---
Beneath the City – 1:42 A.M.
The underground passage was cold enough that each breath left a ghostly fog.
Rei led the way, lantern light carving narrow islands of gold in the blackness. Sora followed close, trying not to notice how the shadows on the walls moved just a little too slowly… like they weren't his.
"You're slowing down," Rei said without looking back.
"Feels like… my legs are heavier."
"That's not your legs," she muttered. "That's the ritual pulling."
---
The corridor widened into a vast stone chamber with no ceiling — only open sky, silvered by the waning moon.
At the center, a long black coffin rested on a raised dais. Around it, cloaked figures chanted in a language that grated against the ears, each syllable like a rusted blade.
The air vibrated. Sora's stomach churned.
"They're burying the idea of you," Rei whispered. "When it's done, the world won't even remember you existed."
Sora's heartbeat roared in his ears. "Then we stop it."
---
Rei dropped the lantern. Her hands blurred through hand seals—
Shadow Sight bloomed across her eyes, and the edges of the chamber's darkness deepened, revealing hidden shapes: talismans, inverted charms, and inhuman things crouched in the rafters, all staring straight at them.
One of the cloaked cultists turned. Its hood fell back, revealing a face—
Or rather, the absence of one.
A perfectly smooth void where features should be.
The thing raised a clawed hand—
---
WHUMP!
A blast of pressure ripped through the chamber as Gojo stepped in from the far archway, blindfold crooked, skewers still in hand.
"Thought you'd start the party without me?" he drawled.
The faceless cultist hissed, the coffin's lid rattling like something inside was struggling to get out.
---
But Sora wasn't listening anymore.
Because inside his head, a second voice was speaking—
his own voice, but colder.
> "Let them finish. You don't belong here anyway."