Another close call. Ragna glanced down at the gaping hole in his chest, grimacing. Sloppy. He hadn't taken this much damage from those government goons in quite a long time. It was for this very reason that Ragna had fled, to this ominous place - Called the Suicide Forest for it's reputation and unfortunate purpose as a place where many people made pilgrimage to die. The various warning signs did much to ward off common people from coming here, and much less for those who came here with the intent to die.
Ironically enough, Ragna had escaped to this place with the hopes of living on, having evaded the patrol of the Japanese Defense Force. They had always been chumps up until now. Ever since that damn initiative started, they started bringing out the big guns. Whatever the hell hit him, it did quite a bit of damage to him. Hiding out in this cave should be good enough into his Grimoire's regenerative ability put him in a spot where he could walk around without being hindered by his injuries.
"Getting beaten up by a bunch of goddamn mooks... I'm losing my edge, aint' I?... Ugh... Better lay low for a while until they fuck off." He hadn't expected them to continue their search all the way into the forest of trees, even if he was a wanted criminal. Even if they did, he thinks the darkness of the cave will allow him to lay low like he wanted to.
What Ragna did not realize as he crawled through the darkness of the cave, is that he had braced his hand on the handle of a large, flat blade that could be mistaken for a misshapen, jagged rock or a piece of the scenery, the blood coating his glove being spilled onto the blade and handle. He did not think much of this, being fully unaware of just what he was touching thanks to how dark it was.













