Chapter 22 - Hunters and Hunted

Corrin watched as Robin knelt down, examining one of the bodies strewn about the mountain pass.

"How'd this one die?" Corrin asked, taking a step closer to peer over the tactician's shoulder.

"Wind magic, shaped into a blade. Explains such a wide wound," Robin answered, motioning to the long gash that split the man's armor and flesh. "A blade would be much finer and an axe would have been deeper. Looks like most of these were either killed by magic or by a sword. No other weapons were used." He stood as he finished.

"Their grab matched the hunting party we encountered further back. Modified Nohrian uniforms, stripped of identification," Xander noted. His voice carrying in it the same displeased scowl he wore. "More deserters, it seems."

"Yes." Robin nodded in agreement. A more thoughtful frown filled out the tactician's lips. "This was clearly another hunting party. Only rather than encounter us, they met their end at another's hand."

"Do you think it was the swordsman the townsfolk spoke of?" Lucina asked. Corrin glanced her way, taking note of the worried look she wore as she spoke up.

Robin nodded a second time. "Yes, I believe so. It is the best explanation for what seems to be two seperate hunting parties wandering the mountain. We've seen no other travelers in the area, so this isn't a raid. Instead, I think they are hunting after him, having probably gotten more than a bit tired with him interfering..." The tactician's frown deepened as he trailed off, his gaze becoming distant as he drifted away into thought. "It would explain those signal fire spells we spotted during our approach. Probably a way for the hunting parties to communicate their positions in the event one spotted him."

"Despite the tactical disadvantage it would give us should we encounter the enemy, it may be wise to split our force to cover more ground," Leo suggested, stepping forward. "We have already crossed several other roads through this mountain, both natural and otherwise. If we continue as single group, it would greatly limit our chances of finding the one these deserters are hunting."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Robin said, turning back to the others. In the span of an instant his gaze seemed to snap back to the present, his eyes focused and clear once more. "I propose we split into three parties. Lord Xander continues on with the bulk of the number on the main road. Either the enemy will be forced to engage him, or else will try to retreat back to their stronghold. Meanwhile Corrin and I can each take a smaller group to cover as much ground as we can. Lady Camilla can take the other fliers to act as our eyes and coordinates the group's movement. Fill a similar role to those flares," he finished, motioning his arm vaguely ahead of them.

At that very moment the distant sound of a shrieking hiss sounded, another crimson flare burning it's way skyward as it shot up from a distant treeline further up the mountain. The flare detonated in showers of sparks, bathing the world in pale, bloody light.

"What do you know, right on cue," Robin muttered through the grimace that now twisted his lips.

"If you're right in your guess, I take it that means they're closing in," Corrin noted, hand gripping his sword. He turned, quickly surveying the members of their group who'd had accompanied him.

For a split second he froze, his throat tightening as his heart beat seemed the quicken. Yato felt heavy in his hand, and he felt his hands begin to shake under the weight of the very responsibility it had laid upon him.

Then he gritted his teeth, forcing his trembling hands to still. He had to make up his mind, to make a choice now while he still could. And so, with a steady breath, he focused his vision, and decided.

"Silas, Kaze, Jakob, Felicia, Odin! You're with me. We'll double back on that narrow pass that cut a sharper decent up the cliffs!"

Waiting only long enough to see that the others wouldn't be left behind, Corrin lept into action.

No more hesitation. Now was the time to act.

. . . . .

Marc gazed up at the sky, watching a series of flares shoot up into the sky from across the mountain, raining dazzling light down over the pass. They're closing in.

Marc tightened the linen bandage on his arm, tying it off with a quick knot. While shallow, the wound dealt in his most recent encounter had made it difficulty to move his arm without pain. But there was nothing he could do now for it but stop the bleeding and power through. Now was not the time to lick his wounds.

So far he'd managed to fight off two of the smaller raiding parties and evade a third. That success, however, had come just as much from luck as it had any prowess he possessed. And luck could only ever carry you so far. Eventually any luck was bound to run out.

Voices cried out in the distance, the beat of many boots thundering up the pass. There was no time to retreat now, especially without knowing the movements of other raiding parties. Blind flight would risk barreling into more danger, potentially leaving him to be easily surrounded.

What would father do in this situation? Think, Marc! He was too out of practice when it came to tactics on such a small scale. His years of serving as one of Grima's generals had been focused on commanding large forces of Risen. And after that he'd been all too content to sit back and let his father or sister handle all the planning.

Best he could come up with was strike first. Gain the initiative and swing the battle his way before it even started.

Ducking behind a outcropping, Marc strained his ears, listening to the sound of the approaching force. The footsteps drew closer, and now he could make out what the voices were saying.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow, steady, rhythmic breath. He let his muscles relax, washing away all tension.

The host of brigands rounded the corner.

Marc's eyes snapped open. Falchion sang out from its sheath, pure light that danced like flames springing to surround the blade as he threw himself back into the frey.

. . . . .

Corrin watched as several more flares shot skyward, tracing bloody lines against the pale gray sky.

Those came from close by. Just past that ridge. We need to-

Corrin twisted his shoulders to the side just in time, an arrow whipping past his head and striking the stone cliff face next to him. Sparks and tiny chips of stone sprayed from the impact as metal deflected against stone.

"Get down!" Corrin barked, throwing himself into a roll just as several more arrows struck the wall behind the spot he'd stood moment before. His eyes narrowed, movement sharp and clear. Archers. Three of them. Scouts. More not far behind. Kill them. His vision darkened red, the crimson haze of battle slipping over him as the primal, instinctual thoughts of his dragon side became louder and clearer in his ears. He felt his fingers extend to claws, ready to rip and tear, to lose himself in rage once more. To wash away all the pain in the heat and rhythm of-

Corrin let out a ragged, hissing breath as the world snapped back into sharp focus, time itself rushing forwards from the near frozen state it had held an instant before. Yato cleared it's sheath, springing before him to catch an arrow on the flat of the blade, deflecting it in another shower of sparks.

No. He would not lose himself again. Not this time.

"Odin!"

A ball of fire engulfed the three archers, igniting the underbrush they'd laid hidden in. Screams cried out, only to be cut short as the flames quickly consumed them.

Wasting no time, Corrin spun to face the others, snapping off orders with all possible haste "Those were probably just scouts, ahead of a larger hunting party. One that's probably not far behind." He motioned quickly with a hand, picking out two of their number. "Kaze, I want you to shadow us as we move forward, stay out of sight and keep your eyes on our flanks. Odin, I want you ahead of us. With your magic you can bypass the worst of the terrain quicker than we can. I need your eyes on the way forward!"

At once the two did as they were told, splitting off as the rest of the party started forward. In the distance voices could now be heard, their sound slowly but certainly drawing closer. A fight was certainly inevitable now. All they could do now was try to put as much distance as they could, and bide their time until conditions were more favorable for the battle to come.

Or until they had no option left but to turn and fight.

. . . . .

Marc threw himself into a diving roll, passing underneath the bolt of lightning that lanced through the space he had occupied a moment before. Arcing wind sliced into the enemy mage, blood spraying in a fountain of crimson even as Marc completed his roll and leapt to his feet. Pivoting he whirled, Falchion cleaving through the haft of an axe to bury itself in the chest of the charging warrior. Twisting aside, he ripped the blade free as his foe's momentum carried it forward several feet, nearly crushing him as it hit the ground.

Silver glinted as blades fell towards him, one to either side. Falchion moved in a blur, deflecting each blow in rapid succession. A hiss of pain slipped from Marc's lips, a line of red appearing on the outside of his arm where the second blade had grazed him even as he knocked it away. Another sword found his side, it's tip biting into his leather surcoat and the flesh beneath, even as he tried to twisted away.

"Elwind!" Arcing blades of wind smashed into the ground before him, the shockwave throwing both his attackers and himself back. He landed hard, managing only to partially break his fall by entering an awkward roll. Colors flashed and danced in his vision, his shoulder and upper back hurt, and he tasted copper.

Blinding light split the billowing clouds of dust, a barrage of scarlet flames slammed into his position in a roaring torrent of spellfire. Searing heat licked at Marc's heels as he dragged himself into a frantic, scrambling run. A hand of force slammed into his back, throwing him to the dirt. Yet through the fresh pain, he managed to regain his footing, leaping out of the way as another bombardment came down.

A wall of flames burned between him and his attackers, slowly spreading into the thicket of trees his evasive maneuvers had carried him into. Through the roar and crackle of fire he heard voices, drawing closer and spreading to either side.

At least three more mages. More might have shown up, or will be soon. Marc grimaced, pressing a hand into his wounded side. Despite only being struck by the final few inches of the sword, it had been a clean hit, though perhaps not as bad as it might have been. Blade hit a rib, stopped it from going any deeper, Marc thought, wincing as he released the pressure he'd put on the wound.

He had to ignore it now. Within seconds, the mages would bombard his hiding spot. What little time he had came only thanks to the immense mental strain of such rapid-fire dark mages would certainly need a moment to rest to regain some of their focus.

A plan! Think, Marc. Come up with a plan! Before they-

A hissing pop was all the warning he had before flames engulfed the treeline. Marc launched himself forward, a cone of air blasting from his palm, splitting the wall of fire. He landed in a roll, Falchion cutting the legs out from underneath one of the mages. Before the others had a chance to react, he spun around, cutting the second down on a diagonal slash and a spray of blood.

Then the other bandits were on him. A dozen swordsmen and warrior came at him from all sides, axes and swords glinting crimson red in the firelight.

Marc darted back, dodging the first blow, weaving Falchion before him to deflect incoming strikes. He fought defensively now, every movement seeking only to hold the tide of foes at bay. Several times the weapons of his enemy found their mark, scoring minor wounds. None of these grazing blows would have been much on their own, but they added up, each sapping away at his remaining strength one by one. His breathing became ragged, his chest and limbs burned with each movement.

Suddenly the haft of an axe hooked into back of his knee on a backswing, sweeping one leg out from under him. Marc fought to keep his balance, falling to one knee even as he battered aside another blow. The remaining bandits closed in, tightening their net.

A simple truth faced him now. There were simply too many for him to defeat on his own.

"Fimbulvetr!"

Marc's eyes shot wide. A swirl of shimmering air wrapped around three of the bandits, crackling ice crystals spreading over their forms until frost encased all three, freezing them solid where they stood.

For a single moment, the remaining bandits stood motionless, stunned by attack that had seemingly come out of nowhere. Marc too had been caught off guard, but where conscious thought failed, years of animalistic instincts Grima's brutal training had beaten into him took over. He hacked down the foe nearest to him, then felled another with a spike of electricity to the brigand's chest.

Then Marc dove out of the way as a beam of crimson wreathed shadow swept through the mob, igniting all who touched with lightless flames that clung to flesh even as the men it engulfed writhed on the ground to put them out.

"Thoron!" Marc bellowed, a bolt of lighting smashing into the remaining brigands. A flash of light engulfed them, and when the smoke cleared only charred corpses remained.

Marc doubled over, gasping for breath. He slipped back to one knee, his vision blurring as the world spun slightly. Dammit, father always made casting those seem so easy… Blinking he lifted his head, searching for the ally who'd struck down most of the foes who'd surrounded him

"Fear not, traveler, for we are not your enemies. Through the whispers of spirits from denizens that roam these plains, we-"

"Owain?! What in the world are you doing here?" Marc gasped, eyes shooting wide a second time as he beheld the person who'd come to his rescue.

"Gah!" Owain staggered to one side, arms flailed as he lost his balance. But all Marc had done was interrupt him. How had that managed to physically throw him off balance.

"I- By my burning blood, now you've made me lose my place! Spent days on that speech too…" Owain said, his normally booming tone shifting abruptly to a mutter for that last part. "I mean, the rescue was perfect for it! I would have expected you off all people would have an appreciation for the theatrics!" He jabbed a finger Marc's ways. "What's more, I was here first! You're the one who needed to explain yourself!"

"I- What!?" Marc blinked. He looked Owain up and down, abruptly covering his mouth with a hand to stifle the snicker that fell from his lips.

"What?!" Owain said indignantly.

"It's just… Nothing, your outfit it just… interesting," Marc explained, keeping his hand firmly over his mouth to hide his smile.

"Ha! I knew it suited me!" Owain proclaimed, sweeping his cape out. "Now then, to keep matters brief, it was to this world that I and my companions came after we departed, several months hence the time that your parents were last in our world!" Owain boomed, gesturing dramatically to punctuate each sentence. "Honestly not sure when that is relative to your perspective. It's been about two years for me. Whole this is really a mess," he added, shrugging as his energy more or less dropped off with that aside.

Marc blinked, trying to process. "Months since… wait, my parents?! Have you seen mother and father? Are they here?"

"Oh. Yes, of course! They are taking part in this battle as we speak. I merely ran ahead while my companions dealt with the knaves who dared block our path," Owain answered. "We split up our forces to cover more ground however, with both of them being part of one of the other groups I am afraid. No way of knowing exactly how far away they are right now."

The moment of elation Marc had felt faded a bit with that last detail. To hear that his parents were here and alright… to finally find them again like he'd hoped, only to have the reunion he sought to remain just out of his reach for the time…

Mother and father can protect themselves. I have no reason to worry about them any longer. Best I can do now it do my part to put an end to this fighting.

The sound of boots once again carried out of the twisting mountain passes, this time from further down and back the way Owain had seemingly come. Another flair arced up into the heavens, tracing a crimson trail through the wispy flingers of clouds that clung to the pale sky.

"Looks like another hunting parting is closing in on your friends. The fighting must have drawn them this way," Marc said. "Come on, quickly. We need to help them!"

"Though time has marched differently through our worlds, to fight side by side by my fated rival, tis a fair fortune that destiny brings us. However, know that the Owain you know has evolved into a title known as Odin! I shall show you the power that I possess with my Fellhand, which has surpassed the might of your coveted Flamingo Punch," Owain declared, as his hands began to be covered in black flames, emitting red electricity through them.

Shaking his head, Marc started off, sprinting back down the pass with Owain coming a step behind.

At last, he'd done it. His parents were here. While the reunion must wait while work was still to be done, he'd finally found them. At long last.

. . . . .

Blood sprayed in a fountain of crimson as Corrin shot past one of the Nohrian deserters turned bandits, talon-like claws peeling through armor and flesh alike as if they were paper. Corrin pivoted on his heel, dropping low as an axe sailed over his head, the prince shifting his momentum into Yato as he completed it's arc to cut the legs out from his attacker. Sudden movement behind him, motion he more sensed than heard or felt. Wings unfurled as Corrin launched himself into the air, a single flap carrying him over the lunging stab aimed at his back. He shifted his weight back, wings evaporating as he flipped behind his foe, blade burying itself into the man's shoulder as he landed behind him.

Just as he landed there was a flash of light. A bolt of lightning slammed into Corrin, sending him skidding back as the impact sent a cloud of dust billowing skyward. Smoke curled around him, faint scorch marks covering hardened dragon scales visible through the tattered armor around the arm he'd used along with the flat of Yato's blade to catch the brunt of the spell.

Hissing through clenched teeth, Corrin relaxed his clenched hand, scales vanishing to become burnt, blistering skin. He winced at the sight, then forced his eyes away and let the pain wash away from his mind. It was nothing a healer couldn't fix later. He had to remain focused.

Corrin dropped low, avoiding the next spell. He pushed off the ground with one hand, leaping out of the way of a second bolt. He extended an arm, the limb beginning to warp into a spear-like appendage, only for it to abruptly return to normal as his focus faded, another spell narrowly missing him as he again leapt from harm's way.

Dammit, the mages must have signaled him out as the priority target. He couldn't get a clear line on any one of them without another interceding. Blast it, where did Odin run off to?! I told him not to run too far ahead! We need our magical support!

All around him the rest of his group were locked in combat as heated as he was, each outnumbered two or three to one, if not by more. This was bad, they'd been able to manage the first raiding party, but the sudden arrival of reinforcements had caused them to become quickly surrounded.

Diving out of the way of another bolt of lighting, Corrin launched himself at the nearest bandit. Yato flashed, severing tendons in the man's sword arm even as Corrin seized hold of the man's gambeson. Nails lengthened into claws as Corrin gripped in, heaving with all his strength as he tore the bandit off of his feet, throwing him back over Corrin's shoulders and right into the path of the a tongue of flame that rushed to engulf him. Heat linked at Corrin's sides, his impromptu human shield taking the brunt of the smell.

A grimace twisted his lips as he tried not to listen to the bandit's dying screams or smell the scent of burning flesh. Even now, even after witnessing so much death, he felt his stomach wretch, an illness overtaking him. Though horrified as he was still over his own actions, there was one key difference now. The old him would have never even thought to do such a thing, let along bring himself to act on it. But now… now it was just another act to weigh on his conscious.

Yet still all he had done was provide himself the briefest of respites. His foes began to close in on all fronts, while behind them dark mages readied spells.

"Down! Then right!"

Corrin had only an instant to register the command spoken in a voice he did not recognize. He felt the air move behind him, a sudden shiver seeming to run down Yato's length and up into his arm. It was just like when he'd fought against…

Instinct took over, Corrin ducking low just as he felt a hand press onto his back as someone vaulted over him. The air crackled, lightning discharging in front of him to wash over a group of charging brigands. They staggered and stumbled, electricity dancing around them as they spasmed and dropped to their knees, paralyzed by the spell.

Corrin spun to his left, hacking down a berserker coming in on his left, while the figure who'd landed before him went right, a sword wreathed in white light slicing through a spearman's helm. Kicking the crumpling body of his vanquished foe away, Corrin turned back, getting his first real look at the one who'd came to his rescue.

For a single instant he mistook the figure for Lucina, so alike were their garments. But no, this person was at least a head shorter than she was, and a moments' longer glance revealed many visible differences in their manner of dress. Rather, the figure seemed garbed in clothes that mixed aspects of Lucina's apparel with Robin's. The figure wore a blue surcoat identical to her's, but with a layered leather waistguard and belts Robin wore. His pants and undershirt too were like Robin's too, only a shade darker, closer to brown than tan. His knee high boots were like Robin's as well, and wore leather vambraces of similar style to the tactician's over fingerless leather gloves.

Over his shoulders draped a billowing cloak of the same colors as Lucina's, brilliant blue with crimson red inlining, only unlike her's the figure's included a collar and hood reminiscent of Robin's coat. As the swordsman quickly turned to look at him, Corrin was met with a face hidden behind a butterfly mask a near perfect match to the one Lucina had worn during the dark nights festival, only this one showed signs of much use, it's paint chipped and surface cracked.

"Don't worry, Owain explained everything! He's going to keep those casters busy while we go help your friends!" the figured explained, speaking so quickly Corrin nearly missed half of what he'd said.

Before he had even a chance to open his mouth to speak, the swordsman spun away, sword moving as a blur as it cut down the trio of still stunned brigands before they had a chance to recover, their bodies toppling to the ground even as the figure continued forward.

"Hurry!" he called back.

As if snapped awake from a trance, Corrin leapt after his rescuer, a dozen questions filling his mind. No doubt this was the same swordsman that merchant back at town had told them about. Between his appearance and the fact he's mentioned Odin by his real name, that could only mean…

"Who are you exactly?" Corrin asked, darting past a bandit's defenses to swiftly cut him down. He heaved, throwing his vanquished foe into a group a bandits further behind, bowling them over.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Marc. I'm..." the swordsman's words cut short as he danced around a sweeping slash, pausing only long enough to counter and fell the bandit before continuing where he'd left off. "... well, you know my parents I guess. Are they using made up names too, or is that just something Owain did?"

"Parents? Oh…" Corrin nodded. That confirmed the suspicions he'd had ever since the reaction both Robin and Lucina had held to the description of the swordsman's appearance. Not that seeing him first hadn't already been proof enough. The name too lined up, as the two had mentioned having a son named Marc on more than one occasion.

"No. But Selena and Laslow do. I mean, Severa and Inigo… right…" Corrin sighed, managing to find the time to shake his head before throwing himself back into the thick of the fighting. "Better to explain later. Let's deal with this lot first!"

Corrig caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye as Marc nodded back, the two setting to work.

. . . . .

In the end it didn't take long to finish up with the remaining foes assaulting Corrin's group. The arrival of Marc and Odin had quickly turned the tides back in their favor, vanquishing the bandits who's been keeping Corrin occupied, allowing for he in turn to join them in coming to the aid of the rest of his friends. Only when the last brigand had fallen did Corrin finally turn his attention back to Marc.

"So, you're Robin and Lucina's son then. I can safely say I wish this meeting were under happier circumstances, but…" Corrin shurged, motioning halfheartedly at the bodies strewn around them.

"Well, it could be worse. Better to just take what we can get," Marc answered, returning his sword to his sheath. A sword identical to the one Lucina carried.

The same sword, just from another timeline, Corrin reminded himself. It's why Yato reacted the same way it did when I fought Lucina when I first encountered her in Valla.

"I guess I can't argue with that. Though, if I may ask, what are you doing here? From what your parents told me, they were the only ones who got pulled into the rift that connected our worlds. How did you get here? Did you come alone in search of them?" Corrin asked.

"That… is a long story. One that will have to wait for when we have more time," Marc answered, glancing back up the mountain pass towards the peaks that loomed over them.

Footsteps drew closer as the rest of Corrin's group moved to join them, the others save for Odin taking up positions to his sides and behind as to allow them to both remain close at Corrin's side as well as have their full attention on Marc. Not that he could blame them: after the trials they's all experienced, they'd long since learned to remain suspicious of any potential thread.

"Oh, right. Introductions. Silas, Kaze, Jakob, Felicia," Corrin said, motioning to each of his friends, before turning to face them next. "This is Marc, he's Robin and Lucina's son from their world, which I'm sure Odin vouches for."

Speaking in brief, Corrin filled the others in on the rest of the situation, turning things over to Odin and Marc to further elaborate on what was going on.

"So what you're saying is that this whole mountain is crawling with hunting parties," Silas summarized once the three were finished. He crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his chin with a hand.

"Should we fall back and regroup with the others? We got lucky more of them haven't stumbled into us yet," Felicia suggested, glancing nervously behind them as if half expecting another raiding party to materialize at any moment.

"It's just as likely that more hunters will cross our path regardless of if we press forward or go back," Kaze said, shaking his head sharply.

"Hmmm...:" Corrin frowned, glancing down, weighing their options carefully.

"We need to press forward" Marc said abruptly, interrupting Corrin's pondering.

Corrin lifted his head, blinking at him.

"I know where these bandits are holed up. Near the top of the mountain is an old ruined fort. I scouted it out a few days back, but there were too many there for me to assault it on my own. But with so many raiding parties out searching for me…"

"...then it's likely been left with far fewer brigands defending it," Corrin finished for him, eyes brightening as he grasped what he was getting at. "Someone had to been coordinating their movements too. Someone likely remaining in their headquarters where he had a clear view of all the single flares they've been using to alert each other to our movements."

"Exactly.! If we move quickly enough, we can take out their leader and with it the only one keeping them as a unified force," Marc said, a smile showing from below his mask.

Corrin considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Let us hurry then. We need to reach the fort before they get wise on our plan." With that the newly reinforced group set off, Marc leading the way up the mountain passes.

Author's Note: You know what? I am going to stop saying that I'll get these out quicker, since every time I do I end up not being able to get them out in a timely manner. So screw it, these will get done when they're done and maybe if I go this route I will stop jinxing myself and by some miracle get these out in a shorter time frame. Hopefully. Probably not though, based on past evidence.

Not much to say regarding this one, pretty much a straightforward battle chapter. I am really looking forward to getting into the next chapter, as there was a lot I'd hoped to cover here, but it was getting a bit long so I decided to instead hold off and move it into its own chapter so it could be done justice without being rushed.

I guess all that's left to do is respond to guest reviews.

Darkness21 - There would be no reason for another version of Lucina to show up really, thus why it as Marc instead. Honestly I have been waiting a long time to get to this point, as this is where we really get to go into a lot of the interesting plot points for which Marc (and others yet to appear) will be important for.

Guest - (I am going to assume this was one person, so I apologies if it was actually two people). In regards to Robin's abilities, not having the Heart of Grima at this point is actually a big factor. Without it Robin is no where near as powerful as he once was, thus having to fall back on using his intelligence to win fights. As for the other review, I am not quite sure what you were referring to. So, um, questionmark?

Oh, there is one thing I did decide to do going forward. I have decided that in the event where I have no other ideas for bonus content regarding Robin's writings or a relevant character in the story to have a spotlight on, I will instead just do a spotlight on a random character to be featured. That way I can branch out a bit more and always have some sort of bonus content here.

Now with that said, that's all for now everyone. As always, I look forward to seeing what you guys think. Until next time, I hope you enjoyed this one, and I wish everyone a wonderful day!

Character Spotlight: Kaze

Class: Master Ninja

Secondary Class: Samurai, Wyvern Knight (S-Support Beruka), Cavalier (A* Support Silas)

Skills: Astra, Luna, Poison Strike, Savage Blow, Seal Speed

Personal Skill: Miraculous Save - If Kaze is the support unit, the lead unit has a [Luck]% chance of surviving a fatal attack with 1 HP.

Equipment: Kaze's Needle, Caltrop, Silver Katana

Status: Alive