Disclaimer: I own none of the works belonging to the author(s) and game designer(s) employed by Illwinter, the makers of the Dominion series, neither do I own any of the characters, factions, monsters, and places inside said media, save for those imagined and created by me.

Warning: The following chapter contains blood/gore, language, and explicit violence and may not be suitable to some readers.

Chapter 4: Sowing the Wind

~"Narayana rules the ape folk of Bandor Log both as a settler of disputes and a warrior king. However, despite his great love for order and authority, the bronze-skinned, four-armed deity is informal toward us, eschewing titles and demands for deference altogether. He'd also shown me a better life beyond mindless bloodshed and grimdark despair and I've proudly wielded my weapon in his service ever since."~

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~~~

'Heil, Herr Antonio, esteemed Disciple of the late Oracle and trusted friend of our grand guild,

Ever since our ancestors the Warrior Smiths first laid the groundwork for the birth of our guild, the Master Smiths have triumphed over many who sought our dissolution. From the ravages of Izanagi's oni to the indefatigable ruthlessness of the Ashen Empire, to even the scheming and condemnations of those Black Priest sycophants in the Iron Order and the secret abuses of their pet Iron Inquisition, we stood tall against our adversaries and even their most violent acts have only forged us as hard as the finest ingots of blacksteel.

Unfortunately, we now face what could be our mighty guild's greatest challenge yet. Beginning just a few days after the Oracle's mysterious disappearance, the Iron Order has become increasingly antagonistic toward our guild, claiming that we are a relic of a bygone era that needs to be cast aside for the good of Ulm. Of course, such nonsense would've been part of the typical banter between our organizations had they not begun harassing our associates and even starting fights with us.

On top of that, they have rallied behind a pale-skinned woman who styled herself after the Heroine of Ulm, a woman who's even taken the exact same name: Hildegard the Magnificant. She has been seen conferring with key individuals in the Silver Reichsbund, meetings that had almost always resulted in the expulsion and even arrest of government officials sympathetic to our guild on trumped-up charges of treason and other heinous crimes. Those who proved more difficult to remove have been found dead, their bodies completely drained of blood and the only visible wounds being two pinpricks on the side of each of their necks. My dearest brother Handel became the latest victim a month ago at the time of writing.

Meanwhile, our enemies and their associates are becoming entrenched everywhere despite our best efforts to remove them, striking from areas previously thought secured and exploiting vulnerabilities once kept secret for so long. Even our efforts to counteract our foes' actions directly proved ineffective and costly as if anticipated beforehand. If the Iron Order is using spies and I'm certain they are, they must be exceptionally talented.

To make matters worse, news reached me a week ago of the Iron Order and their sympathizers stockpiling weapons and armor within their caches and drilling new soldiers within the Teutomaester Forest. There are even rumors of hundreds of Black Priests and key members of Ulm's nobility worshipping Hildegard every night within the Black Temple. Already, priests sympathetic to our cause have sensed a disturbance of spiritual energy growing above the building, some even claiming that it has the potential to break apart and consume the entire kingdom. I don't know what Hildegard is planning but I fear for the future of Ulm.

Though we will continue to hold the line against whatever the Iron Order and Hildegard have in store for us, it is clear they are winning, hence this letter of entreaty. We request whatever aid you and Marignon can spare to save the Master Smiths and Ulm from these fanatics. I've already sent letters to Fraulein Ma'at and Herr Lawgiver. Ma'at has, rather impolitely I might add, informed me that she is too busy bringing order to C'tis to address our petty concerns. I am still waiting for the Lawgiver's response.

Please send all responses to this mail to the frontier town of Adelene-By-The-River with your seal affixed to one of the corners of your letter. I suspect that by the time this letter reaches you, Hildegard's followers will be in a position to intercept any correspondence between Ulm and Marignon. Do not delay in aiding us during these dark times. May the light of righteousness and ingenuity forge a path through darkness and ignorance.

Your Esteemed Ally and Partner in Commerce, Invention, and Industry

Grandmeister Heinrich Gotternam of the Guild of Master Smiths.'

~~~

With a groan, Antonio gently set the letter down on his mahogany desk and rubbed his temples. As if the daunting prophecy of last night's divination wasn't stressful enough, now Ulm's situation is deteriorating faster than he expected given the Oracle's disappearance. In the distance, the colossal bells of the Cathedral of Saint Iberia rang on schedule despite the shadow cast by last night's revelation to the kingdom's highest authorities. Even King Cristobol Monferrada and High Inquisitor Carmont Santiago looked pale as Antonio surmised whatever parallels he drew between the divination and the Last Prophecy.

Only Hessens looked unsurprised, even expectant. Antonio wasn't sure what to make of that.

Rising from his seat, Antonio walked toward the large, eastern windows of his office and peered through the thick panes. Beyond the wall, two huge armies mustered into formation, packing up tents and implements of war amid orange and red banners. Fire drakes moved among the pikeneer and swordsmen squares, the lumbering, ruby-scaled behemoths belching smoke and sparks with each grunt. Antonio could see a few avenging angels wheeling in the air above the armies, the heavenly, androgynous beings preferring his human and monster-filled armies to others that fielded their demonic rivals. Teams of siege engineers inspected and tested their counterweight trebuchets, his invention during the Second Ascension War, before dismantling and placing them back into their wagons. Antonio will join them in a few hours after he'd say his goodbyes to an old friend.

Turning away from the window, Antonio paced around the room. Grandmeister Heinrich often refuses to back away from a challenge no matter its difficulty. To him, there is no such thing as an impossible task, which is why Antonio has taken a liking for the dwarf. Perhaps the greatest Master Smith the world has ever known, Heinrich is responsible for coining the popular Ulmish saying: 'Whatever no one makes, Ulm can invent it. Whatever someone else invents, Ulm can improve it.'

Unfortunately, Ulm is now on the cusp of a civil war, if it hasn't started already.

The woman named Hildegard the Magnificent; however, was a greater concern. Antonio remembered the Oracle speaking in awe of the Heroine of Ulm, a clever and ruthless Black Knight who rode into battle against the hordes of Ermor on a black unicorn named after her father. Out of Ulm's champions, Hildegard was the most famous and her exploits allowed her kingdom to continue resisting Nero. However, a few months after the end of the Second Ascension War, Hildegard disappeared after her family offered up her daughter to the Oracle as their next mouthpiece.

That was over two hundred years ago, however. She can't possibly be the same woman, right?

Antonio's pacing finally brought him to the western windows of his study. Even in broad daylight, the Shadow of Death stood as a testament to the costs of war, both for the villains wishing to obtain more power and the heroes sacrificing everything to stop them. The distant, whirling pillar of black smoke continued to rise as it darkened the patch of sky above the cursed and ruined city from which it rose like a great blemish on reality's skin, occasionally illuminated by faint flashes of sickly green lightning. Over two hundred years have passed since the end of the Second Ascension War and the consequences of Nero's ambitions continued to scar the world.

Ambitions worthy of someone like the Queen...

Antonio quickly strode back to the letter and reread it. 'Hildegard the Magnificent'. He'd almost missed it! It's a mark of arrogance to place such a grandiose title upon oneself, just as the teenage god-emperor of the Scelerian Empire has done, plus Hildegard is succeeding in bringing Ulm under her control. Whether she is the original Hildegard or not, she is indeed the Queen and Heinrich was right to dread her ascension.

Ascension.

A shiver crawled its way up Antonio's back as he repeated the word, his lips wavering as his voice died down to a squeak. Neither Heinrich nor his Master Smiths truly understood what sort of danger they were in. One hundred days of worship by one hundred fervent followers are the minimum for transcendence he'd discovered so long ago. Doing some calculations in his head and accounting for when Heinrich had written the letter and how long it took to reach Marignon from Ulm via raven, Antonio estimated that Hildegard will ascend before the beginning of winter, perhaps before the last month of autumn if the whole world is unlucky.

Even now, Antonio remembered his own apotheosis. A sudden heightening of awareness and an expansion of consciousness. Whispers from the Void as if from a dream, followed by a crown fashioned out of the light of belief and power. The Mantle of Godhood changed him on a metaphysical level as a Bond of Belief was weaved into existence, connecting him to his followers like twine forming into a great rope.

The skies over the Kingdom of Marignon were filled with twinkling stars and tongues of fire for three days.

For some reason, when the spirit of a monument-class deity awakens or a titan-class deity enters the world, their entrances are known only to their followers. When a monster ascends, the event is felt in the surrounding kingdoms. When a mortal creature becomes a god, every sufficiently powerful god in the world senses it. Perhaps a mortal becoming a god is so unnatural that even the Universe buckles at the act?

Sometimes the ascension itself affected the kingdom where it occurred. When Nero apotheosized, Ermor turned into a blasted wasteland where the undead roamed freely. When Antonio transcended, people in the cities of Marignon prayed for nighttime to return. When the Lawgiver became a god, it rained in Mictlan for so long that huge lakes formed.

Strangely though, there were no signs of Ma'at's apotheosis, even anything bore by rumors from kingdoms surrounding C'tis. Of course, his fellow Disciple's unusual ascension may pale in comparison to what would happen should Hildegard achieve apotheosis.

Not bothering to sit down, Antonio took out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. Dipping the quill, Antonio wrote furiously as sweat rolled down his brow. Nearby, the large timepiece ticked on like chalk taken to a blackboard.

~~~

'Dear esteemed Grandmaester Heinrich, my trusted and industrious companion in these dark times,

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that I am unable to aid you in your struggles against Hildegard in a timely manner. I too am busy helping Ma'at reestablish order in C'tis. Afterward, we plan to march to Mictlan to ascertain the Lawgiver's fate. One of my envoys reported that a monstrous goddess has seized control of his domain and I intend to find out what she'd done with him.

However, what I can do for now is deliver you a warning. I implore you to gather all of your Master Smiths, anyone else you cherish, and your possessions and leave Ulm immediately. You may relocate to Marignon or any other kingdom but it would be best not to stay in Ulm any longer.

Last night I divined the stars at the observatory I'd commissioned from your illustrious guild so consider this a favor repaid over again. I witnessed the Queen stomping the Smith into submission and there's no doubt in my heart of its correlation to your struggles. I know how little regard you have for the ebb and flow of destiny but even I would be a fool to ignore signs this strong.

I know this is not what you wanted to hear but if you continue to fight Hildegard and her sycophants, all of you will die. Even worse, if she is doing what I know she is doing then Ulm will soon have a new Pretender grasping for the title of Pantokrator. I need not expound on what that could mean for your guild's fate.

Please consider my warning and evacuate with haste. The wheels of fate are ever turning and we must do what we can to avoid getting crushed within its gears. We owe it to the world to keep the fires of innovation and hope fueled even if we're the only ones standing in the light.

Your Stalwart Ally Against the Darkness of Ignorance and Oppression.

Antonio, the Great Scholar and the God of Marignon.'

~~~

The letter was folded in thirds and slipped into an envelope with gold-flake edges. Opening a drawer, Antonio took out a ball of red wax the size of the tip of his thumb and squeezed it with his right hand. Vapor rose from his fingers as they glowed red for a few seconds. Satisfied, Antonio tilted his hand over and let a glob of melted wax pour onto the pointed lip of the envelope to seal it shut. He poured the remainder on the upper right corner and wiped the residue off his palm with a handkerchief. Removing a ring from a finger, Antonio affixed his personal seal onto both globs of cooling wax and held the letter up into the sunlight.

If there was a supreme god that even other gods would pay homage to, Antonio would pray to them that Heinrich defers to wisdom and that Ulm can weather the storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I missss my fellow merchantsss, your Divinity. Thisss wing hasss become too vacant for my tassste."

"I know," Antonio said as he purchased a sack of spiced candy from the C'tissian head merchant. The lizardman glanced forlornly at the places that just a few months ago were occupied by Ulmish craftsmen and Mictlanec fruit sellers. "How are things back in C'tis?"

"The roadsss are getting clogged with refugeesss and rebelsss," the C'tis grumbled in his sibilant accent as he nodded toward his caravan guards. Their chainmail hauberks glittered in the sunlight as heavy falchions sheathed at their sides dissuaded potential never-do-wells. "You can sssee that we had to ssspare even less expenssse on our protection, especially since the rumorsss ssstarted." The merchant seemed to choke at the word 'expenses'.

"What rumors?" Antonio asked as he ate some of his spiced candy. C'tis' confectioners may not use as much sweetening substances as Marignoese pastry chefs but they never disappoint.

The C'tissian tried his best to look nonchalant, yet the god of Marignon could detect a hint of fear in his topaz-hued eyes. A barely perceptible shiver traveled through his forest-green scaly chest as the C'tissian leaned closer as if fearful that someone would overhear him. "They sssay that mummiesss are bursssting from the sssandsss and attacking travelersss. Sssauromancer sssorcery I sssay!"

Antonio nearly choked. From what he'd later learned after he and Ma'at decided to ally together after initial... difficulties, the goddess had made it very clear that she has a very, very dim view of necromancy. The powerful C'tissian sect of necromancers known as the Sauromancers soon found themselves stripped of power and relegated to second-class citizenship shortly after Ma'at came to power. Naturally, when Nero apotheosized and the role they unwittingly played in it became well known, no amount of begging and bargaining swayed Ma'at from banishing the Sauromancers from C'tis along with other undesirables on the pain of death.

Could the Sauromancers have instigated the uprisings in a bid to regain their rightful places or were they simply taking advantage of the chaos to destabilize Ma'at's reign? This needs to be looked into as soon as possible.

Digging into his coin purse, Antonio fished out five coins and handed them to the surprised C'tissian. The lizardman blinked as he counted the coins and turned back to Antonio.

"That's for the information and to help you on the road," the god of Marignon explained.

"Ma'at blesssesss you!" the merchant hissed as he bowed. "That would at leasssst pay for the tariff back home!"

"I'm sure it will though defeating the rebels should convince your goddess to lower it. Paying for those new-fangled Medjai of hers by taxing merchants isn't good for trade between our two kingdoms."

"Between you and me, sssome of thossse Medjai are basssically more troublesssome than the banditsss and rebelsss they fight, though I trussst her Divinity'sss wisssdom." Antonio saw the C'tissian's shoulders sag as a strained sigh escaped his lips. His forked tongue flickered past his knubby teeth as he turned his golden eyes back to Antonio. "I know you and your armiesss are about to leave for C'tisss today but can you do sssomething when you get there, your Divinity? Can you pleassse... convince Her Divinity to lighten the load on our backsss and be more merciful toward her ssservantsss?"

A pause. "Sssometimesss it feelsss like we're being punissshed for the rebellionsss dessspite our loyalty."

Antonio chewed on another piece of candy, mulling over the plea. Finally, he swallowed the piece and sighed lightly, a slight smile on his face. "Ever since we met, your goddess has been quite stubborn, especially whenever she is convinced she is right about something. All I can promise is that I will try to get her to see reason. That's all one can do for such people and hope it'll be enough."

With what could be recognized by a human as a smile, the C'tissian closed his eyes for a brief second and nodded. "I sssincerely hope you manage to get through to her, your Divinity. Asss we merchantsss underssstand, sssometimesss being overprotective of a treasssure isss what ultimately leadsss to itsss dessstruction."

Bidding the C'tissian merchant farewell, Antonio strolled down thoroughfares as children played in the streets. Dark thoughts that plagued him since he'd read the letter from Heinrich renewed their attacks on his confidence, having been fueled by the merchant's plea. If Ma'at and Antonio were to find themselves bereft of the Lawgiver's assistance, he was certain they can still work together to complete the Oracle's grand mission even if the Kingdoms of Ulm and Mictlan become their enemies, though they would constantly be at each other's throats without the mediating influence of the god of Mictlan.

However, if Antonio ends up facing the darkness of a new Ascension War alone, he wasn't sure what he would do even if he could count on the help of the only other god he knew. However, he would need more than the god of Shinuyama's help to even keep Marignon above water after all.

Antonio finally arrived at the massive doors of the Angelic Cradle Orphanage. The mouth-watering, spicy-sweet scent of fresh cinnamon bread wafted through a nearby window. Savoring the smell for a moment, Antonio raised a fist and rapped on the worn cedar surface.

The pavement shook as ponderous footsteps approached the door. The massive doors swung inward and a man fifteen meters tall looked down at him. Wearing rust-colored robes bound with a cerulean sash, the giant's thin chin was wreath in a flowing white beard. Two thin, black horns curled up from his forehead and extended halfway up a white turban.

The giant's face lit up when he recognized his visitor. "Shalom, old friend!" the giant rumbled as he squatted down beside the god and extended a hand toward the god. "I didn't expect you to find time to visit me in light of your preparations!"

Returning the smile, Antonio nodded as he grasped the massive hand briefly. "Shalom to you too, Simeon. It wasn't too hard to do. Having a substitute professor on hand was one of the best ideas I've come up with. So, how goes my favorite Rephaite?"

Simeon shrugged. "Gracing every questing student with the knowledge I still have from my days as a scholar, putting up with that paranoid Carmont, and managing a huge orphanage in the meantime, the usual."

Straightening up, Simeon stepped to the side, a massive hand motioning toward the huge courtyard. Children, human and otherwise, watched from the balconies, their hushed whispers becoming gasps as they recognized Antonio. A loud 'harumph' and a glare from the Rephaite sent them scurrying out of sight.

Antonio chuckled as he entered the court. "Children certainly are the future."

Simeon gave a small snort. The doors gave deep thuds as the giant closed them. "They really are though these ones tend to get easily distracted from their morning lessons."

"I know! Alfonso was quite unruly when I'd first seen him. What a fine missionary he's turned out to be!"

"He certainly did. Now let's head to my study. Are you hungry, Antonio? Tabitha has baked her world-famous cinnamon knots as you can smell."

"I've just eaten though I've made sure to leave enough room for her delicacies."

The giant and the god made their way toward the central building of the orphanage. Two sets of stairs, one small enough for a human and the other massive enough for more gargantuan feet, led up to the balcony. Awaiting them was a huge set of cedar doors, one of which held a much smaller door. Instead of walking through it; however, Antonio waited until Simeon opened the doors and let him through.

No matter how many times he'd visited this place, Antonio couldn't help but be awed by the sheer size of the orphanage. Great stone columns held up the massive ceiling. Murals covered the walls, painted by children of eras past. Crowds of children gasped from nearby balconies as they beheld Antonio. A few of them the god of Marignon recognized as Caelians flew in for a closer look, the winged human-like beings kicking up white feathers with each flap.

The air shook as Simeon gave off a thunderous sneeze, sending the Caelians scrambling for the balconies. Rubbing his nose with a hand, the giant fanned away stray feathers with the other. A throaty chuckle escaped his lips.

"I can't wait until those little ones grow up," Simeon finally grumbled as he shooed the rest of the children back into their classrooms.

"Honestly, I can't say I envy your job," Antonio replied as he brushed off a feather that landed on his head.

The remark elicited a booming laugh from the giant. "Given I've raised a sizable portion of Marignon's population to adulthood over the centuries, I'd say you've merely taken over!"

Antonio snorted. "Can't argue with that."

The two eventually reached a second set of doors at the end of the hall. Entering the office, Antonio's eyes fell on a giantess wrapped in robes with shades of yellow accented with blue tassels. A plain yellow coif adorned her head of graying blond curls, the leading edge tucked between her forehead and her shorter black horns. Wrinkles crawled over her face like gentle flowing rivers, enhancing her comely face with wisdom. Her faded, topaz eyes seemed to hold vast reservoirs of motherly warmth, yet hints of curiosity and cunning peeked from below the surface. The thick aroma of cinnamon and dough seemed to wreath her as she placed a plate of the morning delicacy on the mahogany desk beside her.

Crossing the room in a few steps, Simeon and the giantess embraced each other and shared a kiss. "Good morning, my desert flower," Simeon purred as he held his wife at arm's length. "You smell as sweet as the day I met you!"

"You're running out of things to say with that sweet talk. my love," Tabitha mused as she turned toward Antonio. The giantess raised the corners of her gown and curtsied. "Good morning, your Divinity. This place bemoans your infrequent visits as of late."

"My apologies, Tabitha," Antonio replied, bowing. "Wars to prepare for, kingdoms to protect."

"All that remains is seeking an old friend's advice, " Tabitha stated. Simeon raised an eyebrow. Antonio smiled softly and nodded. Beautiful and perceptive. No wonder Simeon married her.

"If that's the case, then let's get started," Simeon clasped his hands together.

Sharing a kiss with Simeon and a not-so-discreet grope of his buttocks, which elicited a giggle from the giant and a smirk from Antonio, Tabitha hummed a tune as she left the two men to their devices.

"Let's get straight to business before I get... distracted," Simeon said as he licked his lips.

"I wouldn't mind waiting have I had the time!" Antonio couldn't help but chuckle. The god then raised his arms. "Now just pick me up and place me on that desk there."

Simeon bent down and scooped up Antonio in his right hand like a doll. The smell of cinnamon buns filled his senses as Antonio was placed next to the platter of delicacy. Behind the desk, a huge, wall-mounted shelf hosted hundreds of scrolls, some as tall as a man. Many of them were charred on the edges. On a heavily braced, stone pedestal, a piece of masonry the size of a wagon enjoyed its position as the focus of the personal library. Soot covered a sizable portion of it. A gold plaque along the pedestal's front edge held words written in a foreign script, yet Antonio could read it as if they were his own.

'Fire may burn paper and stone but wisdom defies annihilation. - Simeon ben Tabbai, 3rd rank Seeker of the Abbanai Library District, Keriath Sepher.'

As Simeon took his seat, Antonio reached into the cinnamon buns and ripped off a piece the size of a loaf of bread, savoring the flaky center and the cinnamon-honey graze with a sensation that came very close to euphoria. Simeon seemed to agree as the Rephait devoured the buns.

Wrapping the leftovers in a handkerchief and placing them into one of his pockets, Antonio brushed the crumbs off his robes and sighed. Not even the sweet treats of warmth and fellowship could ever hope to completely dispel the uncertainty that gripped his heart since his divination last night. They can only soothe the unease much like any other balm.

"It's been a long time since I'd sought your wisdom. I guess I still feel guilty for not seeking your advice before I... sold out Marignon. I really should've asked you back then."

"You should have." The slight edge behind the otherwise calm tone made Antonio's skin crawl though he supposed he deserved that. Beings with exceptionally long lives tend to have memories to match, a blessing or a curse according to the individual.

Simeon gulped down the last bun and pushed the platter to the side. He leaned back in his leather chair and regarded Antonio, his hands clasped above his rotund abdomen. "Forgive me since I neither like holding grudges nor holding people's mistakes over their heads but a part of me is still a bit miffed that you would sign a contract with the Infernal Lords, particularly the Accuser. On top of that, you still keep that serpent Hessens around."

"That latter was part of the deal with Mephistopheles but both are still just a few of the mistakes that bit me in the ass since then, my friend," Antonio smiled sadly as he shrugged. "Fortunately, before their disappearance, the Oracle has granted me the means of my redemption and Marignon's salvation."

Simeon's face lit up and he leaned closer. "Go on."

Taking a few steps toward Simeon, Antonio lowered his voice as his eyes swiveled toward every corner and pocket of shadow in the office. "First I want to tell you something," the god's voice took on a business-like tone. "What I'm about to tell you must never leave this room. Not even your own family must know what I said, understand?"

Simeon simply nodded, the giant's face wrinkling in mild consternation. A thought suddenly entered the Rephaite's mind.

"You don't have to tell me the details," Simeon suddenly said as he raised a hand. "Only the fact that you have some way to fix Marignon's current predicament will suffice. Besides, if the Inquisition and especially Hessens and Carmont catch wind of our conversation, they cannot force me to give up vital information."

Blinking, Antonio took a deep breath and nodded. "That is... actually quite prudent of you."

Simeon chuckled. "If you were married to a wife like mine, eventually wisdom would bleed into you!"

Antonio shared his chuckle for a brief moment before becoming thoughtful. "I don't know about Carmont though. He's always been the type to keep his opinions and emotions to himself, even concerning blood magic. Even Hessens considers him as obstinate as a bull."

"Still, I wouldn't trust that xenophobe with information that could damn me and my family even if he doesn't care about the fate of blood magic," Simeon interjected gruffly.

"True," Antonio clasped his hands behind his back and paced on the desk's surface. "Of course, blood magic isn't an immediate concern. There's something else and it's why I've come to visit you, Simeon."

Simeon leaned forward in rapt attention as Antonio told him about last night's divination, repeating the thoughts and predictions he gave to Marignon's authorities. The Rephaite's face wrinkled as he listened to the god, particularly at the mention of the Phoenix and the Kraken's unnatural arrival. A chill slid down his spine as Antonio recited the Last Prophecy.

When Antonio finished, he stopped to face the giant, and his eyes drooped. "You're the only non-official I've told all of this to so if you would refrain from repeating this to anyone other than your family then I would appreciate it. The population is getting nervous at the prospect of another ascension war as it is."

Simeon made a 'tying a knot' gesture over his mouth. "So, what advice do you need from me then?"

With a sigh, Antonio raised his hands and let them flop to his sides. His body felt leaden and some of the colors seem to leave the office. "I... I don't know what's going on. My master's gone for some reason, likely for good, I could be down the arrow sights of some sort of machination if the Queen's leer is any indication, and I feel that Marignon is about to suffer somehow."

"So, do you think the Scholar represents Marignon?" Simeon asked.

"I... yes, it has to be. Given Marignon's presence as a hotbed of technological development and its rivalry with Ulm, even a blind man could see the connection between the two. I've yet to figure out exactly 'who' also represents the Scholar though. The officials did share my beliefs that the constellations also represented individuals and not just kingdoms if interpreted alongside the Last Prophecy."

"Double meanings, eh?" The giant muttered, absentmindedly stroking his beard. "Anything else?"

Antonio licked his lips. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Antonio told Simeon about the poor messenger's encounter with Teteo Inan and the letter he received from Grandmeister Heinrich. The Rephaite's face paled as Antonio went into further detail. When the god finished, Simeon's jaw seemed to waggle on its own.

"I.. don't know w-what to say!"

"Saying, 'By the Source, the world's falling apart much faster than I'd thought!' is a good start," Antonio said, shrugging apologetically. "Much like rats coming out of hiding to feast on the cat's corpse, gods don't waste time staking their claims after a Pantokrator disappears. I know you still remember how your homeland of Ashdod was affected by Izanagi's exit, right?"

"Even now, poor Kiriath Sepher lives on in my memories," Simeon murmured, his eyes moistening slightly as he glanced at the charred piece of masonry nearby. "So much knowledge the City of Books held, reduced to ashes and despair."

"And it is mourned even today," Pausing, Antonio continued. "So, what do you think of all this?"

Simeon scratched his temple and placed his hands on the surface of the desk, idly tapping a finger. "Well first, I would warn you to be cautious but I have a feeling you already know that. You cannot tell me that Teteo isn't leading you into a trap."

"I know that but I'm not too concerned," Antonio acknowledged. "I don't think she wants me dead."

The Rephaite raised a bushy eyebrow. "Explain."

"First of all, Marignon's borders are too secure for anyone to take advantage of my temporary demise to invade, plus there are plenty of people who still consider me their god and could recall me from the Void even if the entire Inquisition becomes my enemy."

Pausing, Antonio continued. "Personally, I feel that Teteo either wants to use me as a bargaining chip or make some sort of deal with me. Either way, I will discover what became of the Lawgiver."

"And you think he's still alive?" Simeon asked

A tremor crawled its way through Antonio's flesh. He clenched his fists and held them for a few seconds before stretching his fingers as far as they can go. Nonetheless, doubt dug its icy talons into his heart.

"I'd... never considered that possibility," Antonio finally muttered, his eyes suddenly finding the mahogany surface of the desk more interesting. "I've always thought that maybe Teteo was holding him hostage, perhaps using him to lure both Ma'at and me. Our enemies once used the same tactic during the Second Ascension War after all. Even if he is dead, surely his people's love and devotion for him would be enough to keep him tethered to them by his Bond of Belief and help bring him back."

That final part; however, felt hollow to Antonio. The frightened messager's account of Mictlan appeared unbidden in his mind, particularly of the citizens' apprehension and the bloodthirsty warriors who'd sacrificed his escorts to their horrid goddess. The Lawgiver had often recounted tales of beating back psychopaths who wanted to reinstate blood sacrifices in the jungle kingdom. Could he have failed in his self-appointed mission to keep Mictlan from being forced back into its dark past?

And how could he have failed?

"Either way, you will cross that bridge when you get there," Simeon affirmed, seemingly reading Antonio's mind.

Blinking, Antonio nodded. "Aye, that is true."

"The second and last piece of advice is that you should not worry too much about what will happen in the future. No matter how much the world bleeds or which enemies threaten to gobble up Marignon. No matter if the day comes when even Marignoese turn their swords against each other, just remember that there will always be people in this wonderful kingdom of ours who have your back."

Simeon stood up, his erect posture towering over Antonio like a titan. Though he has chosen to exercise his intellectual muscles much more than the physical, the Rephaite still held a spark of determination and passion inherited from his Nephilim ancestors, an enduring remnant birthed from the union between the sons of Heaven and the daughters of man. Promises made and dedication sworn among his people tend to last as long as they live and they do live a long, long time.

"Our dear Kiriath Sepher is gone forever and the remnants of Ashdod and Ashkelon now form the Gathite Empire but even if the blessed Anakim ruled half the entire world, Marignon is still my home," Simeon rumbled proudly, a fire blazing behind his eyes. "I would sooner be condemned to gnash my teeth in Sheol until the last star dies out than let anyone abuse my new home without doing everything in my power to oppose them."

The weight that crushed Antonio's heart since the divination lightened considerably and the god felt more relaxed than he'd ever felt this morning. His back even felt less burdened.

"Thank you so much for the encouragement, Simeon," he finally said, a bright smile on his face. "May it sustain me in my endeavors."

"Glad to be of assistance, old friend!" the giant beamed. As Antonio lifted his arms again, Simeon picked him up and set him on the floor.

Making sure his bundle of cinnamon buns was nested securely inside his pocket, Antonio looked back up at Simeon. "Before I forget, I received a letter from our mutual friend in Shinuyama just the other day or rather from Prophetess Hitomi."

Simeon's eyes widened. "Oh, is he planning to remain neutral during this Ascension War too?"

"Partially. She said the Kingdom of Shinuyama will become more diplomatically active while adopting a defensive strategy. They just have to rein their core provinces back into the fold first, starting with Hijisaka and Jomon. I just hope it will be enough to weather the storm."

"Do you think His Divinity will help us deal with what's to come?"

Antonio sighed as uncertainty returned to gently rest its hands on his shoulders. "I hope so. I really hope so."

----------------------------------------

~Jingu gingerly stepped over the corpses of samurai and ashigaru in a trance, her boots crushing blades of grass caked with gore. The sounds of battle had long since left the stage for ear-numbing silence, a void of quietude that often permeated entire cemeteries. It's often said that only the dead can hear what lay within the absence of the noise of life.

The clink of armor fired her reflexes and Jingu whirled around to face the threat, a sword in her right hand and another grasped within her prosthetic. Matsu stood before her, his deathly pale head cradled underneath an arm. He wore no mask of fury, merely a blank expression.

Before Jingu could speak, Matsu raised a hand and pointed at something behind her. The world blurred into black as Jingu turned and she found herself at the center of a massive circle of lit candles. A few minutes later, Jingu found that her armor had been replaced with a white skirt and kimono. A wide red sash encircled her waist, the golden sun-like motif proudly embellished on its front. With shaking hands, Jingu reached toward her head and ran her callused fingers over the strangely familiar hairstyle, stopping when they reached a hairpin with an ornament that felt like it resembled a sun.

The fingers of her left hand gently curled around the ornament.

With a yelp, Jingu jerked her hands down and looked at them, her golden eyes tracing over the creases on the palms. She experimented with her left hand, feeling the knuckles pop as she tightly squeezed it into a fist and relaxed it, watching the blood flow back into place.

A monstrous yawn ahead of her forced Jingu to look up and her heart leaped into her throat as she beheld the source. A fox the size of a castle shook its silvery pelt as it stirred from its roost atop a huge moon, its nine tails curled around the celestial body like tongues of flames. Yawning again, the fox barely shook the obsidian ground as it landed outside the circle of candles, sniffing the ground as it stepped over the threshold and slowly moved toward her.

Hyperventilating, Jingu backed away as she held out her left hand. The darkness around her retreated as Nightkiller materialized in a shower of sparks. Grasping it in both hands, Jingu held it out in front of her in an attempt to ward off the colossal vulpine. However, the fox ignored her as it continued to approach her. The shadows around its paws seemed to thicken like the darkest night. Jingu could make out ribcages and skulls that occasionally surfaced, rasping voices and clattering teeth forming a stygian melody that seemed to crawl its way through her flesh and into her rapidly beating heart.

The fox paused about ten meters in front of her and slowly raised its massive head, its bleached corpse-hued eyes staring through her retinas and into her soul. Its back arched immediately and its lips peeled back to reveal a forest of ivory fangs. A guttural growl that seemed to emanate from the Underworld itself escaped its maw as its nine tails swirled behind it like hungry flames, its icy breath washing over her.

"Get back!" Jingu practically squealed as she wildly swung Nightkiller at the fox's face. Her voice sounded much more mature, more used to commanding others than pathetically shooing away a monster.

The fox seemed to think so too because it was completely unfazed by the gesture. Instead, Jingu's black hair stood on end as the vulpine titan of death gulped in a massive breath. An eternity wrapped within a second seemed to pass as a void only the dead could listen into filled the air.

Jingu screamed as the fox vomited a mass of writhing, shadowy tendrils that consumed her until nothing remained.

''''''''''''''''''''''''

Jingu awoke with a yelp, drenched in sweat. Breathing fast, she trembled as the nightmarish experience soon gave way to a mounting dread. Not even the golden rays of dawn could lighten the weight her stomach suddenly found itself underneath.

Suddenly, the tent flap swung open and Oba rushed in, katana drawn and eyes swiftly darting between every shadow and corner. When he found that Jingu was alone, he sheathed his weapon. However, a hand still clasped the hilt.

"Are you alright, Jingu-dono?" he asked, his face marred with concern as he walked over to her and kneeled beside her.

"I'm fine Oba-san, thank you," Jingu muttered as she rubbed her eyes. Ever since the death of Kenji and the loss of her hand, Oba had taken his role of bodyguard to a seriousness that both impressed and annoyed Jingu. Right now; however, she found his presence reassuring.

Oba quickly stood up as Jingu rose from the sleeping mat. Beckoning Oba, she quickly went over to her armor. Wordlessly, Oba helped his liege put it on, their fingers flying as they tied strings together and fastened buckles. After Jingu fastened her prosthesis, Oba fastened her twin swords and their scabbard to the left of her belt and took a few steps back.

Jingu raised her prosthesis and rammed its head against the closest of the hilts, the satisfying *click* of the spring-loaded mouth clasping the handle and its bumpy surface holding it in place. A satisfying *shwiiiiing* rang out as Jingu drew the katana, its oiled blade greeting the morning with the eagerness of a sun worshipper. To Jingu, it felt like letting a starved beast out of confinement just before the hunt.. and it's been thirsting for blood for months.

With a quick, counter-clockwise movement of her forearm, the katana swung upwards. The ratchet at the base of the pivot chattered for a few seconds before the catch activated, arresting the katana's movement and leaving its point aimed at the tent's ceiling. The leather straps fastening the prosthesis to Jingu's forearm and elbow buckled as they resisted the torque.

"After all this time resting and learning, I'd never thought the idea of being ready to fight in a battle again would fill me with... 'feelings'." Jingu said as she gave the katana a few practice swings. As expected, the straps resisted the quick movements as the prosthesis maintained its grip on the weapon. Half a year has passed and Craftsman Hiro is still earning a bonus for his skills.

"What sort of 'feelings'?" Oba asked as he eyed the movement, making mental notes on the performance of his liege's skill.

"I feel eager to fight again, yet I'm still uncertain about how I will fare. I know I've been training these past months whenever I've not engaged in any lessons but even I know that it's different when I'm fighting for my life out there."

Using her free hand to disengage the catch, Jingu turned her wrist and let the katana swing downward until it pointed to the ground. Sheathing the weapon, she pried the prosthesis' mouth off the hilt as her other hand held the weapon in place.

"Want some tips?" Oba suddenly asked. Jingu nodded.

"Given that your prosthesis is less flexible than an actual hand, do not use it for anything else other than making the killing blow. In fact, you already know that you're now much more vulnerable to attacks on your left side so fight accordingly."

"I noticed," Jingu acknowledged. A smirk appeared on her face, "In fact, I... may have created a few moves to take advantage of how my prosthesis works."

Blinking, Oba jerked his head back slightly. "Really?"

"Certainly."

"And you plan to test them out in the next battle you take part in?" he slowly asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Yep."

Oba couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly shook his bald head, His ponytail swaying like a horse's tail. His expression became wistful. "Like father, like daughter. You and Hirohito-dono are both adventurous and brave. I would've simply substituted a dagger or a stabbing implement instead. Much safer that way."

"I know but Kaen would be so, so lonely!" Jingu pouted.

With a light scoff, Oba threw his arms into the air. "Of course you would treat your weapons like babies, just like your father!" Tsking, the bodyguard took a deep breath. He clasped his arms behind his waist and straightened his spine.

"Regardless, I will be there to guard your left flank, Jingu-dono," he finally said with a firmer tone.

"Thank you Oba-san for your support," Jingu bowed solemnly to Oba before heading toward the tent flap. "Now let's go to the meeting. Tatsu-san will meet us there."

"Certainly, my liege," Oba responded as he followed Jingu out, a small smile on his face. He wondered if Kenji was watching them from the heavens, sporting that oafish grin of his.

Lend me your strength, old friend, Oba prayed silently.

~~~~~~~~~

Coalition War Tent, late morning

Jingu sipped her oolong tea thoughtfully as the rest of the daimyo chatted with each other. Just six months after the Battle of the Honshu Plains, the Coalition now has over twenty member clans, not including the founders. Based on the conversations she had with them, she deducted that pretty much everybody feels that the Coalition can now take on the Big Three directly as well as the clans who are still loyal to them. The fever pitch was so high that Jingu feared that the Coalition would dissolve if the forces of Lady Ibitsu and her allies weren't engaged soon, hence today's war council.

The massive tent flaps parted and Amaterasu crawled into the room, turning the cacophony of conversation into reverent silence. As the goddess stood, Jingu was enthralled by the radiance that constantly surrounded her despite seeing it for the umpteenth time. A part of her wondered if the goddess even noticed it or if she regarded it with the nonchalance one would have for a fingernail or a strand of hair.

As the goddess sat cross-legged on the pile of pillows at the head of the tent, everyone bowed to her briefly and eagerly waited. With a small smile, Amaterasu bid them to relax with a gentle wave of her hand.

"Good to be here with you all, especially since we're on the precipice of the Coalition's next ordeal: facing off against the Big Three." The daimyo and their retainers voiced their agreement.

The goddess lowered her voice, her eyes narrowing slightly. "As I'm sure you are all aware, things will get much harder from this point onward. Lady Ibitsu and her allies will pull no punches in attempting to crush the Coalition, particularly once they become aware of my existence."

The goddess' tone lowered even more. "If they don't know already."

A small shiver crept up Jingu's back. Last week, a samurai from one of the newer Coalition clans went missing. A few days later, his corpse was found outside the camp, his face frozen in a rictus of agony and his limbs chopped off and laid at his sides, which together with eight rivulets of blood created the grisly impression of a spider. His chest was completely torn up, showcasing the handiwork of a cruel arachnid who now considers the Coalition a threat to her dominion over Jomon and its emperor.

Jingu was absolutely certain that Amaterasu's existence, the invigorating influence of her strengthened Dominion, and the bonds of unity created by her newfound faith were the only things that kept the Coalition from immediately disbanding after the macabre discovery.

"Nonetheless," Amaterasu continued, her tone as relaxed as Father's whenever he spoke of peaceful moments while reading a book or reclining next to a welcoming fire. Jingu felt her muscles loosening as her shoulders slumped. "No matter who stands in our way or what ordeals we will face in our march to Jomon, I have faith in all of you just as you have faith in me. This is merely a challenge we haven't surpassed yet."

The assertions were louder now as last week's horror was nearly forgotten, steely eyes and eager hearts keeping the hounds of anxiety and fear at bay, at least for now.

Amaterasu sat straight up, her shoulders back as her golden eyes surveyed the room. "Now, let the proceedings begin."

Daimyo Katsura of the Matsumoto Clan stood up, his jade and green armor rustling. He stepped forward toward the huge map at the tent's center and, after grabbing a bamboo pusher, bowed to the goddess. For a brief moment, Jingu thought of Touma though to his credit Katsura is more open-minded and cordial than the late Fujisaki daimyo.

"Your Divinity, my scouts have finished scouting the area around the Auspicious Gates." Katsura finally said as he gestured a circle around the aforementioned landmark with the pusher, hovering just over a black wooden castle piece. "As expected, Daiyama Castle still guards the mountain pass though it is currently under the control of the Hojima and Katari Clans. Furthermore, there is evidence of more recent expansions of the fortifications including the addition of siege engines, many of which appeared at least a week old."

They were ready for us even before they left that grisly warning, Jingu thought.

The pusher moved a group of red samurai pieces south of the castle against it. "However, even such an obstacle is no match for our Coalition, especially once we successfully assault the castle before any possible enemy reinforcements arrive." The pusher circled a large area north of the castle piece.

Taking a deep breath, Katsura swallowed. "Unfortunately, the wrath of Lady Ibitsu's lapdogs is just the least of our concerns."

Katsura moved the pusher a bit to the west, toward a yellow dot, Even before he tapped it, Jingu could already feel a sense of dread welling up inside her. Many of the other daimyo seem to be experiencing it as well as they begin chattering among themselves and bombarding Katsura with questions.

"Silence," Amaterasu said in a calm but firm voice. Almost immediately, the agitated chatter died out. However, the daimyo's muscles remained coiled as if expecting an ambush.

"Thank you, your Divinity," Katsura said, nodding before he continued. "As everyone here are now aware, Daiyama Castle lies on the other side of a great grassy plain between it and a bakemono outpost. Normally this wouldn't be an issue since the bakemono seldom interfere with our battles but Her Divinity's presence changes everything."

"Perhaps Her Divinity can wait at this location while we storm Daiyama Castle?" another daimyo suggested.

"Why?" a third asked. "She still will have to pass through the Auspicious Gates even during nightfall. If it's a cloudless night like last night was, the bakemono will still see her."

"Why don't she ride in that huge wagon of hers? She will be well hidden."

"You would suggest that Her Divinity ride to the castle like some cargo?! Besides, the bakemono will not ignore its existence. They've been known to butt into our battles for silly reasons after all!"

"Why don't we try a roundabout path? We can march alongside the Mountains of Noon and away from the outpost, even through the Hungry Valley if we have to."

"And encounter not only more bakemono outposts but the tengu clans in the mountains? Too risky! We should travel in the other direction and march through the Serene Forest. The trees are tall and dense enough to hide Her Divinity."

"And put her further within sight of the outpost itself?! Madness, I tell you!"

"We should attack the bakemono outpost and Daiyama Castle at the same time."

A deathly silence reigned over the tent as everyone turned toward Jingu. Jingu barely managed to avoid shivering visibly at the sudden attention. "If the Big Three are preparing themselves for our Coalition, any delays would only allow them to dig in further," she carefully broached the subject. A few of the daimyo narrowed their eyes slightly. "Besides, Her Divinity will have to pass the outpost anyway to lead us into the heart of Jomon and we can't leave behind a potential threat. It is yet another obstacle standing in our path and the simplest to deal with."

'The wise general neither disregards the dagger at his back, nor the sword at his fore.' The quote appeared in Jingu's mind, yet another product of Shiba's lectures on tactics and strategies and her fondness for bad Tienchinese poetry.

"Are... you certain this is wise?" someone asked. It was Daimura.

"Yes, Daimura-sama. We must silence the outpost if we wish to bring Her Divinity with us through the Auspicious Gates."

"Preposterous!" one of the newer daimyo shouted as he threw his hands up. Daimyo Kuro of the Kibara Clan was a traditionalist much like Touma himself but much more outspoken with whoever he had scorn for, mainly the youngest daimyo of the Coalition. His involuntary... recruitment into the Coalition only seemed to set him against Jingu even more.

"How far do we have to fall in morals and good sense to be convinced by a child to kill ourselves?!" the middle-aged daimyo railed amid the mutters and stares of his peers. A few voiced their assent yet others looked thoughtful. Jingu kept her face impassive yet her right hand rested on the hilt of Kaen.

"Kuro-san," she addressed him calmly but firmly as Daimura taught her, a tone often used to settle down a person easily given to anger. She made sure to keep her back straight as she leaned toward him, her eyes locked with his. "I understand your concerns. The idea of taking on the bakemono is unheard of in Jomon due to who they represent. However, if we're going to-"

Kuro shot to his feet, his face red as a tomato. "Don't speak to me like I'm a child! I don't know what mind games you're playing here but I won't stand for it!"

Her own face reddening, Jingu bit her tongue as she squeezed Kaen's hilt. So much for expressing sympathy, another trick the good daimyo taught her. Either she hasn't earned enough of the Kibara daimyo's respect or he's just too prideful of a prick. Jingu cast a sideways glance at Daimura. The Chosokabe daimyo nodded at her, his smile as refreshing as a balm. Several of the daimyo next to him seemed impressed as well, if only slightly.

'You're doing great, Jingu-san,' his eyes seemed to say.

"Kuro-san...," Jingu said again, her tone more firm this time. She relaxed her muscles slightly, including those in her hand. "We need to-"

Kuro wasn't having any of that. "What you need to do is learn your godsdamned place, you little bitch-"

"Kuro!"

Kuro's insult died in his throat. The air inside the tent seemed hotter as everyone turned toward Amaterasu. Kuro shrank as the goddess' eyes bore into him. With a small yelp, the daimyo prostrated himself before the goddess.

"I have two things to add to this discussion," Amaterasu finally said, her eyes never leaving Kuro. "First, do not disrespect your fellow in faith in my presence ever again."

"As you wish, your Divinity!" Kuro rasped. The veins in his hands and head swelled, threatening to burst.

"Second," Amaterasu raised two fingers. "I agree with Jingu. Regardless of whose plan I go along with, that bakemono outpost will still be a threat to our element of surprise, being the first to sound the alarm for Shinigami should one word of my existence reaches them. I refuse to walk toward Jomon while there is a dagger pointing at my back."

Kuro raised his head, his pale face slick in the warm, humid air. "My Divinity, you can't be serious about picking a fight with the bakemono. Who knows what could be waiting behind those walls!"

Amaterasu's eyes narrowed even more as her jaws clenched. If Kuro thought that he would remain unfazed by anything greater than Jingu's presence then he was sadly mistaken. "Oh, I'm definitely serious, Kuro. In fact, I will be leading the forces assaulting the outpost while the others besiege Daiyama Castle. I too need to see what I'm going to face in the inevitable clash with Shinuyama."

Amaterasu paused momentarily. "Or have you forgotten the bloody price you and your allies paid for your pride?"

Kuro trembled though Jingu suspected that it wasn't just due to fear and humiliation. "We will attack the bakemono outpost if you think it is best, your Divinity," he replied, his voice strained.

"Oh, I do think it is best, Kuro. In fact, my father and I once extrapolated on a trick for dealing with enemy priests trying to communicate with their gods. This is the perfect opportunity to test it out. I will need cattle, goats, sheep, whatever livestock you're willing to give to me. I will talk to my priesthood and instruct them on what to do next."

Amaterasu relaxed visibly and took a deep breath. "I will choose who will attack the outpost with me and who will assault Daiyama. Now that that's taken care of, do anyone have something to add?"

Tatsu rose to his feet just as Kuro gingerly went back to his place. The hatamoto walked to the center of the tent and bowed to the goddess. Jingu's keen eyes picked up on the numerous scratches and dents on his armor and longbow. A few bandages were wrapped around his arms and legs, some of which looked much more recent than the scars that marred his skin. Nevertheless, Tatsu carried himself with dignity.

"While I don't disagree with your decision to attack the bakemono outpost, your Divinity," the hatamoto spoke, his gravelly voice filling the air. "I have some news that would impress upon you the true direness of our current predicament and why that outpost needed to be taken out sooner rather than later."

The daimyo murmured among themselves as Jingu's mind drifted back to the nightmare. Jingu, holding Nightkiller uselessly as the fox vomited shadows and death upon her. Even Amaterasu looked tensed.

"What news do you have, Tatsu?" the goddess finally asked.

"Last week, we intercepted several missives that came from the bakemono outposts in western Jomon and though they were addressed to different recipients, they all shared the same message." Tatsu curled his lips inwardly. "An emissary from Shinuyama had arrived in Jomon a month ago for the purpose of preparing this province for the upcoming Ascension War."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The murmurs became much more excited and the daimyo directed their questions and shouts of disbelief at Tatsu. Jingu trembled as memories of the nightmare resurfaced again and again. So the dream was a vision. Does this mean they are doomed?

Jingu looked back to Amaterasu to see the goddess clenching her jaw briefly. Interlacing her fingers, Amaterasu tilted her head to the side as if thinking. She raised a hand and silence tentatively returned to its place.

"Did the letters indicate when this emissary will arrive in our part of Jomon?" the goddess asked as she leaned slightly toward Tatsu.

Tatsu shook his head. "No, your Divinity. However, it's almost the last month of autumn so she may decide to winter over in western Jomon. Given how far away she is and the likely paths she has to take, we can expect to meet her before the beginning of summer should nothing hasten her journey. That's all I have to share, your Divinity."

Three months of spring to defeat the Big Three or at least weaken them considerably before the emissary comes. Jingu only considered herself a student of strategy at best but even she knew that it is too optimistic to believe that it can be done within that timeframe.

Jingu's heart suddenly skipped a beat. Wait a minute. It's clear that Lady Ibitsu doesn't know about the emissary and, to the best of the Coalition's knowledge, either doesn't know of Amaterasu's existence or is purposely obfuscating it from the bakemono.

But what would happen once Ibitsu finds out her attempts to keep Jomon within her grasp are at risk of failing anyway? Would she join forces with the Coalition to silence the bakemono, only to stab them in the back once the dust settles? More likely, the Spider of Jomon would save face by informing Shinuyama of Amaterasu's existence, spinning a tall tale of the Big Three's 'heroic struggles' against a heathen goddess, spilling their own blood in service to Shinigami, and laugh as the Coalition is ground to dust on two fronts.

Great, the Coalition would have to keep the Big Three and this emissary from making contact with each other too.

"Thank you for this vital information, Tatsu," the goddess finally said. The ground shook slightly as Amaterasu rose to her feet. Every pair of eyes watched intently as she beheld them all, her face a mask of resolution bolstered by an aura of calm despite the true nature of the odds stacked against the Coalition. Jingu's diplomatic corps may have convinced the pragmatic and the cordial to form this alliance of clans but there is no question about who is the glue holding them all together.

"So it is settled then," the goddess finally spoke. "I was hoping that the bakemono are kept in the dark until the Big Three is defeated and Jomon is ours but this emissary changes everything. Now we must include any bakemono outposts that threaten us in our list of attacks, including the one on the other end of the Hungry Valley since its zone of control overlaps with that of the outpost we are about to attack."

"However, the Big Three are still the immediate threats so they will take the brunt of our offensive. For now, I want you to gather information on the outposts within the heartlands too, Tatsu. I want to know how many bakemono are guarding them, what types we can expect to fight, what defenses and spellcasters they can bring to bear, everything. I know this task is even riskier due to your forces scouting in enemy territory but the Coalition will draw their attention to give you some breathing room."

"Understood, your Divinity," the hatamoto acknowledged with a bow, his teeth clenching in slight pain.

"Good, now let's begin planning our offenses so that..."

The ground shook again, only this time the tremors didn't emanate from the goddess. Baubles suspended from the tent's interior clinked together as they swayed in the air just as a porcelain cup rolled off a small table, bouncing harmlessly off the rug. Everyone sat calmly as the earthquake passed them as quickly as it came, silence following in its wake.

"I'm absolutely certain that is an omen that foretells of our glorious twin victories," the goddess quipped as she betrayed a smile.

A nervous laugh broke the silence. Another soon joined it, and another, and another. Soon, the tent bustled with laughter and snorts. Even Kuro joined in with a dry chuckle.

Jingu too allowed herself to laugh. Given the obstacles currently standing in their way, not to mention the arrival of the emissary, the Coalition certainly is going to need plenty of laughs for what's to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jingu brushed aside an orange leaf that got tangled in her hair as she watched the bakemono mill around on top of the wooden walls of the outpost. Her heart hammered in anticipation as she recalled the dai-bakemono she'd paid tribute to almost a year ago. Wow, her father has been dead for a year now and already she is about to attack the strange people that have been giving him and the rest of Jomon grief. Her fourteen-year-old self knew that the Coalition would soon come to blows with the bakemono but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it happening so soon.

The choicest warriors of four clans, including her own, would assault the outpost. Misato and Yumeji were left behind to command the rest of her clan to attack Daiyama. The former had to be convinced more than once that Jingu would be fine with just Oba guarding her. Jingu idly wondered if Misato would be better off as a bodyguard than a hatamoto.

Daimura felt really, really honored when his Chosokabe Clan was also chosen. Once during a conversation after one of his lessons, Jingu found out that the daimyo's youngest son took an arrow to the heart when he was caught sneaking too close to a bakemono outpost. Soon the elderly daimyo would find satisfaction even though he to his bitter disappointment is too old to cross swords with a bakemono.

The third clan was that of Tenji Inaba. Approaching him during the Coalition's stay at the banks of the Ishikawa River in the summer has been one of her best ideas and the two became fast allies. Even Yumeji and Shiba praised his skill at rallying his soldiers whenever the tides of battle turned against him.

Of all people, the Hideki Clan was the last to be chosen. Since the death of Touma, Najima has been much, more assertive and tales of his aggressive behavior and ruthlessness in battle became just as common as those of Amaito's growing clique.

Jingu stopped when her gaze fell on a hill northwest of the outpost. Hundreds of rectangular mounds of dirt lay side by side, forming concentric rows that hugged the hill like a blanket. Thin stone slabs stood upright at each of the mounds' heads, the silent sentinels casting rectangular shadows that resembled the teeth of a great shadowy beast.

"What are those?" she breathed as a chill crept up her spine.

"What are you talking about?" Oba asked as he tore his eyes from a bakemono on the wall who even from this distance towered over an adult human male.

"There," Jingu whispered, pointing at the hill with her prosthesis.

Oba frowned as he beheld the strange stone markers. "Those can't be where the bakemono buried their valuables, can they? They would be more secured inside the outpost."

"You can't really tell what goes on inside the bakemono's heads."

"Those are graves," Amaterasu answered. The goddess was lying prone on the ground behind a nearby tree. Instead of her red and white clothes, Amaterasu wore a cloak of tree branches and boughs fastened with thick ropes. From a distance, she would resemble a pile of refuse left by loggers.

"Guraibesu...?" Jingu tried her very best to pronounce the strange word but she felt like she was falling short somehow. The entire flow of the syllables seemed to be... blurred.

"Graves, " Amaterasu repeated. Now it sounded as if she was using just one syllable sound! "Burial pits. The bakemono and presumably the rest of Shinuyama seem to follow the funerary practice of burying their dead instead of cremating them as your people do."

The looks of sheer horror on the faces of Jingu and Oba must be sights to behold because the goddess raised an eyebrow. "What kind of fools bury corpses?!" Jingu all but shouted, only to immediately lower her voice to a raspy hiss. "I- don't these Shinuyamese care about what sort of curses they can be afflicted with?!"

"Not to mention the foul odors and the risk of polluting groundwater," Oba added, barely able to keep himself calm.

"If properly done, the interment of the body into the ground can be just as safe as any other funerary tradition," Amaterasu answered as she narrowed her eyes at Jingu's expression of disbelief. "And no, I've never encountered any funerary practice that would justify your superstitions."

"Where did they find that many bodies to fill up those... burial pits?" Oba asked, a shudder passing through his body as he turned toward the graves. "Had the bakemono brought their families with them to Jomon we would've known about that by now."

"Who cares?" Jingu breathed as she cast a disgusted look at the hill. "Once we are finished here, we're going to dig up those corpses and burn them. It's less land taken up by these gurei... 'burial pits' and quite frankly, it much more proper."

Jingu froze when she felt the goddess' eyes bore into her back. "Unless any surviving bakemono give us permission, you will not disturb those remains, am I clear?" the goddess simply said though she might as well be yelling given the edge behind her voice.

"Yes, your Divinity," Jingu quickly answered as she turned back toward the outpost. She'd learned long ago not to debate with the goddess on certain topics, no matter how outlandish they seemed.

Several of the bakemono suddenly faced the direction of Daiyama Castle, pointing and chatting among themselves excitedly. A distant plume of smoke peeked from behind the outpost like an omen. Minutes later, two thin plumes of smoke rose to flank it, much closer than the first. The bakemono seemed confused as whispers of chanting flowed through the air, punctuated by the metallic *brong!* of handheld gongs.

Jingu smiled as the afternoon sun caressed her like a mother, soothing every doubt that ached at her heart while filling her bones and muscles with enough vigor to strike down giants. Three days of scouting out the bakemono outpost in order to pick out its weaknesses and daily routines, even to time the attack when its patrol party has just returned to rest for an hour or so before heading back out for the evening. Finally, a battle plan was made that called for the chosen clans to strike from behind the outpost while most of the bakemono were distracted by the assault on Daiyama Castle. The only reason why the clans aren't simply sneaking into the outpost is that the bakemono aren't incompetent enough to leave their rear completely unguarded... not to mention the samurai are too prideful to let go of their vaulted honor, even temporarily.

The priesthood formed the core of Amaterasu's plan to keep the bakemono from contacting Shinigami. Six groups of priests were to surround the outpost, with each group forming the corner of a massive hexagon, far away to keep the bakemono from seeing them as a threat but close enough to see the smoke of each others' sacrifices. Each group was escorted by several samurai who not only were tasked with protecting them but also transporting the animals and firewood. The fires of Daiyama Castle served as the signal to sacrifice the animals to Amaterasu. According to the goddess, the synchronized rituals will create a localized thickening of her Dominion that will surround the outpost like a dome.

The bakemono and their priests will find themselves cut off from their god's Dominion, unable to call for help or make use of his blessings.

Jingu watched as the goddess closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, exhaling it as a moan of contentment and another feeling that can be best described as... sensuous. Sucking on her bottom lip briefly, Amaterasu opened her eyes and clambered onto her feet, stepping around the tree. On the outpost's walls, the bakemono that weren't distracted stiffened as they watched her walk into view.

For a brief moment, the light of the afternoon sun bowed to the illumination of dawn as Nightkiller materialized in Amaterasu's right hand. A thin smile appeared on her face as she watched the bakemono transfix on both her and her weapon before scurrying to raise the alarm.

"Dawn, Fire, and Hope!" Amaterasu bellowed as she thrust Nightkiller into the air before charging toward the outpost.

"Dawn, Fire, and Hope!" Jingu bellowed in response, the clans and the daimyo echoing the warcry as she latched her prosthesis onto her left katana and followed her goddess into battle.

A thunderous peal raged out of the forest as the Hideyoshi, Chosokabe, Tenji, and Hideji Clans poured onto the plain with not a siege ladder in sight. Given that the goddess will be the one to breach the outpost's walls, all of them as well as the traction stone throwers are being used to assault Daiyama Castle. Even Shiba agreed with the choice somewhat.

However, the bakemono didn't neglect to bring their siege weapons to the fight. Jingu's eyes widened in disbelief as what resembled a massive recurve bow mounted on a swiveling frame launched an arrow as big as a spear at them. Five ashigaru screamed as the projectile skewered them like chunks of meat on a spit, the sheer force behind it throwing them back a dozen meters and into any poor souls behind them. Several more handfuls of warriors succumbed to additional machines of its likeness.

*Baaarooooooooooo!~* The deep-throated bellows of the bakemono's siege horns filled the air. Soon the rest of the outpost will be upon them.

Fortunately, most of the baleful siege weapons were focused on Amaterasu, speeding their deadly projectiles at her. Amaterasu continued running as they deflected off her air shield, eating up hundreds of meters with each step. Ahead of her, the bakemono frantically pushed against each other as they tried to get out of her path. Awed, Jingu watched as the goddess slammed into the wall shoulder first.

The force of the impact launched any unlucky bakemono in the air to fall to their deaths on the other side. The wall itself; however, warped at the impact but stood firm. Dirt poured from gaps between the planks, which indicated that the whole structure was basically a massive, wooden shell filled with stones and packed dirt if Jingu's meager understanding of architecture is ... ha ha ha, solid.

The bakemono must have been spurred into action by Amaterasu's visible surprise because they renewed their attacks on her with increased ferocity with some even shooting at her face at point-blank range, Nevertheless, the barrier held despite being crushed between the goddess and the wall.

With a howl, Amaterasu raised Nightkiller and swept the top of her section of wall with it. The bakemono screeched in terror and frustration as they tried to duck underneath the scorching weapon. Unfortunately, the goddess must be channeling additional fire magic into the thing because its sheer heat vaporized them as easily as if they were caught on its edge, the wood erupting into flames at its passing. Several of the strange siege engines were shattered into sprays of burning splinters that impaled their surviving bakemono crews.

Jingu knew she should feel sorry for the bakemono if only slightly. She could at the very least cringe at them becoming the unfortunate recipients of Amaterasu's fury. Instead, her heart became filled with vicious satisfaction. Having lord their position as the 'overseers' of Jomon in the name of Shinigami over the clans for far too long, the bakemono now understood what it felt like to be at the mercy of someone they can never hope to retaliate against without suffering greatly.

A dark part of her wish the goddess leaves no survivors.

The clans' archers and spellcasters unleashed their fury, their pent-up hatred, at the rest of the bakemono on the wall. Despite using circular, curved wood and leather boards they have strapped to their non-dominant forearms, each featuring various fox and full moon motifs, their numbers were still below strength due to the distraction. Many of them died as they struggled to vacate the walls. Over the outpost, a huge anvil-shaped storm cloud formed and several lightning bolts zoomed down toward the citadel, striking at small objects that flew from its windows.

The warriors of the clans finally caught up with the goddess and Jingu joined their cheers as the goddess battered at the wall, tearing at it with both Nightkiller and her free hand. The leaves on her impromptu cloak wilted and smoked wherever the blade passed near them. As the goddess pulled down yet another handful of burning wood, dirt, and stone, Jingu's mind wandered to the heaps of wealth that could be behind these walls. All of the food, pelts, and koku among others that the bakemono took from them were just waiting for the victors. Surely it's not stealing if one takes what's already theirs?

That was when she felt the cold, bony fingers of an otherworldly grim sensation digging into her spine.

Her attention was directed to a wooden tower within the outpost situated between Amaterasu and the graves. On its upper level, a small group of human women clad in black and silver chanted loudly as a mass of swirling darkness formed above their outstretched hands. Several lightning bolts raged toward them as Amaterasu turned a baleful glare toward them. All of them were stopped dead by a magical barrier that formed around the tower itself, proof of the existence of yet unrevealed spellcasters.

The chanting of the Shinuyamese humans or Jomonese traitors, Jingu honestly didn't care, reached a climax and the claws of mind-numbing terror gripped Jingu's heart as hundreds of tendrils of shadows not too dissimilar to those of the monstrous fox in her nightmare burst out of the mass. However, none of them arched toward the clans even though many archers and spellcasters joined their goddess' assault on the barrier protecting the tower.

Instead, the tendrils entered the graves themselves. The colors of the tower itself as well as the surrounding structures seemed to bleed away like a watercolor painting caught in the rain. The shouts of surprised and horrified warriors gave way to a profound silence that tore at the ears. Jingu flicked a stunned glance toward Amaterasu. To her surprise, the goddess faced the graves with... a thoughtful expression?

As quickly as they appeared, the tendrils disappeared and color and noise alike retook their positions upon the stage of existence. Yet Jingu could not shake the horrible feeling that something had just happened, something cold and terrible. She had experienced something like it in her nightmare and now here she is, a witness to it in the world of the awakened. It's often said that only the dead can hear what lies within the absence of the noise of life and that something felt like a siren song, a beckoning call to the land of the living.

Jingu barely suppressed a scream when she saw the graves stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outpost Lord Gora was displeased. Very displeased. One minute, the dai-bakemono was lounging in his decadent room, helping himself to a bowl of goji pears and berries. The next, he found his outpost under attack by a giant woman wielding a sword made of light and fire and four of those petty human clans. The giantess' almost heavenly radiance awed him and most of his forces into inaction, wasting valuable time, and it was only due to Gora's rage at the audacity of the attack for him to break free of the spell.

The priests; however, reacted much worse. Many of these chatted vigorously among themselves about glimpses their sudden visions gave them. 'A massive sword cutting a cloud in half.' 'The sun itself shapeshifting into a sword.' 'A tornado of fire and glory blazing its way through a graveyard.' Even the very air itself seemed to crush him under its weight, undulating his skin with sweat and wracking his limbs with fatigue. A thunderstorm Gora refused to view as anything natural formed overhead. Its lightning bolts slew every homing pigeon he ordered sent to the nearest outposts, including the one whose zone of control also overlapped the Hungry Valley.

Now the Auspicious Gates Outpost stood alone and at the mercy of who Gora now knew to be a goddess, a goddess who now contends with His Divinity over the fate of Jomon.

"The necromancers and astral mages are in place, Gora-san!" Lieutenant Jiro announced beside him as he lowered the telescope. The bakemono paused to wipe yet another armful of sweat off his face. "Our Forlorn Defense should buy our forces some time."

"True but that damn goddess will certainly shorten the window we will have, Jiro-san." Gora grumbled to his subordinate as he looked down from his balcony at his troops rushing toward the soon-to-be-breached section, their short spears, axes, and crossbows barely remaining in the grip of their sweaty hands. "The best those shambling corpses can do is help our soldiers buy the priests enough time to warn His Divinity of a massive threat to his rule over this backwater province."

"They can certainly try their very best, even if the Forlorn Defense outnumbers the living two-to-one, Gora-san," The resignation in Jiro's voice was almost palpable.

Gora couldn't blame him though. Only a naive fool can't see that this battle has already been lost. Gora was planning to visit his family in Shinuyama next year too.

"That's all we can do now to serve His Divinity, Jiro-san," Gora sighed as he turned toward Jiro. "Now let's go to the temple and see if Shiro-san and his priests managed to contact Shinuyama."

It didn't take the dai-bakemono and his subordinate long to reach the large structure. However, both were surprised to see High Priest Shiro sitting on the front steps with his head of wispy gray hair buried in his hands. When he heard their arrival, the dai-bakemono looked up at them, his leaden expression mirroring the odds of the bakemono successfully defending the outpost.

"It's no use," he mourned. His joints creaked as he rose to his feet. "This outpost is doomed to burn with our fellows with our god none the wiser."

"What's going on?" Gora demanded, wincing as the shrill screams of the Forlorn Defense traveled even this far into the outpost as they engaged the enemy. The fires of the... goddess flared even more, either in response to her aiding her warriors or redoubling her effort at tearing down the wall. "Did you manage to pray to His Divinity or to Prophetess Hitomi at least?"

"It is sacrilege to pray to who is but a tool and a weapon in His Divinity's hands," Shiro chided as he steadied himself with his gnarled staff. He paused to wipe away sweat, prompting the two to do the same "However, I digress. We sacrificed to him in hopes that he would hear our prayers and heed our warnings but alas, His Divinity no longer holds spiritual sovereignty over this outpost."

"Can you please explain what that means, your Eminence?" Jiro asked much more plaintively. Being a human-sized bakemono, Jiro is expected to hold even greater deference toward his spiritual better, unlike Gora, if only to avoid receiving a vicious tongue-lashing and a backhand or two from the more conservative Shiro. It is just one of many realities of the caste system the bakemono established for themselves, even out here in Jomon. It beats being a sho-bakemono though Jiro once confided in Gora about envying the humans, at least those from Shinuyama.

Shiro took a deep breath. "Somehow the goddess attacking this outpost has strengthened her Dominion over us. By the Mage Emperor, we tried and tried to break through but every prayer has been rebuffed and every sacrifice went unheeded. We... we are truly alone here."

A short moan escaped from Jiro's lips. A talon of ice crept up Gora's spine as shock and frustration warred on his face. Narrowing his eyes, the dai-bakemono glared up at the storm. The occasional lightning lit up portions of the clouds in dull rumbles but he wasn't fooled. That divine bitch has ensured that neither pigeon nor prayer will ever leave this outpost until they are all dead. For all he knew, the assault on Daiyama Castle was only a distraction.

So be it.

"Keep trying, Shiro-san! Maybe if we inflict enough grievous harm on this goddess, her Dominion will falter and the Mage Emperor will finally hear our pleas. Regardless, I'll see you in Paradiso!"

"I'll see you both there as well," the dai-bakemono priest grunted, his eyes hardening slightly with determination before walking briskly back into the temple.

"Jiro-san, I have new orders for you," Gora suddenly said. The bakemono immediately stood ramrod straight. "Grab a few dozen men and have them ferry casks of water to the frontline! Our comrades are getting dehydrated in this godsdamned heat. Position the melee soldiers and ballistae at every chokepoint and the ranged soldiers and spellcasters inside the buildings overlooking them."

"Anything else, Gora-san?'

Gora paused before he curled his right hand into a fist and slammed it against his heart twice. He unfurled the index finger and traced a circle around his heart with it. The dai-bakemono's eyes glistened as he gave his lieutenant the Shinuyamese salute.

"It was an honor being your commander, Jiro-san " Gora finally said, his tone softening.

A mask of determination appeared on Jiro's face as he returned the salute. "It was an honor serving you as well, Gora-san," the bakemono finally said before running off to fulfill his duties.

Watching him leave, Gora ascended the nearby wall and gazed toward Daiyama Castle. Though the smoke had abated somewhat, it was clear that the defenders had already lost given the sheer numbers of clans attacking them. His eyes then drifted toward the two groups of humans between the outpost and the castle, watching them chant as they danced around what appeared to be animal sacrifices while banging on small gongs. Though they were too far away to make out any of their details or for whatever they were saying to make any sense, he knew that they started their silly rituals shortly after the castle began to burn.

"Damn humans celebrating the downfall of their own kin," the dai-bakemono grumbled before he made his way toward the scene of the battle.

--------------------------

Ever since she'd first trained the katana, Jingu with her vivid imagination dueled with fearsome samurai and ferocious daimyo within her dreams and daytime wanderings. When she met the bakemono for the first time, she often imagined herself beating the haughty, greenish gray-skinned creatures into submission and forcing them to repay her villagers with kindness for every act of extortion and harassment they inflicted on them, much to the amusement of her father. Even months after she assumed her role as daimyo and freed Amaterasu from Ama-no-Iwata, Jingu often wondered what it would be like to cross swords with the bakemono and the rest of Shinuyama.

The living corpses that crawled out of those burial pits, their milky white eyes glaring balefully at them, were shocking proof that that ambition was going to be a lot harder to fulfill than she'd thought.

Never had she seen something so unnatural, so frightfully unnerving. The living dead appeared in various stages of decomposition and their rusted armor were caked with dirt and dried gore. Jingu found herself retching when the wind turned briefly and shoved the stench of rotting flesh into her face.

There were no recognizable bakemono corpses among them, only dead things who were once samurai and ashigaru that hailed from various clans, including those currently part of the Coalition. Once separated by the social standards of their births, their reanimated remains now crawled their way into the land of the living as one, united by a single purpose.

To destroy the enemies of Shinuyama.

Oba's question concerning the burial pits appeared in her mind and the grisly answer soon rushed right on its heels. It was a chilling yet irrefutable realization that was apparent to anyone who lived in this province. Wars have raged in Jomon since anyone can remember and sometimes battles became so costly and so frequent that even the winners are either too decimated or too much in a hurry to burn all of the corpses. Watching those battles from the safety of their outposts, it's only a small task for the bakemono to wait until the coast is clear, grab the choicest corpses, and bury them in easily accessible burial grounds, ready to be unleashed on any foolish attackers. For all she knew, every bakemono outpost took part in this gross act of sacrilege.

It's not enough for the bakemono to steal the clans' hard-earned food and goods and to look down on them, now they dare sully the honor of their warriors too!

Almost immediately, the terror and disgust that caught Jingu in its grip evaporated. A seething fury quickly took its place and she began to see red on the edges of her vision. Jingu glanced around at her warriors and wasn't surprised to see both samurai and ashigaru growing apoplectic as they shared her realization. The distinction between daimyo and warriors faded as they found themselves fellow witnesses to the greatest dishonor they'd ever experienced since the abolishment of seppuku.

"Let's make these bastards pay," a low voice growled on her left, filled with hatred and the promise of retribution. It was Oba. In the distance, the reanimated unleashed shrill screams as they threw themselves at the living, their rusting weapons catching glints of the last afternoon sun.

"DAWN, FIRE, AND HOPE!" Jingu screamed as she answered the challenge of the undead with her own.

Arrows and spells scythed through the shambling corpses as the clans refocused their fury on this strange new threat. However, despite being heavily damaged by the spells and pincushioned by arrows, the living dead continued onward completely unfazed despite some even losing heads and limbs. Fear threatened to snuff out her fury but Jingu managed to squash it ruthlessly, if only slightly, before charging to meet the enemy, followed by a sizable chunk of the other clans. The snapping of wood soon followed an outburst of fire as Amaterasu finally tore a hole through the wooden wall.

However, Jingu's mind was focused on the screaming undead. It's true that the clans cannot afford this enemy to strike at their flank but that was the least important reason on her mind. No, those reanimated corpses were once husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons who were forced to serve those who'd robbed and cheated them and their countrymen for centuries, by bakemono and humans who weren't satisfied with oppressing them in life. No, she must grant these brave warriors the rest that has long since been robbed from them.

After that, the bakemono and their human collaborators will receive the justice they so richly deserve.

The Jomonese, living and undead alike, howled as they clashed, blades spilling fresh blood and fetid bile. Almost immediately, two things became apparent to Jingu. First, as demonstrated earlier, the undead has no concept of pain or fear. They fought like rabid animals and even injuries that would've forced a samurai into an early retirement barely slowed them down.

Secondly and even more terrifying, they were fucking relentless.

A nearby samurai gave a gurgling scream as a shambling corpse clamped its jaws around his jugular and tore it free. With a howl, Jingu separated its head from its neck. However, the thing remained standing and blindly slashed at the air with its katana. It soon went down as several samurai hacked at it.

A bloodcurdling scream jerked Jingu's attention to her left just in time to intercept an undead ashigaru who tried to bite her in the face. Instead, its lipless jaws clamped around her prosthesis, dislodging a few teeth in the process. Meeting its pale, fury-filled eyes briefly, Jingu screamed in frustration and barely repressed terror as she stabbed it repeatedly in the torso just as it grasped her arm in a painfully strong grip and shook it violently like a dog. Jingu grunted as she felt several small pops inside her shoulder.

Suddenly, the butt of a katana hilt slammed into its jaw with a bone-chilling snap and the living corpse let go of her arm and stumbled to the ground. Roaring, Oba hacked at it until it stopped moving and met at his liege's side. "Are you hurt?" he asked between breaths as his eyes darted from one potential threat to another.

Shaken, Jingu turned her prosthesis over and stared at the toothmarks in the metal and wood. Not too far away, a samurai from the Chosokabe Clan challenged his reanimated counterpart to a duel. His oft-recited declaration of his lineage and achievements; however, quickly turned into a flustered bout of shouting when the reanimated warrior and a few of its undead companions bum-rushed him instead.

"I challenged you to a duel, dammit! One at a time, one at a time!" the samurai shouted as the undead overwhelmed him. "Shameful display, shameful displ-AARGH!"

"I'm fine," Jingu finally said as she watched the samurai fall to rusting blades and biting jaws, grimacing. "Though certain acts of stupidity aren't going to make things better."

Turning to the nearest of her samurai, Jingu shouted, "Don't challenge these creatures to any duels! You'll only get yourselves swarmed wasting your honor and energy!"

Jingu shouldn't have bothered; the foolish death of their peer did not go unheeded.

"I'm sure they learned their lesson," Oba said with a small grin. A screech propelled him into intercepting the falling blade of a reanimated samurai. With a roar, Jingu tried to cut its legs from underneath it, only for Kaen to bounce off the thing's thighbone.

The undead turned toward her and Jingu grasped as it clamped a skeletal hand around her throat. Just before it could yank Jingu toward its snapping jaws; however, Oba severed the arm with a rising sword strike at the elbow joint. With a howl, the undead warrior shoved Oba away, nearly causing him to stumble, and ran at him again with its sword raised.

Yanking the still grasping hand off her neck, Jingu rushed toward the thing and hooked her left katana around its ankles, causing it to land face-first into the ground. With a howl of his own, Oba stomped on its head and torso until it stopped moving.

"We're going to need clubs and other blunt weapons if we're going to be fighting this kind of enemyin the future!" Oba gasped as he quickly pivoted around the crushed cadaver to intercept another shambling corpse that tried to ambush him from behind.

"You're right," Jingu rasped as she lopped off its head. Oba threw the headless body to the ground and stomped it to pieces as Jingu watched their backs. "We're doing poorly with edged and pointy weapons-,"

A flash of light, followed by a loud boom, jerked Oba and Jingu's attention back to the outpost. Though what remained of the section of the wooden wall blocked most of their view, Jingu could see Amaterasu standing triumphantly over the burning ruins of the tower that contained the enemy spellcasters. Thick smoke billowed upward, eventually shrouding the goddess.

Jingu quickly turned back to the undead. Though they kept fighting as if nothing had happened, large groups were beginning to collapse like puppets with their strings cut. Her heart swelled as she pieced together what had just happened. This realization was shared by the rest of the warriors as they renewed their attacks on the living dead with increased fury.

Soon, the last of the corpses flopped uselessly to the ground, their passing followed by the thunderous cheers of the living.

"Good thing the Shinuyamese have this sort of weakness, " Jingu breathed as she sucked in a lungful of breath. "Shinigami would be very difficult to fight as it is."

"You're right though his still living soldiers will still be a pain in the backside," Oba rasped, stretching his limbs.

"Speaking of which, let's continue the assault on the outpost. Those bakemono bastards need to answer for their gross act of disrespect toward our countrymen!"

A flame passed behind the bodyguard's eyes. "Gladly."

Making her way through the sea of bodies now pushing its way through the breach proved more difficult than fighting the undead. Every warrior around her was trying to enter the city to punish those who robbed them for the past few centuries and, now, those who have the audacity to disturb the eternal rest of their fellow Jomonese. Though the order wasn't given, few Jomonese wanted to give the bakemono and their human allies any mercy and Jingu found herself sharing their sentiment. Even Amaterasu has to understand that.

* Twwwuuuung! *

* Kerchuuung! *

Two of those accursed, spear-throwing machines barked in defiance ahead of her, and shrieks and screams overwhelmed warcries as dozens of warriors found themselves impaled onto the projectiles, the inhuman force behind them knocking them into those behind them. Another projectile narrowly missed Jingu's head, giving off a piercing scream as it pinned three men behind her to the wooden rubble.

The enemy stood on a hill ahead flanked by towers, their strange, curved boards interlocking into a barrier of laminated wood and iron. A volley rose from friendly archers and showered the formation and though a few bakemono tumbled away with arrow shafts jutting out of their necks and eye sockets, the rest held firm and hurled insults and curses at the attackers.

Spells shot out of the towers, along with volleys of short, metallic projectiles. Scores of men screamed as the volley reaped a bloody harvest, turning the area in front of her into an avalanche of blood and frailing bodies. A samurai next to Jingu grunted when one of the projectiles struck him in the chest. His armor, which has turned aside handfuls of arrows in previous battles, did nothing as the bolt simply punched through his breastplate like rice paper. His face stretched in surprise moments before the force behind the blow knocked him into another samurai and brought the two underneath the charging footfalls of the rest of the army.

"Keep going, keep going!" Jingu half-screamed at the nearest ashigaru, lurching them out of their shock. "Dawn, Fire, and Hope!"

"Dawn, Fire, and Hope!" the army shouted back.

The spells wreaked further havoc on the charging army, burning, freezing, electrocuting, and crushing those unfortunate enough to be in their paths. Coughing up dust, Jingu yelped when two strong hands grabbed her shoulders from behind and yanked her to the side. Seconds later, a massive arrow sailed through the space she just vacated.

"T- thank... you," Jingu rasped as she glanced briefly to Oba.

"My pleasure, my liege-" the bodyguard was interrupted by an explosion erupting in the distance. Amaterasu once again stood over the burning ruins of a tower far to the left. At her feet, another detachment of bakemono appeared to be... surrendering?

The attackers got closer enough to hear howls of despair rising from the bakemono as they focused their attention on the goddess. Their leader, a hulking dai-bakemono wearing black and silver armor and a great horned helmet, roared at them to focus back on the battle. It was good timing too as the bakemono quickly found themselves bum-rushed by hungry blades and faces twisted with hundreds of years of pent-up fury and the promise of vengeance.

The barrier of interlocking boards blocked and deflected torrents of katana and yari that chipped at and scarred painted foxes and full moons. A handful of ashigaru tried to drive their pikes home only for their own momentum and the sloping angles of the boards to push their weapon over the heads of their foes, bringing them perilously close to the enemy. Warriors ranking lower than samurai on the social hierarchy weren't permitted to wield katana and other swords, so the ashigaru were forced to use the daggers sheathed at their sides in close quarters. However, it wouldn't have mattered even if their betters were a bit more lenient as the reach of the bakemono's spears dropped them like flies before they could get within striking distance. The samurai likewise found themselves victims to the longer weapons.

Growling in frustration, Jingu reached for her prosthesis latch and pulled on it. Kaze swung toward the ground, the tip of the katana scrapping a small gash in the dirt. Engaging the catch, Jingu dove into the barrier, deftly dodging spears and axes. With a howl, Jingu leaped toward its upper edge, hooking the hilt of Kaen over it, and stabbed over the barrier with her other weapon like a praying mantis, the tip of Kaze biting into flesh. Someone behind the barrier screeched and the curved board in front of her fell away, revealing dozens of bakemono and humans who quickly swiveled in her direction, alarm and frustration warring on their faces.

"The enemy is breaking through!" one of them shouted and Jingu was soon forced back by spears and axes.

However, Jingu was undeterred and she launched herself at nearby sections, bypassing the enemy's greatest advantage as she killed and grievously wounded more bakemono. Like water pushing against a dam drilled full of holes, the attackers pressed brutally against the breaches Jingu caused and the barricade buckled under the assault. Behind her, the enemy archers and spellcasters continued to wreak havoc on the attackers though in a diminished quantity for some reason.

"Hold them back! We must buy time for the priests!"

A deep, guttural growl grabbed Jingu's attention and she turned toward the source, her eyes widening. The dai bakemono commander pushed his way through his shorter, panicking brethren as his no-dachi cut down ashigaru and samurai in pairs. Up close, he was so tall that even Touma seemed a teenager in comparison. He was accompanied by other dai-bakemono wielding two-handed swords with straight blades and wooden clubs with metal stubs. Coalition warriors seemed to melt away as the larger bakemono charged straight into them, crushing men and spewing blood and limbs everywhere.

"Wi-with me, warriors!" Jingu called out to her comrades in a shaky voice, motioning to the threat with Kaen. Jingu turned back to the dai-bakemono only for her heart to sink to her belly. Her breath fled for a moment as her body threatened to freeze up in a critical moment like a deer caught in the path of a runaway carriage.

The monster of a bakemono was looking directly at her, recognition welling up on his face. "YOU!" he bellowed. "You're the one poking holes in my shield wall!"

The ground seemed to shake as he stomped his way toward her, turning aside anyone who got in his way. Forcing her limbs back under control, Jingu quickly deactivated the catch on her prosthetic. She then spun her blade around in front of her, forming a circular barrier of whirling iron that forced nearby bakemono to keep their distance. The dai-bakemono finally arrived, his furious eyes glaring at what was to him an unimpressive parlor trick. With a guttural roar, he raised his weapon over his right shoulder.

Instinctively, Jingu leaped back to dodge a blow she dared not try to parry. She must have turned too far to her left because the flat of her sword whacked against the back of her leg. The pain quickly gave way to shock; however, when Jingu realized that she was still within the dai-bakemono's reach with no time to dodge.

With a vindictive grunt, the dai-bakemono swung his weapon toward his hapless target.

A blur zoomed past Jingu's left and slammed shoulder-first into the dai-bakemono, piercing his side with a katana and spraying droplets of gelatinous blood onto Jingu's face. The sudden attack was enough to distract the creature mid-swing and Jingu barely ducked in time, the no-dachi slicing off the tips of her helmet's flat horns in a shower of sparks.

Twisting the katana, Oba ripped it out of his foe and was about to aim for his heart when the dai-bakemono slammed a massive backhand into him. The bodyguard never made a sound as he was sent flying into a handful of bakemono, sending them sprawling onto the ground. Engaging the catch on her prosthesis to hold Kaze into what she dubbed, 'the mantis position', Jingu snarled as she rushed the dai-bakemono, eliciting howls from him as she rapidly stabbed katana after katana into his midsection. With a fearsome roar, the dai-bakemono slammed a boot into her chest. knocking the wind out of her.

The world spun on a strange axis as Jingu tumbled meters away. She lost Kaen on the way but Kaze was firmly in her grip, though the prosthesis itself earned several chips and scrapes. She finally came to a stop, lying on her back in the dirt as the battle raged around her. The sounds of screaming and weapons clashed punctuated by her gasps for air. A series of tremors rose in intensity like the footsteps of a giant as frantic shouts came from the direction of the bakemono, each wave pulsing into her body. Above her, one of the towers finally launched volleys of mundane and magical projectiles at something in the direction from where Jingu tumbled. The other tower; however, had long since been overrun by her forces. Even if Jingu wasn't covered in bruises and scrapes, she felt like lying there, letting the day pass her by and forgetting what transpired up to this point in time.

She could really use a nap.

Footsteps below her turned her gaze toward the dai-bakemono as he strolled toward her, cutting down ashigaru and samurai who got in his way. "You and your goddess dared smash your way into my outpost, slaughter my men, and cut our priests off from our god?!" she heard him snarl as he finally stopped at her feet. Even if she managed to roll out of any downward slash he launched, Jingu doubted she would successfully evade the follow-up.

"Now die like the scum you are!" he roared as he hefted his no-dachi over his head. Beneath her, the tremors got so strong that she was practically bouncing. Nearby, everyone was looking upward.

* Shwuuuaaaaaah! *

The tower erupted as a huge fireball slammed into it.

Jerking his head up at the distraction, the dai-bakemono swore moments before a massive hand clamped around his body and picked him up. Gingerly standing up, Jingu watched as Amaterasu raised the outpost lord to her face, her golden eyes hard as topaz. The dai-bakemono screeched a string of blasphemies moments before the goddess crushed him like a doll, Blood spewed out of his mouth in a crimson jet that splashed onto her brow. The goddess didn't even flinch.

"GORA-SAN!" someone wailed.

Moving her bloody hand to the side, Amaterasu opened it and allowed the mangled corpse to fall to the ground with a sickening thud. She then directed her gaze over the nearly silent battlefield, the enemy shrinking whenever her eyes fell on them.

"This outpost is now the property of the Dawn Coalition!" she announced as she held Nightkiller over her head with one hand. Charred portions of her cloak of boughs had fallen away, revealing pieces of her bare, nubile body. The other hand was already wiping blood off her forehead, smearing some of the substance. "Anyone who wishes to continue contesting it is welcome to keep fighting. However, that would only end badly for you! Otherwise, drop your weapons and you will be spared!"

For a moment, the bakemono looked as if they were going to resist. Finally, one of them let go of his spear, letting it thump onto the dirt. Another set of weapons fell to the ground which encouraged even more to join them until slowly a cascade of clattering metal spread throughout the sullen ranks of the Shinuyamese. The sounds were soon drowned out by thunderous cheers as the Coalition warriors realized they had just won their first battle against a foe none of them anticipated fighting let alone prevailing against.

A part of her screamed at the goddess' frustrating leniency. The bakemono and their human allies should be held accountable for the disrespect shown to the corpses of brave Jomonese warriors and for abuses done to Jomon in general. They should be punished accordingly, preferably at the hands of their victims.

However, the rest of her didn't seem to care even as her bruises began to ache and the adrenaline rush ceded. She was too tired anyway and she too was enraptured by this achievement, basking in the glory of a dream come true.

Father and her ancestors now have a reason to celebrate.

The clanking of armor turned Jingu's attention to her left, Kaze already prepared to strike. With a tired smile, Oba presented Kaen to his liege, who all but snatched the katana out of his hand. Grimacing in pain, the bodyguard's eyes drifted to her prosthesis. "I told you it would've been better had you fitted a stabbing implement onto that prosthesis," he chided softly.

Jingu resisted the urge to look away like an abashed child. Nevertheless, her cheeks reddened. "I really looked stupid when that spinning katana trick backfired, did I?"

Oba tried to chuckle, only to suck in a sharp breath, perhaps due to a broken rib or two. "B... better to be embarrassed than dead, my liege. I would prefer that you heed my advice next time though. Misato stands a greater chance of being a lot more dangerous than that dai-bakemono we just fought if she finds out about your death."

With a sigh, Jingi looked at Kaze, counting the chips and scratches on the blade's edge. "Perhaps I should give Kaze a rest for the time being. Kaen will just have to deal with it."

Oba looked torn between amusement and frustration. He merely settled for a noncommittal grunt. Sheathing her weapon, Jingu looked around. The bakemono and Shinuyamese humans were herded to impromptu enclosures as a few ashigaru gathered the weapons and the curved boards they dropped. Survivors were likewise escorted from the second tower, averting their gaze from both Amaterasu and the burning remains of the first tower. Amaterasu surveyed the rest of the outpost though most of her gaze focused on the temple on the other side.

"Let's go find the other daimyo," Jingu finally said as she turned back to her bodyguard. "We may still have pockets of resistance plus I'd like to take a look at the bakemono's strange weapons. I'm just going to beat Shiba-san to the punch by saying that they can prove useful against the Big Three and Shinigami."

An eager smile stretched across Oba's face. "Lead the way."

""""""""""""""""""""""""

There were indeed several more pockets of resistance. Fortunately, the goddess' wrath persuaded them to reconsider, at least those who survived. All that remained were the bakemono priests themselves. Jingu understood that they could be dangerous due to being able to call their god's power down upon enemies. Fortunately, being cut off from Shinigami's Dominion made them just as effective as old men against young soldiers, though the dai-bakemono high priest among them needed additional... persuasion.

As the priests were rounded up and gathered next to the temple, wagons carrying supplies for the attackers entered the outpost and arrived at the mustering square. Reaching into one of them, Amaterasu pulled out her robes just as Jingu helped her warriors load spoils into any wagon that had room. Nearby, several of the spear-throwing engines were being disassembled and loaded into additional wagons the attackers found throughout the outpost.

To the surprise of everyone, Amaterasu tore off her cloak of boughs.

Every mouth in the vicinity dropped open as the goddess slipped on her undergarments and skirt, oblivious to the silence and the heavily blushing faces. Even the bakemono were stunned. The only sounds present were the grumble of the oxen.

"Um, your Divinity?" Only Jingu possessed the will to speak. Her face too was a ripe tomato.

"Yes, Jingu?" the goddess replied with the nonchalance of someone ordering tea as she fastened the drawstrings of her skirt before slipping on her socks.

"You know you're dressing in front of hundreds of men, right?"

"And?"

Jingu blinked at the tone of that response. Either the goddess was teasing her or she just didn't care. "It's a bit, how should I put it-."

"Strange?" Amaterasu grunted as she slipped on her sandals and moved on to her kimono and sash. A smirk that could loosely be interpreted as mischievous appeared on her face. "My family and I dress in front of each other all the time even before we drifted apart. Besides, the nude body is nothing to be ashamed of even if you have... insecurities."

Jingu was so taken aback that she had to force herself to continue. "Th... that's not what I mean, your Divinity. Most people don't undress and dress in public, particularly women."

"Humans and their sensibilities." Chuckling, Amaterasu slipped on her robe and turned to look at Jingu. "I've encountered cultures where women wore dresses that revealed their breasts and men wore articles of clothing that enhanced their manly assets. I know a thing or two about the so-called 'universality' of propriety, which many mortals are convinced to be anything other than the social construct it truly is."

Clearly such cultures lacked Jomon's honor and decency, Jingu wanted to say. Instead, she replied, "Well, I'm sure they have their reasons."

"I bet they do," the goddess tilted her head as everyone slowly resumed their tasks, talking vigorously among themselves. "I'll keep it in mind should I feel the urge to suddenly undress in public." Jingu never imagined that this otherwise authoritarian goddess could possess such mirth.

The goddess motioned toward the temple. "I'm going to go take a look. You're welcome to accompany me if you wish."

Nodding, Jingu followed the goddess to the religious structure. A large wooden structure placed on a foundation of interlocking stones and earth, the temple was almost the same size as Hitoshima Village's tenshu. Stone statues of sages and nine-tailed foxes guarded the outer perimeter. Two particularly large statues of women with nine fox tails flanked the entrance, each wielding a naginata in one hand and beckoning would-be visitors with the other.

Kitsune, a helpful part of her brain identified.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the goddess continued as she kneeled beside one of the kitsune statues. "My brother, Tsukuyomi, has always been infatuated with the moon as well as foxes of every breed. One could say that Father imprisoning him on the moon has quite the touch of irony."

"Somebody is using what your brother loves as symbols of some kind," Jingu pointed out. "Isn't that strange?"

Amaterasu finally stood up. "Perhaps. After all, it can't be Tsukuyomi himself. Only Father, Susanoo, and I knew he was sent to the moon. Even so, the seals would've been stronger than the ones that imprisoned me in Ama-no-Iwata on account there would've still been enough magic around to fuel them back then. You would need, let's say, at least ten times the priests you used to free me, praying over the course of a few months to liberate Tsukuyomi."

Jingu gazed at the statues before turning back to the goddess. "Do you think Shinigami is actually a friend of Tsukuyomi, that all of these full moons and nine-tailed foxes are his way of honoring him and keeping his memory alive?"

The goddess shrugged. "Who knows? Given what you'd just fought outside this outpost, Shinigami could also be adept in death magic and those kinds of people tend to live for hundreds of years. He would have definitely been Tsukuyomi's friend back then,

Jingu took a few steps back so that she could view the entire temple in its magnificence. "You're right, this is a beautiful temple, your Divinity. What the bakemono lacked in accountability, they make up for in architecture."

A sad smile appeared on the goddess' face. "True, yet this temple must be destroyed."

Jingu's jaw hung loose. "What?"

"It must be destroyed," Amaterasu repeated. "You remember our conversation on the nature of my Dominion?" Jingu nodded.

"Though the Bond of Belief connects me to all of you, the strands that latch onto the clergy are thicker according to their ranks and even thicker concerning temples, Disciples, and Prophets. That's why I'm able to hear their prayers and entreaties much more readily than those of the masses and why they alone can directly call down my power."

Amaterasu licked her lips. "Of course, one of the side effects of our connections is that you all get, how do I say it, 'tainted' by the influence of my Dominion. That's what makes you truly mine though you will find that enemy Dominions disagree with your existence, strongly."

Jingu reflected on eyewitness accounts of those who once opposed the Coalition. They spoke of feeling oppressed by the sun and of strength being sapped from their limbs, among other things. Even spellcasters spoke of how difficult and exhausting casting spells became.

"Fortunately, mortals and gods alike possess free will and thus can rid themselves of this 'taint' by renouncing their faith in their godly overseer. Temples; however, don't have that luxury for obvious reasons and thus must be destroyed to get rid of the taint lest they continue to exude their god's Dominion."

Jingu took a moment to digest this information. "Is there no way to... rededicate temples to yourself?"

"Only if the god in whose name the temple was built no longer exists. Another workaround is to make the god in question my Disciple, in which case their taint will be replaced by my taint. Unfortunately, Shinigami is still around and we don't have the luxury of Shinuyama suddenly forgetting he exists or for him to surrender to me, at least not without ample encouragement. Until I find a way to be able to use foreign temples in my name without jumping through such hoops, they are more useful to me as construction materials if not kindling."

Before Jingu could respond, Amaterasu turned away from the temple. "I think we've drooled over our prize long enough. Let's go convince those priests to have a change of faith."

The bakemono priests stepped back somewhat as the goddess walked over to them, the ropes that bound their hands together creaking. The lone dai-bakemono, who Jingu judged to be the high priest given his more elaborate vestment and jewelry, tried to put up a brave front yet the occasional tremor betrayed his true emotional state. His staff thumped nervously on the cobblestones

Amaterasu squatted next to the priest and looked into his eyes, the latter seeming to resist the urge to avert his gaze. Jingu almost pitied his unease. "You must be the high priest of this outpost, am I correct?"

The dai-bakemono swallowed hard, then took a deep breath. "Yes, that is correct," he replied, his surprisingly lilting voice ringing out tentatively.

"And what is your name?" the goddess inquired.

"Shiro Matsunaga."

The goddess blinked. "That's quite strange, Matsunaga. Your given name resembles the family names I've come across in Jomon."

"That's because it is a family name. In Shinuyama, the province I mean, our names are written and spoken given name first and surname last."

"Ah, just like in many kingdoms in the West."

Several of the Jomonese muttered. Jingu's eyes narrowed. Just how strange is their culture that such a naming order would even be created in the first place?

Amaterasu stood up. That warm smile of hers seemed to soften even the nervousness and fear of the defeated foes. "I've had a feeling that Shinuyama is a lot more different than Jomon and perhaps the other sister provinces, Shiro. I would love to visit your homeland someday."

"More likely, Shinuyama will visit you and I don't think you would like the encounter, goddess," Shiro managed a sneer, gathering whatever bravado still remained.

"I suspect they will try but that is neither here nor there," the goddess tilted her head. "What matters is where you will stand."

Standing up, Amaterasu turned her golden gaze to the rest of the priesthood. "In fact, I will extend my offer not only to you Shiro but to the rest of your underlings. As members of the clergy, you are well aware of your failures to be the spiritual shepherds this province needs. You stayed in your outpost, fattening yourselves on the pickings of robbers and tyrants instead of ensuring that your fellow Shinuyamese stayed on the path of righteousness. I don't think your god actually condones the things you've done or allowed to happen given what is said about him but that is irrelevant now. You all have neglected your duties as the moral guides of the overseers of Jomon but there is one way you can redeem yourselves."

Jingu's heart nearly skipped a beat. Her Divinity can't possibly be serious!

"I want you all to renounce your faith in Shinigami and submit to me. Sure you won't be allowed to neglect your duties ever again but you shall become a part of something even grander than you'd ever imagined. You have all felt the disappearance of the Pantokrator in your very beings, I know you have! Any god who would neglect his own provinces due to self-pity is not fit to guide you all in the coming Ascension War! Too much bad blood would've been created between the god and his followers, paving the way to revolution and treachery when unity is needed the most! Join me and become the priests you should've been!"

The bakemono priests exchanged perplexed murmurs among themselves as the Jomonese looked on with various expressions. With harsh eyes, Shiro turned to his subordinates. "Remember your loyalties, my kin. We will serve the Mage Emperor and no one else!"

Mage Emperor? Jingu wondered as she thought back to coming across the name in history books. Much like 'Shinigami' it is a nickname but is typically used by the bakemono themselves. Apparently, whoever wrote those books likely thought it was sacrilegious to use the god's real name or somehow didn't know it, which was strange given that he liberated Jomon and her sisters from their oni warlords shortly after the disappearance of Izanagi. How could not one source of information be able to pry that from the mists of history remained a mystery.

Unfortunately, there's no point in taking a trip to Shinuyama to find out; the bakemono border guard will only let foreigners and their own countrymen out of the province, likely to keep their abuses a secret.

"Remember that you all are only permitted to decide for yourselves, Shiro," Amaterasu responded firmly.

The dai-bakemono whirled back toward the goddess as he recovered his courage, his greenish-gray face flushed with fury and scorn. "As the head of this outpost's priesthood, I have the right to choose for my subordinates, you foul goddess! I speak for all of them!"

"No, you do not."

Gasps rang out as everyone focused on a bakemono who separated himself from his brethren. His face was wrinkled with trepidation, yet his eyes nearly matched Shiro's in hardness. "I will choose for myself, Shiro-san."

Shock washed some of the fury from the dai-bakemono's face. Near the offending priest, many of his peers cast dirty looks his way, yet others craned their necks to listen. "Wh-why are you doing this, Hirohito-san?" he asked, his tone somewhat less harsh.

Jingu cringed at the mention of the bakemono's name.

Hirohito swallowed. "Don't you get it? It's clear that karma is biting us in our collective asses for robbing these people. We brought all of this on ourselves by shirking our duties. We cannot continue living like this!"

Anger returned full force. Shiro began to growl. "I know we allowed Gora-san and the lord of the other outpost to tax the Hungry Valley into famine multiple times but what gives you the right to betray your own god, the god you as a priest swore to serve for the rest of your life?!"

His own anger welling up inside of him, Hirohito stomped a foot onto the ground. "I'd just had an epiphany, okay?! His Divinity and Prophetess Hitomi are absolutely clueless about what's going on here! If they really cared, they would at least have sent a kitsune or two to keep an eye on things from time to time, not leave us to our devices!"

"That didn't seem to concern you when you signed up to be deployed here, you fucking hypocrite!" the dai-bakemono howled, taking a threatening step toward his priest. The grip on his staff tightened. The other bakemono priests inched away from Hirohito. Overhead, Amaterasu bent her legs as she leaned toward Shiro, a hand coiled back like a viper

"I get it! I know I sound like a bakemono who would betray his god just to save his own skin, but..." A lump was forcibly shoved down Hirohito's throat. The last of the anger burned from Hirohito's face, only to be replaced by a mask of anguish. "I'm scared, okay?! Ever since we sensed the Pantokrator's disappearance, I'd been wondering when fire and death would finally descend onto this province! Did the Mage Emperor send word to us at least weeks after the Pantokrator had left? No! It's almost been a year and not one godsdamned messenger has been sent to prepare us for yet another Ascension War! We might as well not have existed!"

Good thing Hirohito doesn't know about the emissary, otherwise he may just remember that he is supposed to be loyal to his faraway master, Jingu thought dryly.

"Listen here, you craven dog!" the dai-bakemono snarled bestially as he stomped closer to Hirohito, a meaty finger leveled at his face as he stopped just a few steps away. "You are going to recant your imprudent words. You are going to pray to His Divinity and beg for forgiveness for betraying him or, so help me, I'm going to wring your puny neck!"

"You will be burned to ashes before you even tried, Shiro." Amaterasu simply said, yet everyone instinctively leaned away from the goddess as if she were yelling. The air heated up slightly as Shiro grudgingly put some distance between himself and his wayward priest.

The goddess straightened. "While we're in no hurry to continue our campaign against the Big Three today, we must rest from the fighting, thus your debate concerning where you stand must be expedited."

Amaterasu motioned to a spot to her right. "Hirohito, since you want to defect to me, you will stand over here. Anyone who wishes to join him can do so as well. The rest can remain where they are."

Swallowing, Hirohito circled around Shiro beyond arm's reach and arrived next to the goddess. Jingu watched as the bakemono priests chattered with each other. Some even looked distressed by what their conversational partners just said. Shiro also watched them with the intensity of a dour nanny searching for wayward children.

One by one, bakemono priests started leaving their brethren and joining Hirohito and Amaterasu. Anguished wails rang out from those who chose to remain with Shiro. One of them even grabbed the sleeves of one of the defectors and tried to pull him back into the fold. With a harsh rebuke, the bakemono shoved him hard, pushing him to the ground in a heap of cloth and curses.

Of the fifty or so priests who served this outpost, eighteen including Hirohito himself stood by Amaterasu's side.

The goddess looked absolutely disappointed by the turnout. Jingu couldn't understand why she even cared so much or what she was expecting. These bakemono only have loyalty for Shinigami and their own protruding bellies after all. What did the goddess even see in such shameful creatures anyway?

"Shiro," Amaterasu finally said, her eyes pleading. "As a clergyman, especially a high priest, you understand just how sensitive your Bond with your god is compared to the masses you are supposed to serve. You know just how receptive he will be to your prayers. As long as your hearts are still with him, you and your brothers in faith are still a threat even underneath my Dominion. I want you to reconsider."

The dai-bakemono puffed out his chest as he glared into the goddess's eyes, thumping his staff. "These wonderful priests and I have already made our decision. Imprisonment or hard menial labor, it doesn't matter so as long as we remain loyal to Shinuyama. Do your worst." The loyalists voiced their affirmations as the defectors' faces became masks of lead.

Amaterasu simply stared at him for a few seconds before whipping her head toward the assembled Jomonese. "Warriors!" she snapped.

Jingu quickly stood to attention. What is Amaterasu-dono planning to do?

The goddess leveled a finger directly at Shiro and his group of loyalists. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as her eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds before reopening. The twin discs of gold were now void of gentleness and mercy.

"Put them to death."

The bakemono howled and screamed as they squished against each other. Ashen-faced, the Jomonese gritted their teeth and launched themselves at the loyalists, a pack of wolves besetting a flock of sheep. Outstretched hands and cries for mercy were met with cruel iron and leaden hearts. Puddles of gelatinous blood flopped onto the cobblestones. Even the defectors protested the slaughter.

"These are priests, your Divinity! Why must they die?!" Jingu heard herself squeal.

Screeching like an animal, Shiro knocked samurai and ashigaru aside with his staff even as each attack earned him deep wounds. Unfortunately, his rampage brought him closer to Amaterasu. Jingu's heart sank at the sight of the massive foot hovering above the dai-bakemono's head.

* Kruench! *

Shiro practically folded in on himself as Amaterasu stomped on him. Several of the defectors screamed when their former superior's blood landed on them. Jingi barely suppressed a scream when a glob of blood bounced off her cheek.

Hirohito ran over to Shiro's badly mangled body and collapsed to his knees beside it just as the last of the loyalists were finished off. He buried his face in his shaky hands and moaned as everyone looked on. "I... I'm so sorry, Sh...Shiro-san. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Oh why, why, why?!"

"Shiro has chosen his allegiance and thus his fate," Amaterasu answered coldly. "As a priest, you understand why I cannot permit him or his fellow loyalists to leave here alive."

Amaterasu turned to the rest of the assemblage. "The Bonds of Belief between the clergy and their god are many times more sensitive than those connecting the laity! That is why they are known as conduits of their god's will and intercessors on behalf of the masses! Had I let this group go, they would not just flee to the nearest outpost. They will try to contact Shinigami to warn him of my existence. Such is their Bond and their numbers that even under my strengthened Dominion, he will become more likely to hear them! I need not tell you how doomed the Coalition will be as a result."

"I've been with you all for nearly a year now and I've noticed how well you regard the priesthood. Regardless of what side they blessed, you had gone out of your way to keep them safe. Even these bakemono priests received your mercy, no matter how much they neglected their duties. I understand just how deeply your near blasphemous act cuts into your conscience."

Taking a deep breath, the goddess continued in a tone that brimmed with steel. "However, this is only the first of a series of brutal lessons you will learn about the nature of an Ascension War and I will make sure to have what I say here inscribed into the Jomon Shoki. My father taught me that this kind of war is unlike anything you've ever fought before, dwarfing even the petty wars you fought among yourselves before my release from Ama-no-Iwato. Shinigami may have done the impossible by keeping your ancestors out of the previous war but the cost is valuable combat and diplomatic experience and knowledge that could've been leveraged this time around. You will have to learn everything from scratch."

"Land, wealth, titles, and other spoils of war will not be the only prizes you will be fighting for in this Ascension War and they aren't even the most important. You will be fighting for the hearts and souls of entire kingdoms and empires and many of them won't capitulate so easily nor will they forget or forgive so quickly! You will be fighting against cultures, doctrines, and ideologies others will give their all, including their own lives, to defend! Madmen will lead hordes of slavering fanatics against you, each of them convinced that doing unspeakable things to you will grant them a place in paradise after death! They will lie and claim that you will violate their children and burn their elders alive, convincing their citizens to bury you in a tide of bodies or take their own lives en masse rather than accept surrender! You will find your swords coated in the blood of thousands of priests and misguided innocents!"

Many of the warriors blanched as they contemplated what they'd gotten themselves into. Even the bakemono looked stunned. Hirohito leaned on another bakemono as he wiped tears from his face.

Jingu didn't know she was breathing fast until Oba placed a hand on her shoulder. The bodyguard looked perturbed by the execution of the loyalist priests, yet he barely heeded the goddess' speech. Grabbing his hand, Jingu gave him a silent thanks before turning back to the goddess.

So Saburo was right, she finally thought. What did she bring Jomon into by freeing the goddess?

"Regardless of whether you freed me or not, "Amaterasu continued as if reading Jingu's mind. "All of this began when the Pantokrator disappeared. Every god including myself has come out of the woodwork to stake our claims on the title of the One True God! The fate of the world will be decided by whoever remains standing. As my father said, in an Ascension War, there can be only one winner-"

Amaterasu suddenly gave a loud grunt as she clutched her head. Alarmed, everyone backed away as the goddess continued to howl. Some were even whirling around toward every building as if expecting an attack. Even Jingu instinctively reach for her katana.

What's going on? What is happening to the goddess?!

From Amaterasu's perspective; however, the sudden attack took on a wholly different meaning. The vision came in flashes of pain and shock, showing glimpses of silver and white. It finally settled on a great silver three-tiered fortress. A white bird alighting on a three-tiered fountain was painted on the face of its bottom tier.

Suddenly, gnawed, black thorny vines erupted out of the ground around the fortress. Like the tentacles of the great Kraken, they curled around the structure and squeezed. The fortress held for a few seconds before it finally sagged like an old man submitting to death's embrace. Crenelations and towers tumbled as the silver monolith folded in on itself, crumbling to a massive ruin in a great crash.

Trees with obsidian bark and charcoal leaves sprang up from the ruins, sending blocks of stone careening off into the distance. The black forest spread from the ruined fortress like a voracious mold, consuming the surrounding verdant lands as it raced for the horizon. Clanging and grunts rose into the air as if hundreds of blacksmiths were hiding within that foul canopy, hammering away at armor and other panoplies of warfare.

As the synchronized cacophony slowly built up to a crescendo, a sinister ringing filled Amaterasu's ears as a crimson light flooded the scene. Looking up, the goddess beheld a crescent moon, red like a bleeding wound on the skin of Reality itself. A stream of blood poured from its lower arm.

Following the blood down, Amaterasu's eyes widened when she saw what it landed on, The black vines had gathered pieces of the fortress together and held them together underneath the moon to be drenched by the blood.

The amalgamation strongly resembled an anvil.

Amaterasu shuddered when she sensed a presence exactly the same time it noticed her. Though she knew this entity had never been part of the Source before, Amaterasu knew there was something off about this former mortal. As if privy to her thoughts, the newly ascended deity seemed to smile, her blood-tinged aura hinting at something long-lived and far more predatory than the human she once was. Snippets of her thoughts drifted into Amaterasu's mind and the goddess caught glimpses of her motivations and desire for the world at large.

So much cruelty, begging for release, all driven by a mother's vengeance and a queen's delusions of grandeur.

Rising above the din of clanging hammers, the grunts became more coherent as the 'smile' seemed to deepen. Amaterasu's blood chilled as she thought of a kingdom far to the north, a land ruled by fearsome warrior priests who sought the secrets of forging a metal much more durable than anything even the swordsmiths of Yomi could ever dream of fashioning. None of them knew just what horrors their descendants would help forge for the rest of the world.

"ULM! ULM! ULM! ULM! ULM! ULM! ULM! ULM!"

"Your Divinity!" a girl's voice called out.

Amaterasu blinked as she found herself back inside the bakemono outpost. Every pair of human and bakemono eyes followed her every movement. She relaxed slightly as the pain subsided yet her encounter with the presence weighed heavily on her mind. To add even more tension, Amaterasu looked at the orientation of the sun and realized she had unwittingly turned northeast. Barely peeking through the light of the afternoon sun, a faint crimson glow marred the distant skies like a bruise.

It was a harbinger of blood and eternal night.

"Are you alright, your Divinity?" someone below her asked. It was Jingu. The young daimyo looked both concerned and scared.

"I'm fine Jingu, thank you," the goddess finally said as she turned back to the gathering. "Just now, I'd just sensed a new goddess entering the fray! More will reveal themselves in time. What I promise you is that our struggles against the Big Three and Shinigami will be a fight between children in comparison to the coming Ascension War! Kingdoms will be shaken and gods and mortals alike will die in droves! Learn everything you can from all of this for there will be harsh lessons ahead!"

Faces paled at the revelation. A few limbs trembled here and there. Even the bakemono looked even more frightened. His face a mask of resignation, Hirohito approached Amaterasu as eyes followed him. Stopping a few meters from her feet, the bakemono priest prostrated himself before the goddess.

"I don't rightly know what will become of all of us or if we will even live to see the end of this war," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "However, if you are more likely to do something about it than the god I once swore fealty to, then I hereby renounce my allegiance to him and submit myself to you, your Divinity."

Amaterasu sighed in mild pleasure as a Bond formed between Hirohito and herself. A weary smile appeared on her face. "I accept your submission. You will be honored as if you were born Jomonese."

Jingu did not pay attention when the other bakemono priests took turns swearing fealty to Amaterasu. Instead, the young daimyo looked in the same direction the goddess looked. The sinister glow filled her heart with dread that felt many times worse than when she fought in her first battle. She felt like a doe being regarded from a distance by the stalking tiger.

When she freed the goddess, she only did so to end the bloodshed between her fellow Jomonese, defeat the Big Three, and drive out the bakemono from the province. This Ascension War the clergy and historians often spoke of was only a distant concern relevant to the foreigners and their strange and barbaric ways.

Now she felt as if she was standing at the very edge of a bottomless pit and didn't know when, not if, she would be shoved from behind.

"Father, our esteemed ancestors. please lend me your strength," she prayed. Beside her, Oba watched impassively, his face mirroring her sentiments. "I don't know when I would ever enjoy true peace or even what would become of us should we get swept into this war."