Worry and panic crushing his heart, Ariyama practically sobbed as he gripped at Yaranagi, praying that there was some way to escape, for everything to go back to normal.

The crashing grew closer and closer.

“SAATO, LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

Yaranagi's voice cracked under the pressure.

There was a shift of movement to Ariyama's left.

The knight.

Shit, it was the knight.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Not the knight, please no.

When Yaranagi spoke, his voice was calmer than Ariyama had ever heard before.

“Saato, I'm sorry.”

The knight came barrelling for them, his joints groaning with age, its huge sword swinging, slashing with a sharp whistle through the air.

“NO!”

The voice came from Matsune, who also came flying through the air, purple chain lashing out to catch the knight. Still, its sword swung down at Ariyama and Yaranagi.

Instinctively, Ariyama squeezed his eyes shut.

But the impact never came.

Breathing heavily, his tongue a dry and heavy thing in his mouth, Ariyama slowly cracked his eyes open.

He had also pulled Yaranagi when he thought the sword was going to cut through them both, and now suddenly Yaranagi felt so much lighter in his grip.

Ariyama looked.

He was still holding Yaranagi's right arm.

His blood froze in his veins.

He was holding Yaranagi's right arm.

And nothing else.

He flung the disembodied limb away, unable to find his voice. He scrambled onto his hands and knees, peering over the ledge, into the chasm Yaranagi had fallen through.

And sure enough, Ariyama saw him. Nothing more than a silhouette, Yaranagi's body was falling down the massive gap in the floor, blood trailing from where his right arm should have been.

And after being in view for just a moment, Yaranagi's shadowed body disappeared from view.

Ariyama didn't even notice the mad battle waging just a dozen meters from him, between the raging stone knight and the disheveled Matsune, still desperately clinging on to the chance at victory. He could even notice the way his stomach churned violently, and he threw up all over the floor again before he knew it.

He wailed like an infant, his fists pounding on the hard ground, again and again, drawing blood that covered his knuckles in red.

No, no, no, was what his mind was saying.

He gritted his teeth, feeling them dig into his gums, the pain in his mouth an attempt to mask the pain he felt flooding through his whole body, from his legs to his temple.

Yaranagi was gone. He was probably dead.

His best friend… dead.

Ariyama suddenly went rigid, as all their memories came flushing back into him. Memories of even boring days, where they would meet together by the park, eating ice cream and drinking a soda. Just chatting, acting bored and wishing the day would move on. But right now, Ariyama wished he could've stayed in that moment for an eternity.

Because at that moment, Yaranagi was still alive.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, but instead of crying and screaming like he did when Takemichi got killed, Ariyama just fell back on his haunches and dropped his head in his hands.

He felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

Ariyama peered through the cracks in his fingers. To his left, Matsune got downed again by the stone giant, her bracelet coming loose off her wrist and skittering away. Just like that, she'd lost her one tool at fighting that monstrosity.

Ariyama from one day ago might have decided to play hero and rush in to save her, but Ariyama now?

He simply just didn't care. His limbs wouldn't move, his heart wouldn't stop burning, and his brain wouldn't stop malfunctioning.

Takemichi? Dead.

Jack? Probably dead too.

Yasami? Dead.

Yaranagi? Dead.

And now Matsune was about to join them, so why bother trying to delay the inevitable?

Ariyama didn't care to sacrifice himself either, as his own death would soon follow her’s, he was sure. No need to put in the extra effort if he was a dead man regardless.

And yet, Ariyama found a smidge of strength, somewhere deep inside him. Maybe it was just some miracle, maybe his prayers had been answered in some way. Or maybe it was just a stroke of luck.

There was no God with him to save him now.

With that hint of strength, Ariyama let out an agonized groan as he found his way to his feet.

As the stone knight strode over to finish off Matsune, Ariyama began to walk.

He didn't know how far or for how long he walked – or hobbled, really – but he used nearly every last punch of that excess strength, just walking away, even when he said he didn't want to delay the inevitable.

Was it that his body wanted to survive, in spite of what his mind said?

Then someone bumped into him.

He had noticed something stumbling towards him, from that layer of yellow spore gas that had finally begun to lift from the other side of the huge room.

Silver hair.

Terrified, purple eyes.

Huh, it seems Jack Hayakawa wasn't dead after all.

But he sure was pissing himself of fear.

His face was still stained with bruises and dried blood from his beatdown, courtesy of Ariyama and that other dead guy. His lip quivered and his shoulders shook as he stared Ariyama directly in the eyes, his hands bunched in his shirt.

The Jack Ariyama once knew wouldn't have been caught dead in such a weak and vulnerable position.

Fear seemingly changed everyone.

“A-Ariyama… Please, man, you have to help me. That gas… It made me pass out and now I feel all tingly, especially in my head… Look, I'm sorry for everything, OK? My life had been nothing but shit the whole way through, and the only way I could find any outlet was through hurting others. I'm sorry. I'll change and I'll do whatever to atone for what I've done, just please, save me…”

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His eyes welled up with tears.

“Please, Ariyama. I don't want to die–”

Jack paused, his words cut from his throat, as there was a loud, sickening crunch. And Jack Hayakawa fell forward, right into Ariyama's arms, a huge hole having exploded outwards from the back of his head.

So, scratch that, he was dead too.

But Ariyama really just didn't give a damn.

Desensitised, he let Jack's ruined body fall gracelessly to the rough stone beneath them.

Throat constricted.

Tears running down his cheeks.

Limbs weighed down with his anguish.

Brain nothing but static noise.

All Ariyama could feel was the hard stone under him, and all he could hear was the fuzziness in his brain, alongside the distant sounds of shrieking stone.

Face slack and eyes glazed over, his chest just moments from bursting in a fiery explosion, Ariyama looked around one last time.

Now that he knew Jack was truly dead, another thought crossed his mind.

It was only him and Matsune left.

Luckily, Odomura, Matsuragi and Koenji had left before they got to this hellhole, and Ariyama hoped they got out OK.

But Takemichi, Yasami, Yaranagi and Jack were all dead, fed to the beasts of this ‘Shrine’ like food for an animal.

All their lives, which had many years left for all of them, were snuffed out so easily.

What was Ariyama going to do?

He was almost certain he was going to die here, but if he survived, what next?

Could he really go back to normal after seeing all this?

No way in Hell.

So, if that was the case, the best thing for him to do would be to walk up to that knight and let it cut him down–

“PLEASE, ARIYAMA! HELP ME!”

That voice.

It snapped Ariyama out of his dark thoughts, even for a moment. He looked over to the source of the scream, and saw Matsune Sasya crawling towards him. She had lost her bracelet – he'd seen that – but now he also saw the way her right leg was twisted awkwardly, clearly broken from her struggle with the knight.

And she was crying.

Her face was dirty and bruised, her expensive cost torn and stained. And thick tears ran down her face, her voice hitching with sobs as she called out to him.

Behind her, the knight rose to its feet. A large piece of its massive saber had been torn off, and a lot more cracks and gashes riddled its armor. Its left hand was missing four fingers as well.

Mausne had done some damage, but now that she was unarmed, there was nothing she could do.

And now she was desperate, even if Ariyama couldn't do anything. And she knew that.

“I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! PLEASE!”

Her voice.

It was always so calm and cheerful.

But now… it was torn and fearful, as she called out for help from the last person who could do anything for her.

Ariyama was useless, after all. He didn't have anything to help…

The sword.

An image of the broken blade lit up in his mind. Ariyama had to get to it, before that knight got to Matsune.

His body was engulfed with a spark of feeling. A spark of determination. As he looked at Matsune, and looked at her terrified face, he knew what he had to do.

“You can rest now. You've done enough. Let me take care of everything else.”

Ariyama spoke quietly, too quietly for Matsune to hear him, but he didn't care. He would save her.

He couldn't save anyone else, so please let him be able to save her at least.

Adrenaline pumping into his limbs for one final stand.

And despite the prices cut out of his heart, and the aching that he felt in his consciousness, Ariyama ran.

Matsune gasped in shock and pain as Ariyama bolted past her. The knight was right ahead of him. It turned its helm to the side slightly, a hint of confusion breaking through its beast-like countenance. Ariyama couldn't help but scream as he raced towards the hulking mass of rock.

It raised its sword, ready to swing a killing blow.

At the last moment, his breath catching in his throat, Ariyama dove under the thing's legs, its blade slashing the space he was at just moments before.

He rolled awkwardly, and stumbled to his feet, a pain jolting his shoulder. Now he could see the pedestal, with the sword hovering over it.

Ariyama didn't know exactly why he felt like that weapon would make such a difference, but at this point, what was there to lose?

As long as he could save Matsune, that's all he cared about.

He heard the groan of the knight and the suffering wails of the injured Matsune. It was almost upon her. But Ariyama was now at the foot of the half dozen steps up to the sword. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and the rest of his body, and took the steps two at a time, reaching the pedestal in three strides.

That warmth was there again. It was boiling him, drawing sweat to run across his brow. But it also gave him a weird sense of security. As if everything was going to be OK now.

It didn't matter. He was reaching for the sword now.

He touched it.

The rusted metal burning his flesh. And yet he held on. Not that he could've let go if he wanted to.

His hand was stuck gripping the handle, Ariyama roaring in pain as the burning rust scorched him.

Then he felt the heat run through his whole body instantly, until it reached his brain.

And he was drowned in a blinding white light.

Ariyama screamed, but his deaf ears gave him no feedback. He was weightless, falling endlessly through the world of white. He felt his hands flailing about in front of him, and yet all he saw was white.

Just white.

But his breathing was back to normal, at least. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He felt free, all the aches and pains gone and replaced with a pleasant – almost cozy – warmth that coated him.

He tried to close his eyes, and yet still saw the white of the bleached air.

But that was OK. It felt nice. He felt nice. Everything was nice.

Wake up.

A gasp came from a throat, and a boy sat up in a white chair, that was standing before a white table, surrounded by white walls, in a white room.

Ariyama realized that boy was him, and he was the one who sat up in a white chair, which was standing before a white table, surrounded by white walls, in a white room.

The whiteness blinded him, and he grimaced. That beautiful euphoria of falling calmly in a warm breeze was gone now, and Ariyama felt a lot more real.

He felt the chair against him, the ground beneath his feet, the sound of his breath, the feeling of his dried-out tongue in his mouth.

But the thing he felt the most was that presence. The presence of something invisible in the seat on the other side of the table. Since everything was bleached in this weird place, Ariyama found it nearly impossible to figure out what was what. And somehow he did it anyway.

How couldn't he?

When that presence opposite him came to life, an illuminated silhouette appeared sitting in the chair. It was the same white as everything else, but it was the most vivid to Ariyama's eyes.

Because that silhouette was him.

At least, it was his outline. The fuzzy lines of the thing's body made it blend into the background.

But somehow that didn't matter. He saw it – him – perfectly.

Hello.

And that was his silhouette speaking. It sounded like it was coming simultaneously from everywhere and inside his head.

It ached him.

Hello.

Was it repeating itself? Did that mean it wanted to communicate?

“Where am I?”

Ariyama responded.

The silhouette spoke again.

What is your name?

“Ariyama… Saato. Where am I?”

I will call you Saato. Why are you here?

“You're not answering me. Where... am… I?”

You are the one who called me.

“How?”

You touched the Enchanted Tool, Saato.

“The enchanted what now? You mean that sword?”

Yes. It is in fact a replica of my own.

'What is this room we're in?’

If I must guess, it would be our consciousness.

“Our? Not mine?”

Our. You touched the artifact and therefore we are connected. And so are our consciousnesses.

“Who are you?”

I am called the Silver Devil by some, the Son of Bleeding Rain by others. You may call me by my birth name; Idolseus.

“What kinda name is that?”

The name of a Great Pilgrim.

“What's that?”

You truly are clueless, aren't you, boy?

“I suppose so, yeah.”

Then I ask you: why did you touch the sword?

“To save my… friend.”

A valiant reason indeed, Saato.

“But can you help me?”

I can.

“Please. I don't know what you are, to be honest, but everyone else is dead. Except for me and her. Please help me rescue her.”

Very well. I will lend aid. There is but one requirement.

“Anything.”

Ariyama felt the smile of the silhouette, its fuzzy lines seemingly becoming more solid.

Become my Tribute.

“What's that?”

…

“I said," What is it?” I need to know before I make this deal.

A smart idea, Saato. But there's no need to worry. You can trust me with this… After all, your friend is on death's door. I can feel it.

Ariyama's heart raced. The thing, Idolseus, was right. The longer he spent wasting time here, the more certain Matsune's death became.

“I… O-OK, fine. I'll become your ‘Tribute’, Idolseus.”

The silhouette smiled again, and this time it got up off its chair and extended a hand to Ariyama.

You have made a great and terrible decision, boy.

Ariyama just gritted his teeth.

“I don't give a fuck. Just help me save her.”

He stood too, and took Idolseus’s hand, and everything went away.