Chapter 22: The Snowy Samurai
The convoy arrived at Whaley Saw after six hours of travel.
The town was surrounded by tall defensive barricades and monitoring towers.
As they approached the border gate, armed guards raised their hands to signal a stop.
"State your purpose."
The soldiers were already preparing identification papers when they noticed something.
Wei-Wan Lou stepped forward from the vehicle.
The guards recognized him immediately.
The tension relaxed.
"Open the gate," one guard said.
But before allowing entry, they spoke the town protocol.
"Remember the laws of Whaley Saw."
"Respect the citizens."
"No reckless combat inside residential sectors."
"Red Zones are restricted."
Inside the town, the atmosphere was different.
More industrial.
More controlled.
Less celebration.
More survival.
The group was briefed about the territory layout.
Large sections of the town were marked in deep crimson on the city map.
These were called Red Zones.
Areas abandoned long ago.
Because of Disorder.
When infected corpses decayed improperly…
The mutated fungal growth would merge with organic remains and structural material.
Flesh.
Mold.
Concrete.
Metal.
All becoming one living biome.
The result was what locals called, Freaker Hives.
Spawn zones.
Breeding grounds.
Living corruption that sometimes pulsed slowly like a sleeping organism.
Several Savage mercenaries worked containment duty near the Red Zones.
Some were disciplined and professional.
Others worked purely for payment.
This division of purpose bothered Daito Greyhell.
He said nothing.
But his expression became colder.
Attempts to form alliances with other Savage groups had failed.
Arrogance.
Greed.
Political rivalry.
Power pride.
Different philosophies of survival.
The world was fractured even among its warriors.
Beside him, Aerin was visibly losing patience.
They had been searching for the remaining Rebels.
For people willing to stand against the system.
But progress was slow.
Too slow.
Every town had politics.
Every faction had pride.
Every warrior wanted recognition.
Few wanted unity.
Aerin crossed her arms.
"How long are we going to keep searching?"
Her voice carried frustration she rarely showed.
"If this continues…"
"We may be wandering forever."
Daito looked toward the distant Red Zone walls.
The wind carried a faint smell of decay.
Then he answered calmly.
"We find them one by one."
"Rebels don't gather in crowds."
"They hide."
"They watch."
"They wait for someone who shares their conviction."
Behind them, the town of Whaley Saw continued operating under strict survival order.
FWOOSH!
Above them, surveillance lights scanned the Red Zone boundaries.
And somewhere inside the fungal labyrinth of mutated corpses…
Something slowly pulsed.
* * *
Sirens erupted across Whaley Saw.
ZWIING! ZWIING!
Red warning lights flashed along the perimeter towers.
A voice echoed through the town's loudspeakers.
"Red Zone Awakening detected."
"Containment teams move to defensive positions."
The ground near the abandoned district trembled faintly.
From the twisted ruins where fungus and corpse matter had fused into buildings, something began to move.
The Freaker Hive had awakened.
SPLISHH! TWISHH!
Cracks split through the fleshy walls of the Red Zone.
One by one, Freakers crawled out.
"Grrooarr!"
"Sskkrraaa!"
"Grrrreeerrr!"
Some dropped from fungus-covered rooftops.
SLISHH! SPLAT!
Others tore themselves from the mutated mass that once used to be homes.
Within minutes the streets near the quarantine barrier were swarming.
But the chaos outside served another purpose.
While the town focused on containment, Daito Greyhell and his team moved quietly through the upper districts.
GLING!
GLING!
GLANG!
They climbed an old communication tower overlooking the battlefield.
From that vantage point they could see everything.
More importantly, they could observe the Savages.
Below them, several Savage squads engaged the Freakers.
Some were sloppy.
Some reckless.
Others simply fought for payment.
But one group moved very differently.
Precise.
Efficient.
Disciplined.
At the center of that team stood a massive bald, tattooed warrior wielding a heavy blade.
SLASH!
CRASH!
Every swing crushed Freakers instantly.
His squad followed perfect coordination.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary destruction.
Within minutes the hive surge was contained.
The Freakers were eliminated cleanly.
No civilian casualties.
No damaged buildings.
The battlefield was silent again.
Then the bald warrior suddenly stopped.
Slowly…
He lifted his head.
And looked directly up at the tower.
At them.
Even from that distance, his voice carried clearly.
"Cowards!"
The other Savages looked confused.
But he continued shouting upward.
"The moment danger appears…"
"…you run and watch from rooftops?"
His eyes burned with irritation.
"If you're warriors, come fight instead of hiding!"
Daito stared down at him calmly.
He said nothing.
Not a word.
Beside him, Champagne leaned closer.
"So…"
"Did you find anything?"
Daito nodded once.
"Yes."
His gaze shifted slightly across the battlefield.
"There."
Among the Savage squad stood a tall warrior with long white spiky hair flowing behind his shoulders.
Unlike the others, his posture was loose.
Almost careless.
His blade rested casually over his shoulder.
More importantly, he had ignored several commands during the fight.
Acted independently.
Moved whenever he chose.
Disobeyed protocol repeatedly.
Daito spoke quietly.
"That one."
"The one with the white hair."
"High disobedience pattern."
"Doesn't follow structured command."
Wei-Wan Lou nodded slowly.
"I thought so."
"You're talking about…"
"The White Wryth."
Behind them, Wasabi Yuko tapped on her tablet.
"Confirmed."
Name:
Zachia Grancumber
Alias:
The Snowy Samurai.
Reputation:
Highly skilled.
Highly unpredictable.
Low obedience rating.
High combat efficiency.
Daito continued watching the battlefield.
"But."
He added calmly.
"The bald one."
His eyes returned to the warrior who had shouted at them.
"That man is the strongest among them."
Wasabi nodded.
"That's Ragnarock."
"Top combat rank in Whaley Saw."
"Known for crushing 20 consecutive hive awakenings."
Daito turned away from the ledge.
"Doesn't matter."
"We're not recruiting him."
His eyes returned to the white-haired warrior below.
"We recruit Zachia."
Wei-Wan crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"That won't be easy."
"Ragnarock doesn't let his fighters wander freely."
Aerin grinned.
"Then we'll just ask nicely."
Champagne laughed.
"Yeah…"
"I'm sure that'll work."
Below them—The Savage squads were already regrouping.
And suddenly…
Zachia lifted his head.
Fwoosh....
His sharp white hair shifted in the wind.
And his eyes locked directly onto the tower.
As if he had heard everything.
He smiled.
Slow.
Knowing.
Then, he slowly drew his sword.
The metal gleamed like frost under the fading sun.
Up on the tower…
Daito's eyes narrowed slightly.
Because the Snowy Samurai had just taken a stance.
And from the look of it, he wasn't waiting to be recruited.
He was challenging them.
* * *
The Savages gathered in the center of the containment plaza of Whaley Saw.
The battlefield had already been cleared.
Freaker corpses burned slowly in controlled fire pits while the squads stood in formation.
At the front stood Ragnarock, towering over the others like an iron statue.
His gaze swept across the fighters.
"You broke formation."
Silence fell instantly.
"You broke coordination."
He stepped forward.
One Savage lowered his head immediately.
Another tried to explain himself—
FWOOSH!
But Ragnarock shut him down with a single glare.
"On my battlefield…"
"…mistakes cost lives."
He pointed at several fighters who had deviated from the plan.
"Extra duty."
"Training rotation."
Then his eyes landed on one person.
White hair.
Relaxed stance.
Arms loosely folded.
Completely uninterested.
Zachia.
Ragnarock's voice lowered slightly.
"You ignored two commands."
Zachia yawned.
"Three actually."
A few Savages stiffened.
Ragnarock stared at him.
"And you're proud of that?"
Zachia shrugged.
"The Freakers died faster, didn't they?"
For a moment it looked like Ragnarock might strike him right there.
But instead—
Fwoosh...
He simply turned away.
"Dismissed."
The squads dispersed.
Zachia walked off without another word.
High above the plaza, Daito Greyhell and his team watched quietly.
Then Daito spoke.
"That's him."
No one disagreed.
SWOOSH!
DASH!
They descended from the observation tower.
Inside the old building they encountered a few stray Freakers wandering through the corridors.
"Grrrreeerrr!"
"Grrwwaarr!"
Rotting limbs dragged across the floor.
Mutated fungal growths clung to the walls.
The team eliminated them silently.
SLASH!
One slash.
BANG!
One shot.
POW!
One strike.
FWOOSH!
Soon the halls were quiet again.
* * *
They followed Zachia's trail through several empty streets until he entered a massive abandoned structure near the edge of the Red Zone.
The building was hollow.
Broken ceilings allowed a single beam of sunlight to pour down into the center of the room.
Two old statues stood on each side of the light.
And between them, stood Zachia.
The light reflected perfectly against his long white hair, his polished blade, and the flowing folds of his warrior robes.
He looked almost like a painting.
Then his voice echoed through the empty hall.
"Who dares…"
"…invade my special space…"
"…and interrupt my special time?"
Daito stepped forward calmly.
"I've been searching for you."
His tone was direct.
"I'll be straightforward."
"You must join us on our journey."
Zachia tilted his head slightly.
"Oh?"
"And what greater glory will you bestow upon me if I do?"
Daito answered without hesitation.
"If we succeed…"
"…the entire world will be freed from the clutches of evil."
Zachia slowly turned his large frame to face them fully.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And how exactly…"
"…will you stop such a world-level threat…"
"…when you are weaker than our own local commander?"
The implication was obvious.
Ragnarock.
Daito nodded calmly.
"You're right."
"Right now…"
"Ragnarock is stronger than me."
"No doubt."
"But with your help…"
"…we move one step closer to freedom."
Zachia stared at him silently.
Then he chuckled.
"I'm not in chains."
"So whatever shackles you're talking about…"
"…are metaphorical."
His blade rested across his shoulder.
"Which means your dream…"
"…is as nonexistent as those chains."
Daito exhaled slowly.
"We don't have time."
"So just answer."
"Yes or no."
"It would benefit everyone."
Zachia smiled faintly.
"No."
"You are neither strong enough…"
"…nor worthy."
Aerin crossed her arms.
"Well."
"That settles that."
She looked at Daito.
"You know what you have to do
Daito slowly reached for his sword.
The blade slid free with a sharp metallic whisper.
He walked forward.
"This…"
"…is the only way to deal with your kind."
Zachia's grin widened.
SHING!
He lifted his long sword and pointed it directly at Daito.
At last, his eyes sparked with excitement.
"Good."
"That's the only language I understand."
Behind them, Champagne chuckled.
"Yeah…"
He leaned against a pillar.
"Body language."
The beam of light cut across the center of the ruined hall.
Two swords pointed at each other.
Fwoosh!
Dust drifted slowly through the sunlight.
And somewhere outside—
"Grrooooaar..."
The distant howl of new Freakers echoed from the Red Zone.
CLIK!
Then, Zachia shifted his stance.
SWOOSH!
And vanished.
to be continued....