Chapter 25: The Sacrifice

THE SACRIFICE

From the ground, Baby Giant looked way too small to be real—like a bug from below, waiting for Yuren.

He wasn’t alone up there. All around, others like him clung to branches or huddled on wide limbs—anywhere that felt halfway safe for even a second. No one was calm. Not with fireballs dropping everywhere, lighting up the night and swallowing the forest chunk by chunk.

A roar tore through the air, so loud it almost snapped the sky. No question—that had to be Baby Giant’s father.

Across the clearing, on top of this massive slab of rock, the creature stood, massive and tense. Its eyes found Yuren, and that crazy-long snout swung his way, drifting side to side, almost like it was talking to him. That blast of sound from its mouth cleared the smoky air, and for a second, Yuren saw the world open right up.

He found himself staring at that rock, at the giant just standing there—and yeah, it hit him: that was Baby Giant’s parent. He felt this jolt of relief, except he really didn’t know what it meant. He tried to calm himself, forcing the panic down.

“Why is it just standing there?” he muttered, half out loud. “Did it try to say something? Am I supposed to jump?" The idea was nuts. There was no real way—he was perched 160 meters above the ground, and the tip of the creature’s snout sat fifty meters away, more air than any sane person would dare. That gap was death. “No. No, I can’t. It’s too high. I won’t make it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw locked so tight his teeth stung. Sweat slid down his back, every muscle tight and useless.

He’d been lost in his own panic for so long, he barely noticed Amaya until she chirped, cutting through his thoughts with a sharp note.

He answered her. “Yeah, I know. I know, Amaya. I hear you.” There was no other way out. Maybe that creature really was trying to help, but he was out of choices. “I have to move now. I wait, we burn.” He gritted his teeth, shaking all over. “Am I really about to do this?” he whispered, body twisting toward the massive beast. Its snout reached out a little further, a bridge or a lifeline. “Please let me make it home,” he whispered again, quiet now. “If anyone’s listening, I’m in Your hands.”

He crouched and locked the chick to his chest, heart going wild. One last breath. He set himself—

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Amaya could handle herself. She always had.

He ran. He jumped. The cry from the beast ripped through the sky at the same moment, and the world spun around him.

Whoosh!

Right then, a flaming branch crashed behind him, missing his head by less than a second.

His heart slammed in his chest, wind and smoke whipping his face, heat pressing in so close it hurt to breathe. Every muscle screamed. His own voice tore loose, sharp and raw—he couldn’t keep it in. None of this felt possible, and he still kept his eyes on the snout, the only hope he had, flying toward it on pure trust.

He’d barely started to fall, and then—his gamble paid off. The long, smooth snout caught him as cleanly as if it were a practised trick. It wrapped around him, tight and safe, a miracle in the chaos.

But—

That rock. It had been cracking all along, and now that massive creature’s reach to save Yuren tipped the scales. The rock let go with a deep, snapping groan. Before it could even lower Yuren, the edge broke clean away.

CRACK—the ground disappeared under them, and they dropped together.

The beast twisted as it fell, rolling with the force so its grip on Yuren never faltered.

Baby Giant saw the entire thing—his father plummeting, swallowed up by the fire and noise. He let out a cry that vanished in the roar.

It was a brutal fall, nearly thirty meters down, the kind of drop that could crush bones. Jagged rocks waited below, and even for something that size, the landing had to hurt. In a blink, it was over. Nothing anyone could do now except hope.

THOOM—

The impact hit like a meteor, the earth shaking under the blow. Yuren prayed the creature would survive. After what it had just done, it deserved nothing less.

What it pulled off—saving him like that—no one would ever forget.

*******

Smoke climbed in thick, choking rolls over the Sariayah forest, blackening the sky in minutes.

In a bright, wide office, a huge man faced a mirror, unmoving. He stood close to eight feet tall, his uniform pulled across broad shoulders slashed with old scars and bulging veins. Four shining stars marked his rank. His age—maybe eighty, maybe older—showed nowhere in his hard-muscled frame.

But his eyes. Heavy brows, eyes like razors. One look and you’d freeze where you stood.

He watched the smoke outside gather and thicken, knowing what it meant before anyone told him. He was just waiting.

“The report’s reached FFTA, General Gandamme. They’ll be here in minutes,” a soldier announced, striding in fast. “Orders, sir?”

“Get your men together. We’re heading to the forest now.” His voice cut through the room. “Something’s off about that fire.”

“What do you think it is, sir?”

He didn’t blink. “No idea. My gut says it’s not a threat. But I want to see it myself.”

The soldier hesitated. “Do you think it couldn’t just be bad luck? What does your instinct say?”

Silence hung for a heartbeat.

“Follow orders,” the general replied.

“Yes, General.” The soldier snapped a bow and left him alone.

*******

A carved wooden figure sat among flowers and flickering candles on a table—hefty, at least 10 kilos. It was the Saint Maria, cradling a bleeding figure with a crown of thorns tangled in matted hair. Her son, suffering, held him in her arms—Ishuweh.

Reina standing before them, pressing her palms together. She prayed.