The skies above Damargania swirled with an unnatural thickness, not of clouds, but of raw magicules—invisible, heavy energy that hung in the air like mist. The deeper you went into this ancient kingdom of giants, the more it pressed on your lungs like a great weight. The sky was a deep orange-red, as if the very heavens were aflame with anticipation.
This was not a land for the weak.
Damargania stood carved into the jagged cliffs of the Titan's Backbone, its architecture enormous—massive stone towers with carvings of legendary beasts, walls as thick as mountains, and great braziers that burned with blue fire. This was the homeland of giants. Monsters of old called this place home, and very few dared to even whisper its name.
It was not just the architecture that was huge. The people here, the Damarganian Giants, towered over normal creatures, their muscles looking like they were forged from boulders, their eyes fierce, and their loyalty absolute. They were warriors and guardians of something ancient—something not easily disturbed.
At the Grand Gate, a colossal archway carved into the mountainside, two guards stood. Each of them stood over 3 meters tall. Their dark-blue armor was laced with glowing runes, and each held a spear that looked like it could skewer a dragon in one thrust.
They stood still, stoic and proud… until something stirred in the distance.
"Huh?" one of them muttered, narrowing his glowing yellow eyes.
Far beyond the sands, a figure approached.
Alone.
Striding confidently through the thick air, as if the pressure of the magicules didn't affect him at all.
He was… a human?
Or at least, that's what he looked like.
He was tall, yes—well over two meters—but still far shorter than the giants. Yet somehow, he didn't feel small. His body was packed with so much muscle it looked unnatural, like he was carved from steel and rage. His red hair stood like a mane, his footsteps deliberate, each one echoing with dominance. Hands in his pockets. His smirk—that cocky, fearless, predator's grin—was impossible to ignore.
"Is that… a human?" the guard on the left asked, narrowing his eyes.
"He's made it this far?" said the other. "Through the Death Dunes? Alone?"
They both readied their spears slightly, on instinct.
The man didn't stop walking.
He walked right up to the base of the Grand Gate, where the shadows of the towers fell upon him. But still, he looked up at the giants like they were nothing more than average men.
"Hey," he said casually, like he was ordering lunch. "Where's Draguel?"
Both guards blinked.
Silence.
Then they both burst out laughing.
"What did you just say, human?" the guard on the right asked, stepping forward. "You come walking into Damargania—alone—and ask where our king is?"
"Are you lost?" the other one barked. "Or are you just stupid?"
Yujiro didn't flinch. His smirk didn't fade. His eyes scanned them like they were bugs he hadn't decided to crush yet.
The first guard jabbed his spear into the ground, cracking the stone beneath. "You got a death wish? Who do you think you are, human, to demand an audience with—"
He never finished.
There was no blur. No movement. No sound.
One second, the guard was speaking.
The next…
His eyes went wide. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He clutched at his throat—his massive fingers trembling—and fell to his knees, gasping silently.
Blood began to drip from the side of his mouth.
The other guard's face turned pale.
"W-WHAT?! What did you—?!"
He never saw Yujiro's hand move. Not even a twitch. It was like time skipped a frame. The man didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
"Your buddy talked too much," Yujiro said calmly, stepping forward.
The remaining guard stepped back instinctively, raising his spear.
Then, with panic in his voice, he turned his head and shouted toward the inner city.
"INTRUDER!! INTRUDER AT THE GATE!!"
His voice echoed down the marble halls of the gate's interior. Moments later, a deep gong was struck from within the fortress. A harsh, resonating sound that rolled through the valley like thunder.
The alarm.
The Kingdom of Giants had been breached.
From behind the gates, the sounds of heavy footsteps began. Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
Guards, warriors, beasts waking from slumber, all summoned by the signal.
But Yujiro didn't even blink.
He stepped forward again, walking past the first guard now collapsed in a wheezing mess on the ground.
"Call whoever you want," Yujiro said. "Draguel's the only one I came for."
The second guard was now sweating. He felt fear. Something no giant of Damargania had felt in decades.
"W-Why? Who are you?!"
Yujiro stopped and glanced up at the tower beyond the gates.
"I'm the man your king's been waiting for… even if he doesn't know it yet."
A low rumble rolled across the stone pathways of Damargania. The very earth seemed to groan under the weight of what had just happened. In mere minutes, the outer court of the great capital was surrounded. Over a hundred giant soldiers—each one towering, armed, and radiating power—stood encircling a single man.
Yujiro Hanma.
He still hadn't moved his hands from his pockets.
Still wore that grin—the kind that didn't show arrogance, but certainty. A smirk carved by experience, born from countless fights. He wasn't outnumbered. No… the giants were outclassed.
Even though he had no visible magicules, no aura, not even a trace of energy coming off him—he stood there like a mountain with a heartbeat.
The soldiers were ready to strike, their spears and axes pointed at him from all directions.
Then—a sudden BOOM echoed from the inner gates.
A soldier, panting and wide-eyed, pushed through the crowd and shouted:
"Hold your weapons! Do not attack! The King has given the order! Escort him to the palace!"
The atmosphere froze.
Some giants looked confused. Others startled. But none disobeyed.
Yujiro didn't speak. He didn't need to. He just started walking—right through the middle of the formation—and the giants parted, making way like an ocean split by willpower alone.
Inside the Grand Palace of Damargania, carved from obsidian and darksteel, King Draguel sat on his throne. The throne was built into the mountain itself, jagged and vast, with burning runes etched behind him that glowed softly in the dim lighting. To his right stood his brother, Glassord, a powerful general whose might had stopped invasions before they could reach Damargania's borders.
Draguel was tall, muscular, with black hair, eyes sharp like a hawk. A heavy red-and-black cape flowed behind him like a storm.
The room was silent when he received the report. A strange man—a human—had appeared at the gates, crippled one of the guards, and asked for him by name.
He did not stand.
He only spoke.
"Do not engage. Bring him to me."
Glassord turned to him, eyebrows raised.
"So this is what you sensed, brother? That… unease these past few nights?"
Draguel didn't turn. His eyes stared forward, still sharp.
"We shall see."
Moments later, the throne room doors groaned open.
And Yujiro Hanma walked in.
No fear. No hesitation. No armor. Just muscle and menace wrapped in red skin and arrogance.
Every eye in the room turned to him. Yet his eyes only locked on Draguel. Not the guards. Not the throne. Not the towering palace.
Just the king.
That smirk never left his face.
Draguel raised one eyebrow. He was observant—nothing escaped him. And what surprised him more than Yujiro's massive physique was… nothing.
No aura.
No energy.
No flow of magicules.
It was like staring into a void that radiated pressure by sheer presence alone.
That… intrigued him.
With a small wave of his hand, Draguel dismissed the guards. Even Glassord gave a glance, but nodded and stepped back.
Then, finally, Draguel spoke.
"Who are you, and what brings you to my land, human?"
Yujiro's smirk grew wider. He spoke clearly, voice deep and calm.
"I'm Yujiro Hanma. The strongest."
He stepped forward once.
"And you…"
Another step.
"...are my next prey."
Glassord's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as if ready to act.
"You dare—!"
But Draguel lifted a hand without looking, halting him instantly.
"Let him speak."
A pause.
"Very bold of you," Draguel said. "But I'm… intrigued."
He leaned slightly forward on his throne.
"You have no energy. No magic. No aura. And yet, you claim to be the strongest?"
Yujiro chuckled softly.
"Magic and skills are for cowards," he said, his voice like a blade wrapped in leather. "Strength… is not defined by borrowed power."
Draguel's eyes lit slightly with interest. There was something honest about that. Something primitive. Pure.
"Very well… Yujiro Hanma."
He stood. His frame was even more imposing standing up. He stretched his arms once, and the air cracked around his muscles.
"Then show me what raw strength can do… in the face of true power."
Yujiro just tilted his neck slightly to the side. The bones cracked.
"Gladly."
The sky above Damargania darkened as Draguel flew from the palace, slicing through the skies. Behind him followed Yujiro, Glassord, and several elite soldiers.
They landed in a vast wasteland far beyond the city's edge—an endless expanse of sand, stone, and wind. The magicule density here was suffocating. The very air shimmered with thick, invisible pressure. Any normal human would've collapsed from simply breathing.
Draguel landed first. His feet touched the cracked stone ground, and he turned slowly.
Yujiro landed shortly after, without a sound, his arms still lazily at his sides.
They faced each other.
Twenty meters apart.
Glassord and the soldiers landed several dozen meters further back, careful to stay clear of what was about to unfold.
Draguel's expression turned serious.
"Come, Yujiro. Show me what 'raw power' is."
Then he unleashed.
A storm of magicules exploded from Draguel's body. The air roared. The earth trembled. Sand was swept up like a hurricane as a dark crimson aura engulfed the land.
Even from far back, Glassord felt it.
"Ghh…!" he grunted, bracing himself. The soldiers behind him dropped to one knee, sweat dripping down their faces.
"His Majesty is not holding back," one of them muttered.
But Yujiro…
Did not move.
Still smirking.
Still calm.
Still had his hands in his pockets.
And then—
Draguel blinked.
In that split second—
BOOM.
Pain.
A sharp, unreal, bone-shattering pain exploded in his gut.
Draguel stumbled back two steps, coughing out a sharp breath, his mouth slightly agape.
He looked down slowly… to his stomach.
No blood. No wound.
But a punch had landed there.
And he never saw it.
He never saw it.
"Wh… What?" he breathed, wide-eyed.
Yujiro stood there—exactly where he was—his smirk now deeper, more dangerous.
"I thought you told me to show you," Yujiro said casually.
"So I did."
Draguel stared at him in stunned silence, his body still processing what just happened.
For the first time in decades…