She never told the others about what had happened in the village of Takano. That decision was for Rie, to protect her from an uncomfortable truth. It was also a mistake. When Rie and Kana came to her with questions about their new travelling companions, Lin recited a story where the Righteous had rescued the refugees from marauding pirates. That was enough to satisfy Rie, who was then far more concerned with imaginary enemies, but Kana wanted to know more. Her refusal to elaborate only served to fuel his curiosity.
He visited them for the first few days. The refugees, Fuu and the merchant among them, marched and camped at a distance from the rest of the company. Sometimes Rie followed him, asking as many questions as she could think of. Her words were met with ignorance at best, and at worst, hostility.
Lin had grown used to their stares. Rie had never been able to feel their spiteful weight. Such disgust surrounded the survivors of the Hollows that it formed an almost physical barrier able to deter most visitors. It was a barrier Rie couldn’t perceive, and one Kana cared little for. When silence failed, the refugees resorted to insults. Lin hadn’t been there when it happened, only learning of it later through Kana. Rie never mentioned the confrontation. The young Daimyō was far too forgiving, and she’d likely forgotten their cruel words the moment they’d been said. At least, that would appear to be the case on the surface. She was still a child, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
Rie met with the refugees again the following day, alone this time. Kana was weary as ever, always on the verge of falling asleep, never yielding to his body’s demands. That was the usual case, yet Rie avoided him that day, driven by some queer determination to prove herself. Perhaps she wanted to show her independence, or maybe she’d decided she could speak more freely in Kana’s absence. Whatever her reasoning, it wasn’t enough to justify endangering herself. Lin followed her silently.
The girl’s greeting to those who had insulted her was warmer than they deserved. A shakiness in her voice betrayed her confidence. She inhaled slowly, steadying her nerves. As she opened her mouth to speak again, she was interrupted by a glob of snotty saliva; the thick yellow-green slug of spittle ingrained itself into the white fibres of her dress. Of course, Rie had no idea what had landed on her. Her sympathetic address to the refugees had drowned out the sound of the act. A probing finger met with a stranger’s mucus. Lin was almost glad she couldn’t see the girl’s face.
If that had been the end of things, there would’ve been no need to intervene, but the act of aggression had stirred something in the others. Slurs were followed by threats, which erupted into violence. A woman in rags struck Rie across her face, and the little Daimyō tumbled awkwardly to the ground. She broke her fall with an outstretched hand. She also broke her wrist. When Lin reached them, the rag-clad woman suffered much the same.
There were no further attempts to fraternise with the refugees. Lin refused to allow it. Her curiosity had long since faded.
The Righteous continued their northward march. Spring’s blossoms soon melded into summer’s blooms, rejuvenating the ravaged coast with a surge of new life. Flowery scents tried to mask the smell of sun-bleached battlefields, and when the ocean came into sight, its sparkling waves were almost enough to distract from what rotted underfoot.
To the east stood the town of Shinkō. Reports from the front lines described overwhelming victories for Sen against the Jian pirates, and that this town was the Inlander’s final grip on the mainland. The scourge of the northern shores had brought under their battened sails a red tide of bloodthirst and savagery, but now faced the advance of an organised military. Together with the Righteous, General Mokuzai’s forces would sweep over Shinkō like a stampede, destroying every last trace of the foreign invaders. Lin had no wish to be among them. She’d spent close to a hundred nights in the consecrators’ company by now, sharing their food and fires as much as their hardships. There were times when she even seemed to be growing close to them, but her memories of the Grave Hollows were a sore reminder to keep her distance.
No further lives had been taken in her presence. She refused the Righteous their duty, and though they obeyed her commands, she could not control them indefinitely. The time was fast approaching for her to leave. Had she been alone, she’d have already disappeared, but caring for her friends made reaching the Clouded Sea a near-impossible undertaking. Kana’s condition varied day by day, from feverishly fatigued to a babbling nervous wreck. Rie was another body to monitor, another mouth to feed. Even still, Lin would never leave without them. Beyond Shinkō was their destination. Only with the help of the Righteous could they ever hope to find it.
The wind carried with it a smothering stench of death and sea salt to the ash-blackened cliffs high above. It was there that Lin stood, fingers fidgeting with a ring of carved rosewood as she observed the coastal town of Shinkō and the hopelessly one-sided battle devastating its populace. Nausea tugged at her stomach. Vertigo, she told herself, then pushed the thought away. Her half-hour of waiting would soon come to an end.
Resistance was not a word that could have labelled the panicked flailing of the Jian pirates as they scrambled to defend their final holdout. The defensive line established at the town’s outskirts had fallen within the first few minutes, leaving the remaining defenders to retreat into the unpaved streets where soldiers of Sen had blockaded their escape. They stumbled at the advance of enemy troops, wildly swinging their weapons without the conviction to strike. Bodies fell like crops to a scythe, some dead, most alive and writhing, their blood and waste saturating the sun-dried dirt. Firebombs and flintlocks lay waste to the town and its people with an efficiency of indifference that the traditional means of a sword or polearm could not.
Superior numbers and weapons aside, the presence of a Heavenly General was an excess of force in a battle already resembling a pitiless slaughter. Fuyuri Mokuzai had taken the shoreline of Shinkō with a detachment of twenty men with the sole intent of eliminating any route of escape- including the ocean itself. Those choosing to brave the tepid waves rather than perish alongside their comrades found themselves cut off from their presumed path to salvation and were quickly dispatched, the purity of the white sands blemished with the innards of the fallen.
Through the centre of the town ran a thin river estuary, perhaps only wide enough for five or six fishing boats to lay abreast. As their enemies pushed ever closer, many of the Jian pirates turned to those small vessels in a desperate bid for freedom. Their plans were short-lived. Volleys of fiery lead tore through their hulls and crew long before any could paddle out to sea.
“Has the Inlander appeared yet?” sounded the smooth voice of Akemi. She approached from behind, dressed like Lin and the others, in scarlet cloth bolstered with leather and black steel.
Biting the tip of her thumb, Lin replied without turning, “Look ahead with your own eyes. You’re capable of that much, aren’t you?”
Akemi poked her tattooed head into view and studied Lin’s face. “Are you upset, Lin? Have I done something to upset you?”
“No.”
The bald woman’s lips parted into a wide, toothy grin. “She’s upset with us, Yuki.”
The taller of the Saitō twins grunted. “Her stomach’s as soft as her heart.”
Another bout of nausea. Another twinge. Ignoring the others as best she could, Lin focused on her breathing until the feeling subsided. This isn’t good. Her head was spinning, her chest burning, her stomach tying itself into a knot. She was in no state to fight.
“You’re pale. Very pale. Is it the fire?” Akemi asked. “The blood? Or are you just afraid of heights?”
“She’s soft, like I said.” Yukihiro huffed. “The fighting’s getting to her. Lady Lavender lives in a land of moral make-believe with only peace and smiles under the shining sun. She wants to eat her meat without the gristle, but gristle’s all we’ve got.”
Lin looked at him. He flashed his yellowed teeth in a curled smile. Shifting his spear from his shoulder, he ran his tongue along its polished blade, never breaking contact with her gaze. She frowned. Yukihiro’s grin only widened. “I’m not upset with you,” she said. “Just ill.”
Akemi looked unusually shocked. “Can a Host even become ill?”
“Seems so.” Slipping a piece of salted lizard into her mouth, Lin returned her attention to the fighting below.
It was only after Shinkō’s centre had been breached that the Inlander appeared. The rolling momentum of Mokuzai’s army was halted in an instant. Lin choked on a mouthful of lizard. “It’s him,” she managed to say between staggered breaths, “It’s Okada.”
Akemi glanced between her and the town below, “Are you sure? I can’t make out anything from this distance.”
“My parasite can sense him. He’s just used his Mandate of Heaven.” Lin rose to her feet and took a moment to peer over the sheer cliff face. A harsh descent of stony teeth protruded from clumps of dying grass below, waiting patiently for her to lose her footing. She edged closer. The time for worrying had already passed.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Yukihiro stared with wide eyes. “Where do you plan on going? My father hasn’t given the order for you to interfere. Little Miss Mokuzai and her band of killers can handle the stragglers. Sit yourself down.”
Lin knocked his arm away. “Why are you talking?” Long, thorny vines erupted from the cliff face as she clenched her hand into a fist.
Yukihiro’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need a little girl’s permission to speak my mind. Step away from the edge.”
“Touch me again and you’ll be thrown to your death,” Lin promised, “Those boulders won’t cushion your fall.”
Without further exchange, she began hastily down the wall of newly grown vines. Their thorns folded like grass blades under her touch. The climb was hurried and brief, she had no time to concern herself with the wind tugging at her uniform nor the queasiness sapping her strength. Her mind was occupied entirely with a single thought.
All of them. They’re going to be consumed.
Lin had no memory of the Mandate of Heaven, of what it looked like nor what it was capable of. But she could feel it. It was as though the mark upon the Inlander’s skin had a physical pull that drew her inwards, and after laying eyes upon him, the sensation persisted even out of sight. The owner’s hatred echoed in her heart. His anger and grief were tangible, though it was his eager anticipation that shook her most strongly. Taneaki Okada intended for a massacre.
Lin leapt onto the dunes of earthy sediment below, dashing over rows of ore-veined boulders and cutting through the rear streets of Shinkō with a swiftness only fear could grant. Little resistance remained outside of the town’s centre. Very little of anything, in fact, other than scattered belongings of the inhabitants that had abandoned them only minutes before. Bowls of fresh fruit were left outside of a doorway, two cups sat half-filled beside them. A basket of freshly cut firewood lay with its contents spilling out in the middle of the earthen path. The sight was as if a phantom had spirited away the entire street. Lin might have been able to believe it too, had the air not been split with the nearby screams of agony and aggression. Her hand found the wooden hilt of her sword as she drew closer to the centre. She encountered only wounded stragglers at first, most writhing in the dirt. More blood covered the ground beneath them than filled their veins.
Mokuzai’s soldiers were just ahead. Their spearheads pierced the light armour of the pirates that wore it, and swords slashed effortlessly through the cheaply-woven cloth of those that didn’t. Homes and market stalls were sprayed with a red mist at every connecting strike. Lin’s own sword, though blunted, joined the flurry of blades as she cut her way deeper into Shinkō’s marketplace through any defenders unfortunate enough to block her path. Every breath tasted of blood and fish guts, of vomit, of human waste. She clenched her teeth and continued onward through the crowd. The Inlander was in sight.
The last of the opposition were held tightly within an encirclement. At the rear of his forces, Taneaki Okada defended the stairs of a great hall from any soldiers that managed to break the line. He was a large man, half as wide as he was tall, and handled his weighty axe effortlessly. Lin scanned the plaza with a darting glance. There was no space for a clear shot. The hall Okada defended was not an overly tall building, though its width stretched much of the marketplace and had a length near double that. Foundations of cobblestone and dark wooden pillars divided the segments of its white clay walls. She couldn’t push through the crowd, but if she could circle around, she could certainly climb over them.
Lin’s pace did not slow even as the Inlander’s formation crumbled. She could still sense the anticipation in his heart. He held absolute confidence in his victory, and whatever his plan for a counterattack, it was imminent.
A shallow gash opened across Lin’s hand as she approached the town hall. She winced and swung blindly in retaliation. Glancing around, she realised that there had been no attacker. Those closest were her allies, all of which were too preoccupied with the enemies at their front to concern themselves with the woman passing behind them. Her eyes fell upon the Inlander as he was cleaving his way through his latest challenger. We’re out of time, she realised. His counterattack has already begun.
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Nimble though she was, her muscles still strained to scale the wooden pillar onto the town hall. Its surface was rough and unpolished, and splinters tore at her soft palms. The pain was a triviality. All that mattered now was putting a sword through the heart of the man named Okada.
Flying across the rooftop, she jumped, body limber and sword held tightly in hands. The blade’s point pierced the Inlander’s unarmoured back. Her momentum drove it deeper still, until the sword was buried just short of its handle. The Inlander stood unmoving for a moment, regarding the steel poking through his front with nothing more than a dumbfounded stare. A horrible crack sounded as he finally crashed to his knees.
Something struck Lin’s stomach. She fell. A few seconds passed before she could scream. It was a guttural, drawn-out cry. She lay upon those stairs longer than she knew, clutching at her punctured abdomen in an attempt to staunch the blood. Her breathing was shallow and sharp. When she tried to raise her head, she saw only flashes in the darkness. Her eyes had already drifted shut.
Masses of flies buzzed about the dead, their plump black bodies darting back and forth, desecrating the fallen with their eggs. Fires roared and crackled; roofs collapsed in on themselves and brought their foundations to ruin. The town of Shinkō was crumbling.
“Under the reigning authority of Emperor Naga, I order you to identify yourself,” a woman’s voice boomed from the aether.
Lin did not stir. Her eyes were open, though she couldn’t truly process the sights before her. The constant sharpness through her core was a painful reminder that she hadn’t yet departed the realm of the living, and that single thought was enough to engross her entirely.
“Turn her over,” the woman ordered. A rigid pole was jammed into Lin’s ribs, rolling her onto her side. Half-awake, she glanced around, taking in the hellish view ahead of her.
Shinkō had become a bloody fen of corpses. Jian pirates and soldiers of Sen filled the soiled ground alike, all still, the colour of their skin drained to a grim and lifeless blue. A horrid blackness coated the bodies of those nearest to the fallen ruins. Crows gathered there now, drawn by the promising scent of burned and butchered flesh. Among the survivors, there were only a handful of soldiers, now picking over the dead.
Lin glanced up. Standing over her was a stern-faced woman in burnt orange steel and blue leather, with an escort of marksmen at her back. Her gloved hands held a greatsword, an ōdachi, its steel stained but gleaming. A metallic conical hat shaded her narrow eyes from the sinking sun. This was a Heavenly General of Sen, Fuyuri Mokuzai.
“Whoever you are, you’re losing blood. I don’t wish to waste whatever time you have left in this world by repeating the same question several times over. What is your name?”
Bringing away a warm and wet hand from her stomach, Lin gave her answer. “My name is Lin Ko.” It hurt terribly to speak.
A flicker of recognition passed over the General’s face. “Would you be so kind as to explain exactly what happened here, Miss Ko?”
Lin took a moment to collect herself. No answer came quickly, for she wasn’t entirely sure herself. “All that I can remember is putting a sword through the Inlander’s stomach.”
“Nothing else?” Mokuzai asked. Lin shook her head. The General stooped to her knees. “May I see your wound?”
Lin stared wordlessly for a moment, then pushed herself upright and parted her uniform. The material was matted with blood.
“A stab wound running cleanly through the abdomen, from the centre left of the spine to beneath the navel. A grievous wound. Curious, then, that there is not a scratch upon your clothing- almost as though a ghost blade had passed through you, breaking flesh but ignoring all else. Almost every corpse around us bears the exact same wound. Only you and one other survived. I imagine you don’t have an explanation for that detail, either, do you?”
Lin shook her head once more.
“Then I shall have to explain in your place.” Mokuzai pointed a finger toward the top of the stairs leading into the town hall. There, bound in rope, was the Inlander. Lin’s sword lay beside him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, this man is Taneaki Okada, the self-proclaimed lord of the Kitaguchi prefecture and islands of Jian. He is a traitor that fancies himself a king thanks to that accursed mark upon his wrist.”
“The Mandate of Heaven,” Lin interrupted, “That’s why I joined the attack.”
“So in fearing that Okada would call upon the Heavens to take hundreds of lives, you rushed across the battlefield to do it yourself.”
“What do you-?” Lin started, but the General had not finished.
“It was your intervention that killed them. The ability granted by the Inlander’s Mandate is a power he so proudly names Mirrorlink. Any wound he receives can be replicated upon those around him. You ran him through with your sword, and in doing so, impaled an entire army. My army. Your group, the Giryoku or the Righteous, whichever you like, had no business interfering here. You were fortunate to survive your wound. It means you can now take responsibility for your crime.”
Lin’s throat tightened. “What I did was no crime. I was trying to save them.”
“And in doing so, you murdered them. Hundreds of lives snuffed out in an instant by your hand alone. If they needed to be saved from anyone, it was you.”
They were harsh words, and difficult to disagree with. Lin lowered her eyes and searched for a response that could ease Fuyuri’s anger, though she knew nothing of the sort existed. “Tell me then, General, what do you plan to do?”
Fuyuri gritted her teeth, resting the hefty blade of her ōdachi upon Lin’s shoulder.
“Shall I take your head?” she asked, then reached for the scabbards at her waist and tossed a short sword to the ground. “If you’ve any speck of honour left in your heart, you’ll take that blade and redeem yourself. I swear that I shall take care of the rest.”
Lin understood the General’s implication. She expected suicide.
“You’re funny,” Lin replied.
Mokuzai shook her head, “There was no joke.”
“Are you sure? I’m looking right at one,” Lin continued without a smile. “You’re amusing, Fuyuri, it’s fitting for a fool.”
Her taunt tempted death, but Mokuzai’s wide-eyed expression was well worth its price. The butt of a flintlock rifle collided painfully with Lin’s cheekbone. Sparkling lights flashed across her vision.
“No honour. No respect. No humility. You are not worthy of even your own life.”
“No entrails, either, if I let you have your way. I’d rather leave them where they belong.”
The General’s face twisted in contempt. She lifted the ōdachi from Lin’s shoulder.
“The blood of one so sordid would be a stain upon my blade,” Mokuzai spat, then thrust a finger at a marksman behind her, “Do as you will with her, so long as it ends with a bullet through her skull.”
He was a thin man. Fairly short, long-faced and incredibly lean. Lin paid no notice to the line of rifles trained on her head when he stooped down to tear the front of her bloodied uniform. When her buttons began to part, she drove her fist into his throat like a loaded spring. The man’s windpipe collapsed. His face contorted, his mouth agape. There was an exchange of curses as his comrades circled around for a clear shot. Lin splayed her hand toward them. The marksmen flinched. Those curses should have turned to cries as thorny vines enveloped their bodies, but for whatever reason, no vines would come. Her enemies were still standing. Her strength was gone. Dread spread like ice through her veins.
Move! A rifle flashed to her side. She twisted away, though the bullet still grazed her neck. Luck and reflex had saved her. She didn’t trust that it would happen again. In the span of a second, she found her sword and slashed the breathless soldier’s throat to the bone. Blood spilled eagerly from the savage gash. “Crystallise,” she whispered, digging her fingers into the open wound. The man’s eyes rolled wildly.
Two marksmen circled to her left. A third had already reached her right- the man that had shot her. He’d drawn a knife rather than reloading his rifle. It made little difference. Wrenching her hand from the dying man’s throat, Lin brandished a blade of hardened blood, then sent it flying through the shooter’s eye. He fell almost instantly.
The two remaining soldiers took aim as Lin scrambled to her feet. They fired, but not before she had shifted their barrels with shadowy hands. Both bullets sailed harmlessly into the sky. With their ammunition spent, the marksmen reached for their knives, but soon joined their fallen.
Lin flashed a spiteful grin as she cut down the last of Mokuzai’s escort, “Am I worthless? What then, were they?”
“No mortality,” the General replied. “Just what are you? There’s a hole through your centre, and yet you still stand. Why do you find it so difficult to die?”
“It’s not something I’ve ever done. As far as I can remember, at least. My memory’s not nearly what it used to be.”
“You aren’t even human, are you?”
“I’m alive,” Lin answered.
Mokuzai shook her head and raised her ōdachi, “Approach, then, if you can. Make your mark in history.”
Biting down through the pain of her wound, Lin inched toward the General and delivered a diagonal slash. Her opponent sidestepped with ease. Using the momentum of her dodge, Mokuzai countered, bringing the oversized sword around in a horizontal swing. Lin shifted to deflect the blow- and failed. The General’s strike carried with it a terrible weight, and a force great enough to knock Lin from her feet. The ground disappeared, only to slam against her moments later. Upon that grisly floor, she squirmed without breath under the gaze of a dead man, his lifeless eyes dry in the open air.
She’s so far beyond me that it’s nearly laughable, Lin thought to herself. A single strike had been enough to sweep her aside- confronting her directly would end in an abruptly gruesome defeat. Her vines could make any battle near-effortless, though in spite of her efforts, they still refused to appear.
A sword swept through the air in front of her. She looked along its length to find the smaller of the Saitō twins, Mitsuhide. Akemi brandished a rifle at his side. Around them, several more members of the Righteous had gathered, bringing their numbers to no less than forty. Each and every one stood in defence of their own.
“Shinkō has fallen,” Mitsuhide announced. “Jian’s hold on the mainland is broken. Your duty here is finished, General Mokuzai. Now is the time of the Righteous.”
“Do not presume to tell me when my work is over. The girl shall answer for this atrocity.”
“Is her punishment worth more bloodshed?” he warned, “Need I remind you of our purpose? This battleground is fresh and suffering, so dreadfully ripe for the birth of a demon. I’ll beg you if need be- please- do not tempt the Dark.”
As they spoke, the General’s forces rallied around her. Yukihiro and Akemi moved to defend against the oncoming forces, a flintlock rifle at one side and a lacquered wooden spear at the other. Mitsuhide stood unmoving, his eyes locked with those of General Mokuzai. She broke tiredly from his gaze.
“Hear my words! By the order of your General, Fuyuri Mokuzai, you are to establish a blockade around the outskirts of Shinkō. None are to leave this town, nor are they to enter until the Righteous have carried out their duties. Relay the order to those scattered: Shinkō must be secure before nightfall,” she bellowed. Relief, as much as apprehension, was painted across the soldiers’ faces as they moved to withdraw.
The sun had almost fallen out of sight in the time Lin had spent unconscious, its fiery light bleeding over the tiles of the western rooftops. An open hand appeared in front of her face. Mitsuhide lifted her carefully from the ground. “My brother is harsh, but he’s right more often than not. Things wouldn’t have gotten this bad if you’d listened to him.”
“You think so?” she asked, looking ahead as the General turned her attention to the Inlander. Much like the others bearing the Mandate of Heaven, it appeared that Taneaki Okada was a difficult man to kill. The hole Lin had left through his stomach had already scabbed over.
“If what the General said about his power is true, how do you think she’ll deal with him?” Akemi asked, resting her rifle upon her shoulder.
“Imagination’s the only limitation when you’ve decided to kill a man,” replied Yukihiro. “Tie him to a ship, set it aflame. Leave him in a cave to die of starvation. Bury him in the sand before a rising tide. The power’s useless against anyone that isn’t nearby, and as it turns out, attendance isn’t required for an execution.”
“That’s no longer our concern,” said Lin. “There’s work to be done.”
Mitsuhide followed her gaze. The sight surrounding them couldn’t be missed. It was a grotesque vista, that plaza, a sickening accumulation of corpses in crimson veils. And beneath…
Images of Yangwa’s bloodstained streets flickered in her mind. She saw what had remained of the townspeople- their broken, scattered bodies. She saw a web of veins and arteries, of nerves and sinew. At its centre, the Demon of Yangwa wore her brother’s face.
It was the same, she remembered. And like then, and always, these deaths are mine to carry.
“Why don’t you head back to the camp, Lin?” he suggested. “These bodies will need to be separated before we purify them, we’ll need to interrogate any survivors still hiding in what’s left of the town. I’m sure Araji will be glad to spend some time with you.”
She looked at him then, trying her best to ignore his sickly warmth. “Where’s your father?”
He glanced around, then waved a hand at the marketplace. “The Monk Commandant isn’t interested in this aspect of our duties.”
“And he’d neglect his duty out of boredom?”
“No, I’m sure he’s around. He prefers to handle the living.”
Lin laughed. “So he waited until I wasn’t looking to misbehave. How brave.” Stepping away from Mitsuhide, she searched for her weapon among the dead. “It’s been hours since these people died. How much time do you think you have?”
“The countdown before corruption and reanimation varies. It can take days, weeks, even months in some cases. We’d have dealt with these bodies already, but Mokuzai kept refusing our entry to the marketplace.”
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What would that be?”
“The reason I’m here.” Lin found her sword atop a dead man. The General’s deathly blow had left its shape resembling a dog’s hind leg, far too bent to be of any use. She retraced her steps and retrieved the short sword Fuyuri had tossed at her feet. Her rifle was still slung across her back, but neither weapon offered her much confidence.
Beneath the festering masses, an abomination had already begun to form. It had not been born alone; sporadic twitches throughout the marketplace revealed corpses possessed by bastards of Xia’an, but they were mere remora before a shark, all drawn to the obscene brilliance of a single beacon.
Lin held her wound with one hand. She brandished Fuyuri’s sword in the other. At her feet, the throat of a pirate burst open, showering her leg in a cold, bloody mist. A fiend, she noted, though made no attempt to defend herself. Thick and rubbery arteries and veins wrapped tightly around her ankle. In one moment they were constricting her flesh, and in the next, they were yanked forcefully away. The pirate’s body contorted. Something had struck out from the dead, its shape savage and sharp. The corpse squirmed against the others as if being dragged underneath, then suddenly folded, and whatever had attacked it retreated back into its hiding place.
Mitsuhide started after it. Lin held out an arm to stop him. “Look,” she told him. “Before you walk yourself into the jaws of your enemy.”
Taking hold of the pirate’s arm, she pulled the corpse from among the others. It crumpled immediately. Where his back had once been, a gaping hole had been torn, ripping the spine and ribcage from within. All that remained was a foul-smelling slop of red and purple organs.
“This strength…” Mitsuhide breathed. “This is more than corrupted flesh.”
“That’s right. Your countdown’s finished, Saitō. There’s a demon in Shinkō.”