Ozu leapt straight at Obed.
The witch frowned at such a reckless feat. No warning, no refined strategy—only raw, visceral rage.
Ozu's small front paw lashed out with all the fury that could fit into such a tiny body, wrapped in an intense emerald glow that enveloped his little fist, concentrating like a spark ready to explode.
The air tightened.
Obed did not retreat.
She merely let out a breath—almost disappointed.
The blow never reached her.
A dry sound of wood striking stone echoed through the lagoon, stirring a breeze that clouded the water beneath their feet. Ozu's paw was stopped dead by a sword… a wooden sword.
—General Ozu, I would advise you not to do anything foolish.
The recommendation sounded almost like that of a teacher. With great mastery, the scarecrow had intercepted the hare's attack, and propelled by Lord George's thrust, Ozu fell clumsily back into the pond. He shot a furious glare at the pair as the scarecrow resumed his guard stance in front of his mistress.
—I should thank you, my lady —George added elegantly—. If it weren't for this straw body, that strike would have hurt quite a bit.
The scarecrow held the sword with both hands, steady and effortless. The wooden blade trembled slightly from the emerald energy still crackling around Ozu's fist.
—A clean move —George continued, giving his wrist a slight turn—. Quite impressive for a first hour. I assume this wasn't your usual style, General.
It was true.
Ozu was known for his swordsmanship. He had never been seen fighting with his hands; even when he didn't draw his blade, he relied on light footwork to unbalance his opponents, toppling them with elegant kicks alone. The feral creature before them bore no resemblance to the noble warrior who had hunted the witch for so long.
Obed inclined her head.
—Always so considerate, Lord George.
Ozu staggered backward, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Almost without realizing it, he began to stammer.
He could speak now.
—I… I am Ozu —he said, startled by the sound of his own voice, high-pitched yet clear—. Emerald General… at the Wizard's command.
He fell silent for a few seconds, swallowing his own words.
Then he repeated it, more clearly.
—I am Ozu. Emerald General. At the Wizard's command.
And again.
—Emerald General… at the Wizard's command…
Each repetition sounded less firm than the last, as if he himself were no longer convinced by the statement.
Obed watched in silence. The scarecrow, without lowering his sword, merely formed a sad grimace.
The witch's smile slowly faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression heavy with regret.
—Perhaps… —she murmured— perhaps it was a mistake to retrieve your soul.
She said it like a lament.
Lord George frowned.
—No —he replied firmly—. You did the right thing. You always do.
He tightened his grip on the wooden sword, suppressing his anger.
—Just as you did with me. And with Sir Logan.
They both fell silent, leaving only the rabbit's hollow repetitions echoing in the air, as he stared at his reflection in the water, distorted by the gentle movement of his snout.
Obed looked away.
—Sergi doesn't think so —she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly—. Perhaps animal incarnations simply aren't my forte…
George shook his head.
—You are the greatest witch Fantasia has ever known.
She let out a short, dry laugh, covering her mouth with one hand.
—I'm the only one you've ever known, Lord George —Obed resumed her mocking smile—. You're a cheap flatterer.
The scarecrow returned a noble smile and finally lowered his sword, storing it within his left arm.
As they spoke, Ozu began to feel… strange.
A spasm ran through his small body. He doubled over and, unable to stop himself, vomited into the crystal-clear water. It wasn't blood or bile.
It was something more ethereal—like expelling remnants of confusion, excess magic. Perhaps he was vomiting his very identity.
When it was over, he took a deep breath and straightened up.
The shock faded along with the weakness.
He realized that this body was light. Too light. Every muscle responded quickly, with a strange efficiency. He could sense the environment in a new, sharper way; sounds were clearer than anything he had ever perceived before. It was as if, despite his small size, this body was potentially superior to the one he had before.
But even so, it was mortal.
And his stomach growled like never before.
George nodded, as if he had been expecting it.
—Of course —he said—. Basics first. You'll need to get used to a diet suitable for your new form.
Without further questions, he turned away and began to work.
Ozu didn't know where the ingredients came from, and honestly didn't want to know. Within minutes, Lord George placed before him a salad so colorful and abundant it looked like a work of art.
Freshly sliced carrots.Bright tomatoes cut into thin rounds.Crisp, fresh lettuce—shockingly sweet.
Ozu hesitated for only a second.
Then he attacked it.
His little nose twitched with excitement. Every scent was new, intense, almost overwhelming. The sweetness of the carrot enveloped him completely; the tomato burst in his mouth with a delicious, indescribable acidity; and the lettuce… the lettuce was perfect. Never in his life had he tasted anything like it.
He finished in seconds.
After a small burp, he looked up at Obed.
—Thank you… —he said sincerely—. For giving me this opportunity. I won't waste it.
Without wasting any more time, Ozu leapt out of the water.
In a movement that even caught George off guard—causing him to deploy his sword in anticipation of another attack—Ozu simply appeared on the stairs, drying his little paws.
—I must go —he announced—. The Emerald Palace awaits me.
George raised an eyebrow.
—And what would you do there?
—I'll take the head of the man with the hook —the rabid hare replied without hesitation—. For Aira. For Licia. I must move.
—Calm down —the witch ordered almost with a sigh, turning toward him—. You're not ready.
Ozu clenched his fists.
—I will be. I can feel it. Magic… real magic runs through my veins, doesn't it?
—It does. A gift from me and the grimoire. But you're still not ready.
Obed floated closer to Ozu and leaned down, revealing her face—green as the legends said, with deep gray eyes, and contrary to every rumor, a beauty that rivaled even Glin's. Her jet-black hair flowed softly over her shoulders.
—General, if you want a chance at revenge, you must—at least for now—listen to me.
Ozu studied her carefully, weighing his options, which to his tiny misfortune were few.
—Meet with the girl in the red hood.
She paused.
—Carmen.