The late afternoon sun was sinking behind the cragged hills, casting the forest in soft amber light. A cool wind carried the scent of damp earth and moss, rustling the broad leaves of nearby ferns. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic scraping of stone against soil as a massive creature stirred.
Luciel turned his head toward Mino, who stood beside him, her silver hair catching the dying sunlight.
"Mino," he asked thoughtfully, "how does the Black Tortoise compare to the fierce beasts you've seen before?"
He needed a point of reference—a sense of scale—to understand the true strength of this newly tamed creature. The rock tortoise before them was immense, easily the size of a small cabin, but strength wasn't measured only in size.
"Black Tortoise?" Mino echoed, puzzled for a moment before realizing he was referring to the turtle itself.
