Red Death S1

Ryu stares down at the map laid across a flat rock, its edges weighted with small stones. Moonlight reflects off his hair like molten silver.

Yizo (low):You're not sleeping?

He folds the map, tucks it into his cloak, and stands.

Ryu:This route cuts past a small outpost. I want to see who guards it. And Night time is the best for this.

As he was moving The terrain shifts from wild soil to structured neglect—half-paved paths, broken fences, moss-covered watch posts.

Torchlight flickers faintly ahead—an outpost tucked into the hills.

Ryu crouches behind a ridge, eyes narrowing.

Ryu (calculating):Two sentries on patrol. Light armor. Tired steps. No enchantments.

One lookout in the tower. Slumped.

He watches a merchant cart get waved through the gate—no inspection, no questions. The guards share a nod with the driver.

Yizo (noting):So they're letting some things pass. Bribes?

Ryu:No. Orders.

He waits until the moon dips behind clouds, then moves—silent.

Ryu leaps the outer wall. His mana remains sealed tight—no trace.

Within the outpost, he scales the rear of the storage hall and drops soundlessly behind a stack of crates.

He opens one—mana-imbued minerals. Illegal. Highly restricted. Useful for war... or worse.

Another crate: Tools. Healing, poisons, maybe curses.

He listens.

Footsteps—two guards walking the corridor outside.

Their voices are low, casual.

Guard One:They said another shipment's coming tomorrow. Commander wants it routed east.

Guard Two:Through noble land? That's risky.

Guard One:He said the nobles already signed off.

Ryu's jaw tightens.

He vanishes before the guards enter the room.

Back outside the outpost walls, he kneels beside the edge of the trail, map back in hand. He draws a new line across the path, correcting the intel.

Yizo:So? What's the conclusion?

Ryu (quiet):They're not just moving supplies.

They're preparing for something.

Yizo:War?

Ryu:Worse.

(He stands, eyes cold.)

Ryu:They're preparing for control.

Ryu adjusts the map under moonlight. His eyes narrow at a dotted line that cuts through forest, hills, and rivers—marked "Otake Pass."

Ryu (low):Strange place for trade routes to converge.

Yizo (ignoring the jab):if someone's trying to control that pass, it probably mean the town's still independent.The Empire doesn't bother locking down land they already own.

Ryu (flatly):"Probably" isn't useful. I'll look for myself.

He stands, brushing dust off his cloak. The map disappears beneath the folds. Without a word, he begins walking through the woods, following the terrain westward—toward the mountains.

Hours pass in silent travel. Ryu moves through branches, avoiding roads, following the crescent moon like a hunter.

Eventually, he slows.

He crouches at the edge of a ridge—barely visible between the trees.

Below: Shirogane, a walled town built into the cliff's edge. Lanterns flicker on its towers. Archers patrol the wall. Gates are half-shut—like jaws waiting to bite.

Ryu (low):Guard rotation every thirty seconds. No imperial banners.

Yizo (studying):Simple. Efficient. Not Imperial-grade—but not poor either.

Ryu (calculating):They're armed, but not expecting war. Whoever runs this place... thinks they're safe.

Yizo (half-curious):You planning to go in?

Ryu (cold):Not yet.First I want to see what they fear.

He backs away from the cliff, vanishing into the trees once again—like he was never there.

Night. Ryu kneels on a high ledge above the town, eyes reflecting torchlight from below. His cloak flutters faintly in the cold mountain air.

Ryu (low):This place... it won't survive a real assault.

Yizo:

If this town's still breathing, something will try to choke it.

The map Ryu took is unfolded again—this time beside a flat rock. His finger traces three potential routes.

Ryu:One day to reach here...Two days to assemble troops on the empire's side...Which means I have about 72 hours before fire touches the gate.

Yizo (mocking):You're suddenly a savior now?

Ryu (flatly):No.But if this town falls, the Empire gets another artery through the cliffs—and I lose leverage.