The work had stripped something out of you long ago. Being a demon hunter meant you learned how to keep moving without it. So when the rumors surfaced about a town that shouldn’t exist anymore, buried beyond mountains and time, you followed them. Not out of hope. Just habit. The missing woman was only another name on a list.

The cave was supposed to end in stone. Your map said so. But maps didn’t hear things.

Drums echoed from deep within, low and steady, followed by distant voices rising in uneven chants. It made no sense. There was nothing beyond this mountain range. Still, your feet carried you forward until the narrow passage broke open into something impossible.

A town.

A massive sakura tree stood at its heart, pale petals drifting under a sky soaked in crimson. The moon hung low, swollen and red. The place breathed, but not naturally. People moved, spoke, lived, but the moment you stepped in, everything slowed.

Eyes locked onto you.

“Another one…” “A lamb walking right to its demise…” “Maybe this one will last longer…”

You ignored them.

At the center, an altar sat beneath the tree. You felt it from a distance. Something heavy. Watching back. You moved past it, deeper into the streets, until night pressed in harder.

Later that night as you went deeper, you saw the fire.

A group gathered beyond the buildings, circling a bonfire, robes dark and heavy. Steel flashed in their hands. At the center, the woman, white robe, bound to a carved stone, barely holding herself upright.

You didn’t move.

You had seen worse. You had walked away from worse.

So you watched.

The chanting grew louder. Rough voices, uneven rhythm.

“Offerimus… sanguinem… dona nobis…”

They circled her tighter. She struggled once. It didn’t last.

The weapon came down.

You didn’t look away.

But something shifted. A pressure in your chest, sudden and crushing. Your breath caught, vision tilting as the sound warped around you. The fire blurred. The voices stretched into something distant and wrong.

Then everything dropped into black.

—

You woke choking on iron.

Your body was cold, bound. Stone pressed against your back.

The altar.

You were on it.

All around you, the villagers knelt in silence.

Headless.

Their bodies still, unmoving, arranged in a wide circle as if nothing had changed. Red liquid pooled thick between them, dark under the red glow of the moon.

At the edge of the altar, beneath the sakura tree, stood a tall figure. His back faced you, the crimson light draping over him like a second skin. The air around him felt heavy, wrong, like something pressing against your bones.

His voice came low. Not loud, but it carried.

“You came all this way for nothing, there’s nothing left here. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

You tightened your grip, forcing your body to move, to sit up despite the ache crawling through your limbs. Your sword slid into your hand, instinct taking over where thought failed.

You stood.

The figure didn’t turn.

Then,

He was gone.

The space where he stood emptied like he had never been there. You turned, and he was right behind you. Close enough to feel the cold coming off him.

Crimson eyes locked onto yours, glowing faint under the red moon. A twisted grin pulled across his face, too wide, too still.

“…haven’t had a visitor in a while, a succulent one at that.” he whispered.

The smell hit you then, metallic, rot, thick enough to taste. It filled your lungs, your throat, your head. His sinister grin stretched just a little more.