Single horns, dual horns, triple horns... and even spiraling horns twisted and tangled together, or fine, sharp horns like clusters of moss. Each was distinct, each unique, resting atop the heads of the residents in the sprawling level below.
The aura radiating from them was undeniably what one would call Youki [Youkai Energy], yet Yukari, a youkai herself, denied their kinship. At least for now, she could not categorize this aberrant race among the youkai.
Oni.
Or perhaps they should be called... God-men.
Former God-men.
The divine essence within them had not yet fully faded; instead, it had fused with their new selves to give birth to something entirely different. This was one of the few things Yukari could confirm; beyond that, even she was in the dark.
Despite her unique ability to scout in secret, at the end of the day, in a place where the deeper one went, the more vital the secrets became, Yukari was nothing more than a petty thief, constantly terrified of being discovered by the master of this subterranean city.
Her awareness of her own limits and a persistent sense of danger had prevented her from delving deeper in the past. It was only today that she finally had the chance to see it all.
As she expected, the male youkai—Sū ěr—began walking along the path taken by the blood-bearers without a moment's hesitation. However, none but Think knew that Sū ěr was internally conflicted, unsure whether to continue this exploration.
Ultimately, it came down to one question: Just how strong were the gods of this world?
The last time Sū ěr had felt such a clear sense of trepidation was when he led his small team out to find herbs for the village, wary of Orcs that might or might not appear. Hesitation, conflict, and anxiety—unsure if he should retreat immediately even if the objective wasn't met—it felt like standing at a crossroads of destiny.
That was the nature of the unknown, and the unknown brought terror. Sū ěr believed that no matter how strong he became, he could never cast aside this sense of awe. Perhaps this was the very feeling the long-invincible God of War [Artosh] had yearned to witness.
The group of humans continued their trek ahead, enduring the predatory gazes cast upon them from the roadsides and the air. Though they trembled with fear, they didn't even dare to prostrate themselves in weakness. They had seen too much; if they fell behind the group and were left unable to move, they would instantly become a feast for the owners of those terrifying eyes.
Thus, they pressed on, even if they had to carry one another. It was an instinctual terror that no amount of repetition could dull.
"Are these Oni the secret of Yamato?" Although she felt the same pressure as the ordinary humans, Yuuka Kazami displayed only a restless anticipation. she was eager to test the strength of these never-before-seen youkai—to see if they were strong or weak.
"I suspect as much. I fear the grandson of Amaterasu-Omikami views them as his army. Perhaps it is because of them that Yamato has never given up its desire for the land of Izumo," Yukari said calmly. "The number of humans in Yamato is dwindling."
"Fewer humans, weaker humans... yet the Tenson will not halt his plans, nor will he suppress the desires of himself and his descendants. They will only double their efforts to find places to satisfy those cravings... but you didn't think I meant only these Oni, did you?" Even as a youkai, Yukari felt a surge of revulsion. "Let's keep moving. Just stay close to that group."
In this heavy, oppressive atmosphere, the group had little desire for conversation. The secret Yukari described soon revealed itself behind an open door. There was no concealment, yet even the well-traveled Sū ěr found no words to describe the evil before him.
True evil. An evil that humanity could never accept.
Large-scale ironworks that had no place in this era—platforms forged of steel, standing like upright vats. Stretching from behind the iron gate was a railway suspended in mid-air, terminating at the center of the largest iron vat. The men who had been so arrogant on the surface were now huddling together, dragging and crawling their way to the end of that steel path. Translucent liquid stained the path they traversed, but no one could mock their cowardice; even Sū ěr wanted to applaud their sheer bravery.
The humans tremblingly raised the vessels they had clutched—not just the one Sū ěr had seen, but several others gathered along the way—lifting them upward.
It was as if an invisible palm was pressing down on their heads, bending them until their spines nearly snapped. Pain did not matter; they simply did not dare to look up even a fraction.
Not until the monster suspended in the air descended to drain the jars in their hands.
Even from this distance, one could see the massive beads of sweat rolling down their necks, pooling into small streams that soaked the area. Yet the humans seemed not to notice, prostrating themselves and repeatedly slamming their foreheads against the cold ground.
Perhaps finding amusement in their actions, the hanging monster let out a high-pitched, screeching laugh that pierced the eardrums. Yet, upon hearing this laughter, the prostrate humans relaxed as if a great burden had been lifted. They made no move to stand, instead scooting backward on their bellies until they reached the door. Only then did they scramble to their feet, supporting each other and fleeing as fast as they could without a single backward glance.
Naturally, they didn't see Sū ěr party. Only the rank, acrid smell carried by the wind of their passage made Sū ěr frown, but he didn't mock these people who were escaping after completing their task.
The monster that had received the fresh blood was still there, right above them.
It resembled a massive honeycomb, but it was not made of wax. It was constructed of undulating, squirming flesh—bloating, twisting, and multiplying at the most grotesque angles. It tightly encircled a colossal, pale, and bloated face that looked as though it had been submerged in water for too long.
Faces after faces were embedded into the mass, but as Sū ěr looked closer, he realized they were all growths sprouting from the twisted meat, like pustules erupting from the skin. Slender arms hung down from the air like roots; despite the windless depths, they swayed in time with the shrill laughter—boneless, variable in length, and as flexible as long serpents, intertwining with one another.
A demon—a true demon!