𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖀𝖓𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓

Across Continents

A/N: Imagine making back-to-back chapters as apology for inconsistent updates. Filler chapter for our three favorite bois (Subjective probably).

In the forests of Anima...

Yamamura crept through the brush. The beast he had been tailing has joined up with its pack, or rather, it killed the Alpha and it made itself the head of said pack, and he was very close to it now. No matter how many friends it brought, it would not stop his Chikage from severing its head from its body.

He spotted it after minutes of crawling through the brush. It was dueling an Ursa Major and its own group of smaller Ursai. A few things Yamamura took note of about the Beowulfesque creature that he was hunting was that its eyes glowed a bright blue. 

Its fur was not smooth like its Beowulf brethren, instead, it was shaggy and matted like that of a Scourge Beast, and instead of four clawed fingers on each hand, it had five. 

It had larger, more pronounced canines, a longer snout, and a thicker jaw, but its skull mask was withered and chipped, revealing the eyes more.

Yamamura had not thought of a name for this beasty just yet, but he was going to call it a Blight Beowulf, though he himself was sure that the name would be subject to change. He quietly unsheathed his Katana, ready to step in as soon as the fighting started.

And the fight started quickly. One of the small Ursa lunged at the Blight Beowulf-- yeah Yamamura really had to think of a better name than that. It was just too long-- but the Beowulf just batted the enemy Grimm away like it was nothing, and it was impaled on a fallen log, killing it instantly.

The Ursa and Beowulves charged at each other, while the Ursa Major and Withered Beowulf-- a much better name than Blight Beowulf in Yamamura's opinion, even though it was longer-- faced each other. The Ursa struck first, but the Withered blocked the telegraphed swing and backstepped. 

The Withered stood up on its hind legs and raised its clawed fists in a boxer's stance, and Yamamura felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. This thing was dangerous, very dangerous, and it was becoming obvious that the Withered and its pack were winning the little territory dispute.

The Withered clenched its fists and jabbed faster than Yamamura's eye could comprehend, its fists blasting away chunks of the Ursa Major's arms. It roared in pain and soon, within two jabs, the arms were reduced to mere stumps, and the Withered swung its fist, taking the Ursa Major's head.

The Withered roared, raising the headless, forelimb-less corpse of the Ursa Major, and the fighting stopped. The Ursai realized that their leader was dead, but the Withered was not going to let them escape. Instead, the Withered seemed to gesture for them to lower their heads, and if that wasn't a sign that it was asking to swear allegiance to it, Yamamura did not know what was.

The Withered then turned its eyes to Yamamura's hiding place, and spoke, in a guttural tone, "Oh dear Hunter, please. Don't hide. I won't bite," and then it chuckled. Yamamura stepped out, his weapon coated in his cursed blood. "How can I listen to a Beast such as yourself?"

"Oh please, have you ever seen a Beast that could talk?" The Withered had an accent similar to the Yharnamites', as it sat down on the ground and crossed its arms. Yamamura shrugged, "I suppose you're right on that part, Beast," and he sat down, just a few feet from the Withered. He flicked his Chikage, undoing the cursed transformation that siphoned life force from him with every second he used it.

It was silent for a while, as the Beowulves and the Ursai, new members of the Withered's pack, growled at the Hunter.

"So... you've been following me for the past few days," commented the Withered.