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The sun sets quickly on the mountains, doesn’t it?

While it’s a bustling time for people in the city, the mountains are already shrouded in the creeping darkness of dusk, making the landscape practically invisible. The faint light filtering through the leaves is swallowed by the growing darkness, creating a monstrous abyss where visibility is completely lost.

As time passes, the darkness deepens, and the moon hanging in the sky tries to illuminate the mountain with its paltry light, which is nowhere near comparable to the sun’s brightness. Thus, the forest becomes engulfed in a thick, sticky blackness that seems to cling to everything.

And perhaps it’s this eerie atmosphere—

The mountain is silent.

The exhausted warriors, who should be snoring loudly enough to shake the very ground, lie quietly asleep. Even the usual sounds of crickets and mountain birds are absent, replaced by an unnerving silence that pervades the entire mountain.

The calm before the storm.

Before the tempest shows its fierce face, there’s a stillness that grips the air, a kind of ominous calm.

This pervasive silence hangs heavy in the air, akin to the stillness that blankets the scene before a monumental event occurs.

“It’s so damned unsettling.”

Unable to withstand the chilling silence any longer, the Master mumbled to himself. He knew that a ‘man’ would typically keep his mouth shut and only speak when necessary, but the atmosphere was so uncomfortable that he just couldn’t hold it in.

Making noise to discern his position, speaking out to affirm his existence, and doing these things to acknowledge the reality of the situation—it was all instinctual.

The Master, perhaps annoyed by his own actions, frowned slightly, and continued to make sounds, as if trying to rid himself of the unsettling feeling surrounding him.

He could have moved in silence using the “Grass on Top Flying” technique, or employed stealth skills he learned for ambushes, minimizing the sounds he made.

But instead, he placed his weight on the ground, deliberately snapping twigs and crunching leaves beneath his feet, feeling relief with each crackle he created.

What could this be called? How should one describe this sensation enveloping him?

Fear?

No, that wasn’t it. The Master was not afraid in the slightest.

Yet, though devoid of fear, his nerves were on high alert. The peculiarity of the silence heightened his instincts, urging him to remain wary and prepare for the ‘something’ that was about to unfold.

“It’s ominous.”

Yes, ominous.

The Master felt that this mountain was steeped in an ominous aura. Not some supernatural force like a curse or an evil spirit, but a palpable sense of unease that permeated the entire space.

“They say it’s darkest before dawn. Tch, now that I’ve got an expert with me, it should be resolved.”

He quickened his steps until he reached the simple shrine.

Upon arriving, a faint light came into view, and as he approached, a clearing bathed in bright light stood in stark contrast to the surrounding darkness of the mountain.

The area filled with gold threads and talismans was aglow with numerous candles.

Whether these were offerings or mere illuminations to dispel the darkness, there were so many of them that they didn’t just illuminate but overflowed with light.

“Ah, you’re here.”

“*Cough*, thank you for your efforts. Is everything ready?”

“Yes, we’ve been waiting for your arrival. Just in time… it will soon be the hour of the Rat. Perfectly aligned. Excellent.”

Jinseong welcomed the Master, who arrived alone.

“Master, there’s really no need for you to assist with the ritual. Please make yourself comfortable, whether you prefer to rest inside the tent or simply stand and watch.”

“I’ll stay here. What else would I do inside the tent?”

“If that’s what you prefer, then so be it.”

He seemed to respect the Master’s choice and gestured to the figure clad in white and red, who approached with grace as if waiting for this very moment.

Her wide-sleeved top was embroidered with birds and trees in gold thread, reflecting the warm glow of the flickering candles, dazzling the eyes. The long sleeves extended well beyond her fingertips, reaching down to her knees.

“Well then, I shall begin the Kagura.”

Taking in the beautiful sight of Rise, Jinseong subtly stepped back and started the music. The vintage tones flowed from the Bluetooth speaker, growing into a grand sound that filled the simple shrine with divine power.

The sound was dense, like a symphony in a small theater, enveloping the entire space.

Rise began to move her body as the music played, performing the dance she had learned since childhood.

A dance she’d cried and complained about, but ultimately had to learn as a dedicated shamaness who must master both prayers and offerings.

With elegance, she waved her sleeves, stepping lightly while tracing graceful arcs, her body flowing as she painted the air with her movements.

When she waved her arms, she transformed into a bird soaring through the sky, and when her sleeves fluttered down as if landing, they resembled wings folding in rest. It was a vision of the divine sending a messenger to present before humanity, graceful and dignified.

The divine power responded, sparkling and shimmering; the sleeves alternated between lightness and heaviness, leaving trails in the air as if dancing with the flame of the candles, creating illusions that lingered longer in the onlookers’ minds.

Ding-dong—

And to this, the bells were added.

Rise began to twirl a stick adorned with bells that hung like fruits, making muted sounds that echoed perfectly with her flowing movements. It was as though she were a beast trained by her master, soundless most of the time but ringing out only when needed.

Ding-dong—

Each time the bells rang, they caught the candlelight, shimmering brilliantly.

Just like how gold radiates under the sun or silver glows under the moonlight.

Red or yellow.

The glittering bells distracted the audience, leaving the Master’s mouth agape in awe at their beauty.

Ding-dong—

As the Kagura continued, it grew more beautiful.

The gathered light from points transformed into lines, lines into planes, and these planes became three-dimensional, illuminating the entire space with divine power. The light ebbed and flowed like waves, undulating in tandem with Rese’s movements.

And so, the lines gathered, forming the shape of a dog, and only when the luminescent canine reared its head to howl at the sky like a wolf did the dance come to an end.

As the dance concluded and the music stopped, the light shattered and scattered like fireworks.

The brilliance burst forth in all directions, perhaps intended to jolt people back to consciousness from the mesmerizing experience of the shamaness’s dance—an intense light compelling their eyes to blink involuntarily.

“…Impressive.”

The Master, having been mesmerized by the dance, finally regained his composure after a while, struggling to articulate his thoughts. In the end, his words were a compliment to Rise’s splendid performance, an expression influenced by the emotional impact of witnessing such art.

Jinseong appeared pleased by the Master’s words, smiling brightly, while he approached panting Rise and whispered something.

Rise, in response, gathered her bells and moved towards the tent.

“Now, we shall pray for the divine’s power and unleash its might into the forest to draw forth the spirits… that was the plan.”

The Master tilted his head at Jinseong’s odd declaration.

A plan, was it? What did that mean?

“They say, ‘Strike the grass to startle the snake.’ By causing a ruckus in the grass, I intended to summon the spirits with our divine presence, allowing them to appear naturally. Though…”

Jinseong approached the Master and pointed in one direction.

“Did the shamaness’ dance enchant you? It seems one has already appeared.”

What he pointed to was the head of Ksitigarbha.

“That’s…?”

A stone statue of Ksitigarbha with a tender smile.

The very same face that had haunted him all day long, sending chills down his spine.

“Why is there only a head?”

Yet, the difference from before was striking, for now, only Ksitigarbha’s head floated in the darkness.

A short while ago, the warriors had beheld Ksitigarbha with a body of stone and hair of black.

But now, what he saw was an eerie sight—the head of Ksitigarbha, made of stone, floating eerily in the gloom.

“No, there is a body.”

No.

That’s not right.

There is indeed a body.

A black body.

Buried in thick darkness, its form hidden, a crude silhouette molded from the dark. The hands, feigned to be compassionate, were encrusted with loathsome insects that shifted and twirled endlessly.

A perfect contrast to the earlier vision of Ksitigarbha, which had a white body and a black head.

A white head with a shadowy body, hands made of insects.

The Master recognized that this was what he’d heard about—the ‘Fourth Ksitigarbha’ from the urban legends. The spirit that had not transformed into an evil spirit yet took on a form to play with them.

[ …Ra. ]

The Ksitigarbha floated slowly towards them, like an object sliding on ice.

[ …Hara. ]

Slowly.

But certainly.

With an aura of darkness embracing its body, it maintained its endearing smile and approached. When the candlelight finally reflected off its pale face,

[ Offer it up. ]

With a faint smile.

Though it couldn’t open its mouth because it was made of stone, Ksitigarbha spoke clearly.

[ Offer me a child free of the world’s filth. ]

 

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