When the Demon of Shinkō appeared, it brought in its wake a smothering darkness. Shadows rose from the dead like plumes of smoke that obscured all in their presence, and soon, like a snuffed candle, the evening sun vanished amid an obsidian sky.
The panic of those caught in the inky fog spread quickly. Distant calls could be heard as Mokuzai’s soldiers and the Righteous attempted to regroup. Lin held still. This enemy was different to the monster she’d unleashed upon Yangwa. She could feel it observing her and the others, studying their behaviour. She could feel it thinking. From what she could interpret, one thing was clear- the demon was acutely aware of her presence.
Mitsuhide called out to her. He’d been at her side when the dark veil had fallen, yet his voice sounded far away. She called back to no avail. Between shallow breaths, all had gone silent. Lin was suddenly alone in a warm, black void.
Monsters seemed to be everywhere and nowhere around her. At any moment, they could lash out from any direction, tearing at her flesh with their teeth and claws, or whatever other warped growths they had forged from the dead. The short sword in her hand served little use against an enemy she couldn’t see or hear, though she still clung to it tightly.
The silence broke with a whisper. Its words were indistinct, a garbled murmur in the darkness. Lin halted her breath to listen. Other voices hummed beneath. “You,” they said, “It was you.”
“Killer.” “Monster.” “Devil.”
The accusations came through like a cascade. Thoughts and feelings seeped into her skin, welling in her chest as if they were her own: fear and rage, disgust and hate, and a deep, ravenous hunger.
They continued, “Cold… it’s all cold. You don’t deserve to be warm.” “Ah- help me! Everything… it hurts!” “You did this to us. You’re a murderer. Just like her.”
“Those voices aren’t yours to use,” Lin said into the darkness. Her tone wasn’t hard enough to mask its tremble. As if drawn to the sound, pale faces surfaced from the murk. Lin’s gaze darted back and forth between them. Bulging, bloodshot eyes accompanied gaping mouths all around. And then, they began to scream.
The sound was deafening, enough to pierce her eardrums. Her weapon slipped from her fingers as she desperately tried to shut out the cries, but even with her hands against her head, she could hear them just as clearly. Their screams shook her body; their agony, her very being. The warm wetness of her blood plugged her ears and stained her palms. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. It was too much.
Without even realising, Lin was already swinging her sword. She drew red lines across tormented faces, splitting tongues from jaws, but no matter how many she slashed through, there were always more to replace them.
“Who are you?” she yelled. “What are you?”
As if stunned to silence, the wailing stopped. Lin found herself under more than a hundred horrified stares. Words trickled from those contorted mouths like a recited chant. “Who are we to you?”
The voices sounded as if they were underwater, but their message was clear enough. Lin doubted anything she said would please them. The splinters of Xia’an wanted warm meat, and nothing else.
“You’re victims,” she answered, “But I don’t recognise a single one of you.”
That wasn’t true. There were a few faces among the many that she did recognise- and they belonged to the dead. Seki Shinohara, soldier of Sūdoku Naga. Peacekeepers of Keisato. Consecrators of the Righteous. These were people she had killed. This was a mural of her sins.
All around her, lips twisted in disgust. “Liar.” “She knows.” “Confess!”
If the demon could rake through her memories, she was sure it could sense her thoughts. Entertaining it was a sure route to defeat, and attacking the faces was unlikely to have much of an effect. Fleeing was her only option. And flee she did.
A swing of her sword cleaved a bloody rift to freedom. She dove through and broke into a sprint. She ran, and kept on running, searching for an escape from that void of darkness. What she found was no escape, however.
Broken bodies, burning flesh. Here were the children of Yangwa, their remains entangled, and at their centre, the charred beast that had murdered them. It raised its bulky head. “...Lin?”
“Kiyoshi,” she breathed. The demon wore her brother’s face. She couldn’t remember how he looked, but she knew it must be him. Tears rolled through the ash upon his cheeks.
“I’m hurt, Lin. I’m burned bad,” he sobbed, holding up his monstrous arms. Pale streaks surrounded blotches of blackened skin. “It hurts…”
Losing her balance, Lin fell onto her rear. Feelings of guilt and grief twisted like snakes within her chest. It’s an illusion, she told herself. That’s all it is. An illusion…
No, that was wrong. This had happened. She had burned her brother, just as she had let a demon loose upon a town of innocents. All of these people, and all of their fates- they were real. Their deaths were her responsibility. That was no illusion.
A sudden, sharp cramp spread across Lin’s abdomen. She gritted her teeth to suppress a cry. When she looked down, she found she’d been ensnared. Bruised, fleshy ropes constricted her legs and waist. They branched off in places, splitting into several pointed ends that had burrowed through her clothing and beneath her skin. She didn’t hesitate to tear herself free. Blood sprayed her face as she ripped through the rubbery bindings, and she tried her best to convince herself that they were something other than human intestines.
Lin stood, and almost instantly, the black fog lifted. Around her lay the smouldering ruins of Shinkō. And beyond…
They were trapped. Anyone and everyone within the town had been drawn here, to the bloody plaza, now the centre of a gore-lined cage. Bars moulded from bone rose from the ground and merged overhead. Spanning the empty space between were pulsating stretches of muscle and organ tissue, all stitched messily together like an obscene collage. Lin clasped a hand over her nose and mouth. It did nothing to stay the creeping stench of death.
Wherever she looked, soldiers, consecrators and civilians alike were all either asleep or wildly delirious. All were bound in the same grasp of entrails. She didn’t need to follow their trail to know each of the sickening tendrils led back to the same source. There, at the centre of it all, was a sight that could not be missed. The Demon of Shinkō.
Its cradle was an orb, the surface a net of nerves and blood vessels. A loathsome mass of meat and gristle lay within. There was nothing precious about this creature’s birth. It was not a blessing, nor something to look fondly upon. This was a mistake, a malign growth forming upon the world, and for the sake of all else, it needed to be excised.
Lin lurched forward. She carried herself toward the enemy as steadily as her wounds would allow, rousing whomever she could as she passed. None would wake until their bindings had been cut. “Free the others,” she told them, not lingering to see if they listened.
Though it watched through its vein-ridden shell, the demon made no attempt to stop her approach. She raised her short sword high and brought it down. The blade sliced easily through the bloody web surrounding the beast, and in the same moment, the plaza erupted with screams. All around her, those still entwined within the demon’s network of entrails writhed in agony. Their cries were loud even to her ruined ears.
Lin returned her attention to her enemy, only to find it missing. She cursed. Her eyes had strayed for only seconds. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed nothing. The demon was gone.
“Eyes open!” she called out to anyone that might hear her. “Defend yourselves!” There was no time to explain further. The monster was still among them. She could sense its presence amidst the stirring crowd, but it was impossible to pinpoint. It seemed to be everywhere all at once. She searched all around, glancing over corpses and burned buildings, only to make another terrible discovery. At the far side of the demon’s cage was a gathering of victims that hadn’t been present during the attack on Shinkō. These people were refugees, and they’d been in the custody of the Righteous ever since they were escorted from the Grave Hollows. They should’ve been safely under guard upon Shinkō’s black cliffs. The fact that they were here meant the demon’s reach extended further than she’d imagined. And if they were here, then-
“Lin!” came the cry of a little Daimyō. That plea for help confirmed Lin’s fears, and the world seemed to freeze around her.
“Rie!” she called back desperately, trampling over the living and the dead, but before she could find the girl, a noise drew her attention above. There was a whining creak, then an unmissable crack. It was the sound of bones snapping overhead. Thin streaks of moonlight sliced through the darkness as the cage’s ceiling crumbled and gave way to the night sky. The opening promised an escape, so long as it didn’t crush them first.
As quickly as she could, Lin raced to find Rie, evading falling shards of bone and clumps of reshaped meat. She stumbled across the young girl on the corner of a burned-out home.
“Rie? I’m here. Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Lin,” the little Lady whimpered. Her pale eyes were wet with tears. “Help me, Lin. My belly- my belly hurts.”
Lin’s jaw tightened. They were ever so faint to her ears, but Rie’s pained words dug into her like needles. “You’re brave, Rie. I’ll get you out of here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Examining Rie’s abdomen provided a sight Lin had already seen many times over. Repurposed entrails had pierced the girl’s white dress and burrowed into her skin. Cutting through them with a blade would be the simplest and most painless method, but that would leave her body embedded with the remnants of another’s intestines. The thought alone stirred a dreadful nausea. Lin steadied her breath and grasped the entrails. Rie yelped as they were yanked from her belly.
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“You’re free, it’s over now,” Lin reassured her. Discarding her short sword, she lifted the girl in her arms, choking back the blaring pains throughout her own body. “Have you heard Kana’s voice? Is he here?”
A trembling finger indicated a dishevelled pile half-buried beneath fleshy rubble. Kana lay motionless, wide-eyed, his lips stretched into a grimace. Lin’s heart seemed to stop at the sight. “Kana…?” she called out. His gaze flicked to her, then his expression worsened. He scrambled to free himself.
Lin sidestepped a bony stalactite as it came crashing down from above. Throughout the cage, people abandoned any who were still bound and scattered like roaches to avoid falling debris. In their bloody raiments, there was no distinction between them. The ceiling was caving in ever faster, crushing all in its wake. Ahead of her, Kana shoved with all his might against the dense mound that had trapped his lower half. It was no use. The mound was too heavy, or he was simply too weak to shift it. He gave up as Lin approached, instead clawing at whatever he could to drag himself away.
“It’s me, Kana,” Lin told him. “I’m here to help you. Just hold still.”
The words did nothing to reassure him. With each step closer, his panic grew, until at last, he reached for one of the countless weapons dropped by the fallen. Lin paused. As much as she wanted to help him, if he was delirious, she couldn’t risk him harming Rie. Kana gripped the curved sword in both hands. His fingers shook terribly. A second later, almost without hesitation, he plunged the blade into his stomach. Steel bit through cloth and skin.
Lin’s breath rushed from her chest. Were her legs not locked in place, she would’ve surely fallen. The scene before her didn’t make sense. Kana wrenched the sword from his body, and began to drive it back in. A dark red flooded from the wound. There was little she could do except cry out to him. “Wait, don’t-!”
But the blade never reached its mark. Something monstrous burst from his abdomen, still tangled in his innards, and flung itself toward Lin. With Rie still in her arms, it was impossible to dodge. She turned as much as she was able. If nothing else, she could protect Rie with her own body as a shield. She owed the girl that, at least.
Lin steeled herself for an attack that didn’t come. A spearhead rushed past her face and buried itself between the creature’s claw-tipped limbs. It squirmed briefly, then went limp.
“That was a demon?” sounded the doubtful voice of Yukihiro. Following its direction, Lin found the Saitō brothers at her side.
“So she says,” Mitsuhide shrugged.
Yukihiro retracted his spear to inspect his kill. About the size of a large grapefruit, it looked like a poorly-imagined spider. Sharp growths of bone or enamel protruded from its skinless body. “That makes me believe it even less.”
“I’d imagine Lin is more familiar with them than we are.”
“Girl’s familiar with her own delusional ideas. You don’t seriously trust her, do you?”
“I do. Don’t you?”
“I trust her to be trouble. Nothing honest or charming has ever left that woman’s mouth, and I don’t want to hear any more stupidity from yours. We need an exit, and now, or we’re worm food.”
Lin could hear the brothers arguing, but her concern was with Kana. Blood gushed profusely from his open wound, where his insides were now spilled out. The sight almost forced a scream from her. Her efforts to refrain from vomiting were undermined by the overwhelming stench of the demon’s cage as it invaded her airways, but by some incredible feat of willpower, she held it in. There was only one way to endure such horror. Lin closed her mind to the world.
“Hold her for a moment,” she told Yukihiro, then lay Rie in his arms.
“The hell are you-?” he began, but went silent as the little girl threw her arms around his neck.
Lin kneeled beside Kana. As if it were an everyday chore, she began scooping his intestines from the sodden floor and pressing them back into his body. She was as gentle as she could manage, though the boy still shrieked and tried to shy away from her touch, crying until he fell unconscious. Lin’s chest tightened, unable to stray from her task. Her hands were awash with blood, and the slippery tangle of tubes pushed back against her as if refusing to return to their place.
“We need to leave,” said Mitsuhide, suddenly at her side. “This dome is coming down on top of us, and he’s in no condition to move.”
“So I should let him die?”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Yukihiro called to her. “There’s not a thing you can do that’ll stop that from happening.”
Lin ignored him. She didn’t have time to think about possibilities. She had to act now, or she’d never have the chance again. “Crystallise,” she whispered. Kana’s blood hardened, sealing the wound. It was a messy method, and the only choice she had.
“Are you done?” Mitsuhide asked. No matter how muffled he sounded to her, she could still hear the impatience in his voice.
“You shouldn’t wait for me,” she replied. “Get yourselves and Rie to safety.”
He watched as Lin struggled to lift Kana from the ground, and then, with a tut, he took one of the boy’s arms over his shoulder. Lin did the same. “Where now?” she asked, but received no answer. The sky came down around them.
Around a third of those trapped in the demon’s cage were lost when it collapsed. The number might have been greater, perhaps lesser; it was impossible to know for sure without digging through the amalgamated remains of Shinkō’s fallen. Those that escaped were welcomed by the crisp, salty air of the sea. For a time, the night was almost peaceful.
Another round of fearful cries rang out before the dust could settle. The demon had never left, after all. Though still shaking off a daze, Lin quickly uncovered the truth behind its feigned disappearance. It had inhabited the bodies of its victims at the moment she’d cut through its shell. But how many? Was it just those that were connected?
Unwelcome questions surfaced in her mind faster than she could acknowledge them. She cast an uneasy glance at those beside her. Kana slept upright against a hunk of stone debris. The Saitō twins had been sitting tending to their wounds, though were now readying themselves to fight. Rie was with them, wiping tears from her face, trying her best to treat Mitsuhide’s newly broken leg. Kana and Rie were still connected when it disappeared. Were the twins? How many are… inhabited?
Lin struggled to swallow. Her mouth and throat were terribly dry. “You can’t fight, Mitsuhide. Lend me a weapon.”
Yukihiro glared at her, but after another look at his brother’s leg, he reluctantly conceded. Mitsuhide held out his sword with a pained smile.
A hand landed on Lin’s shoulder. Ryōgen leaned into view. “That won’t be necessary, will it? People are dying. You have the power to save them.”
Lin shrugged off the Monk Commandant’s grip. “I don’t,” she told him. Ahead of them, a crowd scattered. At its centre was a consecrator she recognised. Her name was Kyo Yoshiori. Once upon a time, her bald head had been her most eye-catching feature. Now it was the weeping tunnel that claws had dug through her chest.
“You don’t?” Ryōgen asked. “I’ve seen those vines of yours kill with a speed and precision no weapon could ever reach. You didn’t hesitate when using them to take lives. Why is saving them so different?”
Lin chewed the inside of her lip. “I can’t use them.”
“Can’t?” he echoed. “Why?”
“I’ve no idea,” she snapped back. “I just can’t. If I’m going to help them, I need a sword.”
Something between a smirk and a scowl crept across the man’s face. “No need. If that’s the case, I have my own methods. Yukihiro!” Ryōgen walked ahead of her, and like a diligent dog, Yukihiro was at his father’s side in an instant. “Eyes forward, girl. Bear witness to our holy consecration.”
Advancing toward the enemy, the Monk Commandant and his son reached into their belt pouches, each retrieving a small metal canister topped with a wire ring. Detaching the rings, they tossed the canisters amidst the crowd. Lin didn’t know what they contained, but it was enough to smother the ground in flame, igniting clothes and skin alike.
The firebombs succeeded in frightening its already panicked victims, though did nothing to dissuade the divided demon from its rampage. At least, not until the consecrators enacted their next step. Ryōgen and Yukihiro slammed their boots against the ash-speckled ground, opening a deep fracture through dirt and stone. The cracks spread like bolts of lightning in every direction.
Nothing could be seen of the demon or its victims when the fracture reached its target. The small fires surged with newfound energy until they swelled into a single inferno. Every one of the victims caught in its flames were consumed. The fire stripped the flesh of soldiers and civilians alike, blackening their bones and reducing all else to dust. Those that outran its heat were not safe for long. Ryōgen directed the blaze as if charming a snake, driving walls of flame to cut off any route of escape. Lin only stood and watched, and in what must have been a matter of seconds, there were no cries left for the fire to drown out.
“Why?” she asked, finally finding her voice.
The Monk Commandant’s back was still turned. “Why did I burn the demon, or the people around it? Whichever you’re asking, the answer is the same. I performed my duty.”
“How was incinerating your own people related to duty? You’re just a sick bastard. You did it because you liked it.”
“We are righteous. Abominations such as this only serve to strengthen our resolve. They vindicate our cause. I did what was required of me, nothing more.”
Lin took a step toward him. “Not entirely.”
Ryōgen glanced over his shoulder, his face unimpressed. “What, I missed something?”
“Whoever was still connected to the demon at the moment it split might be carrying a piece of it inside of them. It’s still alive somewhere, in someone. Could you kill the rest of your Righteous if needed? What about yourself, your sons?”
“I will.” There was amusement in the man’s expression, though his gaze was stern.
She scoffed and shook her head. “I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”
“Because you know I’m right? Or do you still think I’m wrong, but would rather criticise others than act yourself?”
“You’re deluded. I don’t care how effective your ways are. They’re inhuman.”
Ryōgen’s eye twitched at her final word. “Still haven’t learned a thing, have you? Then perhaps I should be more thorough in my teaching. First, a lesson in misplaced mercy. The vermin you've been protecting will make a perfect example. Righteous!”
From across the fleshy rubble, the consecrators that had been retrieving bodies and treating the wounded converged on their leader. He pointed a finger toward the ashy cliffs, where the survivors of the Grave Hollows were now headed. “The rats we spared in the caves of Takano are now designated targets. Shoot them down.”
The Righteous unslung their rifles and took aim. Lin broke into a sprint. “Ryōgen, stop! This isn’t-!”
All he offered her was a side glance. The row of gun barrels cracked. A shower of bullets cut through the refugees.
Lin’s face felt numb as she watched their bodies fall. Those uninjured cried out for their friends, their family, or simply for themselves. Some tried to flee, but they wouldn’t escape while the Righteous were still standing.
Ryōgen watched Lin’s approach without concern. She was unarmed and injured, so what threat could she hope to pose? She wasn’t sure herself. Still, she had to do something. Her rage demanded it.
She met him with a swing of her fist. He evaded it with ease. She swung for him again, and nearly lost her footing. Ryōgen held back a laugh. “Your balance is poor, girl. Were you never taught footwork?”
Lin grimaced. She felt sick. It was impossible to fight well with her damaged ears, and every time she attacked, her abdomen felt like it would split in two. But she didn’t slow. She struck out again and again, never faltering.
And then Ryōgen smashed his knuckles into her cheek. The world spun, and she could no longer move. Blurred shapes moved before her. A vice-like grip tightened around her throat.
“Pluck the thorns, and what’s left but a pretty face?” asked Ryōgen. Lin inhaled sharply as a probing hand slipped beneath her uniform. He traced her nipple with a finger before roughly squeezing her breast. She could feel his tobacco-stained breath upon her skin as his hand glided down to her waist. His gaze was one of pity, or perhaps disgust. “Guard her, Yukihiro,” he ordered, then retracted his hand. Yukihiro stood over her as another salvo of gunfire rang out through the night. The tip of his spear hovered above her neck. Looking at his face, however, she saw a reflection of her own feelings.
She didn’t try to get up. If she’d learned anything, it was the heavy weight of despair. Her presence was an omen of death to whomever she met. She couldn’t protect her friends, who now suffered terrible wounds. Without her mother’s strength, she was powerless to protect even herself.
Tears welled in her eyes, smearing the ruins of Shinkō and all its dead into an indistinct watercolour. Had the world been a painting, she’d have wiped it all away.