Chapter 11: A King's Past
October X772 — exactly five years before the present day.
Through the dense forest, a figure moved like a shadow between shadows.
Leaping from one ancient canopy to another, a woman of average height cut through the treacherous forest with effortless, lethal precision.
Her lean, athletic build spoke of a lifetime spent honing her flesh through relentless training and real, unforgiving combat.
Her long black hair, shaggy in texture, was tied back into a high ponytail that swayed with each massive bound but never once disrupted her perfect balance.
Her eyes were darker still. Deep, unyielding, and pitch-black, they carried absolutely no warmth—only a cold, constant tactical awareness.
Cradled securely against her chest by her left arm was an infant.
'The chief will probably want my head for this,' she thought, her gaze fixed forward as she landed silently on a thick, moss-covered branch. 'I betrayed the village… and abandoned my mission the moment I slaughtered the others.'
The wind rushed past her mask as she pushed off again, clearing several trees in a single, fluid leap.
She glanced down at the child sleeping soundly in her arms.
"…But it was worth it," she murmured quietly to the rushing air. "For you, little one."
This woman was a shinobi of Metsugakure—a hidden village so rare that its very existence across this world was closer to rumor than fact.
Autonomous assassin havens like it could be counted on a single hand across the entire world.
Yet here she stood, a traitor to the very shadow that raised her.
"I won't raise you to be loved," she said softly, her voice devoid of maternal tenderness. "I'll raise you to be feared."
"Albion."
After some time, her rapid movements slowed.
She descended from the canopy, landing lightly on the forest floor before approaching the mouth of a secluded cave hidden between jagged layers of rock and dense overgrowth.
Her eyes scanned the perimeter. It was dark, quiet, and completely devoid of any magical presence or movement.
'This will do for now.' She stepped inside.
The cave was dim, the midday sun from outside barely reaching its damp interior. Still, she moved without a shred of hesitation, her trained senses guiding her far better than her sight ever could.
After a moment, she knelt down and gently placed the sleeping infant on a flat patch of earth.
"You stay here," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument despite the child being asleep. "I need to head into town for a bit."
Her gaze lingered on him for a brief second. A faint crease formed between her brows as she observed his still form more closely.
"He slept through all of that traveling…?" She slowly exhaled and shook her head. "…It doesn't matter. With the amount of sedatives they pumped into him, he'll probably just end up shorter than most."
Turning away, she walked toward the cave's exit. But just before stepping outside, she stopped. Without taking another physical step, her body lifted smoothly off the ground.
She drifted forward, exiting the cave and rising into the air before accelerating in a single direction, disappearing over the forest without leaving a single footprint behind.
Metsuri moved through the sky with effortless control. She was utilizing Floating Magic , a specialized Caster-Type technique. It allowed her to levitate and travel freely through the sky without wings or external support.
By channeling magic through her body and releasing it beneath her, she created an unseen force that pushed against gravity itself, manipulating the surrounding currents of magical particles to keep herself suspended.
To an outside observer, she simply looked like a specter gliding through the air. Among support techniques, it was easily one of the most practical a rogue mage could master.
'José will probably think I ran off,' Metsuri thought, her eyes fixed ahead as the wind brushed past her cloak. 'And if he does, he'll want immediate payment. Or what he likes to call a "debt."' A faint, dangerous smirk touched her hidden lips.
'I could always sell Albion to the Phantom Lord guild… but not yet. I need to wait until he undergoes an Awakening.'
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'If he survives the process, he'll gain an Innate Magic. Something I can make heavy use of later…'
Her thoughts were cut short as the landscape below began to change. The dense forest thinned out, giving way to open, rolling hills.
Soon, her destination came into view. Nestled along a quiet coastline was a small, open settlement where the land met the sea.
There were no towering stone walls. No guarded gates. Its borders were defined instead by swaying grass, scattered wooden fences, and well-worn dirt paths shaped by generations of travel.
The village itself was modest, built from pale wood and thatch weathered by the harsh ocean wind. The crisp scent of salt lingered heavily in the air.
Metsuri slowed her descent, hovering just above the ground as she surveyed the perimeter.
"I recognize this place…" she murmured to herself. "The Village of Darry." Her eyes flicked toward the horizon, confirming her bearings. "Good. I'm still within the borders of Fiore."
Easing herself down, the invisible force beneath her faded as her boots touched the dirt path without making a sound.
Her attire was built entirely for stealth. A form-fitting bodysuit clung to her frame, the matte-black fabric absorbs light perfectly.
Draped over it was a short, stark white hooded cloak. It was sleeveless and cut to end just above her waist, leaving her limbs completely unobstructed.
The stark white fabric stood in sharp contrast against the darkness beneath it, making her silhouette striking even in low light.
The oversized hood rested over her head, casting a deep, natural shadow across the upper half of her face.
Below it, a matte-black cloth mask concealed her nose and mouth, leaving only her cold, watchful eyes visible to the world. Both of her arms were guarded by long black forearm protectors extending from her wrists to just below her elbows, and her bodysuit flowed seamlessly into reinforced stealth leggings.
On the back of her cloak rested the mark of her origin—a clan crest carefully embroidered into the white fabric. The design centered around a perfect circle. Within it were three identical circles arranged in a triangular formation, each touching at the center to form a tightly bound cluster.
Encasing them was a thick outer ring that curved inward between each inner circle, creating three sharp, triangular gaps pointing toward the center spaced evenly at precise 120-degree intervals.
Walking into the heart of Darry, Metsuri blended into the modest center of activity. An open food market stretched along the shoreline, where rows of wooden stalls lined the coast.
Half of the stalls displayed fish hauled in just hours ago, their scales glistening on beds of crushed ice.
The others offered simpler, homely goods: fresh bread, dried meats, and preserved rations.
Metsuri walked forward, her cold presence cutting cleanly through the rustic atmosphere. She approached one of the nearest food stalls.
With her hood shadowing her face and the mask concealing the rest, the vendor couldn't make out a single one of her features, though he tried to probe with a friendly greeting.
Metsuri didn't respond. Instead, she reached into her cloak, withdrew exactly 700 Jewels, and placed the coins onto the wooden surface.
Without a word, she made a series of small, precise gestures, pointing to the exact rations she required.
The vendor blinked, thrown off by her silent, chilling demeanor, but quickly complied. Within a minute, Metsuri held a small basket filled with fruit along with a sealed bottle of goat milk.
She turned to leave, but the idle chatter of nearby villagers caught her attention.
"…Brago…? That's where Deliora currently sleeps," one villager muttered nearby, his voice shaking.
"The Demon of Destruction…" another added, his face turning pale. "It doesn't just kill people, it completely erases cities from the map."
"That place used to be full of life," a third whispered. "Now it's nothing but frozen ruins. If it ever migrates here… there won't be anything left to save."
Metsuri stopped in her tracks. For the first time since entering the village, her pitch-black eyes narrowed under her hood.
*'Deliora…?'* Her grip on the basket tightened slightly. 'The Demon from the Books of Zeref… that Deliora? I hope the rumors are wrong and it doesn't wander toward this coast. I'm not arrogant enough to believe I could face a disaster like that… and live.'
Without another glance, she stepped away from the market. Moments later, her body lifted from the ground.
Floating Magic activated once more as she rose into the air, leaving the quiet village behind.
'Only a Wizard Saint could deal with a monstrosity like that,' she thought, accelerating into the sky.
As Metsuri cut through the sky, her thoughts refused to settle. Her gaze drifted down to the bottle of milk in her hand.
"…Can he even drink this?" she muttered to herself. "He's an infant… right? How old is he anyway?"
The memory of the sterile facility surfaced in her mind. "I don't even know how long they kept him inside that tank, or when he was brought in." She exhaled quietly, giving a small shrug. "…Guess I'll just decide his birthdate myself. It's not like he has parents left who would object."
Not long after, the cave came back into view. She descended rapidly, landing softly at the entrance before stepping inside the dark cavern.
"Wake up, Albion," she called out, her voice echoing faintly through the stone walls. "I brought food. There's fruit too, in case your body is too old for milk… though I could just eat it myself."
She took a few more steps, then froze.
'…Something is wrong.' Her eyes sharpened. 'It's been hours since I extracted him from the facility. Even with sedatives, a child's body should have woken up from hunger by now.'
Her combat instincts screamed. Without moving her head, her eyes flicked violently to the left. Even in the absolute darkness of the cave, she detected it: an inhumanly large, fur-covered fist hurtling toward her temple from her absolute blind spot. It was already in motion.
THOOM!
The air in the cavern shivered as the punch slammed to a violent halt. It hadn't connected with her face—it had been cleanly blocked mid-swing.
Metsuri's arms had crossed instantly, intercepting the massive fist before it could land. The kinetic impact rippled through her bones, but her stance held perfectly.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly, locking the creature's strike in place.
"Uhohohohooo!" A loud, mocking laugh echoed in response.
Metsuri didn't hesitate. She kicked off the brute's knuckles, sliding back several feet across the dirt in one smooth motion. The basket and bottle were discarded onto the ground without a second thought as her right hand flew to her hip.
"Light Magic: Luminosity."
A radiant sphere of pure magical energy bloomed into existence near the cave's ceiling. Encircled by faint, rotating rings of white light, it cast a steady, blinding glow that washed over the cavern, driving back the darkness in an instant.
With the shadows gone, the creature was fully revealed.
A massive, humanoid beast stood before her. Its proportions were grotesque—an elongated chin, extended ears, and a pointed head rising like a crude horn.
Its upper body was enormous, built with thick muscle and oversized arms that hung like clubs at its sides. In contrast, its legs were remarkably small, giving it a top-heavy, ape-like frame.
A long, green-furred tail extended behind it, swaying lazily against the stone.
Its fur was a deep forest green, but its chest, arms, face, and ears were coated in a vivid, contrasting purple.
Along its massive forearms, five small, pink, heart-shaped markings ran in a clean, uniform pattern down each limb. Its eyes lacked pupils entirely, glowing with an unnerving, primal light.
And wrapped tightly within its massive left grip… was Albion. The baby was wide awake, staring blankly at the stone ceiling without crying.
"Uhohoho! You're fast, pretty human!" the creature grinned wide, its tongue darting out in an exaggerated, unsettling expression.
"Faster than the last girl I caught, at least!"
Metsuri's gaze didn't waver.
"…A Vulcan," she said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper as her hand gripped her hilt. "What did you mean by the last one?"
The Vulcan's tail shifted, curling forward as it gripped the infant tighter.
Metsuri exhaled slowly. "…I was hoping I was wrong."
With a smooth, metallic ring, she drew her weapon from her hip. It was a straight-edged blade, slightly shorter than a traditional katana, refined exclusively for close-quarters precision.
The hilt, wrapped tightly in black cloth, settled firmly into her palm while the matte-black sheath hung empty at her thigh.
Her stance lowered, her weight shifting to the balls of her feet as her magic began to flare.
"And you already know what we do to beasts who wander out of the mountains…" she added quietly, her black eyes locking onto the monster's glowing stare. "Vulcan."
With a faint, precise shift of her blade, she pointed the tip directly at its throat. "You die today."