Mab is a freelance author, you can support them on:

A massive explosion shattered the sturdy wall as if it were paper, and three figures burst out, fleeing the billowing cloud of dust. They darted away from the Quarantine Wing, but the enraged Bear God was close behind, leaving a trail of destruction and unleashing the imprisoned horrors from the quarantine cells.

Stationed guards attempted to stop the colossal deity, unleashing spells and gunfire, but their efforts were futile. Every wound inflicted healed instantly, and with a single swipe of its massive foreleg, the Bear God turned them into little more than bloody ribbons.

“Out, out, out! To the maze!” the doctor barked. Without hesitation, the three sprinted toward the winding corridors beyond the clinic. The Bear God followed relentlessly, its silver form glinting ominously in the dim light.

“Hah! Hah! What is that thing?!” the Emperor gasped between breaths.

“That’s Kumagami-sama, a Kamui worshiped by an ethnic group in northern Hinomoto,” the priest replied, glancing nervously at the rampaging bear behind them. “This shrine maiden must share an ancestor with those people.”

“I thought you said—hah—gods couldn’t cross rites from different religions!”

The priest’s expression soured, but instead of answering, he shot back, “More importantly, why aren’t you dead? I saw your body ripped in half!”

“Sacrificial Totems!” The Emperor flung open his robe, revealing three wooden dolls, one of which was missing its head. “They take the damage—hah—so I don’t have to!”

“…”

The doctor shot the dolls a glare of disdain but said nothing, focusing instead on navigating the maze-like corridors. The others followed closely, their hurried footsteps echoing off the stony walls. The labyrinth seemed endless, each turn eerily identical to the last. Without an intimate understanding of its layout, one could easily be trapped within its twisting paths forever.

The trio ran until the sound of the Bear God’s guttural growls faded into silence. Once certain they had lost their pursuer, they slowed to a halt, leaning against the cold walls to catch their breath.

“Hah… hah… you think it’s… still after us? Hah… hah…”

The Emperor struggled to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. The doctor glanced at him, taking a moment to consider the question.

“…Spiritual beings tend to get trapped easily in labyrinths. That’s precisely why this maze was constructed. It won’t find us anytime soon. We should proceed and regroup with the guards.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t cross paths with Kumagami-sama,” the priest added grimly.

“…I’m shutting down this entire division,” the Emperor muttered, pushing himself back to his feet. He put his earrings back in their place as he did.

The three walked down the corridors in tense silence. After their frantic escape from the Bear God, the stillness around them felt almost oppressive. Even their footsteps sounded muffled, swallowed by the labyrinth’s eerie atmosphere.

At one point, the priest rubbed his eyes and stared at his hands, his brow furrowing as though testing his vision.

“What are you doing?” the Emperor snapped, his irritation apparent.

“My eyes are getting darker,” the priest replied with a sigh. “Must be my age. I haven’t run that hard since I was young.”
“Hmph.”

The Emperor’s uninterested scoff marked the end of the conversation, and they continued onward in silence.

After a few more turns, they finally encountered others—a pair of guards clad in military jackets and gas masks. The guards stood tense, their eyes darting to the ceilings, hands gripping a flintlock and staff.

“Guards!” the Emperor barked as the trio approached. “Where have you been?! Your Emperor is in danger and you’re just dilly-dallying around?!”

The guards flinched, startled enough to aim their weapons at the approaching figures. Recognizing the Emperor and his companions, they hastily lowered their arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Y-Your Majesty, it’s dang—”

The guard holding a staff tried to respond, but his words were cut short as something lunged from the shadows with impossible speed, snatching his head clean off.

The headless body staggered forward, managing three steps before collapsing lifelessly to the ground. Blood sprayed from the neck in a grisly fountain, staining the stone floor with red… and greenish-yellow.

“Shi—!”

Before the Emperor could utter a profanity, the doctor clamped a hand tightly over his mouth from behind. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, then pointed toward a trail of yellow-green mucus vanishing into the darkness.

“It must have escaped the cell and followed us here,” the doctor whispered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his nose and mouth.

The priest, catching on, quickly did the same with his own handkerchief. “What did?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“The Prototype Homunculus. The fluid it produces is a compound that dulls the senses; try not to breathe too much of it.”
“Was it the skinless monster we saw in the quarantine wing?”

The doctor nodded.

“It stalks in darkness, preying on the unwary. It has no appetite except for killing as much as it can. Once it marks you as prey, it won’t stop hunting. We need to stick together—the bigger the group, the safer we’ll be.”

“Why in the world would you create something like that?” the Emperor groaned. He pointed at the flintlock-wielding guard, who was still trembling over the loss of his comrade. “You—stand behind me and watch my back. I want to get this over with already.”

“…Yes, sir.”

The guard hesitated but eventually fell in line, casting a lingering glance at his fallen comrade’s lifeless body.

The group pressed on, threading cautiously through the labyrinthine corridors. Every shadow seemed to shift, every dark corner a potential ambush, as they braced for the monster to strike. Occasionally, they stumbled across headless bodies strewn in the dimly lit halls, each discovery heightening their unease.

Yet, as if mocking their fear, the homunculus remained unseen. The oppressive tension began to wear on them. Fatigue set in, and doubt took root.

“U-um… do you think it’s gone, sir?” the guard asked hesitantly, his grip on the flintlock loosening.

Haumann didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he mulled over the question before asking one of his own. “When did you first encounter the Prototype?”

“About two hours ago, sir,” the guard replied. “We heard the commotion and rushed to escort His Majesty, but… my entire platoon was wiped out by that… thing.”

“Two hours… The Prototype burns through stamina quickly. It should be entering its rest cycle soon.” He nodded to himself before continuing. “If I’m not mistaken, the barracks should be close by, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Just past that door.” The guard gestured toward a door at the end of the long corridor.

“Perfect,” the doctor said with a rare smile. “Let’s regroup with the other guards there.”

“Finally,” the Emperor groaned. “I’m getting sick of this place. Hah—”

The sigh barely left his lips before—

WHAM!!

“UGHH—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

A loud crash echoed down the corridor, followed by Priest Yayoi’s agonized scream from their left. The group turned to see him frantically forming a hand seal, facing a monstrous, skinless creature of raw muscle and sinew that had lunged at them out of nowhere.

Several paper talismans, inscribed with foreign characters, floated in the air before him, forming a flickering magical barrier. But the creature’s razor-sharp teeth were already puncturing the ward, its feral growls growing louder as it pushed forward with relentless force.

“F*ck!” the Emperor yelled before bolting toward the door at the end of the corridor, abandoning any pretense of composure. The guard quickly followed, prioritizing the Emperor’s safety, leaving the priest to fend for himself.

“NNG—AAHH!!”

The homunculus pushed harder against the barrier, causing the crack to widen with each attempt. The priest’s face contorted in strain as his mana drained rapidly, the blue barrier chipping away and slowly disintegrating.

“Throdog r’luhhor ymg’ sll’ha!”

As the barrier shattered, Peter Haumann began chanting in a language that made the mind feel numb. In response to his incantation, purple tentacles materialized from the void, lashing out to restrain the skinless creature where it stood. The homunculus flexed its stitched muscles, but as mighty as it were, it couldn’t possibly match the strength of an Old God.

Priest Yayoi collapsed to the floor, his strength utterly drained. He stared at his trembling hands, astonished to find himself still alive. The doctor extended a hand, pulling him to his feet.

“That should hold it for at least six hours. Come on, we need to catch up with His Majesty before he leaves us behind.”

“…My deepest gratitude, doctor. You saved my life,” the priest murmured, limping toward the door.

The doctor, however, seemed preoccupied with something else.

“Your talismans,” he began, ignoring the thanks. “Did you have them during the operation?”

“Hm? Of course. I always carry the Evil Warding Talismans. The Gods watch over me at all times.”
“…I specifically instructed you to leave all magical items behind.”

The priest scoffed, deflecting the reprimand. “Your foolish Emperor had his dolls with him. Why didn’t you say the same to him?”

The doctor paused, his expression tightening as he searched for the right words. Finally, he said, “I am in no position to criticize His Majesty. That was part of the deal.”

The priest chose not to press further and turned his attention to the corridor ahead. Still, he occasionally glanced back at the restrained homunculus, its guttural growls filling the air. Though it writhed and strained against the tentacles, it remained firmly trapped, incapable of escaping the strength of the eldritch binds.

As they approached the door, the priest leaned against the wall, his gaze lingering on the grotesque spectacle. There was a disturbing fascination in watching raw muscle and sinew grapple with something far more incomprehensible.

“Never in my life did I imagine I’d witness anything like this,” he murmured. Then—

Clack.

The door creaked open, bathing the doctor’s face in an eerie red glow. A faint “crap” slipped from his lips. Suddenly, the air grew colder, and a chill raced down the priest’s spine.

“Priest Yayoi,” the doctor whispered, his tone grim and deliberate, “whatever you do, do not look into the eyes.”

What lay beyond the door was a dimension awash in red.

⇐ Previous

Next ⇒

⌈ Index ⌋