– Chapter 53: The Thousand-Faced Monk

The shrine changed shape.

Like a living thing breathing in fog.

Each beat of the drum outside caused its wooden limbs to pulse—like veins.

Hiragi stood at the edge of the ritual field, blade unsheathed, Void humming in his skin.

From the shrine's mouth, incense poured like smoke from a cremated god.

And then—he appeared.

A monk.

No face. No skin.

Just a patchwork of masks, nailed, sewn, glued—covering every inch of his body.

His voice echoed from all of them at once.

"I am the Thousand-Faced One.

I speak the grief of the city."

He raised a hand.

Behind him, a wall of mirrors shimmered into existence—each one showing a different face of a missing person from Hoshiyama.

Airi gasped. "That's... No. That's my classmate... From last year."

Lain stepped back. "They're not just mirrors... They're traps."

The Monk walked barefoot, his feet never bleeding despite the sharp glass and bone fragments on the ground.

With each step, a mask from his body fell off, shattering.

And with every break, a soul screamed, echoing across the ritual field.

"These are the souls who chose to worship the hollow gods," he intoned.

"I offered them masks so they could forget the pain of the world."

He turned to Hiragi.

Hundreds of mouths moved.

"And what mask do you wear, Slayer?"

Hiragi gritted his teeth.

Void vision activated.

The shrine, the monk, the dancers—all layered illusions built from real trauma.

He wasn't just facing a cursed cult.

He was inside a multi-layered grief engine powered by forgotten memories.

CRACK!

One of the child dancers snapped its neck backward unnaturally and whispered:

"You cannot slay a god you do not believe in."

Fire rose.

The crowd turned—no longer people, but empty suits of flesh stuffed with smoke.

Hiragi stepped forward.

Void surged, tearing away illusions.

"I've faced gods. Faced monsters. Faced myself."

He raised his blade.

"You're just another parasite hiding behind grief."

The Monk laughed—his laughter echoed from every broken mirror, forming a symphony of sorrow.

"Very well, Hiragi. Let's peel away your mask."

Then—a mirror cracked.

And from it, stepped a version of Hiragi he'd long buried—

Eyes empty.

Face emotionless.

Blade soaked in blood.

A past he never escaped.

End of Chapter 53