When he arrived at the barn, the first thing that caught his eye was the chaotic scene.
The cages that were once packed with animals were completely empty, and debris was scattered messily across the floor.
Not to mention the sticky black footprints smeared everywhere, presumably from someone wearing blood-soaked shoes, and the ventilation system appeared to be broken, with mold growing in several places.
The mold was thickly settled along the walls, and the air that used to be crisp and clean, typically filled with the presence of animals, now reeked of a musty odor. It was so intense that just a small breath felt like the mold was trying to take root in his lungs.
“Awful. Just awful.”
Michisige let out a hollow laugh as he surveyed the barn that had turned into a nightmare. Swaying unsteadily, he slowly made his way to the center of the barn.
Clank.
He bumped into a rolling cage and nearly slipped on broken bars, but Michisige paid no mind, trudging forward with glazed eyes toward the altar.
The altar.
The altar of the dark god, Hwiro.
He walked on toward the very place where offerings were made to the horrifying evil god who ruled the underworld.
“Hehehe.”
He only had eyes for the altar.
Despite journalists, Onmyoji, and the police tearing the place apart, only remnants remained, yet he walked on, not caring about the obstacles and wounds he encountered, his focus solely on the altar.
When he finally reached the altar, his legs gave way, and he dropped to the floor, gently caressing the spot where Hwiro’s altar once stood.
“Damn….”
He muttered with a gaze that seemed almost bereft of spirit.
“How much have I fed you… and you can’t even fix this situation…? Useless bastard….”
Those words were remarkably blasphemous to say to a god.
But so what?
He hadn’t made the altar in faith; he merely created and used it out of necessity.
A dark god?
The ruler of the underworld?
The mastermind of evil?
A being that commanded all diseases and personified pestilence?
All of those numerous narratives, those chilling accounts meant nothing to Michisige.
“Hehehe. A damned crude little deity of the barbaric, uncivilized folks….”
He had no faith at all.
Not a shred of faith, fear, or awe.
Nothing could be found.
“I made the altar for you, painted it with my blood, and regularly offered you animal sacrifices! Damned minor god! If you claim to be a god, then unleash your power so I can get out of this mess!”
He displayed no reverence whatsoever, lifting his head rudely to look at the place where the image had once been.
And then….
“What’s that?”
Instead of a painting, he saw a strange wooden statue sitting there.
“What’s this supposed to mean….”
It should have depicted Hwiro.
A grotesque image, no less, mounded over with layers of blood, reminiscent more of a horrifying monster than a god—something that might exist at the very bottom of hell.
But instead, there was a wooden statue made of dark wood.
The statue’s form was peculiar.
It depicted a man with two faces sitting atop a dragon’s head, one face radiating heat while the other seemed to blow a cool breeze. Moreover, perhaps due to the dark surface, it felt reminiscent of something unearthed from ruins, and he had an odd sensation that it was emitting a foul odor.
This peculiarity was maximized by the dragon’s head lying beneath it.
While a dragon should typically resemble a snake, this head looked disturbingly bizarre, as if a mix of various animal features had been distorted beyond recognition. Depending on the angle, it almost seemed to resemble a human face.
Staring intensely at that face gave the illusion of it shifting and assembling into different forms, repeatedly breaking apart.
Moreover, it was holding something in its mouth, as if it were a pearl or something, but it contrasted starkly with the statue’s atmosphere—it was something entirely modern.
“Whoa, a Walkman?”
A portable cassette player that had been hugely popular until the 2000s.
Now a relic you’d only find at a thrift shop or with collectors.
The Walkman was attached there.
With an entranced gesture, Michisige reached out and grabbed the Walkman, pressing the play button.
Click.
The stiff button was pressed, and a faint noise accompanied the tape that began to play, with a massive sound soon pouring out.
Crackle—
Crackle—
The Walkman, equipped with a speaker, seemed to take delight in belting out its audio of a model that had barely been released and was now all but forgotten by the people, mixing its slight static with the sound of the tape it held.
Beee—
Beeeee!
Boom—
Doooom—
Beee—
What to call this?
Traditional music?
Something closer to noise?
It seemed to barely sustain the shape of music while mixing shrill static and, for some reason, a sound reminiscent of drums.
And that sound grew stronger, evolving majestically, making the Walkman tremble as if about to break.
Doom—
Boom—
Boom, boom, boom—
Beee—
Whoooooosh—
It produced sounds like the wind roaring.
The crack of leather being struck echoed.
Sounds of wood clashing and the eerie sound of a flute crafted from a hollowed bone accompanying primitive string instruments.
All those sounds coalesced to form something musical.
『 He who bears the bounty of water, master of the falcon, great lord who breathes fire and commands the winds to create storms! He who defeated the evil dragon that begets monsters, is a great being! 』
Amidst the music, a tremendous shout burst forth.
It sounded like an enormous, grand voice that might belong to a Japanese tenor hired to record.
『 Master of all destinies! Ruler of all gods standing above them! He who summons storms! You stand in a position to wield judgment and power with divine authority, exerting magical dominion over all the world! 』
『 Two faces! An irreplaceable position! Son of the Sun, risen atop Babylon! 』
『 Bel Marduk! Bel Marduk! 』
『 Above all prosperity and the gentle storm, we shall praise upon the abundant grain! 』
『 With a sight that pierces through all things, grant us favor according to the rightful laws and principles! 』
『 Turn upside down what is above and below, let there be equality under Marduk! 』
“Uh…?!”
Suddenly, Michisige was jolted back to reality.
“What the hell is this.”
He hurled the Walkman, which was playing the ritual of magic, far away and sprang to his feet with a bewildered expression.
“Something feels off. Something feels wrong.”
His life as a warrior, forged through rigorous training,
everything he had built up over the years began to speak.
It was saying that it was strange.
This situation is strange.
He needed to get out now!
『 As the sixteenth of Lous, the Sacaea shall open. 』
『 In the name of ab-kal ilâni bêl terêti, tell all kings to strip off their robes and descend to the most trivial place to experience their toil! 』
『 In the name of bêl bêlim, I say once more that the positions of master and servant shall switch, with the servant ruling over the master and the master laboring on behalf of the servant! 』
『 In the name of muballit mîte, I declare that those who have committed the most heinous sins are hanging by a thread over death. 』
『 So shall it be stated. 』
『 In the oracle of aklu bêl terieti, by the wise words of the great deity, it says: bring forth the death penalty for the greatest sinner and seat them on the throne of kings. Clothe them in royal garments, grant them the status of kings, and bestow upon them the power of kings. 』
『 Let this continue until the sun has risen and set five times. 』
『 Only then shall favor descend upon the land, and the crops shall flourish abundantly. 』
『 That which is evil shall not dare approach, and even storms shall be changed into mild breezes. 』
『 Thus you shall delight in the festival of Sacaea! 』
The instinctive warning screamed with all its might that he needed to escape.
And from the distance, the Walkman continued to spew forth its bizarre voices.
All of it urged Michisige to flee from this place.
But….
“Why is there no door…?”
He could not escape.
Just like slaughtered animals cannot break free.
Just like an animal sacrificed cannot break away from the altar.
He could not get out.
