A small fishing village—Dunre, Gyser County, in the Nation of Krisha.
The salty air clung to the shoreline as waves lapped gently against rotting wooden docks. Nets swayed on posts, still damp from the morning's work, and seabirds cried overhead as if warning the land below.
"Three… four… five… six… seven…"
A small child stood with his back pressed against the rough bark of a tree, hands tightly covering his eyes. His voice was thin but excited, bouncing with laughter as he counted, heels rocking against the dirt.
"Ten! I'm gonna find you guys!"
He spun around eagerly, scanning the tall grass and crooked huts with wide, searching eyes. The game had gone quiet—too quiet. Then he heard it.
Rustling.
The sound came from a nearby bush, leaves trembling as something shifted within. The boy's face lit up.
"Ha!"
Carefully, he crept forward, pushing aside branches as his heart thumped with anticipation. He was sure he'd caught one of them hiding—maybe his sister, maybe one of the village boys.
He parted the shrubs.
What stared back at him was not human.
A grey, spiked creature crouched low in the dirt, its jagged back rising and falling as it fed. Its skin looked like wet stone, and its mouth—wide and crooked—was stained dark with blood. Beneath it lay what remained of another child.
For a single breath, the world froze.
Then the boy screamed.
The scene shifted to the pier.
Villagers moved back and forth along the docks, carrying heavy baskets brimming with fish. The smell of salt and scales filled the air as wooden fish traps were hauled up and emptied. Three fishermen leaned over the edge, watching the water ripple beneath their lines as they spoke idly.
"Good haul today," one of them said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Looks like today my family can eat well," another replied with a tired smile.
The moment shattered.
A woman's scream tore through the air—sharp, raw, and filled with terror. Heads snapped toward the sound just in time to see a body collapse, its head torn clean away.
From the water, monsters surged upward.
They had alligator-like heads lined with crushing teeth, their eyes dull and predatory. Webbed arms stretched grotesquely from their torsos, claws dripping as they dragged themselves onto the docks. Webbed feet slapped against the wood as they lunged forward, biting and slashing without restraint.
Panic erupted.
Villagers screamed, baskets dropped and fish spilled across the pier as people ran in every direction. More of the creatures emerged from the sea, climbing over one another, tearing into fleeing bodies with brutal efficiency.
Then the water split again.
A larger form rose behind them.
It was monstrous beyond reason—a towering beast with three heads. One was that of a shark, rows of serrated teeth gleaming. Another was the familiar alligator head, snapping violently. The last was shaped like a duck's, twisted and unnatural, its beak cracked and sharp. A massive fin jutted from its back, cutting through the air as it roared.
The village was no longer a village—it was a slaughter.
As the monsters rampaged, Dunre's people fled, abandoning homes, boats, and memories in their desperate evacuation.
Gyser County — The Gyser Estate.
Within the stone walls of the Viscount's estate, chaos of a different kind unfolded.
A massive, obese man sat surrounded by chests and scrolls, his fingers heavy with rings that glittered in the candlelight. Gems and gold draped across his body as servants rushed back and forth, packing valuables at his frantic command.
"Careful with that! That document is worth more than your life!" he barked.
A servant burst into the chamber, breathless. "Sir! The Monster Stampede will reach us in the next eight wicks of a candle—no, sooner. Much sooner!"
"That soon?!" the Viscount shouted, half rising from his seat.
He froze, thoughts racing.
I'm not allowed to leave my territory without the king's permission… unless there is extreme danger threatening it.
I always thought I would live easily, he thought bitterly. Far from the capital's drama. Who knew this godforsaken land would amount to so little?
Another servant bowed quickly. "All merchants have already evacuated, my lord. The Mercenary Guild has hired forces to delay the Monster Stampede while the residents flee to the nearest territory."
Those tight-pocket bastards, the Viscount thought, clenching his jeweled fist.
A final servant approached. "My lord, the carriages are ready."
"Good. Don't leave a single thi—"
His words cut off.
The Viscount's eyes widened briefly before his body collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. Servants rushed to him, shaking his massive frame, checking his breath.
One servant stepped back slowly."Dead."
Silence fell.
Then, a deep voice echoed through the chamber.
"Who would've thought the mainlanders would invade, right… big brother?"
A man in dark blue stepped forward as if emerging from the shadows themselves. His hair was tied into a ponytail, his presence sharp and controlled. This was the 10th Blade — the Echoing Blademaster.
Behind him stood another figure: broad, calm, and imposing. He wore no armor beyond metal gauntlets. A full beard framed his face, a scar ran over his right eye, and mismatched earrings hung from his ears—one shaped like the sun, the other bearing the crescent moon.
The 7th Blade — the Empty-Handed Blademaster.
"Hm," he responded quietly.
"Who would've indeed thought," the 7th Blademaster said at last.