For three long and arduous days, the group lead by the Cyclops hunting party weaved through Death’s Forest. From one hidden path to another, without their guides, they would be lost entirely. How deep they’ve gone, well Michael didn't want to think about such a depressing matter. But, it further in than any human he suspected. Especially with how many beasts the Cyclops had to put down right in front of their eyes. Making it clear how dangerous they were.

With a massive swing that was enhanced, with what Michael has dubbed ‘Silence Aura’, with shadow magic, the main Cyclops utterly obliterated the skull of a hideous, furless, and with too many eyes, dog of massive proportions. It dwarfed the caravan wagon Michael had been riding on before they entered this forsaken forest. All the while, somehow, someway, the entire battle had no noise. No explosions of trees shaking the ground, or roars of pain and triumph. Just a long and deafening quiet.

That prospect made Michael completely terrified. How many battles were going on right now that they couldn’t hear? How many creatures are just waiting for them to pass by to eat them alive before they heard anything at all; if they heard anything? What was the point of such need for silence? And when sounds were actually made, the Cyclopses would squat down with terrified faces. Looking at the canopy as though it would eat them any second now.

For long minutes, they would stay frozen as they waited. Only after five full minutes, Michael counted how long they took, would they get up from their crouched positions and continue to move on. Though large droplets of sweat would crawl down their faces, even if they try to diffuse the situation with a ghastly smile full of drool. That scary smile puts no one at ease. Other than that, the trip was uneventful, well almost uneventful.

“C’mon, Bergat,” said Michael to the main Cyclops in a whisper as he watched the gigantic Cyclops grunting in an effort.

Having introduced each one of them, Bergat gave his name in the quietest rumbling voice a body of that size could muster; and that was still pretty loud. The leftmost Cyclops, the only one between them with fur hanging off of both shoulders instead of one, was called Hedergat or SmartClops. And the rightmost was named Jugugetgat, he carried the largest club between the three and was a wall of muscles. His name meant ‘Son of Ancestral BlacksmithClops’

“Mister FluffBottom isn't that heavy,” said Michael with a laugh.

“Why? Why are you dragging that massive furball with us?” said Agata, her voice demanding and judging in nature.

Looking at her like she lost her mind, Michael just shook his head and turned to stare at his fluff.

“What do you mean why? Just look at Mister FluffBottom!”

Grunting, Bergat had to remind everyone not to raise their voices. For a savior, Michael did not have any survival instincts. The Cyclops had to work extra hard just to make sure he didn’t trip over a root and kill himself; their savior was just as soft as the mountain of fur he was carrying.

“Just look at Mister FluffBottom…” said Michael in a harsh whisper, pointing with both hands. He only received a skeptical look instead.

“How could I not want to keep the most adorable ten-foot fluffball in the world? What reason could I have not too?” repeated Michael in a whisper, his eyes narrowed at Agata.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe because it almost killed Jugugetgat before Dad saved him? Or maybe because no one, not even the Cyclopses noticed him creep up on us all,” said Agata with as much sass as she could possibly infuse into her quiet words.

“Bah, semantics. Fluffy, killing machine, adorable, stealthier than a shadow user. Words make no difference to me,”

Eye twitching and hands shaking in fury, she almost attacked Michael but was quickly cooled down by a flick to the head. Turning with the with enough battle rage to take on an empire, she was met with her smiling father. Deflating like an inflatable swimming pool, she just shook her head and stalked away towards the opening ahead of them. Unlike the previous miles of the forest they had crossed already, it seemed that there was no dark and dreary canopy past the opening. They couldn’t even see anything past because of how much light filtered in.

“Young master, are you sure you wish to keep, umm, Mister FluffBottom?” said Bialo as he guided Michael towards the opening.

“Of course, Bialo. I wouldn’t be bringing him with us otherwise,” said Michael with as much confidence as he could muster.

Before Bailo could reply to his young master's unwavering determination to keep the beast, they crossed the threshold and into the clearing proper. Only to be met with stunned silence at what they were seeing. Instead of the huts and tents of fur they expected from the fur covered giants, they saw sprawling buildings of stone and metal. Homes built one after the other and between them all were forges billowing smoke into the air. A single home much further in was the largest, so high, Michael couldn't believe something so big could be made in this world.

Taking a step forward, a transparent barrier came into being right before him. Magic that covered the entire City of Giants. A wall that kept a secret that must not be shared, of an entire people called monsters and beasts; uncivilized creatures that must be slain. No trespassing eyes could witness the glory that was this city.

Taking a step past it, an amalgamation of sound crashed into him making him stumble forward. Eyes wide and jaw hanging down open, voices of bartering, the banging of metal forging in every direction, the crashing of battle roars in practice fields, the rumbling laughter of giants whether they were fully grown or nothing but children. Color seemed to jump off every surface, bright blues and greens, and reds.

As he stared in awe, the grunting Bergat, struggling to keep the tied fluffy beast up, walked by with a strained smile on his face.

“Welcome to the city of Gargantuan,”