Crag the hunter stood over the pile of exotic meats before him, drool dripping freely over his lips.

It had been so long since he’d seen such a bounty, too long since he’d feasted to the point where his belly nearly burst from being full. His servants stood around, staring greedily at the food before them, but none dared to make a move toward it. They knew that if they touched so much as a morsel before given the go-ahead, they’d end up in the pile themselves, and there were no healing waters in this wretched place to rely on.

Crag spat upon the ground at the thought, flexing the claws upon one hand. Once, the mighty mazoku had been feared and respected by both demons and mankind alike. He’d led youkai into battle and on raiding parties, nearly always coming back with the spoils of war.

Songs had been sung about him around human campfires by scared soldiers praying that this wasn’t the night when he came prowling for them.

Only the daimao nestled within the celestial palace had ever looked down upon him, primarily because he preferred Earth to their coddled finery. Feh! Crag was no servant. He wasn’t meant to draw baths or cook meals. The very thought brought a snarl to his lips. He was a warrior, bred to kill. It was what he knew, what he excelled at.

And now look at me. Mankind, for so long little more than prey, had risen up, grown strong. Their weapons, once mere insect stings against his flesh, were now much more powerful.

Then there were the daimao. For all their might, they’d abandoned Earth, hidden away in their palace – offering little in the way of succor save a warning that all earthbound youkai were now on their own. So it had been for over half a century.

At first, Crag hadn’t believed what he’d heard. He knew the humans had come far in the prior century, developing weapons vastly superior to the crude arrows of their forefathers. Indeed, many of the youkai under his command had stupidly underestimated them and been laid low. Still, his was a superior race. He refused to retreat like the daimao had. He’d pushed back, sent those loyal to him to spy upon the humans, to prepare for war, a war that would remind those cowards in the celestial palace of their place in the grand order.

But he’d underestimated mankind and this new age of theirs. Wherever his forces struck, the humans pushed back harder. The wolf and ursine youkai under his command were decimated by human hunting parties seeking revenge for those taken. The smaller demons under his rule had mostly fled, becoming little more than the beasts whose shapes they assumed. The few others of Crag’s people left on Earth were quickly cowed, advocating a peaceful existence, far away from the humans, in the woods and mountains where their encounters with man were few.

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So it was for far too long. He’d all but given up hope, growing more bitter with every year, staring at the nearby human civilization in the dark of night and dreaming of a day when he could whet his teeth with their blood.

And now, it seemed he might finally have the chance to vent his wrath upon something.

He spied the small crystal that lay among the bounty of fresh meat, grey as a cloudy day right before a storm.

Ignoring the hungry mewling of those around him, he reached into the pile with both hands. With one, he pulled out a massive hunk of flesh. In the other, the crystal.

Crag took a large bite, easily parting the sinew with his teeth. He continued to work on his meal, determined to get his pound of flesh before even considering the duty being commanded of him.

No, not commanded, asked. The daimao had rejected Earth, fled from it. The best they could do now was hope that those left to answer the call were still willing.

At last, when he’d sated himself, he crushed the crystal between his thumb and forefinger. A small puff of miasma escaped from it, a scent trail. He didn’t need to guess to know who it was from.

Ichitiro, of course.

So, the fool who fancied himself a war god had a job for him. Crag was tempted to ignore it, eat the food sent to them, and let Ichitiro go hang himself. It would serve him right for his arrogant presumption.

Only a few points kept Crag from outright dismissing him. It had been so long since he’d heard anything from the celestial palace, but now this. If they were reaching out, then perhaps that meant their cowardly edict was coming to an end.

Of far greater importance to Crag, though, was being both hungry and bored. The payment offered would satisfy the first. Perhaps whatever deed needed to be done would sate the other.

He lifted his head and sniffed the air through his voluminous nostrils while turning in a circle, continuing to ignore his minions. There! He caught wind of a distant scent that matched the miasma Ichitiro had sent, a foul odor that made even him want to retch.

Interestingly enough, it was coming from the direction of the nearby human habitation. Crag’s level of interest immediately dropped. Whoever it was, it had to have been a weak youkai. Only those who could pass as either pets or pests dared venture to the human towns. Such youkai posed no threat to him. Sadly, they provided little sport either. Whoever they were, though, they must have angered Ichitiro greatly.

Crag eyed the bounty. It did not matter who satisfied the contract, so long as the deed was done. He could send his lesser minions to do this while he remained behind and filled his belly.

Yes. That seemed to be a grand idea. Ichitiro would only care about the end result, not how it was accomplished. And then, once done, perhaps more bounties would follow.

Crag bared his teeth in what passed for a smile, then turned and nodded to his followers, letting them know the feast was about to begin.