The shrine was a Domain.

  An incomplete, half-formed Domain.

  From the outside, nothing seemed unusual.

  But at that moment, Sōjun Minamoto and Suguru Geto stood surrounded by vilgers. The vilgers didn’t move or speak, just stared bnkly at the two, forming a silent circle.

  Sōjun Minamoto opened his Star Eyes and scanned the area. The main hall had completely changed. In his perception, it had been entirely cut off from the real world, no longer existing on the same spatial pne.

  Everything within had become forged from curses.

  The hall was vast. A long crimson carpet ran down the center, embroidered with golden petals. On each side, eight towering stone pilrs—sixteen in total—supported the high dome above.

  Following the red carpet deeper inside, nine tiers of steps gradually rose, lifting the terrain level by level. At the top, a high stone ptform stood, and at its center sat a statue of a god, its expression caught between a smile and a scowl.

  On the walls fnking the steps were carved patterns of bird emblems, rising along with the stairs, illustrating a legendary tale.

  The central figure in the murals was a towering man, long red hair draped carelessly down his back, muscles bulging, walking barefoot along a mountain path.

  It looked as if he too was ascending the steps.

  Above him, storm clouds churned. Fierce winds raged. The sky was dark, oppressive, and heavy with gloom. The imposing figure stood tall amidst rivers and mountains, locked in battle with bizarre and grotesque monsters.

  Their snarling fangs and gaping maws seemed to roar from the painting itself, the two sides cshing in constant, brutal combat.

  Mountains crumbled, rivers shifted—the very veins of the nd changed.

  At st, the monsters were all sin.

  The figure stood atop a peak, raised his right hand, and parted the clouds. The sun reappeared, casting its light once more across the earth...

  Behind him, a crowd of tiny figures began to gather—hesitant and cautious, slowly drawing near.

  With a heavy stomp, the figure shattered the jagged ndscape and fttened the valleys below, leveling the nd.

  He pointed to the ground, and the tiny people immediately raised their right hands, running and dancing toward him in joy. Yet none dared get too close, staying at the foot of the mountain, cheering and celebrating.

  The figure turned his back, his faint smile mirroring the god statue atop the stone ptform:

  A fire serpent coiled around his arm, a fierce green face with tusks, long hair trailing down his back, his body robust and mighty. Gray-green stone-like patterns ran along his muscles, radiating both power and divinity—a being both divine and monstrous.

  Though clearly a monster, he didn’t inspire fear. Just like the curse vortex spinning above the vilge, there was a sense of righteous crity about him.

  Sōjun Minamoto’s vision sharpened. Because the area was steeped in Cursed Energy, he could actually see farther and clearer, unlike the limited perspective from outside, where solid walls blocked his view.

  In his sight, countless chains of Cursed Energy stretched from the central statue of Aragami in all directions, sealing off the entire vilge.

  At the other ends of the chains were smaller god statues.

  These were the nodes, handed out by the vilgers and pced carefully in their homes.

  The vilge was formed by its people—and the nodes naturally spread to each household.

  Sōjun Minamoto had wondered before: if the vilgers were so afraid, why didn’t they just leave? Why not abandon the pce and return after the problem was resolved?

  Now he understood—they never even had the thought of leaving.

  The chains didn’t just lock the space; they bound the hearts.

  The flow of Cursed Energy along the chains produced a constant sound, subtly influencing and maniputing emotions.

  The sealing formation was nearly complete. Only one final gap remained to fully close it. Sōjun Minamoto looked toward that gap—it was at the vilge chief’s house. His stone statue was different from the wooden ones the others had used.

  The chief had been cautious. He never invited the god into his home, preventing the situation from becoming irreversible.

  Sōjun Minamoto looked up. Through the cursed ceiling, he could see the vortex above the shrine slowly turning. The sound of dragging chains never stopped.

  The vortex’s center was directly above the shrine. Curses rose from the shrine into the vortex, feeding it like a spring, spreading outward in a continuous flow.

  More Cursed Energy was pouring in from every corner of the vilge, along the chains, converging at the statues.

  The vilge, the statues, and the vortex—together, they formed a cycle.

  A cycle that was still expanding.

  From the very beginning, the shrine had been the epicenter.

  But not the solution.

  Sōjun Minamoto gathered Cursed Energy to his body. It thickened, wrapping around him like water, and within it, faint stars flickered.

  He turned his hand to signal Suguru Geto, then pushed through the crowd with composed steps, walking straight out of the shrine.

  No sane sorcerer would choose to fight within another’s Domain—even one only half-formed.

  Sōjun Minamoto and Suguru Geto were certainly sane.

  So, they left.

  They hurried toward the vilge chief’s house. As long as that pce didn’t become a node, the seal could never fully close—and the Domain would never truly form.

  The curse would come to them on its own.

  When they returned, the vilge chief had already cleared out a room and id two futons side by side on the floor.

  Oh? Was this the legendary men’s meeting?

  ...

  Dusk crept in, light fading from the sky.

  The vilge chief’s wife came home. When she saw the two men, she paused for a moment, gave a half-hearted nod as a greeting, then walked into the kitchen and began preparing dinner.

  The chief hurried to help.

  Soon, he brought out four dishes and a soup.

  His wife scooped big bowls of rice for the two of them, then one for herself. She smmed her bowl onto the table, plopped down onto her seat, kicked her legs forward to drag the chair in, and settled into position.

  “Eat,” she said.

  The vilge chief obediently picked up his bowl and quietly started eating.

  Sōjun Minamoto and Geto exchanged a gnce, then also began silently shoveling down rice.

  The table was quiet, and everyone ate quickly. When she saw the two had cleaned their bowls, the wife nodded in satisfaction.

  She held a simple belief—if someone could eat, they were capable.

  “You’re the new demon hunters?”

  They both nodded.

  Her face twisted in suspicion. “There really are gods and demons out there?”

  Before they could answer, she turned to gre at the chief and unched into a rant:

  “When it’s dry, you water. When it withers, you fertilize. That’s the damn truth.”

  “Aragami? That thing’s on its st legs. No one believes in that crap anymore, and now you’re all going back to it? Worshipping some ghostly nonsense? I said long ago we should’ve just torn down that broken shrine—none of this would’ve happened. But no! You all stopped working, ran off to pray, to watch opera, thinking blessings would fall from the sky?”

  “...”

  She didn’t hold back, scolding the vilgers’ foolishness. The vilge chief shrank under her words. When he gnced at the two guests across the table, both wearing serious expressions, his face grew bitter, and he didn’t dare speak—only tried to calm her down.

  Of course, Sōjun Minamoto and Geto didn’t say much either.

  After all, it was her family business. Crude as her words were, she had a point. In Sōjun Minamoto’s eyes, she was far more grounded than the rest of the vilgers.

  From her story, they learned the cause of the whole affair. A drought and pest outbreak had devastated the crops. Someone decided to pray to Aragami—and unexpectedly, it worked.

  When the others saw how effective it was, more and more people began worshiping.

  Once the agricultural problems were resolved, someone suggested building a proper shrine and casting a golden statue of Aragami to show their gratitude.

  Maybe, they thought, it could grant even bigger wishes?

  The idea sparked excitement. Before the project even began, someone secretly made a wish and got what they wanted.

  After that, no one talked about building the shrine—they all rushed off to make wishes instead.

  The wishes piled up, growing stranger and stranger.

  And yet, they kept coming true—though always in eerie ways, often with unforeseen costs. The vilgers were caught off guard, and as supernatural occurrences followed, fear spread through the vilge.

  It seemed the vilge chief had made a wish too—probably to see his deceased parents.

  Sōjun Minamoto remembered what the chief had said earlier.

  Things weren’t as simple as they appeared. The true price had yet to be paid.

  PinkSnake