Takeshi stood frozen in the endless black void. His body trembled with fear as the ominous voice echoed around him. He stared at the silver eye, which stared back at him with equal intensity. He wanted to speak, to say something—anything—but no sound escaped his lips.
After a few seconds of oppressive silence, the voice spoke again.
"Why did you pray to me, human?"
Takeshi's eyes widened, his mind racing. He's addressing me as a human… It really is a demon! The terrifying realization sank in.
He remained silent for a few moments before finally responding in a fearful tone, "I just read what was written on the stone tablet." Then, almost in a panic, he quickly added, "I had no idea that it would actually attract the attention of a demon."
Silence fell over the void once again.
After a while, the voice—seemingly emanating from the eye—spoke again.
"I hope you understand that I would have killed you by now, if not for that uniqueness of yours."
After hearing this the overwhelming fear surging through Takeshi briefly gave way to confusion. He couldn't help but mutter, almost involuntarily, "Uniqueness?"
The voice responded with a low, sinister laugh.
"So, you aren't even aware of it. You really are just a pitiful human. You merely happen to harbor a uniqueness."
Takeshi's voice trembled as he asked, "W-what is this uniqueness that I possess?"
The demon chuckled again before replying, "Even I am not entirely sure. I can only sense a strange feeling of... not belonging coming from you."
Then, after a brief pause, the voice added in a tone that felt almost like it was thinking aloud, "Perhaps he could see through it, if he were to meet you…"
A storm of questions flooded Takeshi's mind. Not belonging? Is he talking about the fact that I'm not from this world? He sensed that—just by looking at me?! And who is this 'he' he's referring to?
Takeshi opened his mouth to ask the demon, but before a single word could escape, an incredible force crashed over his body. It lasted less than a second, but in that moment, he felt as if his entire being was on the verge of being crushed into nothingness. His breathing turned frantic.
The message was clear. The demon did not want him to speak any further.
Takeshi barely managed to stay on his feet after the sensation passed, even though it left no visible wounds or lasting pain.
Then, the demon's voice echoed once more through the void.
"I haven't had a Blessed since the time you humans call the Crimson Era. I'll keep you. I'm curious how long you'll manage to survive."
With those final, chilling words, the enormous silver eye that had been fixed on Takeshi vanished. In its place, the surrounding darkness closed in, consuming the last trace of the presence that had just spoken to him.
Then, without warning, the ground beneath him gave way. Takeshi plummeted into the abyss that opened below. But before he could even process what was happening, the suffocating void around him dispersed—and in the blink of an eye, he was back.
He now stood at the exit of the Kageyama Clan's ancient temple, facing the long, weathered steps where the shadow wolves had stood earlier. Though still overwhelmed by the encounter with the demon, Takeshi instantly realized something was wrong.
This wasn't the exact place where he had been before the contact with the terrifying entity.
Confused and uneasy, he turned back toward the temple's interior. But what he saw made his blood run cold.
Lying on the cold stone floor were the bodies of his five companions. Each one bore large, deep wounds—fresh and clean—still bleeding, the red pooling beneath them.
Upon seeing the scene before him, Takeshi's vision blurred. He was paralyzed with fear—Who could have done this?
But before he could think any further, a faint sound broke the silence—a quiet drip, like a droplet of water falling into a sink. He glanced down toward the source of the noise, and what he saw shook him to his core.
His sword was in his hand. Its blade was coated in fresh blood, still dripping slowly onto the stone floor. His pupils constricted as realization struck like a thunderclap.
He had killed them.
A wild train of thought surged through his mind: I killed them?! It must've happened while I was in contact with the demon… He controlled my body! While we were speaking, he made me do this!
As panic began to subside, a new dread crept in—cold and calculating. I can't return to the clan. If I claim we were attacked and I was the only survivor, they'll suspect something. They'll investigate… They'll see the wounds—clean, precise—clearly made by a katana.
Then another memory rose in his mind like a ghost: Takeshi had once witnessed the head of the clan order the execution of a lone survivor from a failed expedition.
"A man who cheats death alone is not to be trusted."
Those were the words he'd spoken. The message was clear. Even if Takeshi escaped suspicion… he wouldn't escape punishment.
Returning home was no longer an option—not unless he disposed of the bodies. His first thought was to drag them down the mountain, one by one. But as he moved to lift one, reality crashed down on him.
It was impossible.
Then, something inside him snapped. A wave of raw panic surged through his chest. Unable to control himself, he turned and bolted from the temple—his footsteps frantic, his breathing ragged—as he ran down the stone steps and away from the nightmare behind him.
As Takeshi ran uncontrollably across the uneven ground, his feet stumbling over twisted roots and jagged rocks, one sentence echoed endlessly in his mind: I'm sorry for ruining your dream, Takeshi.
He didn't know who the apology was truly for—the original Takeshi, his dead companions, or the future that now lay in ruin.
He reached the bottom of the mountain far faster than he had climbed it. The moment he crossed beneath the canopy of the first tree, his legs gave out.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The whites of his eyes were streaked with a web of red capillaries, on the verge of bursting.
His soul had endured too much in too little time—
From being ripped from his own world,
To speaking with a creature that was practically the devil,
To finally, unknowingly, slaughtering his own companions.
His mind had shattered under the weight.
He remained kneeling there at the mountain's foot, trembling, for what felt like an eternity—an entire hour lost to silence and despair.
By the time his awareness returned, the sun had climbed to the center of the sky. That hour had been spent wrestling with disbelief, trying to convince himself that this was a nightmare.
But in the end, he came to a cold and bitter truth:
This was real.
This was now his reality.
At last, he stood up on unsteady legs. The first thing he did was strip off the armor of the clan. He let it fall to the earth beside a tree, abandoning it like a second skin he no longer deserved to wear.
Underneath, he wore loose, baggy pants and a top that resembled a kimono—simple clothing tied together by a wide sash meant to hold his sword.
He wiped the blood from his blade using his sleeve, though it still felt heavy with guilt.
Then, he dug through his pockets, desperately hoping to find some money—anything that could help him survive the night.
But there was nothing.
And then, the true weight of his situation struck him.
Where am I even going to stay? I don't know where I am… I don't know this land… I don't even know which way to go.
He was utterly lost—no direction, no map, no allies.
For a fleeting moment, a dark temptation crept into his thoughts. His hand hovered near his sword, a whisper in his mind urging him to end it—quickly, painlessly.
But something deep inside him refused.
A stubborn ember still burned in his chest—the overwhelming desire to go back. To return to his world.
He didn't know how, or when, or even if it was possible—but he knew one thing:
He had to keep moving forward.
And so, with the mountain and its cursed temple behind him, Takeshi stepped into the unknown.
A wandering soul in a strange world, feeling like a wretched vagabond with no place to go… and yet, not ready to give up.