Zhen locked eyes with Ito.
"Junji was the last to take it."
The Eastern Hunter smirked faintly, sealing his thoughts tight.
"Isn't he enchanting? You let yourself be robbed because of his pretty face. Truth is, my twin and I are sworn enemies. What do you think? A pity, isn't it? Beautiful bloodlines born as twins, destined to clash without end."
Zhen raised a brow.
"I don't care. Take your Goldi back, if you can."
"Later. For now, I'll leave it in your hands." Ito spoke, though his gaze was fixed on a black cloud of dust rushing toward them.
The wind, once only a faint murmur, shifted in an instant and lashed across his face. Grains of black sand lifted violently, preparing to whirl in a savage dance across the air.
Ito narrowed his eyes, teeth grinding, as his vision blurred.
Why must the Tsun Storm come now, when my strength is spent!
The key lay in the name alone. The Tsun Storm, the very tempest that once erased the Eastern Clan's trial forest. The enmity between elements and humankind had left a scar so deep, its terror reached down through their descendants.
The Northern Hunter had known all of this from the beginning.
He had not kept the Skull of the Deepest Hell Prison for nothing. Sono, the devilish genius, carried the knowledge of every clan's history, a sly informant for thousands of years, and in the end, perfectly captured in Zhen's hand.
Master, the Tsun Storm is nearly upon us. It has marked the Eastern Hunter's soul. Yet if he stays by your side, at least he will live.
His clothes snapped and whipped in the wind, but his stance was steady, alert. Pressing his palm into the sand, he searched for the unease that gnawed at him while listening to Sono's voice.
He could feel it—the force of nature itself, impossible to resist. This time, there was no doubt. They would be buried.
Still… fortune always favors me. The Northern Hunter could not help but laugh.
Why laugh in such a dire moment? Is he even human?
The grains of sand thickened, weaving a cloak of night that smothered all sight. Darkness pressed in tighter and tighter, with no sense of direction. Ito raised his arm to shield his face, but it was his legs that began to sink, slowly dragged into the black sand.
"No. You will not swallow my toes! Damn you, Tsun! You won't take me!" he shouted in panic.
Zhen glanced over, then drew his blade. A dim glow shimmered along the edge, faintly cutting through the storm, as though it carved a narrow path within the chaos.
One sweep of the sword, and the sand that sought to devour them split open, a slim passage forming before closing again behind. Zhen strode forward with steady steps, while Ito struggled to free his foot, nearly swallowed whole.
"Aghh! My leg!"
Ito gritted his teeth. Magic burst from him, forcing his body to rise inch by inch. Yet the Tsun storm only grew more frenzied. Thunder rumbled deep within the sands, as if something ancient was rising from the desert's core.
Zhen halted, narrowing his eyes.
This is not natural… this storm is desperate for his soul.
A tense silence broke through the howl of the wind. From within the black whirl, a massive scaled hand surged out, clawing upward to seize the Eastern Hunter.
Zhen read the situation instantly. He could not allow the prodigy of sorcery to perish, not before the hunt in the Western lands was finished. Even knowing the Tsun storm was a force beyond suppression, his mind spun toward a solution.
Sono. Go into the storm. Offer it a long-term pact.
Meanwhile, the sand clawed at Ito, trying to drag him under.
His scream was consumed by the wind. His body shook, then vanished into the black desert's depths. Everything was swallowed, sealed tight in the suffocating dark, as though the desert itself meant to bury every trace of life.
When night finally fell, the storm broke.
Silence descended with the stars. A thousand tiny lights flickered above, unveiling a sky of majesty after a day of wrath.
Zhen's eyes opened slowly. His body, half-buried in sand, strained as he pushed himself free. Each breath was ragged as he rose, scanning the barren darkness around him.
Then, faint and unmistakable, his nose caught the scent—Eastern Hunter's scent, sweat and dust tangled within the sand.
Zhen closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
"He's close."
He pressed his foot into the ground, digging through layers of sand with both hands, again and again.
"Found you."
From within the hollow he had dug, Ito's body emerged—weak, barely moving, his breath so faint it almost vanished into the night.
Zhen bent down and lifted him onto his back. The weight was nothing compared to the silence pressing over the desert.
His steps sank firmly into the sand, cold as the night wind brushing against his skin. He no longer searched for direction; instead, his gaze tilted upward to the ceiling of stars.
A thousand constellations stretched across the sky, bright yet distant, as if staring back at him. It felt as though the heavens themselves wanted to remind him they were still alive.
Zhen walked on, leaving behind shallow tracks that the wind quickly erased. Only the scrape of sand and Ito's broken, uneven breaths clung to his back.
He bowed his head briefly, checking for warmth in that frail body.
"Still alive," he murmured flatly.
Dune after dune passed until something caught his eye—jagged stone breaking through the sand, half-buried yet solid enough to offer shelter.
There, Zhen halted. Carefully, he lowered Ito and rested him against the cold wall of stone. Outside, the desert still muttered in low gusts, but inside that crevice the air calmed. The stars shone clearly through the narrow gap above.
Zhen sat cross-legged across from the Eastern Hunter, lifting his gaze once more to the sky.
The stars did not waver. They only watched, indifferent. Yet to a hunter long used to walking through the dark, their faint light was enough to remind him—there was still direction, still a path, even if the desert tried to swallow all things.
He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. Jouhen no Kage leaned at his side, its blade still humming faintly, as though unwilling to rest.
"A long night…" he whispered.
And in the hush of the desert, there was nothing but the sigh of wind, the pulse of the stars, and the fragile breaths of two hunters who remained.
When the silence was nearly enough to lull all things into sleep, a faint sound rose outside the stone crevice. Thin and hesitant, like the steps of something too timid to draw closer.
Zhen's eyes opened. He turned instantly, catching sight of a small figure only ten meters away.
A young deer, its coat pale silver, eyes wide with innocence beneath the night. Lost from its herd, it wandered the dark desert, unaware of the dangers waiting for it.
Zhen stilled, his body tightening as instinct flooded back. His veins tensed, his breath slowed. The old hunter's nature awoke. His gaze sharpened, primal and deliberate, setting his blood alight.
He glanced once at Ito, still slumped in sleep, his pale face showing how close his body was to collapse. Zhen remembered the hunger still clinging to him—the kind that killed faster than any blade.
At last, Zhen rose and moved toward the fawn. His steps were soundless, flowing like the night wind itself.
The fawn froze, ears flicking upright. It sensed something—but too late.
A shadow flashed, swift as a breath.
In an instant, Zhen stood before it, Jouhen no Kage raised only by a whisper. The small deer collapsed without a sound, its blood dripping into the black sand, soaking fast as though the desert itself thirsted for life.
Zhen looked down at the creature, expressionless. He hefted its body onto his shoulder and carried it back to the stone crevice. Ito still leaned weakly against the wall, face pale, breaths ragged.
Zhen set the deer beside him.
"Wake up. Eat, or you'll be dead before dawn."
His flat tone was no offer, only a command.
Ito did not move at first, his eyes closed in exhaustion. Yet the iron tang of fresh flesh pierced his senses, rousing his starving body. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
"A… deer?" he rasped.
Zhen stared at him, silent, unyielding.
Ito forced himself upright, gathering the last dregs of his magic. His fingers twitched, and faint sparks of blue light flickered into a small flame in his palm. Weak, but warm.
With the fragile trickle of power, he shaped the fire into a glowing ember that floated in the air like a smokeless torch.
The deer's flesh was cut roughly, using the hunter's sword. Ito set the meat to roast over the blue flame. Slowly, the rich scent spread, overtaking the stench of sand and blood.
A faint smile tugged at Ito's lips, though his face was still ghostly pale.
"Yesterday I drank until I burst. Today a feast awaits without a drop to wash it down. What a life!"
[SYSTEM WARNING!!!!]