Rina's whole body trembled as if every last ounce of strength had drained out of her bones. Her hands shook violently, smeared in dirt and dried blood, while her screams tore through the silent woods. Her voice cracked and choked, breaking into raw sobs. She crawled backward across the ground, her fingernails scraping against roots and jagged stones. The children behind her were wailing too, their tiny faces soaked in tears. There was no one to help. No savior. No hero. Only the thundering steps of the monster, drawing closer with each slow, dreadful stride.
Its axe rested against its shoulder, the blade rusted and stained, making a faint metallic screech as it slid across the creature's tough skin. The noise alone made Rina shudder. It was coming. It wouldn't stop. She tried to scream for Executioner again, her voice hoarse now, but it came out broken, more like a whisper lost in the wind.
The monster loomed over her. Its breath smelled like rot. It raised the axe high above its head. Rina tried to shield the children, to protect them just a little longer. But she wasn't fast enough.
The axe came down.
The blade crashed through her arm first, severing it completely. Her scream was unlike anything the forest had ever heard. Pain pulsed through her so fiercely she couldn't breathe. Blood sprayed from the stump as she collapsed to the side, gasping and clutching at the air. But the monster wasn't done.
Her right leg was next. The blade tore through it without mercy, and Rina screamed again—a desperate, choking cry full of terror, agony, and disbelief. Her body was weakening, losing its fight. Her eyes looked up at the sky, and she wept.
"Why?" she sobbed. "Why should I die like this?"
The monster gave no answer. It lifted the axe again and swung.
Her head fell away. The blood that burst from her neck poured like water from a broken pipe, spraying the grass, staining the soil, soaking into the trembling hands of the children. The little ones screamed, screamed until their throats bled, but they couldn't run. Their legs wouldn't move. Their minds had shattered.
The axe swung again.
And again.
It crashed into their small bodies, splitting them at the waist, again and again, pounding like some twisted rhythm—as if the monster was grinding flesh into the earth, like pounding yam with a pestle. The forest filled with their screams, and then... silence. Blood covered everything. The ground, the trees, even the air seemed to smell of iron now.
And just as the monster began to retreat, a faint sound rose from the mess of crushed bones and silent corpses.
A breath.
Executioner gasped.
The sound was weak, but the monster heard it. It turned. Its eyes narrowed.
"You've killed many," it muttered in a deep, almost mournful tone. Then it raised the axe once more and drove it straight into Executioner's chest. Blood spilled from his mouth, flowing like a river down his chin. His eyes rolled back, and his body went limp again. The life left him.
A gate opened in the sky—a swirling mass of black and violet energy. The monster stepped toward it, its job seemingly done. It vanished without looking back, swallowed by the gate as it closed with a sharp hum.
The forest fell silent once more.
But beneath the blood, beneath the weight of pain and death, something stirred.
Executioner's fingers twitched. His breath returned, shallow, but real. His eyelids fluttered open. His body was ruined—broken, pierced, bleeding in a dozen places—but he forced his arm to move. Slowly, trembling, he reached into the pocket of his torn coat and pulled out a small wooden whistle.
Hachiro's whistle.
He lifted it to his lips with great effort. His mouth barely opened. A faint note escaped.
Then he collapsed again. No breath. No sound. Just the whistle falling from his fingers into the dirt beside him.
---
In the town not far from the bloodstained woods, a sleek black car came to a gentle stop beside a quiet roadside home. Takashi pointed toward the building, smiling awkwardly as he tried to hide his fascination with the luxurious vehicle.
"Mrs. Mei, this is the place," he said, his voice a mix of pride and nervousness. "They stayed here for a while."
Mei stepped out of the car gracefully, her coat swaying behind her. The other six agents followed her, each scanning the surroundings with quiet focus.
Natsumi's eyes lit up as she stepped onto the path. "I wonder if we're really about to see Rina again," she said with an excited smile, clasping her hands to her chest.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hiroto muttered, arms folded as he gave her a side glance. "Lemme guess—she's going to run into your arms crying?"
Natsumi looked him over with a disgusted face. "Guess what? You're ugly."
Hiroto gasped. "Ugly?! You're... disgusting!"
Ryota groaned. "Can the both of you act normal for once?"
The group moved toward the house. Mei walked ahead, and the others followed. She knocked on the wooden door gently but firmly.
It was Yui who answered. Her face appeared calm and kind, eyes full of warmth. "Hello," she greeted. "How may I help you?"
Mei stared at her for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. Something about this woman tugged at the edge of her memory.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" Yui asked gently, noticing her staring.
Mei blinked, snapping back to herself. "I'm sorry... it's just... I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met?"
Yui only smiled politely. "It's possible," she said, though her tone betrayed nothing.
Mei quickly explained why they had come. "We're looking for two people. A man and a woman. They went by the names Executioner and Rina. We were told they were staying in this house."
Yui paused, then nodded seriously. "They were here... but they left. They returned to Japan."
"What?!" Natsumi and Hiroto shouted at once. They turned to each other in surprise, then laughed awkwardly and looked away.
Mei didn't laugh. She was still watching Yui, her brow furrowed. And then it hit her.
She knew that face. That presence. That energy.
"You... you're the Thunder God," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Yui didn't deny it. Instead, her body slowly began to glow, her form rising into the air. The light around her grew brighter, blinding, until it was impossible to see anything but the silhouette of something ancient and powerful.
"You've served well, Mei," the being said in a voice that shook the air. "The plan begins now. The choice is yours, as my assistant."
Then, just like that, the light vanished. And Yui—no, the Thunder God—was gone.
Mei stood there, eyes wide, heart pounding. The others said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Only silence.
And the storm that was coming.