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“Let’s raise our voices, a flame has lit on the lantern.”

“Let’s raise our voices, two flames have ignited on the lantern.”

“The Ra of the lantern, the Ra of the lantern. The melody of the lantern that gives off heat.”

“Where the melody goes, the lantern lights up, and where the melody ends, the light blazes forth.”

“Oh. Poor Tansen. Poor Tansen, who must light the lantern with his own body!”

“Great singer. Set your body ablaze like a lantern and sing the melody.”

“Sing-!”

People holding instruments that look like they’ve been hastily thrown together.

Men wearing turbans closed in with fierce eyes, rushing towards the Japanese Warriors.

“…When exactly? I sensed nothing!”

“What…?!”

The Japanese warriors were startled by the sudden appearance of the Sikhs.

Despite so many people approaching while singing, they had failed to detect them.

The warriors dispatched here were not mere amateurs.

Though they may not be first-rate, they were at least second-rate warriors.

Having reached a level where sword energy could injure a person, they had trained in sensitivity related to qi, easily spotting ambushes.

But… an ambush?

And with so many waiting here?

What bewildered them further was the level of the Sikhs.

“Are they… not capable people?”

There were no capable people.

No warriors skilled in stealth, no wizards cloaking themselves with magic, no summoners calling on special summon creatures, no alchemists hiding their bodies through special potions. Not even artifacts could be found.

They didn’t feel any energy from the bodies, nor was there even a semblance of artifacts or military equipment on those shabby figures.

Ordinary people.

Ordinary people who cannot use energy.

Did such commonplace folks manage to ambush?

While deceiving the sense of so many warriors?

With those cumbersome, odd wooden containers?

“Evil magic. It’s evil magic!”

A word escaped from the mouth of a warrior, startled at the thought of evil magic.

It resembled a warrior’s delusion that anything other than martial arts was wicked, but…

Remarkably, in this situation, it was the truth.

“Light the lantern, oh Tansen.”

“Light it up like a lantern, oh Tansen.”

“Let the flame ignite like the wick of the lantern.”

“Let the fire blaze and become firewood.”

“You are both oil and firewood.”

“Oh, Tansen. Tansen. The Tansen of the lantern-!”

People approached the warriors while holding instruments.

From their bodies, a scorching heat poured out.

In battle, the body heats up, and sweat pours out like steam. It’s not an uncommon sight. The warriors knew this all too well from their experiences after just one cycle of sparring in enclosed spaces, making it feel like a sauna.

Yet the appearance of these individuals was unmistakably strange.

The first reason: they were exuding intense heat without engaging in fierce combat.

The second reason: dense steam was visibly rising from them as if water had been splashed onto heated stones.

And the third reason: the white of their eyes was turning blank.

“Oh Tansen, oh Tansen, there is river water over there to cool your body, you should go there and move your feet. Drench yourself in that river to extinguish the flames and cool off the heat. Your lantern’s song, imbued with heat, swirls around the palace, so you must head towards the gap in that melody.”

“You shall throw your body.”

Have you ever grilled a fish?

With the fish emitting a pungent smell, the vibrant fish changes as it cooks over the flames.

The slippery skin turning golden-brown, and the flesh cooking to a white hue.

And the fish’s eyeballs transform into white pearls.

White pearls.

A little murky, yet signaling that it is safe enough to eat once cooked.

The ones approaching now were just like that.

Their eyeballs were cooking.

The scorching heat.

They were being baked by the heat rising inside them….

Even a mere 40 degrees can leave a person in a perilous state.

So what temperature were those people at?

What kind of excessive heat were they harboring to cause their eyeballs to cook so quickly?

Sikhs.

They were firewood.

Firewood that burns itself.

Harboring heat within and craving to become a lantern while chanting Ra ga Dipak.

Like a lantern, they held flames within themselves and emitted light.

They longed to shine brightly, illuminating everything around them.

Thus, they called out.

The Ra of the lantern.

Just as the great singer Tansen had done long ago, to light the lantern through melody.

They desired to pay that horrific cost of scorching their bodies to become a lantern….

And so, they became flames.

The fire on the firewood.

The flames that climbed to the tip of the lantern’s wick.

The flames quickly devoured them, radiating light and heat.

“Self-immolation?!”

“Get the box ready! We have to cut them down in an instant!”

“Damn it! If I had known this would happen, I should have brought a real sword!”

“Use the pole to block their approach! Cut the one that stops with the real sword!”

Ah.

That horror.

How could they even think of igniting their own bodies?

Even as their forms become a stark white or turn to charred remains, they still moved forward.

They charged at the warriors while ablaze with their own burning bodies….

Living fireballs.

Flames carrying evil magic.

Touching those flames could curse them with fear.

The danger and terror contained within the flames. The presence etched into their genes instills fear in them.

And in front of such burning masses, they held only items that looked like toys.

They didn’t even wish for fire extinguishers.

Just weapons.

If only they had the weapons they had trained with all their lives, it would have been better.

Ahh.

The warriors sighed and formed ranks to confront them.

Then, they raised what they held to face them.

“Oh.”

Amidst this, a single thought crossed their minds.

The scenes they had seen while riding the bus.

And among those scenes, they noticed….

‘Come to think of it, the folks I saw on the bus, those who met my gaze, and those who offered fruits.’

They all wore turbans or had unkempt hair.

‘Hah.’

A trap.

It’s a trap.

Why those bastards are charging at them remains unclear, but it was all orchestrated.

They had fallen into a trap.

“Tansen, oh Tansen!”

“Oh melody of the lantern!”

“Truth approaches, and I will come to you through the flame!”

A flame in the shape of a person approached them.

Tansen or whatever, lantern or not, truth…

“Those fanatic bastards….”

They looked just like cult fanatics.

The Japanese warriors shuddered but did their utmost to counteract.

They utilized poles to shove them back or attempted to knock them out with hastily made naginata strikes.

They tore cloth to create a makeshift whip or makeshift meteor hammer to strike those further away.

“Hihyaaaaaah-!”

A downward slash.

A human transformed into a charred mass as it split in two.

Puh!

The head shattered, and the flames thrashed on the ground.

Puh-!

A person reduced to mush after being hit by a pole.

It was a horrific and brutal scene.

It was a sight that would make one gag.

…

Puh!

…

Puh!

…

Several dull thuds.

Several slashing sounds.

The sounds of sparks flying.

The sound of wood breaking.

Screams that approached close to wails and silent death throes.

The sounds of collapsing bodies and heat distorting the air.

The acrid smell of burning protein, the scent of flesh grilling.

Just moments ago, they used to be people, now ash swirling in the air, entering their nostrils.

That unbearable stench.

That rancid yet still meaty scent….

“Ugh.”

…Nausea welling up.

The moment they realized they were smelling the outcome of a person being cooked, nausea surged reflexively.

And only after gagging did the warrior realize.

“Is it over…?”

They no longer felt any flames.

That they had vanquished the threatening beings.

“Ugh. This… this.”

There was no sense of triumph.

No pride whatsoever.

The delight they had hoped for, the sense of accomplishment, could be found nowhere.

Disgust and horror crashed over them like waves.

The emotions and sensations they had stored during the battle surged at them like a tsunami.

The costs of their desperate efforts to survive now visited them….

“Wuuweeeck!”

“Wuueck!”

Filth.

The sensation of cutting into a burning person.

A feeling of touch that they had never subjected themselves to in life nor wished to.

The smell of a person burning alive that would not even be met in a crematory assaulted their sense of smell, the visuals of what used to be a person now turned to ash assaulted their sight, and the ashes and the smell of grilling flesh weighed heavily on their tongue, cruelly tormenting their taste with the flavor of human flesh.

…

Ra ga.

The Ra of the lantern.

We are the flames and the firewood.

Tansen, oh Tansen.

We are the lantern…..

…

“Damn it, those words the bastards shouted are still ringing in my ears….”

The strange incantations they chanted while setting their bodies aflame.

Words that are entirely obscure, unwanted to understand, echo in their ears.

Awakening all five senses, troubling them….

…The warriors sensed.

That today’s events would linger in their memories for a lifetime.

“Ugh, damn it! Let’s go back! China, what the hell… damn it!”

Thus, the warriors began their return in a bus, having suffered their horrific ordeal.

To escape this nightmarish place, filled only with filth and ash, evidence of battle.

To distance themselves even slightly from the horrid and dreadful experiences that mocked their illusions of possessing unshakeable mental strength….

 

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