The Miasma

The ancient, weathered rock, known for centuries as the Killing Stone, stood amidst the volatile, sulfurous landscape of Nasu, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan. For generations, it had been a place of dark legends and cautionary tales, a solidified curse. Years ago, it had suffered its first significant fracture, a tremor that sent a ripple of unease through the spiritual world. Now, however, the crack had widened dramatically, splitting the stone further, a jagged wound far larger than its predecessor.

From deep within the newly opened fissure, a thin, ethereal wisp of purple miasma began to seep.

Elsewhere, in the serene tranquility of the nearby hot springs resorts, tourists and local enjoyers of the onsen were suddenly gripped by an inexplicable malaise. One moment, they were soaking in the therapeutic waters, the next, a crushing nausea, a bone-deep chill, and a burning sensation in their lungs. Coughs turned into retching, dizzy spells into collapses. Panic began to spread through the usually placid baths as bodies slumped.

The first ambulances arrived with wailing urgency, their flashing lights piercing the misty air. Paramedics, bewildered by the sheer number and the uniform, inexplicable symptoms, began to ferry the sick and unconscious from the springs. Within minutes, the entire hot spring area, and indeed the immediate vicinity of the Killing Stone, was evacuated and cordoned off, a stark yellow tape warning of an unseen danger.

But the invisible miasma continued its inexorable spread. While its effect was milder further away from the stone's epicenter, a growing number of people in Nasu and its surrounding towns began to feel unwell. A pervasive lethargy, persistent headaches, and an alarming rate of respiratory issues became commonplace. The local hospital in Nasu was quickly overwhelmed, its waiting rooms overflowing, its medical staff scrambling to understand what was afflicting their community. As the reports of widespread illness mounted, a palpable fear gripped the region, and many citizens began to flee further away, seeking refuge from the invisible contamination.

The story quickly exploded. Within hours, the unfolding catastrophe in Nasu, the mystery of the spreading sickness, and the ominous images of the newly fractured Killing Stone, made national headlines across Japan.

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In the middle of a lunch break within the familiar confines of their classroom, Kaito stood leaning casually beside Ren's desk. Ren, engrossed in his bento, was watching a news video on his phone, the glowing screen reflecting off his glasses. The animated discussion about the latest campus gossip died on Ren's lips as his thumb paused on the playback. He turned the phone slightly for Kaito to see, the sound of an urgent news anchor's voice filling the small space.

"Hey, Kaito," Ren began, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "Did you see this? That 'Killing Stone' cracked again. People are getting sick, and they're cordoning off entire towns." The video showed blurred footage of ambulances and hazmat-suited figures moving through what looked like a resort town. He glanced up at Kaito. "Do you think this incident is like the one that happened in New York two months ago? Or the one in London half a year ago?"

Kaito's gaze remained fixed on the alarming images. "I'm not sure, but it sure does look like an ominous sign."

Silently, his mind reaching out into the ethereal figure behind him, Kaito telepathically addressed the shimmering figure that only he could perceive. 'Durandal,' he thought, his voice echoing in the private chamber of his awareness. 'What do you make of this?'

Durandal, unlike the voluptuous, impossibly elegant form she assumed in the realm in-between, had now taken on the appearance of a little girl with a flat chest, her frame diminutive, yet still adorned in the same holy yet lewd outfit that defied any earthly fashion. She blamed the lack of resonance for her current form.

Durandal floated a few inches off the ground, her tiny, ethereal legs dangling.

'Hm,' her voice, a crystalline chime in Kaito's mind, acknowledged. 'It seems the seal on the entity being held in that rock is breaking. This… illness… is the byproduct of it.' She sounded almost bored, as if discussing a trivial malfunction.

'Is there any way to fix this?' Kaito pressed, a knot tightening in his gut. The sheer scale of what was happening, the suffering of ordinary people, weighed on him.

'Japanese magic tends to favor Barrier, Spirit, and Nature Attunement,' Durandal explained, her tone shifting slightly, becoming more academic. 'However, this particular seal was created with Age of God's magic. It seems unlikely for anyone in modern times, even with their nascent understanding of magic, to be able to fully repair such a complicated ward.'

Kaito's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. 'So it's inevitable then.' He paused, a new thought sparking. 'Durandal, have you heard anything about Tamamo no Mae?'

The little girl form of Durandal tilted her head. "Tamamo no Mae? Ah, the fox. I heard she was causing havoc in the east, certainly. But not much else than that. I was stuck in a rock for a very long time, after all." A hint of ancient resentment laced her last words, even in the innocent voice of a child.

'How strong do you think she is?' Kaito asked, his thoughts turning to the terrifying implications of facing a legendary yokai. 'If it comes down to it, do I have a chance of winning?'

Durandal floated thoughtfully, her small brow furrowed. 'Hm. It seems she's only a spirit at the moment, so her power is way down, but she has accumulated a lot of curse and resentment over the centuries, so that brings her power level quite a bit up. Then again, with my blessing, it's likely to mitigate some of that negativity, so around a Minor Apocalypse Beast, perhaps?' She considered this for a moment. 'Then again, if she were to break out of the seal prematurely, that would definitely reduce her strength initially.'

Durandal gave a confident thumbs-up. "You should have a chance, Kaito. If all else fails, you can always flee and try again later."

'Wait, what is a minor apocalypse beast?' Kaito asked, the term catching his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. He can deal with yokai, sure, but 'apocalypse beast' sounded like a whole new level of trouble. 'It sounds serious.'

Durandal nodded, her small form bobbing slightly in the air. 'Well, they are descendants or lesser spawn of major apocalypse beasts. Still formidable, mind you. Capable of causing quite a bit of widespread ruin, but not usually extinction-level events.'

'What are major apocalypse beasts then?' Kaito pressed, a growing sense of dread settling in his stomach.

'I've never seen them myself,' Durandal admitted, 'but there are countless myths about them. You should be familiar with some names, they were recorded in biblical texts: Behemoth, the Beast of the Land; Leviathan, the Beast of the Sea; Ziz, the Beast of the Sky.' Her ethereal gaze seemed to drift, as if seeing beyond the classroom walls. 'There are a few others too, but I'm not sure how real they are: like Ragnarök Fenrir, the Devourer of Worlds; Jörmungandr, the World Serpent; and Typhon, the Father of Monsters, among other.'

'The Apocalypse Beast,' Durandal continued, 'is the Beast of Revelation. But again, that is mostly a myth, a prophecy that may or may not come to pass.'

She then gave Kaito a mischievous grin. 'If you like, you can fight against a minor apocalypse beast to test out your strength. Roland and I had defeated a handful of them.'