Kaizen stood on the deck of the ship, gazing at the horizon where a shadowy landmass loomed in the distance. The air felt different here—heavy with an ominous presence, as if the sea itself whispered of forgotten battles and ancient bloodshed. His fingers tapped idly against the hilt of his sword, mind turning over the words of his enigmatic companion, Darius.
"This island... it's where history refuses to die," Darius had said.
Kaizen exhaled slowly. The closer they got, the more he could feel something calling to him, like an echo from a time long lost. The ship rocked gently as the crew—if one could call their small, ragtag group a crew—prepared for landfall. It was a far cry from the grand fleets that once sailed these waters, but it was enough for now.
The docks were eerily silent as they approached. No dockworkers, no traders, not even a single watchman in sight. Kaizen's instincts screamed at him to stay alert. The island, known to few as Ymir's Maw, was a relic of the past, a place where forgotten remnants of a world before the Void Century still lingered.
As he stepped onto the worn wooden planks, the sensation intensified. He could almost hear the distant clash of swords, the roars of warriors long since turned to dust. He had no doubt—this place held secrets that the world had tried to erase.
Darius followed, his expression unreadable. "You feel it too, don't you? The weight of what was lost."
Kaizen gave a curt nod. "We're not alone here."
A rustling in the distance confirmed his suspicions. He turned sharply, hand on his weapon, eyes scanning the dimly lit alleyways beyond the docks. Then, from the shadows, figures emerged—men clad in battered armor, their faces obscured by dark cloaks. Their movements were deliberate, practiced. Warriors.
One of them stepped forward, lowering his hood. The man was older, but his presence was commanding. His long silver hair was tied back, and a jagged scar ran down the side of his weathered face. His gaze met Kaizen's, sharp and evaluating.
"You... you're not supposed to be here," the man said, voice deep and measured.
Kaizen tilted his head. "Neither are you, from the looks of it."
A faint smirk ghosted across the man's lips. "Maybe. But I have history here. The real question is—do you?"
Darius stepped in. "We're looking for something buried in this island's past. And judging by your reaction, you might know what."
The older man studied them for a moment before nodding to his men. They relaxed slightly but did not lower their weapons. "You should leave. Now. This island isn't for the living."
Kaizen crossed his arms. "Then why are you still here?"
The man exhaled through his nose. "Because some ghosts refuse to rest. And some of us... still have unfinished business."
The conversation was cut short as a chilling howl echoed through the streets, sending a shiver down Kaizen's spine. The warriors tensed, hands flying to their weapons.
"Damn it," the older man cursed. "It's too late. They've found us."
Kaizen's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
The answer came in the form of movement—fast, unnatural. From the ruined buildings surrounding them, figures dropped down, landing silently despite their size. Cloaked in the darkness, their glowing red eyes pierced the shadows.
Darius swore under his breath. "Hunters."
Kaizen felt his blood stir. He didn't know who these new enemies were, but he could feel it—the presence of something far beyond normal humans. He slid into a stance, his grip tightening on his blade. The air crackled with tension, and for a brief moment, everything was still.
Then the storm broke.
The first of the Hunters lunged, moving with inhuman speed. Kaizen barely had time to react before his sword met resistance. Sparks flew as steel clashed against claws harder than any metal he had ever encountered. He pushed back, twisting his blade in a precise arc that sent the creature staggering.
To his side, Darius engaged another, his movements fluid and precise. But these creatures were relentless, their attacks eerily coordinated. The older warrior fought with the precision of a seasoned veteran, cutting down his foes with practiced ease, but even he looked wary.
Kaizen ducked under a swipe, driving his sword into the Hunter's side. The creature let out a guttural snarl but didn't fall. Instead, it grabbed his wrist with a grip like iron.
Then, to his shock, it spoke.
"Your blood... does not belong here."
A wave of dizziness hit Kaizen, like a memory trying to force itself to the surface. The creature's glowing eyes bore into him, as if seeing something beyond his flesh, beyond this moment in time. His vision blurred, flickering between the present and something else—something ancient.
A battlefield. Fire. A city crumbling under the weight of war. And among the chaos, figures stood. Familiar, yet impossibly distant.
A name whispered in his mind.
"Kaizen..."
The vision shattered as he ripped his arm free, driving his blade through the creature's chest. It let out a strangled hiss before collapsing into dust.
Panting, he turned to find the others finishing off the remaining Hunters. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken questions.
The older warrior stepped forward. "I don't know who you are, but if you truly want answers, you need to come with me."
Kaizen, still reeling from what had just happened, nodded. "Then lead the way."
As they disappeared into the shadows of the ruined city, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking deeper into a past that refused to stay buried.