The last bloom of blood withers, and heavy, rotting flesh collapses into a pool of still water.
Warm candlelight flickers through the trees, listening to the silent grief of those who died without a voice. It guides their unwilling souls toward peace.
Six hundred seventy-two. Carson Deller. Sleep now. I've remembered your story. Your life was not in vain.
The Pestilence Knight cradles the lantern as the flame slowly fades. It closes like a sleeping child's eyes, silent and still.
They have fallen into slumber.
He closes the lantern cover and speaks softly.
The knight glances at the bloodstained forest floor, then turns away, unable to bear the sight.
I gave them one last dream. It was short, but the soul remembers.
This way, they won't have to suffer the torment of memory while they sleep.
If the laws of life and death can be rewritten, then maybe they can return to the Acheron River's womb and be born again.
He lowers his mask again. At some point, the herbal scent in the mist has faded without him noticing.
Cough...
The silver-haired young man has barely set down his lantern before he begins coughing, hand pressed to his mouth.
You hurry forward and sit down beside him under the tree.
It's alright. I just... need a little rest.
He tries to show you a reassuring smile, but cold sweat is already beading across his forehead.
Wanshi nods. His breathing slows a little, but his voice remains hoarse and strained.
I'll do my best to keep it under control.
He's already drunk half a pot of water in one go, but his chest only rises and falls harder than before.
Seeing how pale he's become, you make a decisive call.
A flicker of hesitation flashes in his golden eyes, but it's quickly replaced by trust.
Alright. But promise me... don't go too deep.
I'll protect you in the dream. But you have to protect yourself too.
With your promises exchanged, there's nothing more to say. You lean back against the tree, close your eyes, and fall into the dream.
Blood. Fire. Screams. Everything you've felt in your dreams before floods through your limbs again.
Your soul trembles like a kite tangled in power lines, shivering in the downpour. No matter how much you struggle to move forward, you're frozen in place.
Swarms of bloodsucking locusts block out the sky. The sun pulses weakly in the red haze above. Everything you see is drowned in blood.
...Run...
Run! Hurry!
From behind, a child's voice calls out. When you turn around, you see several barefoot children running across the wasteland, holding hands.
A child stumbles and falls during the escape. The scent of blood draws several locusts crawling toward him.
Don't just sit there. Move!
The child's companions call out from a nearby hill, shouting in panic. But the child trapped in the swarm of locusts stays frozen, paralyzed by fear.
You reach out to grab the child's hand, but your fingers pass straight through his body, sinking into the burst of blood blooming from his chest.
Ahhh, ahhhhhhh, ahhh——————
In an instant, the child's body is torn to shreds. All that's left is a withered husk.
The bloated locusts retract their feeding tubes, then spread their wings and fly off toward the next scream.
Cries of anguish and mourning melt into the blood flowing across the ground. Suffering spreads through the land like a plague.
Woooo... woooo...
In the red glow that smothers the sky, a massive pale hand descends from above, pressing down on the shaking earth.
A low, agonized moan rises from beneath the ground, making every living thing tremble.
Looking up, a giant wrapped in white light rises between the mountains, bellowing toward the crimson sun.
The giant's steps shake the whole plain. Trees shudder. Peaks tremble. The land roars with every step.
No, no, don't chase me! What the hell is that thing?!
Help! First the blood locusts, now a giant? This world's gone insane! Ahhhhh!
Suddenly, a different memory crashes into your mind. A sharp pain pierces your chest as if you've been stabbed, but it's quickly pulled away by a surge of warm white light.
Once you come to, you realize what just happened: you accidentally tapped into a child's final memories, right before their death.
But the nightmare doesn't stop. The blood locusts shriek endlessly, wave after wave flooding across the red-stained plains.
One by one, the children nearby fall. Some are dragged off by locusts. Others collapse where they stand, never getting back up.
...I'm sorry. It's all my fault... I couldn't hold them back...
Far across the field, another woman in white lies in a pool of blood, clutching a twisted candlestick. On her knees, she bows over the children's corpses, apologizing again and again.
Please... gods above, demons below... anyone... have mercy... just let one of them survive...
They didn't do anything wrong...
The blood locusts don't understand her prayers. They stir once more, lifting into the air and swarming toward the approaching giant. Crawling over his body like ants, they form a coat of living black armor.
And the child<//human> standing at the giant's feet can only clutch their throbbing forehead, staring blankly at the unfolding nightmare.
A quiet sigh brushes past your ears.
After seeing this again and again, I truly don't know where humanity's path lies.
Even if they manage to escape this prison of blood today, what about tomorrow?
A year from now... ten years from now... must they always watch the ones they love die in pools of blood?
Devoured like insects, only to bring new lives into a world of more suffering... is that the future humans are fated to endure?
<i>If everything we've just witnessed is judgment passed down from the Sanctuary,</i>
<i>Then God, what sin have I committed? How do I atone for it?</i>
<i>I beg you... if I can't be saved, then at least show me a path forward.</i>
<i>I will walk it, with devotion, into the arms of sweet death.</i>
Wanshi opens his eyes. You're asleep beside him, slumped gently against his shoulder.
He nudges you slightly, but your brow only furrows deeper. You're completely out.
Seeing this, he doesn't disturb you further. He quietly pulls his coat over your shoulders, then takes up his lantern and walks away from the tree.
...
The man lying in the center of the woods still stares blankly at the sky. His eyes are hollow, his face frozen in a twisted grimace.
All around, hanging from the trees, are the shriveled remains of his companions, every one of them drained dry.
The silver-haired youth kneels beside the man and gently closes his eyelids. Then, he presses his index finger against the man's forehead.
A rush of fragmented, chaotic memories tears through his mind.
Somewhere, in a pitch-black ritual chamber underground, dozens of people in tribal clothing gather around a bonfire, whispering chants in unison.
The man stands solemnly at the center, raising a candlestick high and shouting over their murmurs.
It's time.
We return our bodies to the abyss and forge our souls into spears for Carcosa to wield.
Tell me now, in choosing this path of redemption, do you carry any regret?
Those on the altar raise both arms high and answer him with fierce, burning conviction.
No regrets! We have no regrets!
Good. Let the ritual begin.
The priest steps toward the girl tied to the ground and raises a sharp blade overhead.
The child's nose and mouth are sealed. Tears stream from her eyes as she tries to crawl backward, but her body won't respond.
May you be blessed by the earth in your next life.
The tribespeople shed their outer robes, revealing pentagrams drawn across their bare chests.
The time for the offering is now!
As soon as he finishes speaking, the believers turn their blades on themselves. In perfect sync, they cut their own throats without a moment's doubt.
SWOOSH—
Blood splashes onto the altar floor, running through hidden channels and forming strange red-brown runes.
Dozens of bodies fall lifeless to the ground, no longer tethered by consciousness. They become new offerings.
The once-living flesh fades into stillness in an instant. Yet the ritual site remains eerily silent, unchanged.
...?
The bound girl puzzles over why she's still alive. From the silence and darkness, another slender figure steps forward.
Ashlar. This ritual has failed too.
So what will you do next?
The white-haired girl lifts her skull mask, revealing a clean, emotionless face beneath it.
Holy Maiden, the magic in their blood must not have been strong enough. But it's fine. We still have one more offering.
That child was handpicked by me. Her magic levels are extremely high. One more trial should be enough to confirm it.
Ashlar points to the little girl tied beneath the altar. She begins to squirm and whimper in protest.
Enough. You've already killed plenty of outsiders in that castle. It got us nothing but unwanted attention.
Canary, whom Ashlar reveres as the "Holy Maiden", kneels and gently closes the eyes of her fallen kin one by one, her face full of compassionate sorrow.
Don't let outsider blood defile this sacred place.
...Understood.
Then let me be the sacrifice this time.
The black-robed man draws the bone knife again, but this time he turns the tip toward his own chest.
...Ashlar!
The Holy Maiden's voice tightens, showing a flicker of anger, but Ashlar stands firm.
Holy Maiden. We're out of time.
The castle has fallen. They'll find this place soon. We have to discover the true summoning method before that happens.
If unclean blood can't touch the primordial altar, then let me offer myself.
He pauses briefly, but the weight of responsibility pushes him forward.
...Holy Maiden, please. As the tribe's final ember, you must complete this mission.
...
The white-haired Holy Maiden doesn't look at him. She lifts her chin and accepts the burden in silence.
I understand. I will carry on your will.
No matter how long it takes, I swear I will find a way to reach Carcosa.
The Haruka people<//tribespeople>... will rise again on this land.
Ashlar nods and says nothing more. Without hesitation, he drives a bone knife into his own chest.
His body falls with a heavy thud. His vision spins as he collapses, and all he can see is warm blood flooding from his palm, the reddish-brown liquid running into the grooves of the altar's design.
Flames burn at the edge of his sight, dancing wildly for a moment, as if stirred by the collapse of their owner.
...The flames! The altar is reacting to Ashlar's blood!
Canary's delighted cry reaches his ears, but he no longer has the strength to look at her expression.
The warmth is quickly leaving his body, yet something inside his chest burns even brighter.
(Good... we've finally found the key to redemption...)
Just before the memory ends, the bound girl stares at the memory's owner with terrified eyes, her pale face filled with despair.
Six hundred seventy-three. Ashlar. A memory soaked in madness.
Sleep. I have no right to forgive your sins, but your life is over. The ferryman of the Styx will weigh the weight of your crimes.
The Pestilence Knight puts away his lantern and stands. He looks up at the corpses hanging in the trees. They're the same group of believers he saw in the memory.
But unlike the earlier murder victims, these all bear identical, self-inflicted slashes across their throats. The angle, the force—everything is the same. As if, in the moment they chose to die, they all shared a single soul.
Wanshi lowers his gaze in silence. The scene he once witnessed in the castle floods back into his mind.
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 that traveler described.
The mad cultists... the herbal scent that keeps returning... the girl who suddenly appeared in the castle's hidden passage...
It all clicks into place in his mind.
Crack—footsteps crushing dry leaves echo from behind.
Sensing danger, he lifts his revolver and turns around. Out of the thick fog steps the white-haired girl, the one he'd seen once before.
Plague Knight... I never imagined you'd gain that kind of power.
She smiles at you—gentle, obedient, just like she did the first time you met.
If I'd known, I would have made sure to finish you off properly.
The revolver's chamber spins. The bullets are loaded. What greets her now is nothing like before.
Your goal... is it to become Carcosa and bring catastrophe to the world?
No, you're wrong. Carcosa has nothing to do with the catastrophe.
The girl tilts her head as she strolls closer, a heavy herbal scent clinging to her.
You outsiders are the ones who imagined a connection between Carcosa and the catastrophe...
Carcosa is sacred. It was never meant to be understood or touched by tainted blood.
Then what is Carcosa?
It's this land itself, soaked in innocent blood.
Canary stops walking. Beneath the goat skull mask, her eyes finally reveal open, murderous intent.
Even now, standing here, none of you remembers what happened on this ground?
Centuries ago, the tribespeople<//Haruka> knelt here, begging you not to attack. They pleaded for mercy, that you would at least spare the children who had no idea what was happening...
And now, centuries later, the laws are broken, the catastrophe has come, and you<//outsiders> are the ones being hunted. Only now do you realize it was never fair?
Hahaha... You humans<//outsiders> really are selfish creatures!
Laughing madly, the girl grabs the skull on her head. Her shrieking laughter fills the air as columns of gray-black mist shoot from behind her and strike at you.
The black fog reeks of poison herbs. It slams into you and coils around your body like a vortex, but it doesn't hold for long.
In the next instant, a blue light shines from the center of the storm. The lantern in the knight's hand absorbs all the dark mist summoned by forbidden magic.
The knight raises the gun in his hand.
The knight raises the gunlance in his hand.
Then I'll have no choice but to fight you.
Fine. That's what I was hoping for.
She crouches low, her fingers curled like claws. Letting out a beastlike roar, she charges toward you.
Wanshi sidesteps and raises his weapon to block the claws slicing through the air, but as the girl brushes past him, her body disappears into the thick fog.
—Gray Raven!
Wanshi scans the area. In that instant, he realizes who Canary is targeting. He spins and fires several shots into the mist, but every one of them misses.
Thud. Swish.
Footsteps echo as they retreat through the dense fog.
A moment later, the mist dissipates. As the air clears, the figure that had been resting beneath the tree is already gone.
