A freezing wind blew through the trees, screeching like a phantom. Askar shielded his nose and mouth behind the thick layer of fox fur. The wind pierced to the bones, through his tunic, through his segmented armour. He kept walking, hiding the tremors of his legs.

The hills and blossoming oaks and birches covered their view, partly hiding the wall and the watchtower overhead.

“This better be good,” Centurion Ascylkas muttered, following Askar, his sword clanking against his armour as he walked.

They descended from a boulder, crossed the last leg of flowered trees, and reached the border wall of stone and wood. It extended for miles, left and right dividing the Imperial Territories from the vast barbarian lands up north.

“There, sir,” Askar said, stepping out of the last patch of bushes and trees. He did not need to point at the thing in question. The centurion opened his eyes wide, and tensed his lips. The wall stretched up, five meters from the ground, and in one entire segment, there was a gap as wide as a cavalry tower, as if a tornado had decided to push its way across the wall.

“Who did this?” Ascylkas walked toward the gap and leaned his hand on the rocky wall, on the broken logs, splintered as if broken by hand, and the damaged bricks at its base, as if crushed by a battering ram. He looked through.

“What do you mean, Centurion?” Askar muttered. “It wasn’t done. I mean . . .”

Ascylkas turned and glared, his brow furrowed and teeth clenched. His eyelashes twitched, a usual sign of anger, which he routinely let out on his soldiers.

“Whosoever did this is going to get punished,” the centurion pointed a finger at him. “I do not know what the hell these boys are thinking. Tell me. Elkas saw it first, he must know. Or did he do it? Tell me, Askar, and the punishment will be lesser.”

Askar took a deep breath.

“With all due respect, Centurion, Elkas only reported what he saw.”

“That damned story again? Or are you hiding something too, you skunk? Do you think these stories of giants scare me? Do you think I’m a cowardly rascal like all of you maggots.”

“No, sir,” Askar said, then swallowed. The centurion had said the word that described it. Askar did not dare even think it. He felt the blood draining away from his face, fearing that the centurion mentioning the word would draw them to him. Then, Askar lowered his voice. “He just reported what he saw.”

“What he saw?” The centurion’s eyes were red with anger, he put his finger on Askar’s chest and pushed him lightly. “These superstitions are getting out of hand, and they shall be dealt with accordingly. If whosoever is responsible for this does not step out and clarify this, I’m going to punish the entire company. And the company under Julius’ command as well. So you better tell me. Spit it out, soldier.”

Askar clenched his teeth. His eyes remained fixed on his superior, his face tense. He trusted Elkas. Elkas himself had run back to camp and demanded for an expedition company to be formed. Even Elkas, the brave decurion, the best of his troop, had become pale and tremulous, and yet, he had not shied away from searching for the beast. The villagers all said the same thing. But Askar dared not even think the word, as it was believed it could draw them to the place.

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“My centurion, I assure you . . .”

“Do you think these tricks will convert me to your foolish religion? I have received reports from the South. I know about it, believe me. But you won’t fool me.” He pointed at the gap. “This was made with the legion’s battering ram. Careless use of the army’s resources for a foolish trick.”

“Sir, no. It wasn’t . . . No!”

But the centurion was not going to listen to his words. The man was boiling in anger, and yet, for that blind anger, the legion would suffer. Words would not make him understand.

He knew what would.

Askar cleared his throat.

“Sir, that is not all.”

“Do not interrupt me! You will get punished too, soldier Askar. This is not acceptable.”

Askar took a deep breath. “May I? This is not all that we needed to report.”

“What are you talking about?” The centurion yelled.

“The hole in the garrison wall is not the only thing Elkas saw,” he said.

“The hole in the . . . Soldier, this is enough.”

“Centurion, please,” Arkas pleaded. “If I may, I just need you to take a closer look.”

“I had enough of this,” the centurion snorted, clenching his teeth in anger. “No, I will not waste any more time.”

“Sir, just for you to take a look.”

“What?” The veins in the centurion’s neck popped. “I told you I won’t waste any more time with you.”

“Just take a look.”

“Whatever you’re planning,” the centurion said and stepped out of the hole. Askar followed, breathing deeply. Then, he pointed at the ground, and the deep, piercing footprints, as if a rock had been dragged along the grass, peeling the earth, shaping it like a claw and sinking more than two feet below.

“Are you being serious, soldier?” the centurion pouted.

“Yes, sir, please, let us gather a few soldiers and come . . .”

And then, Askar noticed something that had not been there earlier. He fixed his eyes on the trees that grew a few steps from there, and he noticed a grey boulder. Its shape was not like anything he had seen before. It looked like a mass of rocks, bound together by some invisible glue, and strangely symmetrical. It was vaguely shaped like an hourglass. An even number of rocks in the shape of triangular spikes expanded from its centre. Its base was angular. It looked vaguely human.

He felt as if a stone had settled on his stomach, his mind whirled, threatening to make him faint.

“What are you looking at, soldier?” The centurion spewed.

“Th-th-that . . .”

“What? That? That’s only a rock.”

“C-centurion. That was not there during sunrise.”

“What are you saying?” The centurion strode through the short grass, reached the object and drew his short gladius. “It is just a rock,” he yelled.

“Centurion, it was not there before.”

The centurion spat on the floor and poked the object with his sword. Askar shut his eyes for an instant, his heart pounding. It sounded just like iron hitting stone, and as such, the object was not scratched.

“You see? It’s nothing but a rock,” the centurion said.

Askar took a deep breath. He had to calm down.

His eyes opened wide.

The centurion remained still. Time seemed to dilate.

The boulder twisted like a piece of hot iron. It seemed to split in three, as if arms grew out of its centre. It rose in the sky and towered above them, higher than the wall—higher than the trees—next to the centurion. Its legs stretched for about seven feet off the ground, with spikes protruding from its knees. Its abdomen was as thin as the legs, only its chest was as wide as a chariot, seemingly carved in grey stone. The figure had a massive skull, its upper part was sloped, its chin was long and disproportionate. Long teeth, shaped like daggers stuck out of its mouth, and its eyes were like burning coal.

“What are you looking at?” the centurion asked.

Askar’s tongue was paralysed.

The centurion turned as the gargantuan hand reached down and grabbed him around the torso, like a man grasping a sword handle. In a second, a splash of warm blood splattered on Askar’s face. He blinked, and saw his leader turned into a pulp of red and purple, squeezing out the blood like juice. The iron of his segmented armour had been squeezed like a can.

Askar’s heart shot up and banged like a drum of war. He turned around and dashed through the gap in the wall, his heart rate matched his steps, and he screamed out his lungs.