Ryūjin raised his tankard, the root beer sloshing as he took another deep gulp. His laughter thundered out across the ship’s deck. **"DORAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"** he bellowed, his voice carrying that unmistakable Scottish lilt. The crew roared with him, swept up in his energy.
The doctor, standing by with his arms crossed, frowned slightly. **"Sir,"** he ventured cautiously, **"are ye certain ye want t’ take on the entire Supreme Council? They’re no’ tae be trifled with, especially considerin’ yer… health."**
Ryūjin’s grin spread wider, eyes blazing with defiance. **"Aye, and why should I care a whit aboot that? Sick, old—it makes nae difference! I’m still the bloody *second strongest man in the world*, doctor!"** He took another swig, his laughter booming as he slammed down his tankard. **"DORAAAAAHAHAHAHA!"**
Freddie approached, a glint of pride in his eyes as he held out a gleaming blade. **"Oi, sir! Yer Drake Fang sword—polished and sharpened, jus’ like ye like it."**
Ryūjin, pausing mid-drink, coughed and thumped his chest before reaching out for the weapon. He ran a hand over the blade, his smirk sharpening as his fingers traced its edge. **"Good, good! I’ll be needin’ it ready fer the battle ahead. Every last one o’ them’ll taste the bite o’ this blade before I’m through!"**
He raised his tankard again, laughing louder as he drank. **"Let ‘em come, lads! They think they can frighten me? Bah! I’ll carve a path straight through ‘em, and when I’m done, they’ll ken exactly who the bloody Ryūjin is!"**
**"To hell with the council!"** Freddie chimed in, lifting his own drink high, and the rest of the crew followed suit.
**"Aye, to hell with ‘em!"** Ryūjin laughed again, his Scottish accent thickening. **"And may the skies be filled with their screams!"**
And with that, the raucous party continued, Ryūjin’s laughter echoing through the heavens. As the laughter faded, a memory surged to the forefront of his mind. The flames licked the night sky, casting a red glow over the village of Pokie as chaos erupted in every corner. Villagers screamed and scattered, stumbling over one another, some shouting in horror, **"The slave! The giant has broken free!"**
In the heart of it all stood a young Ryūjin, barely 14 but towering at 7’1, chained wrists dripping with fresh blood. His clothes were in tatters—dirty, rusted, torn by years of abuse—but his eyes burned fiercer than any flame around him. **"Aye, run, all o’ ye,"** he snarled in a thick Scottish accent, his voice raw with rage and defiance. **"Every last one o’ ye deserves this! Ye kept us giants shackled, beaten, treated us like animals. No more! I’ll die before I ever wear these chains again!"**
He roared, his voice splitting the air as he rushed forward, his heavy chains swinging like weapons. People fell before him, unable to stop the whirlwind of fury that was young Ryūjin. Blood spattered the dirt, and smoke clogged the air, but he never faltered.
A squad of guards materialized from the smoke, their hardened faces hidden behind steely expressions. They stood shoulder to shoulder, fists raised as their forearms glowed with a harsh aura. **"Stand down, boy!"** one of them commanded, his voice edged with disdain and a hint of fear. **"You may be big, but your still just a slave. Know your place."**
Ryūjin spat, his lips curled back in a savage grin. **"My place?"** he growled, his voice dripping with venom. **"My place is anywhere I damn well choose! And if yer council’s got any sense, they’ll be quakin’ in their boots, ‘cause I’ll no’ stop till every last chain is shattered!"**
Without hesitation, he charged at the guards, moving with a reckless fury that left them barely able to react. His chains became weapons, crashing down on armor, snapping bones, tearing screams from his enemies. The guards struck back, their auras flaring as they fought to contain him, but he seemed unstoppable, shrugging off blows and hurling himself into them with a mad, bloodthirsty zeal.
**"Ye can stab me, bleed me dry,"** he snarled as they pierced his side, blood staining his tattered shirt. **"But I’ll no’ fall to the likes o’ ye! I’ll die fightin’—and ye’ll all remember the name Ryūjin!"**
The guards tightened their formation, driving their weapons into him again and again, but Ryūjin fought on, his voice carrying above the sounds of steel and flames. **"When ye speak o’ this night, tell ‘em what ye saw—a giant who defied ye, who’d rather die free than live bound by yer chains!"**
He grinned, a terrifying sight as blood ran down his face, mingling with the smoke and ash. **"I’ll tear down yer empire if it’s the last thing I do! Do ye hear me?"** he roared, even as his vision began to blur. **"Do ye hear the wrath o’ Ryūjin!"**
And still he fought, a young giant refusing to yield, leaving behind a memory that would haunt Pokie and echo through history—the tale of a slave who chose defiance over death, and became something far more dangerous. few years has passed Ryūjin, at 17 years old, towered over most at 7'5", his height a testament to years of relentless growth and the unique nature of his lineage. In his younger days, he’d worn a buzz cut that made him appear even more fierce and disciplined. But over time, as if mirroring his rapid growth into a giant, his hair had grown thick and wild, cascading down in blonde, rugged waves that matched the intensity of his training. Now, that long mane was damp with sweat as he pounded the metal wall embedded in the mountainside, muscles flexing with each strike.
Ryūjin stood in the heart of the forest, the air dense with the scent of pine and the earthy undertones of moss. His muscles tensed as he drew back his fist, knuckles cracking against the cold, metallic wall embedded in the mountainside. Each punch echoed like thunder, scattering flocks of birds from nearby treetops. Sweat glistened on his skin, tracing paths over sinewy muscles that had been forged through relentless training.
“Agh!” he growled, frustration edging every breath. A faint shimmer of blue light flickered on his forearm, only to sputter out like a dying flame. He slammed his fist into the wall one last time, the rock splintering under the impact. “Damn it! How am I supposed to hold this Aura if I can’t keep it up for more than a heartbeat? This is bullshit.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
A rustle behind him made his head snap to the side, eyes narrowing. His pupils darkened, turning obsidian black as he activated Lifeforce Sight. His heartbeat steadied, and the world took on a strange, ethereal glow. He sensed it—a weak but steady life force hidden in the thicket.
“Come out. Now,” he barked, his voice rolling through the clearing like distant thunder.
The foliage parted, and a woman stepped forward. Her tanned skin caught the light, smooth and unblemished, a stark contrast to her bold, deep brown eyes. She wore a flowing maxi skirt with slits on both sides, the fabric shifting like water over her curvy hips. Her simple white strapless bra and a thong peeked from beneath, and her short, spiky dark brown hair framed her face with an almost defiant energy.
Ryūjin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion tightening his jaw. “Aye, what’s a woman like yerself doin’ here? You don’t belong in World 3, not dressed like that,” he said, his accent rolling each word with a rough edge. “World 2, eh? This is a dangerous place for you.”
The woman swallowed, meeting his sharp gaze. “Yes, I’m from World 2. I... I was passing through to sell a special item.”
“Sell, ye say?” Ryūjin’s brows furrowed deeper. “Tryin’ to charm me so ye can strike while my guard’s down, are ye?” He folded his arms, the muscles in his forearms twitching with tension.
“N-no!” she stammered, holding up her hands. “I saw you, and... I thought you looked strong enough to use it.”
Ryūjin’s gaze dropped to the object she cradled. “Aye, well, if it’s so special, let’s see it.”
The woman nodded, darting back into the brush. A moment later, she returned with a crystal in her grasp, a smooth, transparent stone that glimmered with an otherworldly light. Etched into its core was the image of a dragon, coiled and poised to strike. She extended it to him, fingers trembling.
“What am I supposed to do with this, eat it?” he snorted, cocking an eyebrow.
“I... I don’t know,” she admitted, her eyes wide with uncertainty.
Ryūjin reached out, the crystal cold against his rough palm. Before he could think, his grip tightened, and the crystal shattered, sending a sharp jolt through his body. His eyes flew open as pain lanced through every nerve, twisting him in agony. He dropped to one knee, gasping as a surge of energy flooded his veins, igniting his core like wildfire. The world spun, colors and lights dancing before him.
As the pain subsided, Ryūjin opened his eyes to find a faint glow emanating from his hands. He flexed his fingers, the power thrumming beneath his skin. “What... what just happened?” he whispered, voice rough.
The woman took a hesitant step forward, awe on her face. “You must have... absorbed the power of the crystal.”
A smile, wild and dangerous, spread across Ryūjin’s lips. “Heh. Looks like ye brought me more than a bauble, lass. What’s yer name?”
“Aya,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Aya, eh?” Ryūjin chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. His shadow loomed over her, fierce and unyielding. “Well, Aya, from now on, ye’ll be with me. This world’s about to change,
and yer gonna be there to see it.”
Aya’s eyes widened as she looked up at Ryūjin, bruised and weary but burning with hope. “Really?” she whispered, almost not daring to believe his words from years before.
Ryūjin, had given a resolute nod back then. “Aye, I mean it. The Supreme Court’s hold over the worlds ends here. And I’ll need allies—strong ones. We’ll tear down their throne piece by piece.”
Years had passed, and he made good on that promise. With Aya and Ryūjin had gained a crew of loyal comrades, Ryūjin at the age of 20 became a name spoken in hushed tones across the realms. He had mastered Sygnaflow, a collection of powerful techniques . His command over them marked him as more than a warrior; he was a force of nature. He had freed countless slaves, giants among them, sending them home to Thrace, their ancestral land.
But now, the stakes were higher. In a unknown island there was a Battle between Ryūjin crew and the supreme Court man.The Judges of the Ether, the Supreme Council’s enforcers, had come. Their leader, Jacob, stood like an unyielding pillar amidst the chaos. He smirked at the scattered crew, dismissing them with a cold glance. “This is the resistance? Your ‘leader’—where is he? Cowardice must be contagious,” he sneered, pacing forward, ethereal armor glowing as if fed by the power of the council itself.
Aya staggered to her feet, blood trailing down her temple. She spat out, “You’ll eat those words, Jacob. He’s here.”
The Novice Sentinels, a squad of fresh recruits in polished armor that barely hinted at their inexperience, pointed skyward, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. The crimson sky split as if carved by lightning, and there, descending with a controlled fury, was Ryūjin.
His Aura flared, no longer a tentative glow but a blazing storm of energy. Crimson light coiled around his forearms,his sword igniting into black lightning that crackled and sparked across the sky. He held his massive sword, the weapon thrumming with power that made the air feel charged, as if a storm were caged within it.
“DORAAAHAHAHA!” His laughter was deep, wild, and sent shivers through even the most hardened warriors. The Abyssal Surge roared through his veins, veins of energy searing lines up his arms and onto the blade itself, glowing with an unholy, red-black light.
Jacob turned, his smirk slipping into a thin line. “So, the coward finally shows his face,” he muttered, readying himself as the ground around them shivered.
Ryūjin’s eyes locked onto Jacob, Lifeforce Sight flickering for just a moment, reading the strength and resolve of his enemy. “Ye thought I’d hide from a fight, did ye? Wrong. Ye’ll learn today why we’re not just rebels. We’re the dawn of the end for your bloody council.”
With a roar that shook the mountains, he brought his sword down, black lightning trailing behind like a comet’s tail. The impact shattered the earth, sending shockwaves that cracked the ground and sent Sentinels tumbling like ragdolls. Jacob barely had time to raise his defenses, eyes wide with a mix of fury and disbelief as the force of Ryūjin’s blow roared around him.
Aya shielded her eyes from the blinding light, a smile breaking through her bloodied face. “This is it,” she whispered. “This is what we’ve waited for.”
The aftermath of the battle was marked by a tremor that sent shockwaves across the valley. Jacob’s ethereal armor shattered with the force of Ryūjin’s strike, fragments scattering like stardust. He was hurled back, slamming into the rocky ground with enough impact to carve a deep crater. The Novice Sentinels were caught in the sheer force, thrown to the winds as if they were nothing more than leaves in a storm.
Ryūjin’s crew erupted into cheers, their voices a chorus of victory cutting through the still-settling dust. Ryūjin stood tall amidst the ruins, a grin splitting his face as he surveyed the scene, crimson aura still crackling around him like living fire. He nodded to his crew, their battered forms lifting with newfound energy. “Aye, this is just the beginnin’,” he called out, his voice rough yet triumphant.
As the dust settled further, they claimed one of the Supreme Court lackey’s ships, a sleek vessel lined with polished metal and adorned with the sigils of power. The crew boarded, hearts pounding with the thrill of victory, and soon the ship rose into the sky, leaving the shattered battlefield behind.
Twenty Years Later
Ryūjin, now 40, had seen much change. His hair, once wild and blonde, was now streaked with silver, though his eyes burned with the same intensity they had two decades prior. The lines on his face spoke of battles won and comrades lost, of triumphs that came with a cost. Aya was no longer by his side, having departed to battle an illness that kept her far from the chaos. In her place were new companions.
Freddie, at 16, had a mischievous grin that mirrored Ryūjin’s own youthful spirit. “Aye, ye’re still the strongest, even after all these years,” he’d say, eyes bright with admiration.
Evee, equally young and fierce, would chime in, “None can hold a candle to ye, Ryūjin. The world knows it.”
A shadow moved at the edge of the room. Hawk, a tall, imposing figure with a raven mask that hid all but the glint of his eyes, stepped forward. He was 28, sharp-minded and vigilant. “Sir,” he said, voice low and precise, “word has reached us about a man… one who they claim could rival your strength.”
Ryūjin’s brows shot up, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “Nonsense, lad,” he rumbled, his accent thick and rolling. “No one walks this earth stronger than me.”
Dhyāna, a man who often sat cross-legged in meditation, spoke without opening his eyes, his voice calm and measured. “Sir, I believe caution would serve us well. If such tales reach even the lowest streets, there may be a kernel of truth.”
Freddie folded his arms, a scoff escaping him. “Aye, but they say many things, don’t they? And all them tales crumble when faced with reality. Ryūjin’s reality.”
Evee nodded in agreement, her expression fierce. “Aye, no one stands above ye, not now, not ever.”
Ryūjin let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the walls themselves. “DORAAAHAHAHA! Well said, both of ye! But if there’s a fool out there thinkin’ they’re equal to me, we best pay ‘em a visit. Let’s see if this shadow wants to dance with a storm.”
Hawk’s eyes flickered behind his mask. “Then we set course?”
Ryūjin’s grin widened, teeth flashing. “Aye, Hawk. Let’s go have a word with this so-called equal.”