He stood up and pointed at Akari.
"You are special, my dear. But to understand why, you will need to survive. And Yuzuki... protect her well, or I will have the pleasure of adding her to my collection."
Before they could attack him, Mr. Kitty vanished once again, leaving behind only an echo of his laughter and a note on the floor:
"We shall meet again, my dears. Until then, take care."
The Weight of the Threat
Akari trembled, her breathing heavy. Yuzuki placed a hand on her shoulder, but nothing needed to be said. They both knew that Mr. Kitty was a far greater threat than anyone they had faced before. His sadism wasn't just brutal — it was calculated, and his obsession with Akari placed them both in constant danger.
As they left the tavern, the fog seemed thicker, the air heavier. They knew Mr. Kitty wouldn't give up easily, and that facing him again was only a matter of time. But above all, they knew they had to be ready. Because Mr. Kitty's true game was only beginning.
Alliance Through Pain
The sun was dying on the horizon, staining the sky with shades of red and orange. Akari and Yuzuki sat perched on the back of a hay-filled cart, pulled by a sturdy brown horse. The driver, a middle-aged farmer with a worn straw hat, hummed a melancholic tune as he guided the animal down the dusty trail leading to the city of Doom.
"You're heading to Doom?" the man asked, not taking his eyes off the road. His voice was raspy, probably from years of inhaling field dust.
"Yes, just passing through," Akari replied vaguely.
Yuzuki, ever watchful, scanned their surroundings. The sparse vegetation and the smell of dry earth created an oppressive atmosphere. Something about Doom's proximity felt heavy, as if the land itself held dark secrets.
"Be careful with the people there," the farmer warned. "Doom is a place where everyone has something to hide."
When the cart finally reached the city's edge, the driver gave a silent nod and continued on. Akari and Yuzuki dismounted, adjusting their clothes to shake off the dust from the journey. Doom was a city cloaked in decay: narrow cobbled streets, weathered wooden buildings with peeling paint, and a population whose faces reflected suspicion and weariness.
"Let's find a place to eat," Yuzuki suggested, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Best to start with the busiest bar. If anyone knows something, that's where we'll find out."
They walked toward a worn-down building with a swinging sign that read "The Leaky Mug." Inside, they were met by the scent of strong alcohol and aged wood. The bar's walls bore scratched Kugutsu symbols, showing the locals' hatred toward the Kanjis and the island... The place was dimly lit by lanterns, casting unsettling shadows. Patrons sat at tables scattered in disarray, while the bartender — a burly man with a filthy apron — wiped glasses with a grimy rag.
Akari and Yuzuki chose a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. The buzz inside the bar was low, but heavy with tension, like a fight could break out at any moment.
Soon after, a man approached. He wore dark clothes and a silver cross hung from his neck. His sunken eyes and upright posture revealed a disciplined past, but his presence radiated something broken and dangerous.
"You..." he said, leaning slightly, eyes fixed on Yuzuki and Akari. "The scent of a demon is on you."
Yuzuki frowned, instinctively placing a hand on his sword's hilt. "Who are you?"
"Someone who lost everything to a monster. My name is Gotier." He looked directly at Akari, as if trying to decipher something. "And you seem to have crossed paths with the same man who destroyed my life."
Akari narrowed her eyes, wary. "What are you talking about?"
Gotier sat down uninvited, opened a flask — the smell of alcohol was evident, and his hands trembled. "Mr. Kitty doesn't just want to kill. He wants to transform. My wife... he left her alive, but soulless. What was left for me... was to kill her." He raised the cross, revealing burn marks on his neck. "This is what remains of me."
Yuzuki exchanged a look with Akari before answering. "We crossed paths with him, but we're not connected to him."
Gotier gave a bitter laugh. "The scent on your clothes says otherwise."
Akari clenched her fists, restraining herself from reacting impulsively. "What do you want from us?"
"An alliance. Temporary, of course. If Mr. Kitty is your enemy, then we share a common interest."
Yuzuki eased slightly, but stayed alert. "And why should we trust you?"
Gotier raised the flask, taking a long swig before replying. "You don't have to trust me. But if you want to survive what's coming, you'll need me. Mr. Kitty isn't the only monster roaming the shadows of Doom."
Yuzuki glanced at Gotier's hands, noticing how tightly he gripped the cross when mentioning Mr. Kitty, revealing scars from old rituals. A thought formed: "Mr. Kitty might have performed a Slavic ritual, and his contract with the Kugutsu could be to kill a set number of women. That might explain his twisted motive. I'll keep this in mind."
The tension at the table was thick, but Akari and Yuzuki knew they needed answers. And, though reluctant, they agreed to hear more from the tormented man who called himself Gotier.
The Blood Priest
The city of Doom radiated an air of hopelessness. The streets were narrow, the sidewalks poorly maintained, and oil lanterns cast dancing shadows on stone walls. The fog hung heavy, almost suffocating, and the smell of rust and dampness filled the air. Doom was the kind of place where secrets hid in plain sight — a haven for those with nothing left to lose.
Gotier led the group through the winding streets with the familiarity of someone who had been there before. His words were brief, but heavy with knowledge.
"This city is a bottomless pit of corruption and fear," he said, gesturing toward the tight alleys. "I passed through here years ago, when I still wore the robes of faith. Nothing's changed, except the smell of despair has grown stronger."
"You seem to know this place well," Yuzuki commented, eyeing the locked doors and boarded-up windows.
"I know enough to tell you nothing good comes from here," Gotier replied without looking back. "Doom is where the light doesn't reach. That's why the Church has so much influence here."
"Are you sure this isn't a trap?" Akari asked, suspicious.
"Everything here is a trap, but I know how to navigate this labyrinth," Gotier said, his voice dripping with familiar bitterness.
Encounter with Gabriel
The city's central square was a rare spot of light amid the darkness. Additional lanterns hung from dry trees, illuminating an unlikely scene: a group of beggars and poor folks surrounding a kindly-looking man handing out bread and water with a serene smile.
Gabriel stood at the center, a figure of humility and charity. He wore a simple tunic stained with dust and mud, holding a wooden chalice as he offered comforting words to the needy.
"He looks like a saint," Yuzuki murmured, arms crossed.
"Or a great actor," Gotier muttered, eyes locked on the man.
As the trio approached, Gabriel looked up, immediately noticing them. His smile widened, warm and polished. "Welcome, travelers. This is a place for all who seek aid."
"Aid?" Akari asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you feeding these people out of kindness or for a more... practical reason?"
Gabriel let out a soft laugh that sounded genuine. "My dear, kindness is a rare currency these days. I simply do what I can to ease suffering."
Gotier stepped forward, gaze fixed on Gabriel. "Is that so? And what kind of suffering do you ease?"
For a moment, Gabriel seemed thrown off, but he quickly regained his composure. "Any suffering within my reach."
Gotier didn't reply. Something about Gabriel deeply unsettled him, and the faint scent of blood he'd caught earlier now seemed stronger — like a silent warning.
The Discovery in the Silence of Night
Later that night, in the inn they managed to find with great difficulty, Gotier voiced his suspicions.
"Gabriel is not who he seems," he said, sitting on the edge of an improvised bed. The room's walls were thin, and the city's night sounds felt amplified — hurried footsteps, whispered voices, the distant chime of a broken bell.
"You say that because he's a priest?" Yuzuki asked, sitting on the floor cleaning his sword.
Gotier shot him a sharp look. "I say that because he smells of blood."
Akari, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? He seemed... genuine."
"That's his trick," Gotier replied bitterly. "Charity is the façade. But the symbols I saw in the square are from an ancient ritual. He's using those people."
"What exactly is he doing?" Yuzuki asked.
Gotier sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "It's hard to say without more information, but the smell... and those symbols... He must be draining these people for some kind of sacrifice."
"And what are we going to do?" Akari asked, leaning forward.
"We need proof," Gotier replied. "If we confront him now, we'll only be condemning ourselves. He probably already knows we're here, so we must act fast."
Gotier looked out through the inn's narrow window. The streets of Doom were buzzing with muffled murmurs and hurried footsteps. The air seemed to vibrate with something unseen.
"The ritual... the city... I've seen this before..." he murmured, his voice cracking.
A heavy sigh escaped his lungs as his fingers tightened around the silver cross hanging from his neck. He raised it slowly, as if seeking protection—or perhaps forgiveness.
Outside, light filtered through the thick clouds—a strange, shimmering beam, distorted... in the shape of a smile.
"The day is ripe for the Eclipse God to weep..." he thought.
Then he felt it.
An aura was rising from the underground, dense and suffocating. It grew like poison in the soul of the city.
Gotier stepped back, his eyes fixed on the cross, then on the shadows dancing under the twisted light.
"The path to blood has been opened," he whispered. "And there is no turning back."
Someone is going to die.
But who?