Ashes Unearthed

Hovering above the purple-stained lake, his silhouette stark against the violet-tinged moon that loomed behind him like a watchful eye. His coat and shirt hung in tatters, the fabric fluttering weakly before slipping away entirely, revealing his bare torso.

The sight was grotesque and mesmerising—a canvas of flesh convulsing and expanding, his muscles rippling as if they were molten iron being forged into something monstrous.

Then suddenly, a sound could be heard. It was a low, guttural groan, like timber splintering under immense pressure. The sound was sharp and grinding, like brittle glass shattering—sending chills to the eyes below. Rippling with an unnatural strength, his skin cracked apart like a crumbling clay pot.

"Aw, hell nah! I think I'm gonna puke." Decker stumbled back while holding his stomach, almost tripping over his own feet. His voice, loud and jagged, cut through the oppressive silence. "What is that? What the hell are we looking at?"

Tang-Ji's eyes flitted to the pulsating slash of ink etched into Esmeray's chest.

She observed the back lines in between the ink slash moving slightly as if they were alive. It was the inky black mark—a crescent moon, its shape both delicate and menacing, as though carved by the blade of midnight itself. Encircling it was a Roman numeral, VI, the strokes precise and haunting.

The first "I" stood firm like a solitary pillar, while the "V" spread wide, its angles sharp as broken wings. Together, they seemed alive, an inscription that pulsed faintly as though breathing.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Her breathing grew shallow, her chest tightening as her gaze darted to the glowing green bar beside him. Not a single fragment of his health had diminished.

Junyo, standing frozen with his mechanical gauntlet half-raised, stammered, "That—that's impossible. The virus should've—"

Esmeray interrupted with a low chuckle, his voice thick with derision. "Should've what? Brought me to my knees? A clever attempt, child, but poison only weakens a body that fears death."

He gestured to the black veins creeping along his chest, oozing faintly as though his flesh itself was corrupted. "The mechanical insect from earlier—it did more than sting. It injected a virus, one that sought to hollow me out from the inside."

With a deafening crack, Esmeray's skin split further, lines webbing out like fractures on a porcelain doll. Bits of the tough outer layer flaked off, clattering onto the ground. Under the grotesque exterior was a disturbing clarity—a flesh surface that shimmered like wet dough.

Shaking the water from the curly knots of his hair, he tapped repeatedly at his watch that was equipped on the inside of his wrist. His fingers trembled slightly as he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the hunter's transformation.

"It's not just flesh. It's... something else. A reinforced layer." His voice was calm, deliberate. "It seems... almost like dough—hardened to an extreme, able to resist—"

"—almost any physical force," Junyo finished, his words tumbling out in shock. He gestured wildly at Esmeray, his fingers trembling slightly. "He can reshape it at will! This isn't just some freakish mutation—his Leere... it's turning food into weapons! Into armour!"

Esmeray laughed, the sound a rich, sardonic melody that filled the air. "Oh, how delightful. A pair of cooks deciphering the recipe while standing inside the pot. Tell me—do you plan to season yourselves before I devour you?"

His gaze swept over the group, his scorn cutting deeper than any blade.

"You look like a pack of frightened hares at the edge of a butcher's table." His eyes darkened, his voice dipping into a venomous snarl. "Did you think you'd find salvation by nibbling at the corners of my power?"

"No... you will be seasoned, basted, and served to the gods of this world." 

The words slithered through the cracks below, low and sharp.

"And if you cannot best me, you have no hope against the others. Their appetites... are unfathomable."

Ji-Soon's brow furrowed, his hand twitching to perform skill deployment. But deep down, he hesitated to attack again after their futile attempt.

"The others? What are you talking about?" His gaze flickered towards the faintly glowing bubble in the distance and the mysterious blue figure within.

Something about it gnawed at him, like a thread being pulled into the depths of his mind.

A slow, cruel smile curled at his lips as the crescent moon on the hunter's chest seeming to glint with malice. "The mark on my body," he said, gesturing towards the Roman numeral VI, "is not merely decoration.

"It is a ranking—a symbol of my place among the elite. We are the Envoyers of Dusk, the sovereigns of this realm. Above me are five others; their power is so far beyond yours it's almost laughable. Pray you never encounter them, though your fate suggests otherwise."

Ji-Soon's fists clenched, his voice breaking the silence. "Number six? Does that mean..."

Esmeray's gaze snapped to him, amused.

"It means I am the second weakest. The ones above me? They'll make this little skirmish look like a picnic."

Esmeray's hair rose unnaturally, strands defying gravity, twisting in the stagnant air like a silent storm. His piercing scornful gaze swept across the group as he clasped his hands together with a sharp, reverberating crack.

"This world," he began, his voice dripping with disdain, "is not yours to save. Nor is it mine to destroy. It is… ours to consume."

A blinding light erupted from between his palms, stretching and morphing until it became tangible, the illumination wrapping itself into a dark object—a book.

Its cover was black as the void, embossed with the emblem of a crescent moon, mirroring the mark on his chest.

"Behold," Esmeray intoned, his voice resonating like a death knell.

"The true form of my Leere—God's Menu." The book hovered before him, flipping its pages as though eager to unleash its secrets before he was engulfed in a surge of purple energy.

The moon above turned fully violet, casting the landscape in an otherworldly glow. But before the transformation could fully consume him, Ji-Soon took a defiant step forward, his voice trembling with both anger and disbelief.

"What the hell do you want?!" Ji-Soon shouted, his voice bouncing off the vast realm of the underworld.

With his hand clenched at his side, his eyes darted towards the bubble suspended in the air. Inside, the blue-haired girl hung motionless, her figure blurred by the faint shimmer of light. His gaze burned into her as if he could pierce the distance, drag the truth out with sheer force.

"What's she got to do with this?" His voice softened for a moment, but his words carried a sharper weight.

"Why's she so important to you?"

Esmeray chuckled, a low, condescending sound that dripped with venom.

"Hmph. You're only scratching the surface of a fabric too vast for your feeble mind to grasp. Perhaps the Fates themselves have whispered in your ear."

His grin widened, mocking. "Though I doubt they'd waste their breath on a pawn such as you."

Tang-Ji's voice broke through the charged silence, her hands clapping down onto her thighs, nails digging into them as if she wanted all the blood to be drained out.

"This world—why did you give us these tools to fight back? Why are we here? Who are you people? And why do you speak like this place is more than a game?" Her sapphire eyes glinted, their colour fading ever so slightly, as if the weight of her words drained something vital from her.

Esmeray's eyes flicked towards her, his expression darkening.

"Such naive questions," he sneered.

"And yet, they have a certain charm, like the curiosity of a child gazing into a lion's maw. This world is exactly what it appears to be... and yet, it is so much more." He lifted a hand, fingers curling slightly as if grasping something unseen.

Water dripped from his torn gloves as he continued. "You speak of reality and fiction as if they are opposites, but tell me, child—what is the difference between a cage of glass and a cage of iron when the prisoner cannot escape?"

Tang-Ji's fists clenched. "That's not an answer. Answer me properly; give me the truth!"

Esmeray's gaze shifted, his eyes locking onto something beyond the cavern's walls, far away.

"The truth," he muttered, his voice now a low murmur, though the condescension remained sharp. "It's a blade too sharp for your fragile minds."

He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, before continuing, his tone almost softer, but no less cutting.

"A Leere isn't just a weapon." He smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"It is desire—distilled, sharpened. It reflects not what you are, but what you could be. Your most twisted potential. A tool you forge from your own soul."

His words seemed to linger in the air like smoke. "It's not a weapon—it's a mirror. What you hold reflects who you are, what you crave, and what you fear."

He let that sink in, floating higher, his presence overpowering.

"This world, like your Leere, is nothing more than a reflection of humanity's insatiable hunger. Tell me..." He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening ever so faintly. "Can a reflection bear the weight of salvation? Or will it shatter under the burden?"

He clicked both his fingers like a flesh artisan as a familiar fork-shaped item materialised.

It shimmered ominously, the tines of the fork hummed with an unsettling resonance as crimson threads unfurled into the cave, each one slithering towards the group.

He twirled the fork deftly in his fingers, as though he were waving a baton rather than a kitchen utensil, though the gleam in his eyes told a different story—a predator relishing the moment before the kill.

The threads pulsed, probing the air like sentient tendrils before latching onto each of their minds. The group recoiled instinctively, faces tightening with unease as they felt something stir deep within their chests. Esmeray's smirk deepened, his voice cutting through the silence with the precision of a dagger.

"You wear your masks well," he began, his tone smooth and sinister. "But the truth, ah… the truth always finds its way through the cracks."

He turned his gaze first to Decker. 

"Get off me!" Decker ordered as he tried to swat away the thread. However, his hand went straight through the thread, almost as if it were made of a mist.

"A heart bound by chains of fire and ice," Esmeray mused, his fork tracing lazy patterns in the air, "searing rage and freezing doubt—neither letting you love nor forget."

Decker's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his eyes narrowing as though daring Esmeray to continue.

Next, the hunter's attention shifted to Junyo, who shrank back under the weight of the crimson light threading through his chest.

Esmeray tilted his head, almost sympathetically. "A shadow that clings too closely," he said softly, his smirk turning wistful. "Whispering that you were never meant to stand in the light."

Junyo looked down, processing the strangely familiar riddle.

When his gaze fell upon Emiko, her eyes met his with a fire that burned through her fear. Esmeray's smirk grew sharper, as if he found her defiance amusing. "A bird in a golden cage," he said, his voice lilting mockingly, "wings clipped by trust broken, singing a song only she can hear."

Emiko's fists trembled at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She glared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Kompto stood rigid, his face impassive but his hand hovering near his Leere. Esmeray's eyes gleamed as he studied him, leaning slightly forward as if savouring the moment.

"Just who are you, Kompto or Creed? Kompto is who you are right now, right?" He murmured, his voice almost reverent. "A blade hidden in the sheath of a man. Dulled by grief, sharpened by duty—cutting yourself with every swing. "

Kompto's expression barely shifted, but his grip on his weapon tightened. A faint twitch betrayed the turmoil beneath his stoic exterior.

Esmeray's fork pointed next towards Ji-Soon, who stared at the ground, shoulders tense and breath uneven. Esmeray's voice softened, almost pitying. "A crumbling bridge," he said, the words hanging heavily in the air, "built on pillars of faith, trembling under the weight of the world you swore to carry."

Ji-Soon's head jerked up slightly, his lips parting as though to respond, but he faltered, his words swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere.

Finally, Esmeray's crimson gaze lingered on Tang-Ji, longer than it had on the others, as though drawn to something he couldn't fully grasp—or perhaps didn't want to. His smirk faltered for the briefest of moments, replaced by a flicker of something harder to define: curiosity laced with unease.

He twirled his fork-shaped Leere absently, the motion slower now, less playful. The threads of crimson light that had entwined around the others dimmed, curling back into the weapon, leaving only the thread that tethered itself to Tang-Ji, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

Esmeray tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made the air around them seem heavier. His fingers tightened on the Leere's handle, and his smirk returned, though it now seemed forced, like a mask hastily put back on. 

"A thread knotted by three unseen hands," he began, his voice softer now, tinged with an uncharacteristic hesitation. His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, then returned to her, his eyes darker than before. "Each knot is a choice you never made. Each pull tightens a noose you'll never escape."

Tang-Ji stiffened, her glare unwavering, but her hands curled into fists at her sides. Esmeray noticed and chuckled, the sound hollow and humourless. He lifted the Leere, letting the faint glow of its tines reflect in her eyes.

"You think you're defiant," he murmured, almost to himself. "That you can cut the thread, escape the loom. But..." He paused, his voice catching slightly, his smirk faltering once again. For a moment, he seemed almost... reluctant.

Esmeray exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as though trying to shake off the weight of what he was about to say. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, quieter, and yet somehow carried more weight than before.

"Your fate," he said, each word deliberate, "is not just cruel. It is merciless. The tapestry is woven for you—it will demand everything. Every step forward will cost you something precious. Every victory will carve deeper into your soul." He gestured vaguely with his Leere, as though trying to illustrate the unimaginable complexity of it all.

"And when you finally see it, when the full pattern is revealed... you'll wish you hadn't. Because knowing won't free you. It'll only make you realise how tightly you've been bound from the start."

For a moment, he stood utterly still, his expression unguarded. There was no smirk now, no mocking glint in his eyes. Only a faint shadow of discomfort quickly masked as he leant back in the air, spinning the utensil like a wand once more.

"Strange," he muttered, half to himself, his voice barely audible. "Even I can't see it clearly... but I feel it. And it's... unsettling."

Tang-Ji's glare only deepened, though her breath hitched slightly, betraying the impact of his words. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Esmeray tilted his head again, the smirk returning, though it seemed more like a defence mechanism than a genuine expression.

"Take comfort, child," he said finally, his tone turning flippant once more, though his hand trembled faintly.

"You're not even worth killing. Fate itself had already decided your future. Your pitiful, inevitable end. How I would love to see how you fall to your eventual demise. After all, every tragedy needs an audience. "

"My future has... already been set in stone.?"

"However," Esmeray straightened, twirling his Leere once more and letting the crimson threads dissipate like smoke.

"As for your friends, the same mercy will not be given to them. Now shoo! Get out of my sight, girl," he flicked his hand at her as if he were telling a misbehaving animal to return back to its cage.

The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by the faint hum of Esmeray's Leere and the laboured breathing of those he still had in his clutches.

Tang-Ji's lips parted as though to speak, but Esmeray raised a hand, silencing her.

"Ask no more, little one. Truth is a poison best served sparingly." He turned his attention back to the group, his voice rising with finality. "And now, your questions no longer matter. The end has already been written."

Before anyone could respond, a familiar alarm blared in Tang-Ji's ears, the sound sharp and invasive. A notification flickered at the edge of her vision, stark against the purple haze:

Initiating Dusk Protocol.

The air grew heavier, the ground trembling beneath them as Esmeray raised his arms, the book hovering before him like an altar to his dominion. "I've grown tired of explaining; why don't you have a taste of this reality yourself?"