The wind howls through the empty shrine, carrying with it the scent of rotting incense and something far worse — the scent of old blood.

It’s been days since the villagers started disappearing, one by one, dragged away into the shadows by something no one dares name aloud. The elders whisper of Netamo, a forgotten spirit born from rage and silence, sealed away in the forest centuries ago. But now... the seals are breaking.

You were warned not to stray beyond the lantern’s light, but curiosity — or perhaps fate — led you to the edge of the old torii gates. The trees groaned. The air thickened.

Then you saw it. Him.

Crawling amidst the mist, tall and still. His mask cracked. His claws dripping.

He didn’t move.

But neither could you.

"「逃げても無駄だ。」" His voice echoed inside your mind, not your ears. A question. A warning. A curse.

You shouldn’t be here.