The entrance to the Hollow Sanctum wasn't carved — it was grown.
A jagged maw in the earth, pulsing with veins of black light, as if the planet itself had tried to vomit out its shame. Ayane stood at the edge, her blades humming with unease. Momiji whispered a prayer — not to gods, but to herself. Ryu said nothing.
He stepped forward first.
The air changed immediately. It wasn't just colder — it was heavier. Every breath felt like swallowing someone else's sorrow. The walls of the descent were slick with memory, bleeding images that weren't theirs: a child abandoned, a lover betrayed, a warrior who killed too many to remember why.
Ayane gritted her teeth. "It's feeding already."
Momiji nodded. "It knows we're here."
Ryu didn't respond. His silence was louder now, like a scream buried under centuries of regret. The Grip of Murder pulsed in his veins, syncing with the heartbeat of the Sanctum. He could feel it — Kurozume wasn't hiding. He was waiting.
The Dilemma
They reached the first chamber — a cathedral of broken mirrors. Each one reflected not their bodies, but their sins.
Ayane saw herself standing over Kasumi's body, blade dripping, eyes hollow. It wasn't real — but it could have been.
Momiji saw herself walking away from the shrine, letting it burn, smiling.
Ryu saw nothing.
His mirror was blank.
He stepped closer, and the glass cracked. A voice echoed from within — not Kurozume's, but his own.
"You are not cursed. You are chosen."
"You are not broken. You are forged."
"You are not human. You are necessary."
Ryu clenched his fists. The voice was seductive, familiar. It offered peace — not through redemption, but through surrender. If he gave in, the pain would stop. The curse would become power. The Grip of Murder would no longer be a burden. It would be a crown.
Ayane touched his arm. "Don't listen."
Momiji stepped beside him. "We're still here."
Ryu looked at them — warriors, rivals, comrades. They had bled for him. Fought for him. Not because he was a hero, but because he was theirs. And in that moment, he remembered something the curse had tried to erase:
He was still Ryu.
Not a god. Not a demon.
Just a man trying to survive.
He turned from the mirror. The glass shattered.
The Path Ahead
The Sanctum shifted. The walls groaned. The next chamber opened — a spiral of bone and memory, leading deeper into the heart of Kurozume.
Ayane and Momiji followed without hesitation.
Ryu paused.
He could feel it now — the truth. Kurozume wasn't just a demon. He was a reflection. A consequence. A creation of every human who had ever chosen hate over healing.
And maybe the only way to kill him...
Was to die.
Ryu stepped into the spiral.
The descent continued.