After leaving the lair of the red-tusked bakemono, Gunjar and Ginjo had a new vantage point. From their height above the canyon floor, they spotted other cave mouths—higher, deeper, darker.
When they returned, they chose a new one to explore. Outside it, they found a broken shield and a scattering of copper yuan. The shield was split along the grain, its strap snapped clean through.
They stepped inside. Almost immediately, something felt wrong. The air pressed on them strangely, and the path twisted in ways that didn’t make sense. The deeper they went, the worse it got. Gunjar tried to map the tunnels, but after a few turns, he staggered and vomited.
Then came the light—dim and red, flickering against the cavern walls. They followed it, not sure why, until they found the source: a scuttle of dog-sized beetles, their swollen glands glowing around scythe-like mandibles.
The sight was horrific. But Ginjo didn’t flinch. He drew his sword and gave the word to advance.
Behind him came a half-dozen others—some local farmers, including Liu-Po, and a few monks trained in the sohei tradition. The farmers were unarmed or carried tools; they weren’t meant for battle. The monks moved with discipline, but this was something new.
The beetles were fierce. Their shells turned aside even clean strikes. And they were clever. Two climbed the cavern walls and dropped from above—straight onto Liu-Po. He screamed. They tore him apart before anyone could reach him.
Gunjar shouted a warning and called on his spirits. Ginjo cut down the beetle that killed Liu-Po. The others scattered, retreating into cracks and crevices.
The fight was over. But the cost had been too high.
Shaken, Gunjar declared the cave cursed and ordered a retreat. They gathered what was left of Liu-Po. Ginjo took the lead, lantern in hand.
The tunnels twisted again. It felt like they were being led downward. But then, ahead—daylight. A faint breeze. They walked faster.
At camp, they buried Liu-Po. Gunjar said a few words. No long speech. Just truth: Liu-Po had come when asked. He had held the line.
And now he was gone.
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