POV: Third Person (Yoshiya)
The morning broke softly, sunlight filtering through the thin canopy like liquid gold. The forest was quiet—too quiet. Yoshiya stirred, blinking against the warmth that brushed across his cheek. For a fleeting second, he thought it was peace. Then his eyes focused on the scene before him, and his stomach dropped.
Nogare sat calmly on a fallen tree trunk, his sword resting across his knees, its edge still faintly wet. Before him lay ten kobold corpses arranged almost deliberately—each one slain cleanly, not a drop of blood wasted. And tied to four different trees, four human figures hung unconscious, their hands bound behind their backs with rope made from vines.
To the side, two horses grazed idly near a small caravan that hadn't been there the night before. A faint trail of smoke curled from an extinguished campfire.
Inside a tent nearby, Zentake slept as though the world hadn't changed at all, snoring softly under the shade of canvas.
Yoshiya rose slowly, his heart hammering. He turned and gently shook Omina awake.
"Wake up," he murmured. "You… need to see this."
Omina groaned, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Then her gaze caught the sight before them, and the drowsiness vanished.
"What the—how did this happen while we were asleep?" she gasped.
Nogare didn't turn his head. "Zentake's doing. He kills quietly."
Omina blinked at him, incredulous. "Quietly? He killed ten kobolds and four people while we were sleeping?"
Nogare rose, brushing dirt from his coat, movements calm and measured. "They weren't worth waking you for." His tone carried no malice, only cold practicality. "And since you're up, Omina—there's meat in the caravan. A gift from our little visitors. Would you prepare breakfast?"
Omina stared at him, caught between disbelief and irritation. "Gift? You call that a gift?"
Nogare simply smiled faintly. "Meat is meat."
Still scowling, she turned toward the caravan. Curiosity overpowered her frustration. Behind it, she found an assortment of goods—bundles of herbs, salted meat, ceramic pots, rusted armor, swords, pouches, even a few clay jars filled with dried berries. A strange scavenger's treasure hoard.
"He called this Gift?" she muttered. "Feels like we're mugging them.."
Half amazed, half irritated, she began cooking anyway. She built a fire using broken kobold spears as kindling, filled a pot with water, and started to season the meat with crushed herbs she found nearby. The smell rose quickly, sharp and earthy, curling through the air.
Yoshiya crouched nearby, uneasy. He looked toward the bound humans. "Who are they?"
"Visitors," Nogare answered flatly. "When breakfast is ready, we'll wake Zentake—and our guests—for a meal together."
Yoshiya felt the weight in his chest grow heavier. Nogare's calm was unnatural—disturbingly precise, as though he had planned every detail.
Soon the air filled with the scent of roasted meat. Zentake stirred inside the tent, mumbling half-asleep. "Smells like heaven…" He crawled out, eyes half-open, drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. He sat beside the fire, grabbed a piece, and began eating without hesitation.
Despite the strange company, they ate in silence. Nogare chewed slowly, almost ceremonially, his eyes distant. Yoshiya ate out of instinct, each bite reminding him how surreal the morning had become. Omina barely touched her plate, her gaze flicking between the corpses and the captives.
Then Nogare stood. The motion was smooth, deliberate. He drew his katana, the soft metallic whisper slicing through the calm.
Without a word, he walked toward the four bound men.
Yoshiya's pulse quickened. "Nogare—wait—"
Too late.
In a single fluid strike, Nogare's blade flashed. The sound was like silk tearing. Four dull thuds followed—wet and final. The captives' feet hit the dirt almost in unison.
Omina froze. Her fork slipped from her hand.
"What did you just—"
Before she could finish, the four men began to stir. Their bodies tensed, eyes snapping open, shock twisting into agony as realization struck. One of them screamed, a raw, ragged sound that shattered the quiet.
Nogare didn't flinch. He looked down at them, voice calm as ever.
"Now. State your reason. Why are you here?"
The captives writhed, moaning in confusion and pain. One tried to speak but only choked on his own breath. Another spat curses in a dialect Yoshiya didn't recognize.
Nogare crouched slightly, eyes sharp as a predator's. "You entered this forest with weapons drawn. You were hunting—something. Or someone." His gaze flicked briefly toward Omina and Yoshiya. "Who sent you?"
No answer came, only ragged breathing.
Omina rose suddenly, her voice breaking the tension.
"Wait—why are they even here? This camp was theirs! Aren't we the intruders here?"
Nogare turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His expression was unreadable, his tone quiet but firm.
"Perhaps. But the moment they crossed paths with us, their purpose changed."
He wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it without another word.
Omina's hands trembled. She looked to Yoshiya for something—sense, reason, anything—but he had none to give.
The morning sun climbed higher, burning away the mist. The forest was awake now, filled with the faint rustle of life. Yet in that clearing, time stood still.
Omina stared into the campfire, the flames flickering in her eyes.
What kind of world had they stepped into—and what kind of man was Nogare really?