Morning returned quietly.
The rain had stopped, leaving the fields slick and shining. Mist curled around the hills like breath from the earth itself. The world felt clean again, washed of the chaos that built it.
Dantero stepped out of the hall, hair messy, coat half-open, eyes half-awake. He yawned loud enough to scare off a few birds resting on the fence.
Dantero: Morning already? Ugh. This planet really loves mornings.
He rubbed his eyes and started walking toward the fields. The smell of damp grass, burning wood, and cooked bread filled the air. Villagers were up early — hammering fences, washing tools, and shouting to each other across the paths.
Dantero smiled faintly.
Dantero: Kinda peaceful. Too peaceful.
Then he saw him.
Rykaou.
He stood in the middle of the open field, barefoot, shirt torn from last night's hunt, hair long and loose, blowing with the wind. His movements weren't human — low, sharp, primal. His body coiled and released like a spring, arms slicing through the air with perfect rhythm. He wasn't fighting. He was breathing like a beast learning to move through silence.
Dantero leaned on the fence, amused.
Dantero: You know, most people do stretches. You out here looking like you're fighting invisible tigers.
Rykaou didn't look at him.
Rykaou: I'm not fighting. I'm listening.
Dantero: Listening to what?
Rykaou: The world. It never sleeps. You just stopped hearing it.
Dantero: Oh great, he's philosophical. What are you, fifty?
Rykaou finally turned. His tired eyes met Dantero's. They looked like eyes that had seen too much, but he was young — far too young for that expression.
Rykaou: Nineteen.
Dantero blinked.
Dantero: Nineteen? No way. You move like someone who's been fighting since birth.
Rykaou: Maybe I have.
Dantero laughed.
Dantero: Guess I'm the old one here. Twenty-four, and I still nap like it's my job.
Rykaou: I'd keep it that way. The more you rest, the less you break.
Dantero: Wise words, old man.
Rykaou: You're annoying.
Dantero: You'll get used to it.
Rykaou's gaze didn't waver.
Rykaou: You came here looking for something.
Dantero: Food, mostly. Maybe adventure.
Rykaou: Then fight me.
Dantero stopped mid-smile.
Dantero: Excuse me?
Rykaou crouched, pressing a hand into the earth. The soil rippled faintly, like something deep beneath it had awakened.
Rykaou: A duel.
Dantero sighed dramatically.
Dantero: You ever consider "good morning" first?
Rykaou: The world doesn't need greetings. It needs balance.
Dantero: Yeah, well, balance doesn't feed me breakfast.
Rykaou stood straight, pointing toward the open field.
Rykaou: Then win, and I'll buy you breakfast.
Dantero's grin returned instantly.
Dantero: Now you're speaking my language.
They stepped into the field. The air shifted. The villagers nearby froze. Everyone knew that feeling — the pull of a duel. Two powers syncing, forming a contract older than time itself.
Even the birds stopped flying.
Rykaou lowered his stance, one foot forward, one arm bent like a claw ready to strike. His breathing slowed until it was almost silent.
Dantero rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
Dantero: Let's make this quick. I don't like being watched by people who look at me like I owe taxes.
Rykaou didn't reply. He just looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. The faintest twitch crossed his lips — not quite a smile, but close.
Rykaou: Move.
Dantero shot forward.
His boots crushed the grass beneath him, the sound slicing through the silence. His fist darted straight for Rykaou's jaw.
Rykaou blocked it with a single forearm. The impact sent shockwaves through the dirt, wind bursting outward in all directions.
Dantero spun, low kick — caught. Rykaou twisted, throwing him aside. Dantero rolled midair, landing with a smirk.
Dantero: You're fast.
Rykaou: You're predictable.
Dantero: Nah, that was a warm-up.
He dashed again. Their strikes collided. Fist against arm. Knee against ribs. The ground split where they stood, grass turning to dust. Villagers stood back, shielding their eyes from the pressure.
Dantero laughed mid-fight, ducking under another hit.
Dantero: Not bad, kid. Not bad.
Rykaou: Stop talking.
Dantero: Never.
Rykaou's stance shifted slightly — shoulders lower, eyes focused. He took one slow breath, and everything changed.
The ground beneath him sank, dust swirling around his feet. His aura didn't glow — it breathed. It rippled like heat rising off a fire, a distortion of raw life force. The air thickened, vibrating with the hum of instinct.
His muscles coiled. His eyes sharpened.
Dantero's grin faded slightly.
Dantero: Oh... that's new.
Rykaou's pupils thinned like an animal locking onto prey. The faint hum of power filled the air — no light, no flash, just sound. The rhythm of heartbeats overlapping, growing louder.
Then he moved.
Not with teleportation. Not with energy.
He simply moved too fast to be seen.
The air cracked. Dantero's head snapped sideways from a strike he didn't even register. His ribs screamed as a follow-up hit slammed into him. Then a third. A fourth.
Dantero stumbled back, breath ragged, laughing anyway.
Dantero: Okay... I like you.
Rykaou didn't speak. His movements were primal — crouched low, each breath steady, eyes glowing faintly red under the pressure of his own aura. Every twitch of his muscles screamed potential violence.
Dantero wiped blood from his mouth.
Dantero: Alright, Beast. You wanna play wild? Let's play wild.
He lunged forward again, coat snapping through the air. His strikes came faster, sharper — a blur of precision and speed. Rykaou matched him effortlessly.
Each blow sounded like thunder. Each block echoed like metal colliding. The ground cratered under their feet.
Dust exploded. Villagers gasped.
Dantero flipped backward, landing hard, panting.
Dantero: You sure you're human, kid?
Rykaou: Barely.
Dantero grinned wide.
Dantero: That's my favorite kind.
He rushed in again — fist raised, speed peaking. Rykaou ducked, crouching low to the ground, his movement twisting like an animal dodging instinctively. His shoulder brushed the dirt, and in a single motion, he rose, slamming an uppercut into Dantero's jaw.
Dantero's head snapped up. He stumbled back, laughing through clenched teeth.
Dantero: Alright... that actually rattled something.
Rykaou exhaled slow, steam rising faintly from his skin. The heat of his aura made the air around him shimmer. His chest rose and fell, every inhale deep, controlled.
Dantero: So that's Beast Source, huh. No tricks. No spells. Just raw instinct and muscle memory turned divine.
Rykaou: It's not divine. It's survival.
Dantero: I like that.
They clashed again. Closer this time. No wasted moves. No talking. Just sound. Flesh meeting flesh. Breath and blood and tension.
The villagers could barely watch. To them, it was flashes of motion, like two storms colliding and tearing the field apart.
Then — silence.
Both stood still. Dust falling. The circle around them cracked and dimmed.
Dantero wiped sweat from his brow, breathing heavy.
Dantero: You're strong for nineteen. Stronger than I was at your age.
Rykaou: You're not bad for twenty-four. But you talk too much.
Dantero: Yeah, I know. It's part of my charm.
Rykaou almost smiled. Almost.
Rykaou: Charm doesn't win fights.
Dantero: Nah. But it makes them more entertaining.
He stepped back, lowering his hands. The duel circle faded completely. The world relaxed.
Villagers clapped softly, whispering to each other. The tension finally broke.
Dantero let out a laugh and dropped into the grass.
Dantero: You're insane, Rykaou. But I'll admit — you've got style.
Rykaou: Style is useless without purpose.
Dantero: Yeah, well, you can have both. Trust me.
Rykaou glanced at him, then at the horizon. His expression hardened again.
Rykaou: The air's shifting. Something's coming.
Dantero: You can smell that too, huh?
Rykaou: I can smell everything. Fear. Hunger. Lies. Blood.
Dantero: That's... terrifyingly useful.
Rykaou: It's not a gift. It's a reminder.
Dantero tilted his head.
Dantero: Reminder of what?
Rykaou: That the world doesn't stop hunting, even when you rest.
He turned away, walking toward the village.
Dantero watched him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
Dantero: Nineteen, huh. Kid fights like a monster. Lives like a human.
He looked up at the clouds swirling faintly above.
The field fell quiet again.
Grass swayed gently where shockwaves had torn the earth minutes before.
The air smelled of rain, sweat, and sunlight.
Dantero stood with his coat half-torn and his grin fully alive.
Dantero: Guess I'm sticking around.
Rykaou exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing for the first time. His heartbeat steadied. The heat that rippled off his skin faded, and the beast within him went still again.
He brushed the dust from his arm and looked at Dantero.
Rykaou: You fight like someone who's been running from boredom his whole life.
Dantero: That's not far off. You fight like someone who's been running from himself.
Rykaou: You talk too much.
Dantero: And you don't talk enough. Balance, man.
Rykaou sighed through a faint smile.
The villagers had long retreated to the fences, watching the two of them with cautious awe. To them, what they'd just witnessed wasn't a duel — it was two storms learning to breathe.
Dantero walked toward a patch of unbroken grass and flopped down. He laid back with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the wide blue sky.
Dantero: You know, not bad for a nineteen-year-old.
Rykaou: You say that like you expected me to lose.
Dantero: Nah. I just like surprises.
Rykaou crouched nearby, resting his elbows on his knees. His movements were quiet again, natural — but still carried that silent weight that never left him.
Dantero glanced sideways at him.
Dantero: So, that thing you did — the Beast Source. How does it work? You looked like you were made out of muscle memory and instinct.
Rykaou: That's all it is. Instinct refined through pain. Every sense pushed beyond what it's meant to handle. When you stop relying on thought, your body starts remembering what fear taught it.
Dantero: Sounds like hell.
Rykaou: It is. But it keeps me alive.
Dantero: And it smells like everything, huh?
Rykaou: Fear. Lies. Blood. You can't hide who you are when your soul stinks.
Dantero laughed quietly.
Dantero: That's probably why you looked at me like I was a walking headache.
Rykaou: You are.
Dantero: Fair.
For a while, they said nothing. The wind brushed across the field. A hawk circled above. Somewhere, a child's laughter echoed faintly through the village.
Dantero: You've got something different about you, kid. You fight like you've got nothing left to prove, but everything left to protect.
Rykaou's eyes lowered.
Rykaou: I lost everything once. My home, my partner, my purpose. But I saw him — Dark — standing when the rest of the world gave up. That's when I understood what I wanted to be.
Dantero turned his head, studying him.
Dantero: So that's it. The Emperor changed your world too, huh?
Rykaou nodded.
Rykaou: He didn't even know we were watching. Just one man against what looked like the end of all things. It wasn't power that inspired me. It was that he didn't stop.
Dantero smiled faintly.
Dantero: Yeah. That's him. Always standing when everyone else falls.
Rykaou: You know him?
Dantero: Better than most. We've fought together. Traveled a bit. Nearly died a few times. You know, the usual friendship stuff.
Rykaou's eyes widened slightly.
Rykaou: You're his ally?
Dantero: More like his pain in the ass. But yeah. We go way back.
Rykaou's tone softened.
Rykaou: Then you've seen what he's really like.
Dantero: I've seen him at his best, and at his worst. He's not perfect, but he's real. That's why people like you keep believing in him.
Rykaou looked away, eyes glinting under the sunlight.
Rykaou: I'd give anything to stand before him once. Just once.
Dantero sat up, resting his arms on his knees.
Dantero: You might get that chance.
Rykaou: What?
Dantero: I'm heading back soon. There's someone I'd like you to meet.
Rykaou: Who?
Dantero smiled, that same reckless grin returning.
Dantero: You'll see.
Rykaou frowned slightly.
Rykaou: You're not gonna tell me, are you?
Dantero: Nope. Surprises are good for character development.
Rykaou: You're insufferable.
Dantero: That's my charm.
He stood up, brushing off the dirt, stretching his arms wide.
Dantero: So what do you say, Beast of the Valley? You done guarding one patch of grass, or you ready to see how big the world really gets?
Rykaou: I don't owe you an answer.
Dantero: Didn't ask for one. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Whether you come or not — that's on you.
Rykaou stayed silent, eyes locked on the horizon.
Dantero started walking back toward the village, hands in his pockets, humming faintly.
Rykaou watched him go, the wind tugging at his hair.
He looked down at his hands — scarred, rough, trembling slightly from the fight. For the first time, he didn't feel the usual loneliness.
Maybe, he thought, it was time to follow the wind instead of fighting it.
The clouds above shifted. The scent of rain returned.
Dantero called back over his shoulder without turning.
Dantero: Try not to overthink it, kid. The road's more fun when you don't know where it leads.
Rykaou: You're annoying.
Dantero: And yet you're still listening.
Rykaou sighed quietly, half-smiling despite himself.
Rykaou: Maybe tomorrow.
Dantero: That's all I needed to hear.
He waved lazily and kept walking until the mist swallowed him.
Rykaou stayed there a while longer, watching the horizon.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a calling.
End of Chapter 4.