On the outskirts of Metsugakure, a young Metsuri cradled a lifeless woman in her arms.
"Why… Why did it have to happen like this? I don't understand…" Tears streamed down her face, her voice trembling violently. "Why didn't you choose me…? Even if I was chosen to be one of them… you should've stayed with me. No matter what."
Her mother had tried to explain. But explanations meant nothing to a child who couldn't comprehend them.
"Why…?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why… why… why… why…?"
The whisper broke into a desperate scream. "Why?!"
Too many emotions flooded her chest at once, but one rose above the rest: absolute frustration.
"Why didn't you choose me?!" Metsuri shouted into the cold air. "Why did you try to leave me behind in this village?! Why were you never there for me—knowing what I am?! Were you really going to leave… without saying anything at all?!"
Her fingers curled into a trembling fist. "Why did you try to leave… without taking me with you?!"
She slammed her fist into the dirt.
"Damn it!"
Again.
"Damn it!"
And again—
"DAMN IT!!"
When she finally stopped, her knuckles were split open, staining the earth beneath her red.
"»Your first mission as a shinobi begins with this.«" The village chief's voice echoed callously in her mind.
Slowly, she forced herself to stand. Her teeth clenched as she let her mother's body slip gently from her arms. Raising her uninjured hand, she pointed toward a nearby tree—toward something that wasn't physically there, yet felt suffocatingly present.
"And you…!" Her lip trembled, biting down hard enough to draw blood. "This—everything—is your fault! You knew this would happen!"
"»A woman is attempting to flee Metsugakure.«"
"You made me kill my own mother!"
»You will find her. And you will kill her.«"
"You make me sick," Metsuri spat. "I could search this entire world… and I wouldn't find anyone even a fraction as disgusting as you."
"Your first mission as a shinobi begins with this.«
"Do you hear me, old man?" Her teeth ground together. "I hate you. I HATE YOU!"
The only reason the young Metsuri could recall her mother's face so clearly was due to her precise memory. And for the first time in her life, she began to question the village itself.
Why were men and women treated so differently? Why were kunoichi looked down upon? Why were women seen merely as tools? Why was strength the only thing that mattered—except when it came to them?
It was tragic. It was twisted, unfair, and deeply rooted. In that moment, alongside her burning desire for revenge, a vow took shape within her.
"If this world only respects strength…" Her expression hardened, all traces of hesitation fading into something cold and unyielding. "…then I'll become the strongest shinobi in Metsugakure's history. So no one will ever have the power to throw me away again. And I won't lose to anyone."
As the young Metsuri made her vow, a final tear slipped from her eye. It traced her cheek and fell from her chin at the exact moment blood dripped from her split knuckles.
Two droplets—one clear, one red—met in midair and struck the ground as one.
◆ ◇ ◆
A bead of sweat slid down Metsuri's temple as she exhaled an unsteady breath.
Several feet ahead of her, three magical beasts stood imposing against the treeline.
The closest beast was completely faceless. Where its head should have been, jagged violet antlers twisted upward from its neck, standing nearly five meters tall.
Its torso was split open by a vertical rupture—a jagged tear running from sternum to navel containing a dark, sap-stained void where a heart should have been. Clusters of tendrils hung swaying from its elongated arms, and in its left hand, it held a white khakkhara forged from pure Magic.
Hovering beside it was a massive avian creature, standing nearly ten meters tall. Its body was draped in pristine, alabaster feathers with a subtle pearlescent sheen that deepened into rich blue and charcoal gray near the tips of its wings and sweeping, phoenix-like tail.
Its heavy legs were layered in golden-brown down, ending in raptorial scales and sharp obsidian talons. Deep within its sleek head, molten amber eyes burned beneath a curved, golden beak. Its ribbon-like tail feathers trailed in the air as its wings beat slow and steady.
And behind them both loomed something far worse: a towering fifteen-meter giant. Its shoulders stretched wide like the crossbeams of a cathedral, its pillar-like arms dense with corded muscle. It was built purely for devastation—hide and brawn layered into an immovable wall.
Metsuri let out a quiet, raspy breath.
"Back for more?" she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "My, my… aren't I popular? If you wanted me that badly, you could've at least taken me out to dinner first."
'This isn't good'… Her internal voice was far less composed. 'Three against one… in my current condition?'
Her clothes were torn, exposing skin streaked with sweat, dirt, and shallow scorch marks. Dark bruises bloomed across her shoulders, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her loose hair clung messily to her neck.
'What I need right now is to buy time while I think of something…'
She staggered slightly, catching herself.
"Hey—you," Metsuri called, pointing toward the faceless tree-beast. "You've got some level of intelligence, don't you? Even if you can't talk. So what's the deal? The Vulcan could speak, but you can't? Kinda unfair, don't you think?"
Silence met her words.
Metsuri's eyes narrowed, flicking between the three targets. 'They're not attacking… Why? Are they scared? No… they're being cautious. They've seen what I can do.'
She swayed again, her stance faltering slightly. "Don't tell me…" she muttered, forcing a grin, "you're all gonna gang up on little old me?"
Slowly, a faint white aura began to rise from her body, leaking out in thin, unstable wisps. There were no white butterflies this time.
"Talk about pathetic," Metsuri let out a weak chuckle. "I'm really on my last legs. My magical container's basically empty."
Turning her head slightly, her dark eyes landed on Albion. He sat right where she had instructed, small and still, looking back at her with a gentle smile. His vivid fuchsia eyes didn't waver.
For a reason she couldn't explain, the cold unease in her chest faded. Since meeting him, it had been one relentless battle after another with zero time to recover.
Fire Magic, Barrier spells, Light Magic, and her advanced techniques—Suntetsu and Sesshoku-zan—had completely drained her magical energy reserves.
Metsuri turned her gaze forward, her eyes sharpening. 'I have to take them down one at a time. Figure out their strengths… their weaknesses…"
"KREEE—EEEE—AR!"
The Aureliarch shrieked. Its massive wings spread wide as a current of compressed wind swirled around it, sharpening into eight thorn-like projectiles.
Metsuri kicked off the ground, dashing toward a dense cluster of towering trees for cover. The Aureliarch launched the volley; wind thorns tore through the air, slamming into the tree trunks with brutal force. Wood splintered and bark exploded outward in rapid succession.
'it can use both wind and lightning', Metsuri recalled, ducking behind the cracking timber. 'The wind is bad enough, but if that lightning touches me, I'm done for.'
Before the initial barrage settled, the bird flapped its wings again, launching wide crescent blades of compressed air.
Metsuri wove through the forest, using the massive trunks as shields. She dodged the first two blades with raw speed, letting the trees absorb the next three. Gashes ripped through the thick wood, severing trunks entirely.
Realizing she had run out of cover, Metsuri snapped her focus forward just as two more wind blades closed in. She leaped, twisting midair with sharp precision. The blades grazed past her skin on either side before she landed hard against the dirt. Reaching for her Ninjatō, she unsheathed it slightly, coating the metal in a thin white aura.
'Should I use Suntetsu?' she pondered. 'No, the risk is too high. If it dodges, I burn what little magic I have left. I can't afford to miss it.'
She reluctantly sheathed the blade. While Suntetsu was lethal, it required a clean, decisive cut to execute an instant kill.
"I've decided," Metsuri said, taking a low stance. "I need to take all of you down with Sesshoku-zan."
Designed to bypass physical durability, Sesshoku-zan channeled raw magic directly into the target upon physical contact, manifesting internally as a cutting force that scaled with the target's toughness. It required no weapon—only direct contact.
"SKREEE-AAAAAAAARRRRGGHHH!"
A chest-shaking roar cut through the air. The Gravemarch bent its massive knees and launched itself forward, barreling through the forest and crushing full-grown trees underfoot.
It crashed down directly in front of Metsuri, raising a massive foot to stomp repeatedly.
Dust and shattered earth exploded into the air with heavy, rhythmic thuds.
As the giant stepped back, a small dark figure shot out from the lingering dust cloud.
With a sharp schwing, Metsuri's Ninjatō cleared the air, severing one of the Gravemarch's fingers in a clean stroke.
"Even with immense strength," Metsuri taunted, soaring through the air using her floating magic, "it means nothing without the speed to back it up!"
She swung her blade again, slicing off the beast's right hand entirely. The Gravemarch growled in pain, swinging wild, furious punches with its remaining arm. Metsuri evaded each swing effortlessly until the giant began to pant from exhaustion.
She sheathed her blade mid-flight, extending both hands. "Light Magic… Chains of Judgment!"
Radiant chains of luminescence snapped from her palms. The Gravemarch tried to swat them away, but the chains curved gracefully around its guard, coiling tightly around its arm and torso.
'Now's my chance!' Metsuri readied her hand, surging forward. 'Sesshoku-zan will finish it!'
Just before she reached the beast's face, the Aureliarch intercepted them. A violent burst of wind from its wings struck Metsuri point-blank, sending her flying into the dirt. She bounced hard, crashing brutally into a tree trunk.
Blood streamed down her forehead and nose. She lay motionless for a long moment until her fingers twitched.
"My head… is pounding," she muttered, forcing herself upright against the tree. "Pretty sure I cracked a few ribs."
Before she could recover, the five-meter Dendravore was directly in front of her, white khakkhara raised.
'No time to overthink this', Metsuri thought, her eyes narrowing as flames erupted around her body, scorching the dirt beneath her feet. "I need to stop thinking… and force a path to victory."
The Dendravore lunged. Their weapons met with a sharp clang, sending a shockwave through the cracked ground. Despite the difference in scale, Metsuri held her ground.
"Bad idea getting this close," she whispered.
Her free palm pressed against the beast's chest. 'Sesshoku-zan!'
Four deep, internal gashes tore across the Dendravore's torso from within. The sudden internal damage caused the monster to stagger back in shock.
Metsuri leaped, driving a fire-imbued kick straight into its face. Flames exploded on impact, making the creature claw wildly at its burning head.
Hearing the Aureliarch diving from above, Metsuri grinned. She surged forward, coating her leg in a blinding white light, and slammed a heavy kick into the Dendravore's chest.
The impact launched the tree-beast backward into the air—colliding directly with the swooping Aureliarch.
Before either creature could untangle itself, Chains of Judgment snapped around both beasts, locking them together in midair.
Metsuri sprinted forward, her body wreathed in flickering flames. "Are you watching, Albion?"
She blurred past the bound monsters, her Ninjatō slicing cleanly through both targets in a single, fluid motion. Landing behind them, the fire at her feet gathered into her open palm, swirling into a dense, volatile vortex.
"—Throwing away your pride… what you are… it makes me sick! Enkō Rasenshō!"
A spiraling column of fire erupted from her hand, drilling into both beasts before bursting into a massive violet explosion.
Without waiting for the smoke to clear, Metsuri used her remaining magic to propel herself toward the final threat: the Gravemarch.
Still bound by her light chains, the giant beast roared, drawing every ounce of power into its remaining fist. Metsuri pulled back her blade, coating it in a dense, shimmering white aura.
"I'll pour everything I have left into this," she declared, her grip tightening. "One final slash."
The Gravemarch threw a devastating punch just as Metsuri swung. A massive crescent of light cut through the air, cleaving straight through the giant's fist, slicing horizontally across its chest and arm in a single line.
For a second, the world fell quiet. Then, a violent spray of blood erupted into the air.
As the colossal beast collapsed, a lone figure fell from the sky, landing heavily in the quiet forest below.
The battle of magical beasts had ended. The one who stood victorious was the one who had left everything behind.
The winner: Metsuri Ebonveil.