Chapter 2 – The March to Dakan Plains
The morning air bit at the skin like tiny needles. A gray mist clung low over the ground, swallowing the silhouettes of men and spears ahead. The only sound was the endless rhythm of marching feet.
THUD… THUD… THUD…
Gi Ken shifted the old armor on his shoulders. The iron plates creaked with every step — his father's armor, worn and scratched from years of service. It didn't gleam like the newer recruits' issued pieces; instead, it had the dull patina of battles survived. He caught a few glances from passing men — some curious, others quietly envious.
The column stretched far ahead and behind, a river of recruits flowing toward war. Somewhere at the head of the formation, officers barked orders. The rest followed in grim silence.
A low wind carried the faint smell of smoke.
He knew what that meant.
Up ahead, the first wounded from the front were passing them by. They moved in small groups, supported by friends or leaning heavily on crude crutches. Torn armor, crimson bandages, empty eyes.
Gi Ken's jaw tightened. In his previous life, this was the kind of scene he would only see in movies or manga. Here, there was no dramatic music — just the shuffle of boots and the occasional groan of pain.
"Keep moving!" an officer shouted from somewhere behind. CLANK! The butt of his spear struck the ground to snap a straggler out of his trance.
The mist began to thin as the morning wore on, revealing the open plains. Far in the distance, dark shapes wheeled in the sky. Carrion birds.
By midday, the column slowed. The ground underfoot was uneven, scarred with old trenches and churned mud. Gi Ken adjusted the weight of the glaive resting across his shoulder.
That's when he noticed him — a tall, lean man walking in the same pace beside him, flipping a smooth, round stone between his fingers.
"...You planning to throw that at the enemy?" Gi Ken said without looking directly at him.
The man's lips twitched into a faint smile.
"Maybe. Depends on how close they get."
Gi Ken studied him for a moment. His gait was steady, his eyes scanning the horizon rather than the men around them. And somehow, without knowing why, Gi Ken felt an unshakable certainty — this was one of them.
"You're Rikuya, right?" Gi Ken said quietly.
The man stopped flipping the stone just long enough to glance at him. "So you know my name already… Guess that means I've found the right person."
No further words were needed. They continued walking in silence, but the air between them had shifted.
As the sun dipped lower, the march carried them past another stream of returning soldiers — this time hauling stretchers covered with cloth. The smell hit first. Even some of the veteran escorts looked pale.
"Eyes forward!" an officer barked.
The sound of distant drums began to carry on the wind. DOOM… DOOM… DOOM… Slow and heavy, like a giant's heartbeat. Every man in the column straightened instinctively.
Somewhere behind, a deep humming began to weave through the steady tramp of boots. It was low and steady, almost like the bassline of a marching song.
Gi Ken glanced over his shoulder. A broad-shouldered man was keeping pace a few rows back, humming without looking at anyone in particular. His movements were relaxed, almost too relaxed for someone on the way to battle.
The man caught Gi Ken's eye for just a second, and in that second, Gi Ken knew. Another one.
The humming stopped only when the man drew close enough to speak without being overheard.
"Name's Masatoki," he said, voice even. "I hear you're the one we're here for."
Gi Ken exhaled slowly, fighting the strange mix of relief and wariness bubbling inside him. "That makes three of us now."
By the time the sun dipped into the horizon, painting the clouds in shades of orange and red, the column finally halted. Orders were given to set up camp.
The air was thick with the sounds of war preparation — CLANK of armor being adjusted, SHHHK of whetstones sliding across blades, the low murmur of tired voices. Fires began to flicker in the encampment, their smoke rising to meet the darkening sky.
Gi Ken sat near the edge of the camp, glaive resting beside him. His eyes traced the distant hills, knowing that somewhere beyond them, Wei's army was waiting.
Rikuya sat a few paces away, flipping his stone in silence. Masatoki leaned back against a pack, humming that same slow rhythm. Neither had said much since joining him, but their presence was solid, unshakable.
He thought of the others. Seven more scattered across the province, each marching with a different unit. They would come. He didn't know how he knew — only that he was certain.
A shout broke his thoughts.
"Lights out in the outer rows! Keep your weapons close!"
The fires were dimmed, replaced by the soft glow of embers. Somewhere in the distance, the drums still echoed.
DOOM… DOOM… DOOM…
Gi Ken's grip tightened around the haft of his glaive. Tomorrow, the plains would be red. And his brothers… his brothers would gather.