Kaijus are historically-known to be the evil tribe that destroyed the previous civilization. However, as the Cyborg Samurais and Onna-Bugeisha joined forces to enter the great battles, the Kaijus are furiously fighting for victory. A shared bounty is offered to tear apart each Cyborg Samurai or Onna-Bugeisha to yield the high rewards.
Each Kaiju will be eligible to harvest the $GENKI tokens through Samurai Saga's NFT staking system. The longer the duration, the more $GENKI tokens they will harvest and are the core generators of the $GENKI tokens.
Kaiju will be a playable character in the upcoming, play-to-earn game. Every Kaiju character comes with a different set of attributes and skills for players to experience a different gameplay style compared to the Cyborg Samurais and Onna-Bugeisha.
The Kaijus have formed an army of the evils to destroy the last race of Cyborg Samurais and Onna-Bugeisha. They fight together, die together and equally share the rewards they earn from each victory. The more victories that the Kiaju wins, the bigger the reward pools will be.
At the market in Arba’akh, everything was teeming with customers. As always, the highest prices were set for samurai blades, mechanical limbs in good condition and pieces of makkoro rock. Loomu was carrying special goods in his bag: the faces he had stolen during the month of Ohr.
He walked past the stalls, all smug and proud. No interest he had in any of the trifles
around, but headed straight to the Macon’s shop. It was more of a hole than a proper
shop, situated in miasmic center of the market, where drugs and other prohibited
commodities could be bought or sold.
As old Macon examined the faces, all his eyes and antennas seemed unimpressed. He just kept grumbling, seemingly to himself: “…this one was ripped off sloppy… and that one has a nasty spot… this here I just don’t like…,” and on and on and on he went… But when he gazed at the seller, all of his pupils dilated for a bit:
Loomu smiled nervously: “Nobody survives the rip off. You know that.”
“Something to that synthetic skin… Looks too lively, almost glowing. Belonged to someone very strong, I trust…”. His voice got whispery while eyes and antennas were synchronized in a hypnotic spell. Loomu stepped back, and then stumbled a bit, trying to hit the door. He didn’t care about ninety-eight faces left on the trader’s desk. Let him have it for free, to sell to perverts and omnivorous scum. But not the one that’s Loomu’s now. Now and forever.
“On the other hand, Loomu, the face that’s stitched to your head might be of some
interest to me. No signs of damage. And nice artistic touch to it. Good measure of
Loomu’s prey was flawless, he has known it since the night he ripped it off a brave girl, but nevertheless took Macon’s words as a compliment. Facestitcher felt pride but caution prevailed.
“Not for sale! Keep checking the others, Macon. Ninety-eight of them you got there.”
Trader’s antennas twisted slowly as he chose his words: “Maybe you should sell that one, just in case that the owner comes looking for her lost beauty.”
He found himself back among the stalls, overwhelmed with anxiety. Everyone around him
looked threatening, ready to go for his perfect face. At least, Loomu believed so! He
began to break through the crowd, feeling that his legs might betray him. It took almost
one tantalizing hour to find a way through the maze of people and goods, finally
reaching the outskirts of Arba’akh. And even there, feebleminded beggars glanced at
Loomu’s pale face with utmost interest.
Alone in the wasteland, he felt much better. After all, with a face like this, he became his own best company. The rainy season was about to start, and the sleep would be kind to Loomu. At least, he believed so.