"…Where," he thought, dread pooling in his chest, "the hell am I?"
Kanasei pushed himself up onto one knee. He scanned his surroundings more carefully now.
To his right, several demons—around five—were at work.
One dragged massive, jagged stones toward a cliff edge, stacking them with brutal precision. Another hammered glowing iron into twisted shapes, sparks flying with every strike. A third forced a writhing creature along a scorched path, prodding it forward like livestock. Two more stood nearby, overseeing the labor with vacant, hollow expressions.
Standing apart from them was another figure. Arms crossed. Back turned to Kanasei. Even without seeing his face, Kanasei could tell...this one was different. His presence was heavier, sharper, as if the air itself bent slightly around him.
What are those things…?
Kanasei looked down at the ground beneath him, still on one knee, his thoughts racing.
I was at the forest moments ago…
Before he could piece anything together, a shadow swallowed him whole. Kanasei looked up.
A demon stood directly in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.
He resembled a towering embodiment of restraint and pressure—his features sharp and severe, almost identical to something carved rather than born.
Around the demon's waist was a piece of leopard leather tied like a battle garment. Hanging shin armor protected his legs, paired with heavy boots. Armored plates covered his arms completely, from shoulders down to his hands, each piece dark and worn, yet immaculate.
His eyes looked down at Kanasei without malice. Without warmth.
On his chest, heat-branded into flesh, were the characters:
ストイチズム (Sutoishizumu) Stoicism
Below, branded into his abdomen:
指導者 (Shidoshi) Leader
Kanasei froze. His throat tightened. Words refused to come. His body reacted before his mind could—every instinct screaming danger. He could do nothing but stare up at Sutoishizumu.
"When will you get up?" Sutoishizumu asked.
His voice was flat and emotionless. As if asking about the weather.
Confusion washed over Kanasei. Slowly and carefully, he stood.
He towered over Sutoishizumu by sheer height alone—but it meant nothing. Sutoishizumu didn't flinch. Didn't react in the slightest.
"Uh…" Kanasei began, his voice unsteady. "I-I think you might've confused me for someone else…"
The demon's gaze was unbearable. It felt like being measured, weighed, and found lacking.
"I-I don't know how I got here," Kanasei continued, words tumbling out awkwardly. "Just now I was…in a forest."
"If you are done," Sutoishizumu said calmly, turning his head slightly, "you may get to work."
He gestured toward the demons laboring nearby.
Kanasei didn't move.
He didn't understand what work meant. He didn't even know where he was.
Sutoishizumu looked back up at him. One eyebrow lifted—just slightly.
"…You do not know what I am talking about, do you?"
Kanasei swallowed and rubbed the back of his head nervously. Before he could answer, another voice cut through the air.
"Can you not perceive the servants who are the same as you?"
Kanasei turned.
A second demon sat upon a crude throne formed of blackened stone and tangled roots. He lounged lazily, his right hand propped against the armrest, his posture radiating boredom and irritation.
His appearance contrasted sharply with Sutoishizumu's discipline.
He wore no armor. No proper clothing.
Only plants, leaves, and creeping vines hung from a belt around his waist, swaying slightly as if alive. His body bore the marks of decay and indulgence, yet his presence was unmistakably authoritative.
Heat-branded into his forehead were the characters:
不満 (Fuman)Displeasure.
Across his chest:
指導者 (Shidoshi) Leader
"Fool," Fuman said.
He looked at Kanasei with pure disgust—like Kanasei's very existence offended him. As if he had committed something unforgivable simply by standing there.
Kanasei could only stare at Fuman. His thoughts were knotted together, refusing to untangle. Nothing made sense. The heat, the creatures, the way they spoke to him as if he belonged here. His chest felt tight, breath shallow.
Fuman sighed. The sound alone carried irritation.
Using the armrests of his throne, Fuman pushed himself up and stood. The plants and leaves hanging from his waist rustled softly as he stepped down, his movements lazy but deliberate. He began walking toward Kanasei.
"Are you so stupid," Fuman said flatly, "that you do not understand simple words?"
Each step closed the distance. Kanasei didn't move.
Fuman stopped directly in front of him, standing so close that Kanasei could feel the heat radiating from his body. Despite the height difference, Fuman stared up at him without the slightest hint of intimidation—only annoyance.
"You see those?" Fuman said, gesturing past Kanasei.
Kanasei followed the motion, his gaze landing on the demons at work—the dragging, the hammering, the herding. His mind raced.
I don't know what this is.I don't know where I am.I don't know what they want from me.
But he knew one thing.
If I say that out loud, something bad will happen.
So he nodded.
"Yes… yes, sir," Kanasei said, forcing the words out.
The lie tasted bitter.
For a moment, nothing happened. Kanasei stood there a second too long.
Fuman huffed, his patience snapping.
"Get. To. Work."
Each word landed heavier than the last.
Kanasei flinched.
Fear shot through him. He took a few hurried steps back, then turned away, not daring to look at either leader again. His heart pounded as he walked quickly toward the other demons, trying to blend in, trying to look like he belonged.
Kanasei reached the group of demons and stopped. He didn't know what to do.
He stood there, stiff and uncertain, eyes flicking from one task to another—chains being dragged, stone being carved, bodies moving with grim purpose. No one spoke to him. No one acknowledged him.
What am I supposed to—
"Are you new here?"
The voice was soft.
So soft that Kanasei almost didn't believe he'd heard it. He turned.
A demon stood beside him—close, but not looming. His posture was relaxed, his presence… gentle. Unbelievably so. His voice carried no venom, no irritation, no threat.
Just warmth.
Kanasei's gaze dropped to the demon's chest.
Heat-branded into his skin, near the heart, were the words:
優しさ (Yasashisa)Kindness
And on the opposite side—
指導者 (Shidōsha)Leader
He didn't look like the others.
No charred skin. No grotesque distortions. No rotten nails or warped limbs. He wore an oversized green kimono robe, loose and flowing, its gold trim catching the hellish light. Soft pink patterns filled the spaces between the designs, almost… comforting.
Kanasei swallowed.
"Y… yes?" he said, his voice uncertain.
Yasashisa smiled. It wasn't sharp or mocking.
It was warm.
Before Kanasei could react, Yasashisa gently took his hands, his touch careful and respectful, and guided them together, as if correcting a posture rather than restraining him.
"Well, then," Yasashisa said cheerfully, "let me be your guide!"
Yasashisa walked backward, gently tugging Kanasei along by the hands, as if guiding a child through a crowd.
"So," he began lightly, "first of all, you are here to work."
Kanasei stiffened.
Yasashisa didn't seem to notice. "Since you were not a bad person, you will not be punished." He smiled and gestured toward the demons laboring nearby. "Instead, to make up for the rest of your sins, you will be working!"
Kanasei followed his gaze. Chains scraped against stone. Tools rang dully. Figures moved with practiced rhythm.
Working…?
"One of the five leaders will give you something to do," Yasashisa continued.
Kanasei's eyes widened.
Five?There are five of them…?
This was the only one who had spoken to him kindly. The thought of the others made his stomach tighten.
After a moment, Yasashisa added, still smiling, "When you are finished—if your sins are wiped away—you will either enter paradise…" He tilted his head. "Or return to the earth, if you did not truly die."
Kanasei swallowed.
Yasashisa stopped walking.
"Now," he said brightly, "I will tell you what you will do!"
With his right hand, Yasashisa pointed toward a cluster of massive rocks nearby. With his left, he continued holding both of Kanasei's hands, warm and reassuring.
"I want you to carve those stones into the shapes they are meant to be," he said.
Kanasei followed the direction of his finger. Near the rocks stood a wall, etched with countless images of symbols and forms.
"The shapes are there," Yasashisa explained. "Pictures. Very simple."
He smiled wider, his eyes soft and his voice calm.
He explained everything. What tools to use, where to start, how long it would take. And before Kanasei could ask another question, the task had already been placed in his hands.