In a world perpetually denied sunlight, endless night and torrential rain were the dominant themes.
But unlike the usual gloom, a white object, barely visible to the naked eye, soared through the sky. Its sleek, silver-white fuselage looked alien against the dark backdrop. A pair of electronic eyes faithfully observed the ground below, transmitting the feed to a tablet not far away.
"Damn it. No matter how many times I look at this, it makes me sick."
Kenmei Isayama watched the feed on his tablet, his stomach churning violently.
In one sentence:
"That village is alive."
Everything visible to the naked eye was a gory, horrific mess of flesh. Whether it was the buildings or the ground itself, everything was covered in gruesome, bloated strips and chunks of meat.
The original wooden structures were barely discernible. The watchtowers at the four corners of the village were also swathed in this endless flesh, intertwined like the gnarled roots of an old tree. It looked as if the village had grown out of the earth itself.
The surface resembled the skinned carcasses of monkeys. Countless bulging blue veins and crimson, blood-streaked muscle fibers didn't dull under the wash of the black rain; instead, they became even more vivid. The whole thing breathed rhythmically, the bloody muscle creating a powerful, terrifying visual impact.
Just looking at it directly, Kenmei could feel the malice and bloodlust wash over him, threatening to drag him down into corruption. Unimaginable resentment clung to this ominous flesh.
This was why Kenmei said the cursed village was "alive." Staring at the tablet for too long caused a sharp pain in his brain. He couldn't watch for extended periods.
If he had to step on that disgusting ground, he would probably vomit instantly.
He was incredibly grateful to be living in this era, where technology allowed him to see the full picture of this untouched "virgin land" without setting foot in it.
As for the Wraiths Kenmei was so eager to hunt, he spotted at least thirty of them. Scattered around like zombies in a horror movie, they shuffled sluggishly between the fleshy buildings. They ignored each other completely; even when they bumped into one another, they simply hissed and moved on.
Currently, Kenmei had set up a small camp on the cliff where he had mutually destroyed the Wraith (Hunter). He pitched a small tent to shelter from the rain.
Out of caution, he only used a night light on the lowest setting, but it was enough for him to sketch and mark positions on his paper.
"The entire village is three kilometers long and about 1.8 kilometers wide. There are eighteen buildings in total, with exits at the north, south, east, and west."
Kenmei drew a simple sketch based on the images captured by the drone.
"It can be divided into three zones."
He used the areas not covered in flesh as boundaries. There were three flesh-free zones: one looked like an ancestral shrine, another like a clan hall, and the last appeared to be the most opulent structure.
Is that where the Village Chief lives?
Kenmei hadn't been there.
So, the first volley was going straight there.
Who asked it to be so unique?
Besides, Kenmei had zero cost for trial and error. If he made an irreversible mistake, he could just slit his throat and restart the run.
Logically, the Wraith living in such a place would likely be top-tier in strength, meaning it would yield the most Points.
Two rounds, just to be safe.
Kenmei drew two circles on that location, indicating that it didn't just need to be hit—it needed to be hit hard.
As for the places he identified as the clan hall and ancestral shrine, he wouldn't spare them either.
Kenmei was here to massacre the village. For the memorial tablets of these old geezers who had been dead for god knows how many years, he had one sentence:
Blow it all to hell.
He circled them too.
Kenmei had prepared a total of eight "Hell Cannon" propane mortars. That accounted for four rounds. He still had four more rounds ready to go, not to mention over a dozen original, unmodified propane tanks waiting to be cracked open.
Sigh. Is this the burden of having too much ammo?
Looking at the eighteen marked buildings, even with one shell per building, he'd have leftovers. But he didn't plan on wasting ammo on those dilapidated little courtyards.
It was beneath him to bomb those.
Better to bomb the areas with high concentrations of Wraiths. He shifted the drone slightly and marked all the gathering spots on his sketch.
Targets confirmed. Twenty-four impact points in total.
Kenmei decided to send a wave of rockets to his Wraith buddies first. He pulled the eight prepared "Propane Tank" mortars from his inventory and lined them up on the cliff edge.
Warhead: A spent propane tank filled with Kenmei's custom-mixed high-energy explosives (sugar + potassium nitrate), fitted with a welded impact fuse at the nose.
Body: A welded pipe filled with a certain explosive propellant [Redacted]. The length was adjustable—short pipe for close range, long pipe for long range.
Tail: Four welded fins to stabilize the flight trajectory.
Don't let the crude look fool you. The accuracy might be "emotional," but the structure was sound. And with a 300mm warhead, the payload rivaled the main guns of a battleship. Even if they could only fly a mile or two, it was enough to give these Wraiths a hell of a time.
When the propane tank casing exploded, the high-strength steel shrapnel would create terrifying lethality, scattering like flowers from heaven.
This was the "Caliber is Justice" doctrine Kenmei subscribed to!
Step 1: Adjust the elevation angle. Just add a bolt.
Step 2: Calculate the elevation. Use an iPad with a built-in gyroscope/inclinometer... (Let's not get into the weeds).
One by one, Kenmei adjusted the height of the propane mortars according to the coordinates on his sketch, ensuring he wouldn't miss by a mile.
He also wired the fuses of all eight mortars into a single line for convenience.
Once everything was ready, Kenmei remembered to raise the drone's altitude. Losing a 180,000 yen drone to friendly fire would be a tragic waste of money.
"Alright. Time to see if this mule can kick."
Although there was no third-party quality certification, Kenmei had confidence in his craftsmanship. He was an artisan, after all.
Fwoosh.
In the dim night, a flicker of blue flame rose from Kenmei's fingertip, illuminating his face.
"Let this be the war song for my road to power."
Hiss... Sizzle...
Ignited by the psychic fire, the fuse raced toward the "Hell Cannons" at breakneck speed, turning into an orange-red flame as the internal propellant caught fire.
The next second, Kenmei's vision went white.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Eight massive explosions of kinetic energy merged into a single, earth-shattering roar that sounded like thunder.
Crack! The ground at the cliff's edge cracked open under the recoil of the artillery barrage.
Kenmei felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. He waved away the smoke, watching as eight objects glowing with orange light streak across the night sky like meteors falling to earth. A brilliant smile spread across his face as he spread his arms wide, basking in the destruction.
The continuous explosions dyed the sky the same color as the lava-strewn earth below. The blinding flashes from the barrage were like a ceremonial salute illuminating this filthy, broken world—a holy light of purification.
Purge all filth!
[Points +31,000]
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Meanwhile, at the very top of the [Temple of All Living Things] Demon Subjugation Pagoda, which seemed protected by a barrier that even the fierce shockwaves outside couldn't shake...
Inside a secret chamber covered in dense, bloody sutras, the room was filled with vajras, phurba daggers, and demon-subjugating pestles—ritual implements used to suppress evil.
And what these artifacts were suppressing...
Was an open box made of pure gold, carved with sealing runes. Looking down from above, inside the box lay a severed head.
It belonged to a very young monk, his features filled with compassion. But eerily, crimson coffin nails had been driven into his skull, as if to pin him inside the gold box forever. His eyes were covered with a white cloth, and his mouth was sewn shut.
Why he had been treated so viciously was unknown. The sutras on the walls and the glow of the artifacts had dimmed over the river of time.
Yet, the head remained as lifelike as the day it was severed.
And if one looked closely... they would see the coffin nails slowly being pushed out.