Rain pounded the narrow alley in relentless sheets, drumming on tiled roofs and turning the ground into a cold, sucking slurry that tugged at every step. Karasu ghosted through the shadows, his black shinobi robes sodden and heavy against his lean, wiry frame, the fabric clinging to pale skin marked by faint white scars from years of training and kills. His short, messy gray hair plastered flat against his forehead, framing a sharp face with dead black eyes that reflected no light, and a long jagged scar crossing the bridge of his nose like a permanent reminder of his final clan trial.
The target stumbled ahead, clutching the deep abdominal wound Karasu had inflicted earlier during the silent breach of the compound walls.
Three hundred and one. The numbers blur after so many. But contracts are contracts. This one pays well enough to cover the next few months.
The onmyōji retainer dressed in ceremonial court robes, heard the soft footfall in a puddle and whirled, face ashen under the downpour, eyes bulging with the raw fear of a man who knew his wards had failed. "You're the nameless one. The Kurotsume ghost. They said no one survives you."
Karasu halted just beyond reach, rain streaming down his pale features. Fear makes them talk. Gives me time to confirm no reinforcements.
The man's trembling hand rose, fingers sketching frantic symbols. A weak ward shimmered into existence, blue light flickering unstable in the storm.
Karasu flicked his wrist. The kunai struck true, embedding deep in the man's lower chest with a wet, meaty thud. Blood flooded instantly, hot and thick, leaking around the blade as the ward collapsed in a scatter of fading sparks.
The onmyōji gasped, a sharp, wet sound, fingers clawing at the hilt while blood foamed at his lips. He staggered back against the slick wall, sliding down slowly, leaving a dark blood streak on the stone.
Karasu closed the distance, crouching beside him, voice low and even. "Your lord thought his hidden seal would save you. Tell him it didn't."
The man's eyes locked on Karasu's empty black ones, mouth working soundlessly as blood filled his throat. A final gurgle, a twitch, then stillness.
Karasu retrieved the kunai, wiping it clean on the dead mans robes. Efficient. No witnesses left in the compound. The lord would wake to his retainer's body and the message carved nearby.
He rose to leave.
Then the pain ignited.
A sharp, burning cold bloomed deep in his chest, spreading like fracturing ice through arteries and organs. The remote seal, embedded during an earlier skirmish with the lord's guards, triggered now by the retainer's death.
Ruthless counter. Tie the protector's life to the assassin's fate. Clever. I underestimated the paranoia.
Breath shortened to ragged pulls. Vision dimmed at the edges, rain blurring into gray.
Careless. All those calculated risks, and one overlooked detail ends it. Acceptable loss, in the grand scheme.
He collapsed forward into the mud, cold seeping fast. Rain hammered down.
Three hundred and one. Solid record.
Darkness swallowed everything.
...
His awareness returned sharp and sudden.
Karasu found himself seated on a hard wooden chair bolted to an infinite expanse of sterile gray floor. The air carried a faint, acrid bite of cigar smoke.
Across a polished oak desk lounged a man in a crisp pinstripe suit, red tie askew, spiky white hair jutting wild. Thick black-rimmed glasses perched on a sharp nose, cigar glowing as he exhaled lazily.
He scanned a thick file, lips curving in amusement. "Karasu. No frills there. Feudal variant, shinobi killed by a onmyōji. Death by remote seal linked to your life. That's a nasty twist."
Karasu remained still, taking stock. No wounds. No fatigue. Just empty calm.
The clerk puffed smoke, grinning. "Soul integrity low. Identity erosion extreme, self-inflicted from the looks. No attachments logged, kill tally impressive. Hazardous all the way."
He tapped ash into void. "New ones usually freak out, demand answers. You just wait. Cool customer."
Karasu spoke, voice quiet, measured. "hurry up and Finish it...with all this pointless blabber"
The man chuckled. "Straight to business. My kind of guy, well let see...ahh."
He paused and stamped the file
"Hazardous classification confirmed. No appeals processed. Dumping to current Mire batch of 6000..."
The man spoke again and chuckled "well...looks like your going to be in for a treat, Watch your back, or whatever's left of it."
The Man took a drag from his cigar and exhaled, tapping ash into nowhere.
"Any last words? Not that they matter."
The man shrugged.
"Thought so..well see ya pal"
The hallway warped, and folded in on itself and dissolved into Black.
Karasu plunged.
He struck warm, viscous black water with a heavy impact, the liquid flooding his mouth instantly with tastes of rusted iron, deep fermenting rot, and underlying cloying sweetness like flesh bloated in heat. He thrashed upward, breaking surface coughing hard, lungs burning as he treaded amid thick crimson fog that clung heavy to skin and clothes, carrying the overwhelming stench of blooming corpse-flowers and deeper putrefaction rising from unseen depths.
Dim blood-red twilight filtered through the haze, casting bruised shadows over half-submerged ruins: towering stone spires cracked and leaning precarious, walls thick with black vines pulsing slow and rhythmic like buried veins. Faded carvings on eroded stone depicted inverted trees, roots straining upward into empty sky, branches burrowing down into abyss. The water lapped warm and insistent against his skin, thick as old blood, carrying faint vibrations from distant guttural roars that rumbled through chest and bone.
Ancient graveyard of worlds. Drowned deliberate. The fog tastes of death recycled.
Seven others surfaced nearby, gasping and sputtering, voices cutting sharp through the heavy air.
A broad knight in battered plate armor burst up, sword slashing wild at the water. "Gods preserve us, what cursed realm is this?"
"Pipe down, you clanking oaf," snapped a lean, muscular man gripping a rotting beam for support. Wild blonde hair matted flat, sharp purple eyes narrowed under twisted burn scars crawling across his face and neck like melted wax. His voice rough, practical, cutting through panic. "You yell like that, everything lurking down there is gonna come up for dinner."
A wiry woman with tangled black hair pulled herself onto a jagged stone outcrop, leather patch over one eye, the visible green one wide and frantic. "Hold on, one minute I'm stirring a brew, next this stinking muck... and that man at the table...damn bastard"
An elegant woman in drenched red gown clung desperate to floating debris, long red hair loose and streaming, refined features pale and trembling. "This isn't… I was safe in the theater, listening to the soprano...this..this has to be some nightmare."
Two brothers thrashed toward exposed roots, both had brown hair and wore green tunics. The younger gripped his sibling tight. "Brother, something's touching me. Slimy, cold, keeps circling."
Bloated corpses drifted among them: one face reduced to ragged meat strips clinging to exposed skull, empty sockets weeping fluid; another abdomen burst open, pale intestines trailing sluggish in the current like swollen worms.
The younger brother's voice rose shrill. "It's got my leg! Brother, pull harder, it's dragging me!"
Water frothed violent.
A colossal serpentine body erupted upward, scales dull iridescent black-green glistening slick in the red light, pale slit eyes burning with primal hunger, gaping maw revealing rows of hooked teeth dripping thick mucus strands.
It lunged precise, jaws clamping the boy's torso with crushing force. Teeth punctured flesh and muscle in wet popping bursts, grinding deep into bone. Blood jetted hot and thick in pulsing arcs, spraying warm across nearby faces. The creature shook its head savage, side to side. Skin tore in long ragged sheets, muscle shredding with wet sucking rips audible over screams, ribs splintering sharp and loud like breaking branches. Organs ruptured sudden, lungs collapsing with gurgling wheeze as steaming blood and bile spilled into the water.
The beast twisted hard in a death roll, dragging the mangled form under briefly before forcing it down its throat. Gullet bulged grotesque, bones cracking further inside with muffled snaps. Only arms remained, torn ragged at shoulders, fingers twitching faint in dying nerve fire while locked in the older brother's grasp.
The brother stared at the severed limbs, then screamed raw and broken. "Merrick! No, bring him back! You can't take him!"
He splashed frantic, kicking wild.
The scarred blonde shouted urgent. "Stop thrashing, kid! You're calling more!"
Useless.
Ripples raced outward. The creature surged again, jaws agape. It seized the brother mid-waist, teeth sinking deep into soft belly and spine with heavy crunch. Flesh compressed under the bite, then tore with prolonged sucking rip as the beast wrenched sideways. Lower body sheared away in gushing arterial spray, blood pulsing hot and rhythmic, legs kicking once futile before limp. Upper torso dangled brief, pale intestines uncoiling slick and steaming like released coils into the thickening red.
Both pieces vanished beneath in blooming crimson cloud.
Panic ignited full.
The knight bellowed hoarse. "Swim for your lives!"
The patched woman gasped sharp. "Everybody go, now!"
The gown woman sobbed choked. "The blood, it's warm, oh god..oh god...its everywhere…"
The blonde scarred man jabbed a finger toward a low muddy rise emerging from fog, crooked tower remnants jutting broken. "That mound there. Slow strokes, and keep your breathe steady. No wild splashing or we all will be fresh meat to those things. Move!"
Karasu treaded amid spreading warmth of fresh blood, pale scarred skin gleaming sickly in red haze, gray hair dripping strings across empty black eyes. Panic feeds the weak to the strong. Efficient culling.
This Mire devours noise and hope alike. Survival favors the silent.
He turned toward the rise, gliding smooth through the viscous water, barely disturbing the surface.
The crimson fog rolled thicker, vines on ruins pulsing quicker. Deeper roars echoed hungry response.
The swamp tasted blood fresh.
It craved seconds.