Balance Warriors of The Feather Realm

Screams echoed for miles as the black-feathered soldiers—ferocious Ayam Cemani fowls—slaughtered the innocent with a cruel devotion. These ominous warriors, recruited just two weeks ago by the dark witch empress Arabella, known across the realm as the Beak of a Thousand Adamant Wails, ravaged a peaceful farming village without mercy.

Torches in clawed hands, they set the village ablaze until not a single soul remained. Smoke rose thick into the night as the black feather soldiers, arrogant and silent, marched alongside their mistress toward the next settlement—unyielding in their loyalty, indifferent to the ash under their talons.

Far across the universe, in its farthest quiet corner, lies a planet where only fowls rule. Many worlds are scattered through the cosmos, each inhabited solely by one type of creature—each thriving in isolation.

On this particular world, birds of every kind coexist, bugs scurry to feed their hunger, and the simple ecosystem has long been theirs alone. But in time, these birds grew cunning, their minds sharpening like a hawk’s talons. Of all their kinds, one species rose to claim dominion above the rest—known to us on Earth as chickens. They learned not only to hunt insects but also to plant and tend gardens.

On this hidden planet stands a continent brimming with breeds that live by an ancient code of Japanese samurai honor. They named their homeland The Feather Realm.

But this realm now lies draped in chaos. The evil empress, the Beak of a Thousand Adamant Wails, has relentlessly attacked it. Commanding her black feather army—soldiers imbued with her cruel magic—she seeks to seize every village, every roost, and crown herself queen of all feathers.

Just a month before, she betrayed and murdered the high king of the Feather Realm, King Truffle the Third, the Felicitous Feather. Through bitter deceit and a poisoned dagger in his back, Arabella claimed her path to the throne. When the royal golden feather guards learned of their fallen king, they rushed to avenge him but fell helplessly before her shrieking magic—her beak unleashed a wail that shredded their eardrums and split their courage.

With the palace under her clawed grip, Arabella gathered the black feather soldiers to crush the realm’s remaining hope. To this day, no samurai chicken has stood strong enough to defeat her. The realm teeters on the edge of ruin, shadows creeping further with each village lost.

Yet not all is lost.

High in the northern mountains, monks known as the Illuminating Feathers—Silkie breeds with plumage as soft as whispers—have caught word of the empress’s treachery. Hidden for centuries atop Feather Mountain, these monks have quietly guarded the realm from the shadows, offering secret counsel to its leaders when times grow dire.

Among them lives an unusual outsider: an adult rooster of the Polish breed, known as Samurai Hanabu Cuckoo. Hatched and raised within the monastery’s hush, only the Illuminating Feathers know the truth of his birth.

One calm morning in the monastery garden, Master Yaol, a wise elder Silkie, strolled to where Hanabu knelt, tending crops with steady devotion. Hanabu labored not just for food but to repay the monks for the life they had given him. Though he trained tirelessly in martial arts, his foreign breed made him forever an outsider—never permitted to rise among the monks’ sacred ranks.

“Good day, Hanabu,” Master Yaol greeted kindly. “How fares your work today? Has your spirit found peace in these simple tasks?”

Hanabu paused, rose, and bowed low to the elder.

“Good afternoon, Master. Yes—the harmony of labor brings balance to my heart. Each day’s effort shows me where I must grow stronger.”

“Good, good. There is wisdom in every humble task, my child.” Master Yaol clasped his wings behind his back. “Will you walk with me awhile? There is an urgent matter that cannot wait.”

They wandered the stone courtyard, soft wind tugging at Hanabu’s long head feathers. Master Yaol spoke gravely of the realm’s fall, of Arabella’s unchecked power, and of the black feather soldiers burning village after village. With each word, a hot fire kindled in Hanabu’s chest.

“An evil empress staining our land?” Hanabu’s voice sharpened. “Master—surely someone, somewhere, has the strength to stop her?”

Master Yaol’s hidden smile glowed beneath his beard of down.

“Oh, my brave Hanabu. Would you take up this burden, if fate asked you to stand against such darkness?”

Hanabu stared, feathers ruffling in the breeze. “You came to ask if I would face her? Me?”

“You have lived here all your life, Hanabu. But in truth, you were born for more. You are like a son to us. We will not bind you when destiny calls.”

They walked on in silence, the sun setting behind the peaks. Finally, Hanabu halted, eyes firm with resolve.

“Master. All that I am, I owe to this mountain and its wisdom. If the realm needs my blade and my courage, then I will face this witch empress and end her dark reign.”

Master Yaol placed a gentle wingtip on Hanabu’s shoulder.

“You honor us with your resolve, my son. At dawn, you will leave this place. You will not go alone—one of the royal golden feather guards escaped the palace and found his way here. He is called Grauk Peck, a Houdan breed from the southern hills. He will stand at your side.”

After discussing the journey Hanabu had decided to undertake, he and Master Monk Yaol left the courtyard and walked to the Illuminating Feather Monastery, nestled in the heart of the monk village atop Feather Mountain.

Inside the monastery, Master Yaol and Hanabu Cuckoo were greeted with respectful bows from the other Illuminating Feather monks.

At the far end of the main hall, a wild-looking rooster with untamed crest feathers, clad in battered royal golden feather armor, knelt silently beneath the Feather Law—an ancient decree inscribed on the monastery’s central wall.

This was Grauk Peck, a royal golden feather guard who had narrowly survived wounds inflicted by the evil witch empress of the Feather Realm. He had been recovering in the monastery infirmary since the previous afternoon, after he had miraculously crawled and pecked his way up Feather Mountain, collapsing at the monks’ massive double doors.

“Is that the soldier?” Hanabu asked, eyeing the silent warrior.

Master Yaol nodded gravely, saying nothing as he crossed the hall to stand by the Feather Law. Hanabu stayed at the entrance, watching as Yaol knelt beside Grauk, who remained motionless, eyes closed in deep meditation.

Yaol closed his own eyes, joining Grauk in wordless reflection. After a quiet moment, he opened them and addressed the wounded warrior gently.

“Do you believe your wounds are fully healed?”

Grauk answered without opening his eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you intend to hunt the tyrant alone, or will you accept help?”

Grauk’s voice was heavy with defeat. “I am the last of King Truffle the Third’s royal golden guards. I fear I must bow to her reign like the rest of the Feather Realm’s subjects.”

Yaol looked up at the Feather Law, disappointment clouding his face. “So you choose the path of a deserter. I did not expect that from you, son of Hyion. Your father would not be pleased.”

Grauk’s feathers ruffled, but he forced himself calm, eyes clenched shut against the shame.

Rising gracefully, Master Yaol turned and walked back to Hanabu, who stood waiting near the entrance.

“Well, Master—will he join me on my quest?” Hanabu asked, curiosity and tension dancing in his eyes.

“It seems... he may not,” Yaol sighed. But he cast a lingering glance back at Grauk, then added, “Though there may yet be a chance he changes his mind. Come, let us give him time to reflect.”

He guided Hanabu out of the hall and down a stone corridor. Before long, they arrived at the monastery’s bustling kitchen quarters. Illuminating Feather monks darted between long wooden tables, preparing the evening meal. Hanabu’s stomach growled, urging him forward, but Yaol suddenly extended a wing to halt him.

“Hanabu, a quick word before we dine. A thought just occurred to me.”

Hanabu glanced from the outstretched feathers to the steaming kitchen, then back to his master with reluctant patience.

“Y-yes, Master? What troubles you?”

“You have never spoken much with outsiders. Grauk has seen the world beyond these mountains. I want you to sit with him during dinner—learn what you can. It may help you on your journey. I trust he won’t object.”

Hanabu raised a feathered brow. “You want me to question the golden warrior for information? Or are you hoping I’ll convince him to join me?”

Yaol chuckled, nudging him toward the dining hall. “Come. Let’s eat. And yes—clever Hanabu—you caught me. If anyone can change Grauk’s mind, it’s you.”

They entered the dining hall and took their seats. The last dish was set down, and all the monks—including Hanabu and the Golden Talon Warrior—bowed their heads in prayer before eating.

When the final “Amen” was whispered, Hanabu, who had deliberately seated himself across from Grauk, leaned forward.

“Tell me, friend—how did you manage to reach Feather Mountain alive?”

Grauk, clearly unprepared to relive his nightmare, hesitated before answering.

“After the witch struck down the royal guards with her shrieking magic, I found myself alive—barely. I crawled with what strength I had left. I did not expect to see dawn again.”

He averted his eyes and picked at his food.

Hanabu spoke softly, but his words cut deep. “It must be hard, knowing your king and brothers fell. If it were me, I’d hunt her to the ends of the Feather Realm. She must face justice.”

Grauk bristled, voice sharp. “Well, you are not me. I am just one rooster now. Not a golden army. How can one rooster defeat a tyrant when an entire legion fell at her feet?”

Hanabu puffed out his chest proudly. “One rooster can make all the difference. Master Yaol has tasked me to stop her. I could use an experienced claw by my side. Join me, Grauk. Be more than just a survivor.”

Grauk glared, then glanced at Yaol—who smiled calmly from further down the table. Grauk turned back to Hanabu with a resigned snort.

“Your master put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Hanabu shrugged dramatically. “Someone must stand up to her, Grauk. We can’t cower forever. If I must go alone, so be it. I see you’re too frightened, so I won’t press it further.”

Grauk choked on a cricket, sputtering as he spat it back onto his plate. Fury flared in his eyes.

“That witch wiped out King Truffle’s entire royal guard with a single shriek. She commands an army of black-feather soldiers, too. March in there alone and she’ll kill you before you can blink.”

Hanabu straightened his back and lifted his beak proudly. “I, Samurai Hanabu Cuckoo, will end her reign of darkness. Mark my words, former guardian of the realm.”

Pushing back his chair with a squeal of wood, he declared, “Now excuse me—I need rest for tomorrow’s journey. I will seek out the witch empress and finish this myself.”

He stormed out, leaving his untouched food behind. Grauk watched him go, an uncertain storm brewing behind his eyes.

Maybe—just maybe—this foolhardy rooster could do what an army could not.

Abruptly, Grauk rose and rushed out into the courtyard after Hanabu. Master Yaol, watching from the head of the table, hid a satisfied smile beneath his feathery beard.