After leaving one of Veinar's spirit familiars behind to track the Giant from a distance, the team retreated—far enough that even its presence could no longer be felt. The weight of its mana vanished, and the shoreline grew quiet once more.
On the way, Erik told Yosul about the strange door embedded in the nape of the Giant's neck.
Eventually, they settled at the base of a fractured cliff wall—a shallow canyon split just wide enough to shield them from view. There, with the wind howling above and the stars flickering between cracks of stone, they paused to recover.
"Erik, Leena, Master… you three alright?" Yosul asked, scanning their expressions.
"Yeah," the three of them replied in unison.
Yosul exhaled slowly. "Hhh… this is certainly not how I expected today to go."
He took a moment to look around. Everyone was quiet, the tension still hanging in the air.
"Alright, everyone—gather up," Yosul said, his voice clear but calm.
They formed a loose circle around the fire pit—embers crackling, shadows dancing against the rock.
"Let's go over what we know so far," Yosul began. "First—the temple was empty. Erik found nothing inside except a sealed door on the Giant's nape. Second—that thing clearly has a deep emotional attachment to the temple. When it crumbled… it lost it. Third—we've got those dragon riders. We don't know who they are or when they'll show up again."
He paused, glancing at the group.
"Anything else?"
Veinar raised a hand. "The Giant has a healing factor. The eye Erik burned—it's already healed over."
Yosul's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's… useful information. If it can regenerate, killing it might be pointless."
He leaned back, thinking aloud. "A dead Giant with that much residual mana would be a nightmare for the surrounding lands—who knows what kind of Karkens that might create. But if it can heal…"
He nodded to himself. "Alright. Here's the plan."
Everyone leaned in.
"Master will immobilize the Giant—cut off its movement or at least slow it down. Erik, Leena, Veinar, and Heisen—you four will make your way up and try to open that door. Whatever's behind it… might explain everything."
He let the words settle before continuing.
"If anything unexpected happens, we improvise. But keep this in mind—Veinar will link everyone with a shared communication field. No one makes a move without alerting the team first. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
"Well," the old man grunted. "Not the worst plan we've had."
Yosul smiled faintly. "That's the spirit."
The fire popped once, then quieted.
"We've got too many unknowns, and not enough time to wait around. Rest for now. We move at sunrise."
One by one, the team spread out around the base of the cliff, laying out cloaks and bedding beneath the open sky. No one said much after that—each lost in their thoughts as the wind whispered through the canyon. Above them, the stars watched in silence.
The real battle was yet to begin.
---
By morning, the team was ready.
They moved quickly, checking equipment, feeding the horses, double-checking weapons. This time, they weren't charging in blind. They had a plan—and a purpose.
"Everyone ready?" Yosul called out, already astride his horse.
One by one, the team nodded and mounted up.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's get that relic. Move out!"
With Yosul at the lead, the group rode toward the black shore where the giant still roamed. As they moved, Erik sidled up beside Leena.
"Hey," he said quietly, "do you think the Oldman can really take that thing on by himself?"
Leena didn't hesitate. "I think he's the only one who can."
"…So he's really that strong, huh?"
She gave a small nod. "He's one of the strongest in the White Wolfs Guild."
"Seriously?" Erik blinked. "Oooh"
He'd figured the old man was powerful—anyone who earned a place on Yosul's team had to be. But to be one of the strongest in the entire guild?
Still, that giant's strength… it was no joke. Guess I'll have to see it for myself.
In the distance, the massive shape of the giant began to emerge—ash-colored fur shimmering under the early light. Yosul raised a hand. The convoy halted.
"We walk from here," he said. "No sense in risking the horses."
The animals were led to a sheltered spot near the canyon wall, and the team dismounted.
As they approached the giant, the atmosphere shifted.
Unlike last time, the creature turned to face them. Its eyes locked onto the squad. There was no surprise this time. Only tension. Anticipation.
"Master!" Yosul called.
The old man stepped forward. Took his cloak off.
He walked slowly, steadily, toward the towering creature.
The giant let out a roar—an earsplitting cry that echoed through the canyons and shook the sand beneath their feet.
But the old man didn't flinch. He kept walking.
When he reached striking distance, the giant lunged. A punch from its right hand came crashing down.
The old man held his axe with both hands and broke into a run.
As the giant's fist descended, the old man leapt—his body twisting midair. The axe slashed across the knuckles and wrist in one clean motion, spraying blood. Without slowing, he bounded over the wrist, dodging as the giant tried to grab him.
He vaulted over the shoulder.
The giant spun mid-swing and backhanded him into the canyon wall with a thunderous crash.
Dust rose. But then—
Boom.
The old man shot out from the impact site like a lightning bolt, feet propelling him forward.
The giant turned, swinging again—this time, its fur hardened, forming a white, stone-like layer over its hand.
As the arm came down, the old man raised his axe. The moment the weapon connected with the stone skin, he flipped upward, spinning off the arm like a spring-loaded acrobat. He soared toward the giant's face.
And then he slashed.
The giant screamed.
The old man landed between its eyes, using its hair for support. With practiced ease, he swung himself across to the right side—and slashed again, tearing through the second eye.
The screams grew louder. Pain-filled. Rage-fueled.
But the old man wasn't done.
He dropped down, landing on the sand with grace. Then, like a blur, he dashed behind the giant. His axe sang through the air, severing the tendons of the left ankle. The giant staggered.
Another cut—this time the right leg.
And then—a jump, a swift, brutal kick to the back of the knee.
The giant fell.
The impact shook the earth.
The old man landed on its back and reached into one of his pockets. He pulled out a sheet -unrolling it in one hand.
As he poured mana into the sheet with a flash of golden light, six chains burst from the sheet. They wrapped around the giant in an instant—coiling around its arms, chest, legs, and throat. The bindings shimmered with power.
The monster writhed, but it couldn't move.
Erik stared, mouth slightly open.
The giant had fallen.
Not to a barrage of magic, not to a full squad of elite adventurers.
Just one man.
Goddamn… he's on another level.
The old man jumped down in front of the creature, turned, and calmly began walking back toward the group.
Erik was still processing what he'd just witnessed when one of the swordsmen beside him spoke.
"Well… that's one of the legends for you."
Erik turned, frowning. "Wait—what?"
"You didn't know?" The swordsman looked surprised. "That man… he's one of the five who took down a Great Disaster."
Erik blinked.
"No way…"
The swordsman gave a crooked smile.
"Yeah. That's Hanzal Kaizer. The Kaizer."