In the stillness of midnight, a boy stirs in his sleep, as if roused by something unknown. He awakens on his creaking wooden bed.
Ever since the plague, day and night have blurred into one. A hazy light constantly fills the orphanage dormitory. But tonight, the usual chorus of breathing is gone. In its place is an unsettling silence.
He sits up, wipes the clinging drowsiness from his face, staggers to the next bed, and discovers not only that his companions are gone, but the entire dormitory is deserted.
...
They went to the kitchen for candy without me?
The boy feels a flicker of panic, but doesn't dwell on it. He quickly lights the candlestick by the cabinet, throws on a thin coat, and steps out of the room.
His hurried footsteps echo through the orphanage's narrow, dim hallway. The boy moves fast, fearful his foster mother might still be awake, yet more afraid he will miss the secret party his companions never told him about.
Buzz... buzz...
Anna?... Yorsen?
Hearing the faint hum of vibrating wings from somewhere nearby, the boy cautiously calls out, but there's no response.
A low, rasping hum builds into dense waves of sound, crashing invisibly against his eardrums. It leaves him vaguely unsettled, but he can't find a way to block it out.
To shake off this vague sense of unease, he chooses to leave and keeps moving forward.
Perhaps careless, perhaps too rushed to think, he fails to notice that every door he passed now stands open.
Each door hangs ajar, and rows of empty beds lie beyond it.
Buzz... buzz... buzz...
The buzzing grows louder. Whatever is making the sound ahead is now impossible to ignore.
The small figure carrying a faint light passes through the empty kitchen and lounge, heading toward the orphanage's front gate.
Steeling himself, he takes a breath, rises on his toes, and pulls the brass ring embedded in the heavy oak plank.
He pulls the handle downward. It slides into his palm more smoothly than expected, and the door swings open faster than usual.
Before he can react, everything behind the door comes into view.
Blood
The sky blazes blood-red, its eerie crimson light flooding the courtyard and leaving nothing hidden.
Corpses
In a garden once bursting with blooms, bodies now lie everywhere. Bloated blood locusts slice the children's throats with jointed limbs, then plunge their long mouthparts deep to drink the fluid churning in their windpipes.
Calamity
When the oak door creaks open, the executors of calamity turn in unison. Their sharp gaze cuts through the narrow gap and drives raw terror into the boy's shaking golden eyes.
RUN!!
Overcome with terror, the boy drops the candlestick from his hands. It crashes to the floor, spilling the remaining wax across the door. The wax catches fire, and blazing tongues of flame instantly form a barrier between him and the world drenched in blood and stench.
He stumbles back two steps, then turns and instinctively runs in the direction untouched by the locust swarm.
Come here! I've been looking everywhere for you!
Urgent shouts rise from behind, and a pair of familiar hands drags him into the darkness.
Two hands gently cup his cheeks for a brief moment, as if trying to remember his face one last time.
You're okay... Thank goodness, I finally made it in time...
After making sure Wanshi is unhurt, Melvie supports another small, heavy body to his side. A sudden rush of fresh blood stings the air.
She lifts the candlestick, strides to the doorway, yanks down the hanging curtain, and feeds it to the flames.
Melvie's silence fills Wanshi with unease. He has never seen his foster mother look like that.
Aunt Melvie...
He has to call her name now. If he hesitates, there won't be another chance.
Wanshi, take Anna and get out through the back!
What are you doing...?!
His companion is fading fast from blood loss. Wanshi presses the wound with both hands while demanding an answer.
Stop talking and move as fast as you can!
Melvie hoists the candlestick and rams the tiny flame deep into the blood locust's gaping maw.
Go!
The foster mother's final, faintly angry command rings out behind him. This time he hesitates no more. Supporting his injured companion, he turns and runs the other way.
Flames roar up behind them. Charred curtains and locust-shattered glass flutter down, the overture to the coming calamity.
Head down, he races on, supporting another child. It's his foster mother's last request and the only thing he can still do.
A-Anna, can you still run?
...Ugh.
The girl beside him suddenly lets out a pained moan. The boy turns, only to see her abdomen soaked in blood. He doesn't even know when it started.
Don't move. I'll patch you up...!
Panicking, the boy tears at his clothes, ripping the fabric into strips and wrapping them tightly around the wound.
Aunt Melvie taught us about herbs. Hang in there, I'll go find something to stop the bleeding...
Wait, wait... why won't the bleeding stop...
The more he tries to seal the wound, the more the blood pours out, gushing in an endless stream.
Her body grows heavier. Desperate, the boy grabs her arm, trying to lift her off the ground.
...Hey, don't fall asleep here. Wake up!
No response. Her pupils are already dull and unfocused.
...
Before the blood in his palms even has a chance to cool, that dreadful buzzing of locust wings echoes behind him again.
A bloated blood locust lands beside them. Its intricate compound eyes lock onto the only child still alive.
It extends a jointed limb, clamping around the boy's neck, and studies him for several seconds.
Ugh...
But just moments later, as if tired of hunting humans, it throws him to the ground.
Cough, cough, cough...!
The boy crashes into a bed of dead leaves, dazed and gasping. Before he can catch his breath, flames flare up in front of him.
In the withered forest, fire erupts skyward. The blaze from the orphanage swallows half the sky.
Swarms of locusts dart through the fire in search of new prey.
...Ugh!
In that moment, a rage beyond words takes root deep within the boy's heart, growing wildly.
Why is it so easy for these locusts to take their lives? Why do disasters strike without warning? Why is it always the innocent who suffer...
He refuses to accept such a cruel fate.
...Aunt Melvie... Anna!
All of it burrows into his young heart, planting a stubborn, burning need, a need to uncover the truth.
He has to know the truth. He has to find justice for the ones lost in this catastrophe.
Ha... ha...
He runs through a forest of dead leaves, following the wind. Stones slice his tender soles, leaving a trail of blood that coils through his memory.
Since turning back is impossible, the only choice as a survivor is to run farther than anyone else.
At eight years old, the boy is forced onto an endless journey with no destination in sight.
—!!
He jolts awake from a damp, stifling nightmare, only to find the sun still hanging overhead, tireless and unmoving.
Wanshi narrows his eyes, letting his lashes block out the blinding light. He pushes the heavy memory that just resurfaced back down into the depths of his mind.
What... time is it?
Murmuring to himself, he opens his pocket watch. The hands have stopped at just the right moment.
If he leaves now, he can reach the next relay station in roughly three hours.
He tilts his head up and yawns into the sunlight, then quickly slings the packs stacked by the camp back onto his shoulders.
He flips open the revolver's cylinder, spins it lightly with his finger, then slides it back into place. The cylinder clicks smoothly into the frame.
Alright. Weapon's ready.
He holsters the gun, puts out the fire that kept beasts away, and fastens the herb-scented plague mask back over his face. The silver-haired young man sets out once more.
Years after the blood locust plague, Wanshi is still walking this lonely road.
Following the faded, bloodied footprints from his childhood, he has grown tall, donned a leather coat soaked in oil, and armed himself with needles, thread, and a lantern for the mist...
At last, he wears the mask filled with medicinal herbs.
A silent "plague doctor" stands in the middle of the road.
He wields his scalpel with precise skill to cut out diseased flesh, but sometimes, he can only watch helplessly as souls fade away.
To stop more lives from being lost, this plague doctor keeps moving forward...
Did you hear? Those lunatics in the old castle took more kids from the neighboring village.
That day, the plague doctor walking the road overhears two passersby talking.
I know that lot. They're tribal folk from the forest. They kidnap kids for live sacrifices!
Why don't the angels kill them instead of bringing ruin to us honest folk?
Hearing this, Wanshi's eyes lift slightly.
Live sacrifices...?
It's more than that. Those lunatics hole up in that castle every day, studying weird dark magic. I bet they're the ones who brought the catastrophe and those blood locusts.
Wanshi's brow twitches at that.
After saying goodbye to the traveling couple, he changes his destination on a whim and starts walking toward the old castle they described.
Whether it's to stop the atrocities committed by those tribal raiders, or to chase down some elusive truth...
He has to go and find out for himself.
...This is it.
The masked young man stops in front of a dilapidated castle. Around the courtyard, several human bones stand crookedly in the ground, like a fence, or a warning.
Unsurprisingly, those bones are human thighbones.
...Looks like these people are too far gone to reason with. I need to be ready for the worst.
Wanshi draws his weapon from the holster, carefully disables the safety, then raises the barrel over his right shoulder.
Better make it quick...
Then, he kicks the castle's crumbling gate open.
What...
Inside the dim foyer, several raggedly dressed tribal people sit cross-legged in a circle, muttering chants. When the gate slams open, they freeze in place, still kneeling.
Who is this guy?
Don't look at me, I'm not on guard duty today!
Then we can kill him.
Two of the bolder cultists exchange a glance. After confirming it's okay to act, they snatch weapons off the ground and charge straight at him.
You think you can interrupt Carcosa's ritual? You'll pay for that in blood!
Sacrifice him... sacrifice him!
Wanshi leans back, dodging the wooden club swinging down at his head, then pivots and strikes the cultist's neck with his knuckles. The man's eyes roll back, and he crumples to the floor.
Don't put up futile resistance.
The black barrel of his gun is aimed squarely at the cultists' bloodshot eyes, but it does nothing to reduce their fanaticism.
Don't be afraid. To reach salvation, we must overcome fear. This is the test the divine has given us!
Just offer him up too! Make him a live sacrifice!
Have they already lost their minds? It's probably the drugged smoke.
Wanshi quickly notices the strange smoke rising in the stifling air. He tightens his mask with one hand and dives into the frenzied crowd of cultists.
Frenzied cultists surge forward to block Wanshi, but each receives a precise chop to the back of the neck and collapses unconscious.
Within seconds, only one cultist in the back row keeps resisting. Seeing Wanshi approach, he pales with fear.
I-I offer myself as a sacrifice. Carcosa, protect me—
After speaking, the cultist suddenly drives a dagger into his own chest and collapses as blood gushes out.
The plague doctor's hand freezes in midair. He didn't make it in time to stop this absurd act of self-sacrifice.
...
Frowning, he crouches, snuffs the corner hearth with a poker, and scrapes a clump of charred herbs from the grate.
Moonshade belladonna, silver-veined poppy, delirium mint... all plants that excite the mind and twist vision.
So the tribe even has a drug specialist... The situation is worse than those travelers described.
Smack—
A sudden noise behind makes Wanshi swing his gun around. A white-haired girl in a goat-skull mask crawls from a hidden door, wrists bound and body curled tight.
H-help me...
Her voice is faint, yet terror shines clear in her eyes, untouched by the cultists' madness.
Wanshi holsters the pistol and kneels to untie her.
How long have they kept you here? Did they feed you at all?
I was taken two days ago, so I'm still okay. But they just took Tankun and Sasibi...
They must be planning to use them as sacrifices for the ritual. Please... save them...
Wanshi checks quickly: she is weak yet stable. He props her against the wall and gives her medicine and food from his kit.
Tell me where they hold the live-sacrifice ritual.
She nods and sketches a simple map on the dirt with her finger.
Wanshi quickly memorizes the layout and gets to his feet again.
I tied every cultist here. Don't waste time. If you can stand, run.
...Alright.
She gives a soft reply, then raises her voice as Wanshi starts to leave.
My name is Canary, Canary of the Haruka tribe.
I will repay your kindness someday.
Wanshi nods from a distance, lowers his mask, and shows he has heard the pledge.
The beaked plague doctor runs through the dark castle with an oil lamp in hand.
Ritual tools and pallid bones litter the corridors, raising gooseflesh at every turn.
The closer he gets to his destination, the stronger the rot stench grows. In the lamp's wavering glow, every corner seems to hide an ambush.
He draws his pistol and aims into the pitch-dark passage ahead.
Garwh—!
At the next bend, a mangled corpse charges straight at him—
Without hesitation Wanshi fires. The hot muzzle flash bursts the living dead's skull into a spray of blood.
...Rotting corpse!
He moves straight toward the source of the stench, firing as he goes and pinning each emerging living dead to the wall.
Yet the living dead show no fear, trampling their own fallen to keep coming.
Harsh, grating howls echo through the castle, making him want to cover his ears.
...Vile noise.
Seeing bullets won't stop the horde, he holsters the gun, raises his right leg, and kicks at a living dead's head—
Splat! The grotesque head, trailing rotten flesh, smacks wetly against the wall.
Clawing over each other for a mouthful of fresh flesh?
Pathetic... but I forgive you.
Sleep!
Another corpse lunges before the word is finished. The doctor smashes it apart again.
Amid the clash, a shadowy figure flits behind the snarling corpses.
Wanshi notices at once.
You can't escape. Step out and face me.
He charges toward the hiding place and flicks a blood-letting knife into the gloom.
—!!
The figure jerks, then bursts forward toward Wanshi. A second dagger whistles past his cheek.
...
Seeing that his opponent has no intention of fighting back, he turns and dashes for the altar. Wanshi sprints after him.
Far below the surface, an altar holds several fresh offerings. Blood reeks in the stagnant air; thin flames hop across the stone platform.
A black-robed man stands at the center, chanting under his breath.
—Don't you dare run!
Bullets reach him even before Wanshi's shout, yet the silent man slices every round from the air with ease. Spent shells clink to the floor.
Wanshi stops firing, squares off against him, and waits for the next move.
...Great Carcosa, heed our prayer.
The man behaves as if Wanshi isn't there, standing at the ritual's center while flames on the altar surge upward, licking the ceiling like dragon tongues.
Wanshi holsters his weapon and moves in bare-handed, but the man easily dodges every attack.
What is this ritual? And what exactly is Carcosa?!
The man's movements show not the slightest hesitation despite Wanshi's assault. Between phrases of the chant, he gives a short reply.
You'll find out soon enough.
—Whoosh!
Fire on the altar swells, devouring every laid-out offering, turning flesh and bone to charcoal.
Watching this, Wanshi's brow knots. At last, he draws the silver needles hidden inside his coat.
It's time to put you to sleep and end this madness.
The instant the needle leaves its sheath, a cold flash flares behind him.
!!
Feeling the murderous intent, he starts to turn, but a hidden figure bursts from the shadow and drives a blade straight into the plague doctor's chest.
The cold steel tip pierces through his leather coat, plunges into warm flesh, and slices soft organs beneath the ribs clean apart.
The attacker savors the warmth for only a heartbeat, then jerks the knife free. Blood arcs through the air in a perfect crimson circle.
Cough...
Wanshi drops to his knees and struggles to raise his head to glimpse the assailant, but the figure has already vanished.
Mmm...
Both hands press the wound, but hot blood keeps gushing from between his fingers.
A healer cannot heal himself—the nightmare he dreads has finally come true.
Through the haze, the dark world gradually distorts and spins before his eyes.
The two children Canary mentioned... still not... cough!
The silver-haired doctor wipes blood from his lip and barks at the madman lost in heresy.
...Use me... as the sacrifice.
...
Even if it saves just one...
...Take me instead. I won't resist. I no longer can.
He combs his mind for any last bargaining chip, hoping to rouse the man's buried conscience.
Forcing children to atone for the world's sins... that is the greatest sin of all.
You know nothing—
The black-robed man parts his lips to speak, then blanches, as though he has seen an omen beyond imagining.
Wanshi follows the man's gaze but sees nothing in the murk. The sheer terror on the man's face, however, is unmistakable.
Buzz buzz buzz...
The sound of wings beating reaches Wanshi's ears.
He turns slowly toward the window lattice.
Buzz buzz buzz...
An eerie red flash skims the edge of his vision. One heartbeat later, crimson floods the sky and the familiar blood rain begins to fall.
Far off, the roar of blood locust wings rises. Leagues away, calamity executors gather like an army and surge toward the earth.
Wherever the blood locusts sweep, nothing survives; even burrowed rats are dug out, drained, and left as empty skins.
The familiar tide reaches him again, bringing the howl from memories and nightmares into the present.
So from the very start, fate left him no room to bargain.
...So not even one child can be saved.
He closes his weary eyes and lets his body slump onto the floor.
Is this really the only ending left?
As he speaks the final syllable, his thoughts are suddenly torn away by chaos. Consciousness slips from him, and he plunges into darkness.
...
Through the long passage of time, the spindle of fate spins without rest, weaving the years into thread.
For a second, it feels as if he pauses beneath the tree of life, yet also sees a million buds bloom and wither.
The dream wraps around him like a soft cradle, enclosing him in a gentle cocoon again.
He opens his mouth, blowing bubbles like an infant floating in warm womb water.
For an instant, he "remembers" a pain that should have been carved into his soul.
Pain and awareness travel together. As soon as he snatches the reins of consciousness, the soft amber that cradles him shatters.
He opens his eyes and sees everything clearly.
...
A silent angelic girl sits on a holy throne, watching with cold indifference as he hangs nailed to a cross.
Wanshi has seen this scene in dreams countless times, and even on the brink of death he cannot escape it.
Cough cough... have you come to see me off?
He tries to speak clearly, but his lungs expel only foamy blood that slides down his lips.
The angel stays silent, rises from the seat, and lifts her hand again.
Golden circles light up. Hundreds of cold iron nails appear and align into the shape of a cross.
The young man asks no more, closes his eyes, and braces for his fate.
Moments before the nails fall, the girl murmurs a string of syllables as if in farewell.
...Everything is over.
The spinning wheel stops. A thin crack splits the amber from within, and light pours through.
In the thick darkness, he opens his eyes and sees a figure wavering in brilliant light.
Surprise, hesitation, excitement... all kinds of emotions churn in his chest, yet none fully capture what he's feeling now.
He feels like a winter insect that has slumbered underground its whole life, now seeing light above. He longs to reach it, to embrace spring, but fears the sunlight will burn him alive.
A calm, steady voice calls out to him. He nods before even realizing it.
He tries to move his stiff limbs, loses balance, and crashes to the floor.
The voice beyond the amber is gentle, soothing like a lullaby. Like a toddler taking first steps, he rises, wobbling.
...How much time has passed?
The answer pours warmth into him. Fresh strength bubbles in his heart.
Everything?
With that firm reply comes a hand, reaching out from the light.
Light
The fragile shell breaks apart. Shoots spiral up from the ground, winding around him. Within moments, they sprout branches, push out buds, and bloom with pure white petals.
Bloom
In an instant, he hears the wind chimes on a dreamcatcher jingling. The sound fills his whole world...
He can't tell whether it's the childhood charm that once hung by his bed or a new sign of his slide toward demonhood.
All he knows is that he has awakened from the dream.
Reborn
He rises from the murky flow, glares toward the far horizon, and confronts the light with a question.
—Not of where he came from, but of the path ahead.
Where are you taking me?
A human voice rings out.
Come!
...
There's still time here for him to hesitate, but he makes his choice and takes the outstretched hand.
All right. Take me... to the world you dream of.
CLANG—
Something crashes through the Sanctuary dome. A tall figure stands before the cross, raising an arm to block the countless iron nails flying over.
The cloaked stranger turns, pulls the nails from the youth's wrists, and opens arms to the newly freed soul.
The condemned man, freshly awake, staggers forward. He lifts his eyes and collapses into the savior who spoke to him in the void.
The human catches the reborn Son of God. The covenant is formed.
Crimson threads race through their veins, plunge into their hearts, and ignite a violent pulse.
A gun spun from magic forms in their joined hands. Steady fingers aim the crosshairs at the angel above.
In the name of "Pestilence Knight"...
He murmurs.
In the name of Gray Raven.
This is where your fate ends.
Listen! The storm outside roars. It's the sun and moon raging at justice's demise.
Open your eyes and witness heaven and earth overturned and all things remade.
<size=40>If you lose your way, raise your voice and cry our names.</size>
<size=40>We will once more lift the beacon that lights every path.</size>
