"Ah," Seijirou sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of pure, unadulterated satisfaction escaping his lips as he slowly submerged his body into the steaming waters of the hot springs at the Midorima Mansion.

The heat was immediate and enveloping, sinking deep into his muscle fibers and unknotting the lingering tension from the day’s travel and the psychological warfare of meeting the Midorima elders and that eerie feeling he felt in the town.

"This feels great~" he muttered to the empty night air.

He tilted his head back against the smooth, damp stones of the bath’s edge, resting his eyes as he looked up at the vast canopy of the night sky.

The stars here, away from the light pollution of the 24th District, were brilliant and piercing, like diamonds scattered on black velvet.

It had been a while since he had been able to enjoy a proper traditional hot spring.

The natural minerals in the water seemed to hum with a faint, earthly resonance that soothed his spirit.

One day, he thought, a small smile playing on his lips, he would definitely bring Suzune, Emi, Touka, and the others here too.

He specifically remembered that Yukina loved hot springs—she could spend hours soaking until her skin turned as rosy pink as the tips of her hair.

He could almost hear their laughter echoing off the stone walls of the bathhouse.

He sighed once again, his body becoming heavy and loose.

"This feels so relaxing I could sleep..."

He allowed himself to slide deeper into the pool, submerging his frame until only his head remained above the surface.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing becoming slow and rhythmic as the world of supernatural fragments, high-stakes family drama, and eerie village cults began to feel like a distant, foggy dream.

But..

At that moment, his eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

*SLAP!*

With a sharp, stinging crack, Seijirou brought his palm across his own face as he stood up in a single, explosive motion, water cascading off his toned physique like a waterfall.

The drowsy, content expression was gone, replaced instantly by eyes that were sharp, cold, and incredibly focused.

"Who’s there!?"

That was bad. He realized it with a jolt of adrenaline.

He had actually almost fallen asleep—a state of vulnerability he never allowed himself in unfamiliar territory.

If his primal instincts hadn’t screamed at him at the very last microsecond that there was a predatory presence nearby, he would have been caught in a deep slumber.

The water hadn’t just been relaxing; there was something in the air, a subtle, sweet-smelling soporific that had been working on his senses.

Just then, a thick, unnatural fog rolled over the edges of the stone bath, obscuring the moon and swallowing the lanterns.

It wasn’t a natural mist from the hot springs, it felt heavy and tasted of stagnant pond water.

Seijirou didn’t hesitate as he shifted his weight into a low stance and executed a powerful sweeping kick through the air.

The sheer force of the wind generated by his movement acted like a physical gust, blowing away the artificial fog in a wide radius.

As the air cleared, several figures were revealed, standing on the mossy rocks surrounding the spring.

They were the same deformed young men he had seen in the village earlier—men whose looks suggested they had undergone generations of tragic, closed-circle inbreeding.

Their skin was sallow, their eyes mismatched and bulging with a fanatical, glassy light.

Seijirou furrowed his brows, his gaze moving from one twisted face to another. "So it’s you guys... you’re related to those two fuglies we met earlier in the afternoon? I thought the local welcoming committee was supposed to bring gift baskets, not creep around a man’s bath."

"You! Don’t you dare insult our father!" one of them screamed, his voice a cracked, high-pitched warble as he brandished a sharp ritual knife, his knuckles white.

"Father?" Seijirou blinked, a look of genuine disgust crossing his face. "Don’t you mean brother? You lot look like you were all squeezed out of the same unlucky tube. You’re about the same age. Unless I’m right and you really are inbreeding in this backwater hole."

"So what if we are!?" another youth shouted, his jaw set at an unnatural angle. "We are keeping our bloodline pure for the God! We are the chosen vessels!"

Seijirou remained silent for a heartbeat, his eyes scanning the perimeter.

He was assessing their numbers, their stances, and the way they held their weapons as he thought about why they were targeting him now.

He hadn’t done anything to these people beyond a few verbal jabs, and while they were clearly petty, this felt coordinated.

Not to mention if they are targeting him, they would’ve already attacked him, instead, they simply surrounded him, as if trying to intimidate him from moving.

In other words, they weren’t here to attack him, but they were here simply to keep him occupied. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

They were a diversion.

In other words, their true target could only be...

"Tsk." He clicked his tongue, his face darkening.

He didn’t even give them the satisfaction of a fight, and instead of engaging, he immediately rushed out of the hot springs, his bare feet slapping against the stone with the force of a thunderclap.

This startled the cultists.

They had expected him to stay and fight, wanting to defeat them because they are threatening his life.

They didn’t expect him to run away!

They immediately scrambled to intercept him, their movements frantic.

"Quick! Stop him! The High Priest gave us strict orders to keep this guy here at all costs! Don’t let him reach the main hall!"

Hearing those words of keeping him here at all cost already confirmed his guess, and the thought of it made his blood began to boil.

Instantly, he poured his Ki into his legs, the silver-gold energy erupting from his pores as he sprinted toward the mansion’s interior, every step causing the wooden floorboards and stone tiles to crack and splinter from the sheer, overwhelming force of his acceleration.

*

*

*

At this moment, in the main hall of the Midorima Mansion.

The atmosphere of the birthday banquet had been shattered as the local dignitaries who are about to enter the mansion had driven ushered out, and the room was now filled with grey-robed monks from the mountain temple.

They stood in a wide circle, their faces hidden behind the same faceless porcelain masks that haunted the village.

"Why are you temple monks here?" Ryusui stood up, his voice a commanding roar that filled the hall as he stood at the head of the table, staring down the intruders.

Beside him, Miyako stood with her hands folded in her sleeves, her eyes cold as ice.

Haruka and Yuko stood behind them, Haruka’s hand already hovering near the concealed blade in her formal attire.

"I believe we have a long-standing non-interference agreement, High Priest," Miyako said, her voice cutting through the tension. "You pray in your little temple on the ridge, and we do our job as the mountain’s keepers. We have lived in peace for three hundred without interfering with each other’s business. Why break the pact now?"

A monk at the front, his robes more ornate than the others, bowed with a chilling, mechanical precision. "Apologies, Ryusui-sama, Miyako-sama. The time of the Great Harvest has arrived, and the stars have aligned. We have our orders from the God. Yuko-sama must be taken to the temple tonight. She is the lost Miko, and she must fulfill her destiny."

Yuko looked startled, her face turning pale as she clutched Haruka’s arm. "Huh? What are you talking about? I haven’t stepped foot in that temple since I was a child!"

"Hmph. Try it." Ryusui stepped forward, his body suddenly glowing with a faint, earthy green power.

In a flash of light, a beautifully crafted katana appeared in his hands—the ancestral blade of the Midorima, said to have been gifted to them by a god.

"Do you think just because I’ve aged, you can walk into my home and steal my daughter? I’ve killed bigger things than you on this mountain."

"Of course not, Ryusui-sama. We aren’t that confident in our martial prowess against a Master," the monk said calmly.

Then, one of the monks stepped forward from the shadows.

He didn’t draw a weapon, but instead, he pressed his palms flat against the tatami floor, and the entire hall suddenly glowed with a blinding, sickly purple light as a complex array of ritual seals appeared on the walls and ceiling.

Before Ryusui could swing his blade, the monk’s heavy wooden bead necklace exploded outward.

The beads shot through the air like bullets, trailing threads of glowing energy.

"What!?" Ryusui cried.

Before he could react, the beads wrapped themselves around his limbs and torso, constricting with the strength of iron bands.

The green glow of his spirit energy was instantly snuffed out as he fell to the floor, the ancestral blade clattering away as he found himself unable to exert a single ounce of his legendary strength.

The High Priest’s representative stepped over the fallen patriarch, his masked face turning toward the two women. "Now. Hand over Yuko-sama. The God is waiting, and he is not a patient deity."

Yuko backed away, her heart hammering against her ribs, as the monks began to close in, their faceless masks reflecting the flickering candlelight of the ruined banquet.

Haruka stepped in front of her mother, her eyes burning with a cold, lethal light, even as the ritual circle continued to pulse, draining the air of all resistance.