The Land of Snow, everything was white. From afar, it looked clean, pure, almost like a sacred place.
But once you got closer, you could smell it, the faint stench of blood drifting above the royal city of Kazahana.
It wasn't strong, not the kind that gushed from a knife wound, thick and fresh, reeking of iron and guts.
This smell had seeped into the bricks over more than a decade, mixed with the snow, dried and frozen. It was faint, but it was everywhere.
At six o'clock in the morning, a sliver of sunlight pierced the eastern sky, offering no warmth. The icy wind lashed across the face of a young girl, barely old enough to understand the world.
She was in her mother's arms, her small hands wrapped tightly around her mother's neck. Her head turned to look at her father, who carried a suitcase, face grim, striding quickly ahead.
The girl was too young to understand what a "royal summons" was, or what a "certain-death job" meant.
Her world was small, just her father and mother. So when her usually calm father and gentle mother both showed fear, the girl's heart filled with a dread she couldn't name.
She straightened her face, furrowing her tiny brow, mimicking her father's serious expression, looking around cautiously, until she saw something flying toward them from behind.
A shuriken.
"Mom!"
Before the word was even out, the shuriken pierced her mother's back, cleanly stabbing through her heart.
Thud!
Her mother collapsed weakly to the ground.
She was dead.
Her last act before dying was raising both arms high, so her daughter wouldn't hit the ground when she fell.
Two Snow ninja walked over, sneering coldly. "See? That's what happens when you try to run. Dead now, aren't you?"
To build his weapons of war, Kazahana Dotō had summoned all craftsmen in the nation. But most craftsman families were simple, men worked, women kept house.
Once the man, the earner, was gone, the family that remained would be crushed by taxes, high prices, and greedy neighbors. In the end, they either starved or, just to survive, the once-dutiful wives had no choice but to sell their bodies.
The man was a simple carpenter, not the kind of craftsman they needed. After all, weapons of war were made of steel, not wood. Wood broke too easily, failed too often.
But that morning, the Snow ninja issued a nationwide order, all laborers must stop resting, and every craftsman, no matter their trade, was required to report to the royal city.
The man couldn't bear to see his wife forced to sell herself. He couldn't watch his daughter starve. So before dawn, he tried to flee the Land of Snow.
He never imagined ninja would come after them.
He looked at his wife lying in a pool of blood. His face flushed with fury as he pulled a screwdriver from his suitcase, his eyes red and wild.
To hell with ninjas.
He was ready to fight to the death.
But then, the Snow ninja's gaze fell upon his daughter.
His charge forward came to an abrupt halt.
Clink!
The screwdriver fell to the ground.
"Let her go. I'll go with you."
The Snow ninja snorted. "You should've done that from the start."
He stepped forward, planted his foot on the woman's back, and pulled his kunai free. Wiping the blade on her clothes, he muttered, "Tch. Even dirtied my kunai."
The man's teeth ground audibly, but when he thought of his daughter, he lowered his head again. He handed over everything of value on him, pressing it into his daughter's hands, telling her to go home, find a way to survive.
But everyone knew the truth.
How could a child that small survive alone in this frozen city?
Even if she was clever, once word spread that her family was gone, men would break in that same night to steal whatever they could.
Still, it was better than dying here.
As his daughter wailed in despair, the man followed the Snow ninja toward the royal castle.
Before entering, he looked up. On the balcony above stood King Kazahana Dotō, brow furrowed, gazing into the distance.
"My lord,"
Snow Jonin, Wolf Fang, stepped up behind him, bowing respectfully.
"All the craftsmen across the country have been notified. The major factories have been ordered to work twenty-four hours a day."
"Good."
"My lord, aren't we being… a little too cautious? The common folk's reaction has been… quite intense."
They had received a secret letter the day before, one claiming that Kazahana Koyuki had sold her soul to the demon Ryosuke in order to reclaim the Land of Snow.
"You read the message yourself,"
Kazahana Dotō said grimly. "With Ryosuke's hunger for conquest, he'll never spare our peaceful, tranquil Snow Country.
To protect this nation, temporary sacrifice is necessary. Our descendants will remember their sacrifices, and history itself will prove we were right."
Wolf Fang's eyes gleamed with admiration.
Kazahana Dotō patted his shoulder. The two descended into the castle's underground base. There, on the tracks, stood a massive train.
Not an ordinary one, this was loaded with countless weapons of war, a true beast of steel.
Wolf Fang marveled.
"Wherever these rails stretch, that is the Land of Snow's domain. Your domain, my lord!"
"This world will soon be ours for the taking!"
The anxiety from that secret letter seemed to fade as they gazed upon the armored war train.
Kazahana Dotō clasped his hands behind his back, listening to the flattery, and laughed heartily.
"You exaggerate. The Five Great Nations are not to be underestimated. But with weapons like this, if Ryosuke dares to come…"
"He'll never leave alive!"
———
"Let go!"
"Old man, I said let him go!"
The factory overseer stared blankly for three full seconds before realizing what he was seeing, Nagano, an old farmer, had just bitten a Snow ninja to death.
This wasn't an illusion. The old man had actually killed a ninja.
A dozen overseers drew blades and clubs, swinging wildly as they rushed at the old man, determined to beat him to death on the spot.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A metal ball whirled through the air as if alive, ricocheting again and again, each strike landing perfectly on an overseer's face.
They screamed, spun, and flew backward. Teeth, eyeballs, and brain matter scattered across the floor. By the time they hit the ground, their eyes were vacant, their breath fading away.
The iron ball returned, spinning in Ryosuke's palm.
"This is the Land of Snow."
Ryosuke looked up at the sky, his gaze seeming to pierce through the clouds, meeting Kamina Hayato's eyes.
"I thought your intel exaggerated. Turns out… it was too mild."
The report had only two words, "tyrannical rule."
But those two words, when applied to real lives, meant endless tragedies, each one heavy enough to break a person's spine.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The shrill sound of an alarm filled the factory.
The workers' brief feeling of relief vanished instantly, replaced by panic. They froze in place, not knowing what to do. Running wasn't an option, every factory had detailed rosters and family records.
If they fled, they and their families would all die.
When they looked back at Ryosuke, their eyes carried a flicker of resentment.
But it quickly faded, replaced by resignation.
How could they resent a man brave enough to stand up?
No, the one to blame wasn't Nagano, nor Ryosuke.
It was their cursed fate.
"Run," Ryosuke said quietly.
One worker turned back toward the approaching sirens and the Snow ninja coming from afar. "If we stay, we'll die."
"Die?"
Ryosuke, who had been comforting old Nagano, slowly lifted his head.
"Who's going to die?"
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