GUHIN

Bokun walked through the ruins of the battlefield, each step echoing with the weight of his thoughts. The devastation stretched for hundreds of feet before him—a vast expanse where the landscape had been torn apart by Guhin’s uncontrolled wrath. The once vibrant ground was now a desolate canvas of destruction, a gaping scar left in the wake of dark energy.

As Bokun approached Guhin, lying motionless in the dirt, he wrestled with a troubling decision. Should such immense, destructive power be allowed to live? The force that had wreaked such havoc was now subdued, but it was a latent threat. Bokun's grip tightened around the knife he had drawn, he faced the harsh reality of whether to eliminate a potential future menace, or to let it live.

But just as Bokun was about to act, Etro charged forward with a protective snort, positioning himself between Bokun and Guhin. The steed's fierce eyes glinted with determination, his stance a silent, urgent plea to reconsider. Bokun hesitated, his mind racing through past events. Guhin had spared him in their previous encounter, choosing mercy over a decisive strike. Even now, it was Guhin who had saved him from a certain death.

Drawing closer, Bokun had a clear view of Guhin's face. To his surprise, he saw that the young man could be no older than twenty. The youthfulness of Guhin’s features struck Bokun with a sharp realization. Despite the staggering power that lay within him, Guhin was still just a young warrior, barely out of his teens.

Bokun sheathed the knife, the cold steel sliding back into its place with a soft click. He ran his hand through Etro’s mane, seeking comfort in the steed’s warmth. “You’re right, Etro,” he said softly. “Besides, he still has to answer for his crimes.” For now, Bokun chose to postpone any final judgment on Guhin.

The power that nearly took his life was a concern for another day. As he patted Etro and looked back at the devastation, he resolved to focus on the immediate task: keeping Guhin alive and under his watch until the time for answers arrived.

With a groan of effort, Bokun carefully lifted Guhin and laid him across Etro’s back. The steed shifted slightly under the additional weight but remained steady. Bokun rummaged through one of Etro’s saddlebags and pulled out a flask of water. The cool liquid spilled over his hands as he poured it into his palm, splashing his face to wash away the dried blood and grime.

Once his skin was mostly clean, he ran his fingers over his swollen face, feeling the tender bruises and tracing the new additions to his scars—one cutting across the bridge of his nose, the other a jagged line on his forehead.

Bokun took a moment to catch his breath, letting the flask hang loosely in his hand before capping it and tucking it back into the saddlebag. With a grim determination, he limped toward his greatsword, still embedded deep into the earth.

He bent his knees and grasped the hilt with both hands, his body aching with every movement. “C’mon... you... little... shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth, trying to pry the sword free. The blade remained stubbornly lodged in the ground. A cry of pain escaped him as his muscles protested the effort.

Determined, Bokun tried again, his fingers digging into the hilt. As he strained to free his sword, a low rumble began to build beneath his feet. The ground started to tremble, the tremors growing more intense as the earth around him shuddered and cracked. The distant landscape quaked violently, sending ripples through the remnants of the battlefield.

Etro neighed nervously, stamping his hooves as the ground continued to shake. "Well, it isn't me!" Bokun barked, his voice straining over the chaos. He fought to wrench the sword from the earth, struggling against the resistance of the ground and the surging power beneath him.

The tremors continued to rattle the earth, growing stronger with each passing second. Bokun’s grip on the hilt tightened as he fought to stay on his feet, his eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the disturbance. In the distance, from the epicenter of the destruction Guhin had unleashed, the ground began to bulge and heave, as if something immense was trying to break free from the earth’s grasp.

Bokun’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene unfold. The distant landscape split apart, and with a deafening roar, a colossal stone hand burst forth from the wallowed earth, its surface covered in rough, earthen flesh tangled with thick roots. The hand clawed at the air as if testing its newfound freedom.

Bokun’s eyes widened in horror as the rest of the creature began to emerge. A mountain troll of unimaginable size was rising from its ancient slumber, its form towering above the battlefield like a living mountain. Its massive body, covered in moss and lichen, seemed to meld with the earth itself, the roots entwined around its limbs like ancient bonds now broken. The troll’s deep-set eyes glowed faintly with a primordial yellow energy as it shook off the remnants of its long hibernation.

Bokun could hardly believe what he was witnessing. "That idiot... he's awakened an Ancient!" Bokun yelled, his voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the earth tearing apart and the troll's deep, rumbling growl.

He knew what they were facing—a being from a forgotten era, an ancient variant of the mountain trolls that had lain dormant for centuries, perhaps even millennia. These Ancients were far larger and more resilient than their kin, their bodies hardened by the passage of time, their power unmatched by any other troll known in the world.

As the Ancient continued to rise from the earth, Etro began to tug anxiously at the pelt of fur draped over Bokun’s shoulder, trying to pull him away from the danger.

But Bokun wasn’t about to abandon his weapon. “I’m not leaving here without my sword, Etro,” he grunted, his voice strained as he dug his heels into the ground and pulled with all his might. The sword was still stubbornly lodged in the earth, refusing to budge even as the world seemed to crumble around him.

The troll continued to emerge, its massive form casting a long shadow over the battlefield. The ground cracked and split further, creating deep chasms that spider-webbed out from the epicenter of the troll’s awakening, shaking loose the last pieces of soil and rock that clung to its colossal frame.

Just as Bokun felt his strength waning, the widening cracks in the earth finally gave way, loosening the grip the ground had on his sword. With one final, desperate pull, the greatsword wrenched free from the ground, and Bokun staggered back, nearly losing his balance.

With the greatsword now in hand, he wasted no time. He sheathed it in one swift motion and turned to Etro, who was still pulling at him urgently. The Ancient was fully awake now, its monstrous form looming over them like a living nightmare. Bokun quickly mounted Etro, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Let’s go!” he urged, and with a powerful leap, Etro took off, racing across the battlefield. The ground continued to shake beneath them, the ancient troll’s every movement sending shockwaves through the earth. But Bokun and Etro were swift, weaving through the devastation with the practiced ease of warriors who had faced countless dangers together.

As they sped away from the rising Ancient, Bokun risked a glance over his shoulder. The mountain troll was turning its attention to the world it had just re-entered, its glowing eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something.

Bokun’s eyes widened as he saw the troll’s massive chest begin to swell. The ancient creature drew in a deep, thunderous breath, causing the ground beneath it to tremble even more violently. As its chest expanded, pieces of rock embedded in its stone-like flesh shifted and cracked, sliding over one another like tectonic plates. The roots entwined around the troll’s body tightened and stretched, groaning under the immense pressure, some snapping free with sharp, echoing whips.

They had entered the forest now, the thick trees offering a fleeting sense of cover, but Bokun knew it wouldn’t be enough. “Keep running, Etro!” Bokun shouted, urgency sharp in his voice.

As the troll’s chest reached its peak expansion, the rocks shifted one final time, locking into place as the roots pulsed with a deep, earthen glow. The troll’s head tilted back, and Bokun knew the moment had come—the primal roar that was forgotten by time was about to erupt with devastating power.

“Here it comes!”

As Bokun clung to Etro, the Ancient's mouth opened wide, and the air around them seemed to still for a split second before the roar exploded from the troll’s throat—a sound so powerful it felt as though the land itself was being torn apart.

The shockwave of the roar slammed into them with a force like a hurricane, lifting Bokun, Etro, and Guhin off the ground as if they were weightless. The wind roared in Bokun’s ears, drowning out everything else, and he felt Etro’s panicked thrashing beneath him as they were hurled through the air. Trees splintered and cracked around them, their trunks bending and breaking under the sheer force of the blast.

In a desperate move, Bokun unsheathed his greatsword, and with a grunt of effort, drove the blade into the trunk of a thick tree as they flew past. The sword bit deep into the wood, sending a jarring shock through his arms, but it held fast. Bokun gripped the sword’s hilt firmly with one hand while securing Guhin with the other. At the same time, he squeezed Etro's saddle tightly between his legs as the steed kicked out, trying to brace his hooves against the tree.

The trio clung desperately to the tree as the troll’s roar continued to tear through the forest. The wind whipped around them, carrying with it shards of bark, leaves, and debris. Bokun’s muscles burned with the effort of holding on, his knuckles white as he gripped the sword with all his strength. He could feel the tree groaning under the pressure, but the sword remained anchored in its trunk, keeping them from being blown away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the roar began to die down. The violent winds subsided, and the forest fell eerily silent, save for the creaking of the trees that had managed to withstand the assault. Bokun cautiously opened his eyes, his heart still pounding in his chest. They were still alive, and the sword had held. He carefully loosened his grip, letting out a shaky breath as the adrenaline began to fade.

With the roar over, Bokun slowly eased the sword out of the tree, careful not to jostle Guhin too much. As the blade slipped free, Etro stumbled briefly but quickly found his balance, his muscles trembling from the ordeal. Bokun tightened his grip on the reins and shifted his weight, helping to steady Etro beneath them. Once they were securely grounded, he took a moment to catch his breath, his body aching from the effort and the aftermath of the troll’s roar.

Bokun glanced back in the direction they had come, but the Ancient was already fading into the distance, its monstrous form retreating deeper into the lands of Jhorfa, as if content with the destruction it had wrought.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Bokun muttered to himself, but for now, they had survived. He sheathed his sword once more and urged Etro forward, guiding them further into the forest, hoping to find a place where they could recover and set up camp.

GUHIN!