Dawn broke over Kagamori like a wound.
The city remained eerily silent. No bells, no voices, no hint of life beyond shuttered windows. A fog clung to the streets, thick and oppressive, as if the mist itself were trying to suffocate them.
Raizen trudged along the cracked cobblestones, each step deliberate. His shoulder throbbed with constant, dull pain, and a creeping numbness lingered in his fingers. The Weaver poison had adapted overnight. Even when he flexed, the blood in his veins felt sluggish, slow, almost reluctant.
"Raizen," Aoi murmured beside him, matching his pace. Her sharp eyes scanned the empty streets. She stayed closer than necessary, instinctively positioning herself to react if anything appeared.
He ignored the prickling awareness of her gaze. Calm, measured, detached—the only emotion in his expression was patience. But inside, he felt the weight of their journey pressing down like stone.
Haruka and Senji moved ahead, poles and knives at the ready, scouting. Kaito followed slightly behind, muttering under his breath. Mika brought up the rear, her movements deliberate, silent, a shadow among shadows.
"This city feels… dead," Kaito muttered, voice low. "Like it's holding its breath for something to come."
Senji glanced back, expression grim. "Cities sense fear before people do. Kagamori isn't just silent. It's aware."
Aoi didn't reply. Her eyes never left Raizen.
⸻
First Signs of the Hunters
They exited the city proper, moving along a narrow path between the city walls and the jagged cliffs that overlooked the Settsu River valley. The fog was thicker here, clinging to their boots and hiding their trail from anyone who might follow.
"That's why scouts exist," Senji said quietly, crouching. He knelt and traced shallow marks in the dirt. "They test your formation, your reaction, your weakness. And they always leave signs."
"What kind of signs?" Kaito asked.
"Patterns in the soil. Unnatural footprints. Residual pheromones—they mark the Weaver's territory."
Aoi leaned forward, scanning. "You mean we're walking straight into their traps?"
Senji's lips tightened. "Yes. But we'll survive if we stay coordinated."
And then the first Tsuchigumo appeared.
⸻
Ambush
They came without warning. Three Scouts rose from the fog like wraiths, bodies humanoid but subtly wrong. Muscles bulged unnaturally. Their eyes glinted with a predatory awareness. Limbs were slightly elongated; movements calculated.
Raizen's grip tightened on his sword. The poison in his veins screamed at him to fight. He forced himself to slow his reactions, to pace, to observe.
"Formation!" Senji barked.
Aoi and Mika moved in sync, circling the left. Their hands, bare and precise, met the first two scouts in a blur of motion. Elbows, knees, and forearms smashed into joints and skulls with cruel efficiency. Bones cracked audibly in the morning air; blackened blood stained the cobblestones.
Haruka's polearm swept wide, catching a third scout off-balance, toppling it into a heap of twitching limbs. Kaito lunged, slashing with the sword, cutting deep into the warrior's side, but the black ichor that spurted hissed as it hit the stones, sizzling like acid.
Raizen remained calm. He waited. One scout broke past the perimeter, charging at him. His body slowed, but his mind stayed sharp.
Step. Parry. Step. Twist.
The sword found its mark between shoulder and neck. The scout collapsed, shuddering violently, but did not scream. Its eyes—human once—stared blankly for a moment before life left them.
Aoi's hand shot out instinctively, gripping his shoulder. "You idiot," she hissed, eyes flashing. "I told you to let me—"
"It was necessary," he said evenly, meeting her gaze.
Her anger faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by something unspoken—a recognition of his calm, controlled resolve. Then the fog shifted again.
⸻
The Weaver's Signal
Senji moved quickly, kneeling near the remains of the first scout. He traced the dirt with his fingers. "Look at this," he said. A faint pattern glowed where the scout had fallen—a sigil etched into the ground in black blood.
"It's a Weaver signal," Mika said quietly, crouching beside him. "They use it to communicate over distance."
Raizen frowned, blood mixing with sweat along his temple. "Meaning?"
Senji's gaze hardened. "They know we're here. Not just the city. The surrounding valley. Any step we take—they feel it."
Aoi's jaw clenched. "Then every move we make is observed."
Haruka glanced at Raizen, concern sharp in her eyes. "The poison isn't the only thing slowing you down. They're aware. They're watching. And this time, it's personal."
The fog thickened again, crawling along the path like living fingers. Shadows shifted unnaturally among the rocks and brush.
⸻
Setting Camp and Bonds
By nightfall, the group had reached a narrow cliffside overlooking the Settsu River valley. The air was damp, thick with the smell of earth and rot. The fog swirled around them, and faint black threads glimmered among the rocks, remnants of Weaver influence.
They set camp. Haruka tended to Raizen again, reapplying salves and carefully pressing on the wound to encourage circulation without aggravating the poison.
Aoi crouched nearby, eyes scanning the horizon, sword discarded for now. For the first time in hours, she spoke to him directly—not about battle, not orders, but quietly, almost softly.
"Stay still this time," she said.
"I will," he replied, his voice calm but carrying weight.
Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment before she looked away. Raizen noticed it but did not comment. Haruka noticed it, too, but remained silent, sensing the subtle shift without naming it.
Mika stood at the cliff edge, silent as the fog, scanning the horizon. "We're not alone," she said quietly. "Something is out there… bigger than Scouts or Warriors."
Senji knelt, tracing patterns in the soil near the campfire. "I've seen it before. The Brood Lord. Larger than anything we've fought. It rules the Weaver networks. If it comes this close…"
Raizen's hand tightened around his sword hilt, veins darkening faintly under the skin. "Then we'll be ready."
Aoi instinctively stepped closer again, placing herself between him and the cliffside shadows, though he didn't need protection. It was a reflex. He noticed it, silently, and said nothing.
⸻
Foreshadowing the Brood Lord
Hours passed, the fire crackling softly. Above, the cliffs seemed to breathe. The threads in the fog twitched, moving as though alive.
Then they saw it.
A massive silhouette emerged in the distance. Taller than any building, limbs thick and unnatural, its shape obscured by fog, but unmistakably alive. Shadows rippled over its body like a storm passing across a mountain ridge.
Senji's eyes widened. "That's no Weaver," he whispered. "That's a Brood Lord."
Raizen's chest tightened. The poison pulsed, sluggish but alive, as if reacting to the presence.
Aoi tensed, shifting instinctively in front of him. Even in the darkness, Raizen could feel her determination.
Haruka gripped her polearm. "If it attacks… we won't survive unprepared."
Kaito's jaw hardened. "Then we'll make it pay."
Mika exhaled slowly, hands folded, eyes narrowed. "It's hunting. And it knows we're here."
Raizen raised his sword slowly, the blackened veins in his arm a reminder of the Weaver's curse. Calm. Cold. Focused.
"Then we begin," he said.
The fog swirled. The valley whispered. And the Brood Lord watched.