kazumori's POV — Land of Black Iron
"They stole the edge of my existence. And they didn't even wield a blade."
I've never believed in justice.Nor gods.Nor kings.Only in the sharp crack of a perfect ambush… and the silence that follows.
But since last year, that silence was broken.Everything changed when King Tenji of the Land of Sō—that coward who rules from flower-filled temples—decided to "modernize his trade routes."And how did he do it?
He placed his trust in a foreign escort company.One that doesn't even belong to our lands.A company led by a man I've never met, but whose name burns in my thoughts like a curse:Giotto.
That name began to echo like a mantra among the merchants:"Hire Vongola and you'll reach your destination alive.""Bandits don't attack if you carry their seals.""Not even the Land of Black Iron dares cross them."
Lies.Or maybe not.
Because in the following months, I lost more than any war or famine had ever taken from me.My ambushes failed.My men died or fled.The merchandise flowed like a blessed river, guarded by those dogs in uniforms and false honor.
I tried to strike back.I lost a village we used as a hideout.An entire informant network collapsed within a week.Just one damn escort company—and we were treated like cockroaches.
And as if spitting on our traditions, I heard that King Tenji himself had invited that foreigner to his palace.To his table.—To his throne.
My frustration was unbearable.A ronin does not cry.But that night, I shattered my katana against a stone wall. Not from weakness—But because everything I knew was now useless.
Then came the letter.
No seal.Written in black ink and ancient calligraphy.Just one word: "Kaien."
A name that needed nothing more.A living legend among the filth.A slayer of chiefs, tamer of rebellious clans, leader of impossible alliances.A man who had brought entire tribes to their knees…
And now he offered me a seat by his side.
For the first time in years, my hands trembled.—Not from fear…But from purpose.
If Kaien plans to bring down the Vongola... then I will be his blade in the dark.And if Giotto falls to an ambush—one without honor, glory, or warning—even better.
Because a samurai without a clan has only one path left:Revenge.
Haunted Forest – Three Hours LaterInside the Underground Refuge
Torches hung crookedly from the tangled roots of the ceiling, dripping hot resin as if the forest itself wept blood. The roots of ancient trees entwined with the stone walls, as if trying to trap any secret whispered within. The bluish flames flickered and hissed, casting shadows over the packed earthen floor like thick, congealed blood.
An old circular chamber, nearly as ancient as the first human migrations through Lomo, now hosted the true heart of danger—save for the five men inside.
Kaien stood before a stone-etched map of forgotten routes, silent.His eyes traced every line slowly, as if waiting to hear whispered answers from the paths themselves.His right arm, wrapped in a blackened bandage, firmly held the knife he used to carve new paths.
"A frontal assault would be foolish," he said at last, his voice calm but commanding, as his finger followed hidden trails absent from any known document."A premature roar would make us prey… not hunters."
Kazumori said nothing.He simply sharpened his blade with a black stone, his eyes never leaving Kaien.He waited. Calculated.He knew Kaien did not speak in vain.
Inari-han sat with eyes closed, as if listening to the mountain's heartbeat.He exhaled heavily, leaning against a column of withered roots.
"We already lost the winter following that demon-born child. I just want to know how many more lives your strategy intends to waste before this alliance proves itself."
Meanwhile, Chōjin let a single drop of black liquid fall onto a lifeless mouse.But all—every single one—had their full attention on a single voice.Kaien's.
Ayokuma gnawed an old bone like dried leather.He spat it to the ground with contempt, shattering the tense silence.
"So what do you propose, then? That we bark without biting? That we watch like rats while those damn pups pretend to be warriors?"
Kaien did not flinch.
"They may be children, but their discipline and organization is something this world has barely begun to understand.They are like the wolf packs of the Three Northern Mountains.If anyone even suspects we're working against them, that force will strike back with vengeance.Remember—we are criminals. The nobles and rulers of our lands want us wiped out.And that's something this boy can do.The Vongola leader already has a bond with King Tenji of the Land of Sō." (Land of the Moon).
Inari-han, the bandit from that land, understood Kaien's warning all too well.After robbing a noble's estate due to a young girl's careless mistake, he had become a wanted man under King Tenji's law.
Kaien continued:
"Just as we formed an alliance… he can forge pacts with kings."
The four men looked at each other—And nodded.
No one argued.No one breathed.
"So…" murmured Chōjin,"What do you propose? They're a threat to our trade.We must act while they're still children.If they reach adulthood… eliminating them will be impossible."
Kaien didn't answer immediately.Instead, he leaned over the map and, with a rusted knife, made five small star-shaped cuts encircling the area controlled by the Vongola.—We won't lose anything —he said, marking five small cuts into the map, forming a star-like pattern around Vongola territory—. We'll make them lower their guard. Five minor attacks. At five different points. No pattern. No apparent connection. No signs we're working together. Just noise that weakens the edges… while I watch the center and see a weakness in their defenses and organization.
Inari-han opened one eye, uneasy.—Are you using time as a test network?
Chōjin let out a low laugh, almost a hiss.—Interesting… very interesting. Faceless fear. Nameless chaos. That, yes, poisons the soul.
—I'm using it as any resource should be used —Kaien replied—. Silent, useful, and lethal. I don't want their caravans destroyed yet. I want to know how many leave… and how many return. Where they rest. Where they relax. Where they make mistakes.
—And when do we pounce like crows? —Ayokuma growled, grinding his teeth—. When do we spill blood?
Kaien shot him a glare that was enough to smother his enthusiasm.—When the boy named Giotto, I imagine, won't be aware of minor things —and that will be his first mistake.
—I don't want victories —Kaien continued—. I want doubt. Wear and tear that seems unimportant to them, but crucial to us. Sleepless sentries. Hunters shooting at their own shadows when something moves. That's when we'll observe… that female leader —that will be the second stage of the plan.
Silence returned, but it wasn't the same.Kazumori stopped sharpening his blade.—The boy —he murmured—. The one with the fire.
—Exactly —Kaien confirmed—. If he's as clever as they say, he won't respond like a soldier. He won't seek revenge… he'll seek a pattern. And he won't find one.
Ayokuma huffed, annoyed.—And what if he does? What if he starts moving his pieces?
—Then we'll know how he thinks —Kaien answered without flinching—. We'll force him out of his comfort zone. And when that happens… he'll fall.
Inari-han narrowed his eyes, as if calculating the rhythm of a distant storm.—Unstable tunnels, thawing rivers, collapsing bridges. This forest will be a harsh judge. If we play with its rhythm… even trees with Vongola names will fall.
—Well said —whispered Chōjin, stroking a small beetle crawling across his hand—. I can make wells rot and wounds never close. I can make every step poison. Let paranoia kill them before our weapons do.
Kazumori sheathed his sword. His mind wavered between wounded pride and the thirst for vengeance."Five strategic failures… five shameful defeats. I was humiliated. But if Kaien is right, if his plan works… I can prove I'm still the sharpest blade in this region."
"So many words. I want blood, flesh, screams. But if this gets me there… if thanks to this game I can tear off the head of that brat with the strange flames… so be it."
"The earth doesn't lie. If Kaien walks without causing tremors… then the forest approves his step."Chōjin nodded, as if hearing a whisper only he could perceive."Noise without echo. Shadow without origin. Yes… that's pure poison."
Kaien looked up, his eyes gleaming with calculated calm. He seemed to see beyond the present. Beyond the map. Beyond the forest.—The first strike will be in four nights. On the southern trail, near the Gray Village. Just one group. Just one night. An accident… nothing more. Then the others will follow in nearly the same span of time. Spaced out. Each one different. Different group. Different signature.
Kazumori clicked his tongue.—They won't even know who hit them.
—That's the point —Kaien replied, putting the knife away.
Ayokuma stood, stretching like a beast waking from slumber.—And if one of us wants… to play more than necessary?
Kaien turned to him with dangerous slowness.—Then one of us will be replaced. And buried beneath the forest he loves so much.
Silence returned, thick as the night outside.Kazumori, Inari-han, Chōjin, and Ayokuma understood: Kaien wasn't seeking war. He sought something more lethal. The truth. And once he had it, he would use that information to destroy from within.
None said it aloud, but they all thought the same thing:"Kaien is already hunting… and we are both knives… and bait."It seemed like a good plan. And a war for power was brewing.
A few months earlier…Ayokuma, the Lord of Scraps
Night falls over my lair in the Land of Ka.The scent of metal, rust, and sweat has accompanied me for years, but today it carries a bitter taste. Today, even the air reeks of fear.
I've killed nobles for contracts, mutilated bodies in my most revolting experiments, and mined entire routes without a shred of remorse. I've left orphanages in ruins and emptied markets. I've turned slave factories into fields of terror. I am Ayokuma: the trafficker, the mad surgeon, the architect of nightmares. Here, the powerful pay me to clear out their competition. I've worked for lords more corrupt and dangerous than demons, and I always came out on top.
Until the Vongola appeared… they are different.Kids leading such a disciplined and bloodthirsty organization? I'd laugh if it weren't so real. We investigated their origins: they wiped out all the bandits from their own country. Those who didn't join… were executed without hesitation. Veteran men with reputations, taken out like pieces on a board. No one was spared. And soon, they ruled their nation. Then the Land of Lomo… an entire state surrendered before children.
They also have the so-called "Guardians" and their leader, according to rumors. They wield strange flames, more alive than normal fire. Those abilities… me, mad and drugged from my home's silver dust, I can't find a rational explanation. Flames that can destroy… and come from small hands —at that age I had just stolen my first gold coin.
Every step I take is a dance on a tightrope, every spoonful of food carries a weight of doubt. They don't just maintain order… they defend it. Mercilessly. Without warning. How do children face fear? If they speak, they whisper. If they move, they mutter "Guardians." I've seen those shadows: they appear from nowhere and take out thugs without blinking. What horrifies me most is the tale of a child Guardian of the Storm called G —whose flame burns hotter than a forge's furnace, leaving not even bones behind.
That one in particular… the Sky Prince, they say his name is Giotto —the leader of the organization.He leads as firmly as an emperor and as swiftly as a fox. His men —children or not— obey with military discipline. How? With what sorcery? With more strength? None of that unnerves me as much as what they instill inside me: respect… and terror.
They're a threat to our business.We must strike while they're still children. As adults… they will be impossible to eliminate.
Because if a common bandit can't handle them and they don't tolerate failure… what fate awaits a monster like me, whose crimes outnumber the years I've been alive?I came to steal from foreign merchants. They, used to the local violence, sailed confidently through open routes.But not anymore. Now they see Vongola escorts —armed, disciplined, camouflaged like shadows.They're not thieves. They're warriors.They clear paths.They crush every attempt of my impunity.
And the question has haunted me since my first failed attempt:What the hell makes you think you can go up against that...?
The answer arrived in the form of a letter:an enigmatic scroll, sealed with ancient symbols."Kaien," the one they call the cunning...a ghost in the records, a faceless strategist.
He urges me to corner the Vongola, to strike them down, to annihilate them...not completely, but just enough to send a message:"There are still great men prowling the edges of the world."
And my hands tremble with anticipation.What dies with Vongola is the reason I exist.What falls with their organization is my authority, my power, my reign of wealth in the Land of Ka.Never before have I felt that anyone could bring me down.
And now... those children, so small."Kaien"…...
1047 B.N. - June 16
Capital of the Land of Lomo, Headquarters of the Vongola Organization
On a bright morning, in the wide command hall, Sana and Daiki carefully reviewed the recent mission reports.There was a tense silence in the air—every loss, every deviation, carried weight.Though the routine had accustomed them to high demands,something felt different that day.
An adolescent —an orphan already trained under the Vongola system— entered with a firm yet respectful stride.His face bore the marks of exhaustion and barely-contained fear.He bowed.
—Captains, —he greeted— I've come to report a serious loss: a caravan was attacked by bandits in the territory of the Land of Black Iron.The orphan in charge —the soldier assigned— managed to escape and has provided details of the event.
Daiki looked up, alarmed.He and Sana exchanged a glance.For them, failure in missions was rare, but not impossible—One or two failures a month were normal.Giotto had mentioned that even with good organization, the Vongola weren't perfect.
Normally, this kind of case wouldn't be investigated.But if the orphan in charge of the mission were to die, it would require investigation—after all, he had been trained and shaped by the Vongola,and could become an exemplary figure in the future.
Daiki replied.
—Thank you for the report, —he said in a firm voice—Is the leader of the caravan alive? Is he injured?
—I'm not certain, —the boy answered—The wounded man was evacuated to the medical post. He said he took a crossbow bolt and could barely move.
—Understood, —Daiki nodded—Send him at once to consult with Knuckle so he can be treated with the Sun Flame.Then let him rest in the infirmary.But there will be consequences: he'll be sanctioned and demoted for the failure of the mission.
Giotto and the Guardians always chose adolescents mentally prepared to take on mission responsibilities—but failure still warranted demotion.
—Understood, Captains. With your permission. —said the boy, stepping out through the door.
Sana, frowning, intervened:
—Daiki… this is already the third failed mission this month. We need to inform the Boss. This might be a bigger problem.
—Sana, —Daiki answered calmly—This isn't the first time there've been three failures in a month.Remember when we used to run escort missions?We had ten failures in one period —and we survived.The Vongola organization isn't infallible,and even the Guardians —even the Boss— acknowledge it.
She wanted to argue but took a deep breath and accepted it.She trusted Daiki:she knew Giotto was immersed in critical training,and didn't want to interrupt him over a report.
—You're right, —she murmured—For now, let's follow protocol and monitor how the situation develops.
The boy nodded and left with the dignity of a veteran.Sana and Daiki remained in silence, exchanging looks filled with concern.
They knew that three failed missions in one month was a sign.Now, they could only proceed with caution—and bear the weight of hard decisions...