In a void of endless white, a dragon lay dying, its divine body fracturing like shattered glass. The cracks spread with crystalline precision, releasing ethereal light that danced through the emptiness. The dragon's eyes, once blazing with celestial fire, now dimmed with bitter regret as it cursed the wind that carried away its essence.
"Arghhh... So this is how I meet my end. Damn those other gods for deceiving me! I, Azrael, god of lesser creatures—I will make them pay! A god does not die... let them wait and fear my return."
The voice echoed through the void, growing fainter as the dragon's form dissolved into countless particles of light, scattered by an invisible wind like stardust across the infinite white.
---
Deep within the Zen Forest, a red-skinned ogre paced frantically before a modest hut, his single horn gleaming in the dappled sunlight filtering through ancient trees. His calloused hands trembled as he bit his nails, each scream from within the hut making him flinch as if struck. The forest seemed to hold its breath, even the chirping birds falling silent.
Minutes crawled by like hours until finally, a woman emerged from the hut. Sweat glistened on her crimson skin as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, her twin horns catching the light. Her exhausted face broke into a weary but triumphant smile.
"Chief! Lady Bria has given birth to a strong boy!"
The ogre chief's eyes widened, his weathered face transforming with pure joy. These evolved oni, with their red skin marking their advancement beyond common ogres, rarely showed such raw emotion.
"My love, you did it! I'm truly a father now—can I see them?"
Unable to contain his excitement, he practically bounced on his feet. The midwife nodded, her own smile infectious, and without hesitation, he burst through the hut's entrance.
Inside, dim light filtered through gaps in the wooden walls, casting dancing shadows. Lady Bria lay on a bed of woven straw, cradling a small bundle against her chest. Her face, though pale from exhaustion, radiated maternal bliss. The other maiden attendants bowed respectfully before quietly slipping away, leaving the new family in peace.
"My love, thank you for this precious gift. I promise I will protect both you and him with my life."
Bria's tired eyes sparkled as she extended her hands. Sarion grasped them gently, his rough warrior's palms dwarfing her delicate fingers. She guided him to sit on the edge of the straw bed, then carefully placed their son in his massive arms.
"I know you will, dear. Now give him a name—and pick a good one. You're terrible at naming things."
She laughed softly, playfully tapping his thick thigh. Sarion stared at her for a moment, memorizing this perfect instant, before his face grew serious with the weight of responsibility.
"I have the perfect name... Sera! Sera ry Crimson of the Crimson Ogre Tribe."
"Mmm." Bria nodded thoughtfully, testing the name on her tongue. "I love it, dear. Sera."
The small family huddled together in comfortable silence, breathing in the scent of new life and hope. Eventually, Sarion reluctantly left the hut, allowing his wife and newborn son to rest.
The moment he stepped outside, another ogre came running, his feet pounding against the earth. The warrior dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.
"Chief Sarion! Ariella, my wife, has just given birth to a daughter!"
Without hesitation, Sarion followed the messenger through the settlement. In another hut, he found a similar scene—a tired but glowing mother holding her child on a bed of straw. When the ogre woman tried to rise in respect, Sarion gently gestured for her to remain resting.
He turned to the proud father, noting the warrior's sturdy build and battle-scarred arms.
"Veryan! Have you named her yet?"
Veryan nodded eagerly. "Yes, Chief. She will be called Gia."
"Hahaha... Veryan, I see you've honored our old master with that name. Very well! From this day forth, Gia shall be known as the next shrine maiden of our Crimson Clan and shall be betrothed to my son Sera."
Joy lit up every face as they celebrated this binding of futures. When both men stepped outside the hut, however, their expressions grew grave as darker matters demanded attention.
"Chief! The western tribe has made their move. They're positioned just miles from our settlement. War is inevitable."
Sarion's shoulders sagged, the weight of leadership crushing down upon him like a mountain.
"If possible, I don't want to spill blood today. Bria has just given me the greatest gift of my life... but if it's unavoidable, it's either us or the Yin Clan."
The Yin Clan—another settlement of ogres dwelling in the treacherous Zen Forest. This ancient woodland teemed with predators of every description, where only goblins posed less threat than the mighty beasts that ruled its depths. Even the evolved oni, with their D-class threat rating, trembled before the SSR-level monsters lurking in the forest's heart.
The Yin Clan, like the Crimson, ranked among the weakest of the four ogre clans inhabiting the Zen Forest. But where the Crimson Clan preferred peace and prosperity, the Yin thrived on conflict and conquest. They sought to devour the Crimson Clan, absorbing their numbers to challenge the stronger tribes.
"Hmph... Call the other two seats. We'll launch a pincer attack on the Yin vanguard."
Veryan cleared his throat nervously. "Chief, just two seats? We have nine more available. We'll need our full force to tackle the Yin this time."
Sarion remained silent until his subordinate finished speaking, then fixed him with a steely gaze. "Just do as I say. Call me the Fox and the Serpent."
Veryan's eyes widened in shock. The two beings Sarion requested were legends—warriors even stronger than the chief himself. After a moment's hesitation, he bowed and turned to carry out the order.
Alone, Sarion gazed up at the canopy above, where shafts of golden sunlight pierced the green darkness. His whispered words carried the weight of an unbreakable vow.
"I promise I will protect both of you, even if it's the last thing I do."
---
Veryan navigated the winding paths of their settlement, passing familiar huts and nodding to fellow clansmen. He paused before a dwelling that stood apart from all others—its very presence seemed to drain warmth from the air. Bleached skulls of various creatures hung like grisly trophies from its eaves, their empty sockets seeming to track his movement.
"Venna! Are you home?"
Silence stretched like a held breath before a weary sigh drifted from within.
"Veryan, what do you want?" A pause, then her voice turned dangerous. "You know I'm not to be disturbed, and yet here you are. Leave while I'm still feeling merciful, or I'll use you for my next experiment."
Cold sweat beaded on Veryan's forehead, but he pressed on. "The terms of your residence were clear—once a month, the chief can request a favor. He's calling it in now. Meet us at the chief's hut."
Without waiting for a response, Veryan turned and fled, counting his steps while droplets of nervous sweat marked his passage. After putting considerable distance between himself and that cursed dwelling, he changed direction toward the forest's edge.
At the border where civilization met wilderness, he stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Grimjaw!"
Leaves rustled high above before cascading down like green rain. Veryan craned his neck to spot a figure perched impossibly on a thin branch, silhouetted against the sky.
"Hmph... so it's finally time for some action. I was beginning to think this settlement was the most boring choice I could have made."
The figure rose with fluid grace, as if weightless, then descended in a controlled fall that defied gravity. When his feet touched earth, Veryan found himself face-to-face with a being that straddled the line between monster and man.
Grimjaw appeared almost human save for the small horns protruding from his skull—nothing like the prominent ones worn by oni. His skin held a natural hue, his features refined. He was a kijin, the evolutionary step beyond oni, a Class B threat who had nearly achieved humanity while retaining his supernatural power.
"Let's head back. No need to explain—I can smell the bloodlust in the air."
Together they walked toward the chief's hut, where they found another figure waiting. She possessed an otherworldly beauty that made grown warriors stumble over their own feet—raven-black hair cascading like silk, features so perfect they seemed carved by divine hands. Yet something in her smile spoke of hidden dangers.
Grimjaw sighed upon seeing her. "Venna's involved too? What exactly are we walking into?"
No words passed between the legendary fighters as they approached Sarion's dwelling. The chief stood waiting at his doorway, arms crossed, the weight of impending battle heavy in his stance.
When the group assembled, Sarion stepped forward and extended his hand to both newcomers. Though Grimjaw and Venna served no master, they respected his authority as leader of their adopted home.
"The Yin has made another aggressive move. Those battle-driven demons can't resist testing us every time they gain strength. I want us to crush the Yin today and end their harassment permanently."
Venna's lips curved in a predatory smile as she licked them slowly. "Mmm, Chief, you want to play dirty after all this time? I'll gladly participate—just let me keep a corpse or two for my experiments."
Sarion suppressed a shudder, remembering their first meeting when she'd confessed her love while asking to cut him open, curious about how someone she cared for would bleed.
"Cough, cough." Grimjaw cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable tension. "As for me, Chief, you know I live for opportunities to hack and slash. Where there's bleeding, there you'll find Grimjaw... hahaha!"
His grin revealed teeth too sharp for comfort. Sarion nodded grimly, recalling how Grimjaw had originally come to infiltrate their supposedly weak tribe on the Yin's recommendation, only to stay when he couldn't defeat Sarion and found the challenge intriguing.
A meaningful look passed between Veryan and Sarion before the chief called out sharply.
"Thakkor!"
Another ogre emerged from the hut—Thakkor, vice-captain of the Crimson warriors and second only to Veryan in martial prowess.
"Yes, my Chief?"
"These three seats and I will intercept the Yin force approaching our village. Mobilize the remaining seats and ensure our settlement's protection."
"Yes, my Chief!"
Sarion and his legendary companions turned to leave, the chief striding at the front while his deadly escorts followed like living shadows.
---
Several miles from the Crimson settlement, another war council convened beneath the forest's canopy. Thirty blue-skinned ogres had gathered, their azure hides and piercing sapphire eyes marking them as Yin Clan warriors. Each gripped weapons of war—crude axes, spiked clubs, and serrated swords that had tasted blood in countless battles.
"We must attack the Crimson tribe today without fail!" roared their leader. "My pride as chief of the Yin Clan demands it! I will complete my ancestors' dream to unite the four clans, and if some must die today for that vision, so be it!"
Chief Vorgrim's voice carried the authority of a born conqueror, his massive frame radiating menace as he addressed his assembled warriors.
"Chief Vorgrim!" called an ogre perched high in the trees, serving as their scout. "Our watchers have spotted two figures approaching our position. One has been confirmed as Chief Sarion of the Crimson tribe!"
At the mention of his rival's name, Vorgrim's face split in a savage grin that revealed yellowed fangs.
"Instruct our scouts not to engage Sarion under any circumstances. Let him come."
The blue ogres' faces lit with bloodthirsty excitement. This would be easier than expected—Sarion had foolishly come without an army, walking straight into their trap like a lamb to slaughter.