The skeleton samurai stood there.
The outline of its armor remained intact even after the baptism of time; the pitch-black doumaru were layered over one another, yet the edges of the armor plates were covered in fine cracks and notches, making it clear that its master was hardly a benevolent person during his lifetime. The knots tied around the armguards and legguards had long since hardened, rendering the original color completely unrecognizable, while the congealed bloodstains left a chilling dark gloom upon it. Its shoulder guards were broad, somewhat resembling the exaggerated large flat boards commonly seen in anime; they were like two massive shields, and though they were clearly somewhat cumbersome in actual combat, it didn't prevent it from displaying an astonishing pressure at this moment.
Of course, what was terrifying was not the armor, but the bare bones beneath it.
The menpo beneath the helmet had long since shattered, revealing a grayish-brown skull with sharp cheekbones, nothing but empty blackness at the bridge of the nose, and jagged teeth whose gapped intervals gave an impression of a beast ready to 'crunch through something at any moment'.
Its eye sockets were deeply sunken; there were no eyeballs inside, only a layer of stagnated dark fire-like shadow that neither flickered nor went out, as if silently gazing at Asakura's group up ahead—a gaze devoid of emotion, pure, icy, mechanism-like killing intent, making it all the more suffocating.
The neck bones below the skull were wrapped in a worn gorget, through whose gaps the articulated bulges of the spine were visible, looking like a strand of cold, hard bone beads. The ribs of the chest cage were faintly visible between the armor gaps, their surfaces showing an aged grayish-white mixed with dark spots, looking as if they had been smoked by fire and soaked in water; the fine sound of bone rubbing against armor plates was almost inaudible, yet it gave people goosebumps instinctively, because that continuous hiss-huff, hiss-huff sound was not the wind, but the empty shell breathing.
In its hand, it gripped a tattered tachi; the lacquer of the scabbard was peeling, and the hilt wrapping was long decayed, yet it was still held firmly by that hand consisting only of finger bones, the knuckles hooked like iron grips without the slightest tremor. Despite having no muscles or blood vessels, its posture was more 'complete' and pure than any living person: a low center of gravity and heavy shoulders, like a mountain ready to press forward at any second.
Chika could even feel that surging hostility blowing right against her face, as if in the very next instant, it would pounce straight forward and slay them all as intruders beneath its blade!
Then in the next instant, the seemingly invincible skeleton samurai was slammed onto the wall by an invisible force, suffering comminuted fractures all over its body, and the entire monster became stuck there motionless like a wall painting.
"In the way," Asakura said.
Chika's lips twitched slightly. She looked back; as the three of them walked all the way along the hallway, there was one of these guys stuck so hard to the wall that they couldn't even be scraped off every short distance. Right now, they looked just like elk head mounts hung on the walls of a hunter's home, lacking any intimidating power whatsoever and leaving behind only a strangely absurd sense of comicality.
Of course, those slammed onto the wall to be made into specimens weren't just skeleton samurai; there were also blue-skinned hulks over two meters tall covered in muscle but with only one gigantic eye on their faces, lanky weirdos holding lanterns, oversized tanuki... and so on.
It felt less like entities guarding this shrine, and more like a grand exhibition of monsters.
"Is it really okay to leave them like this?" the girl asked in a low voice. "In Asakura-kun's case, don't you have that ability to burn enemies directly to ash?"
It seemed that in her mind, burning enemies to ash appeared to be a safer option.
"While it's not impossible..." Asakura looked at the young girl, making her shrink her neck in embarrassment before he continued: "However, what do you think the interior of this shrine looks like?"
"Umm... a very Japanese-style?"
Chika didn't know what Asakura meant, so she could only try to give an answer that was unlikely to go wrong.
Asakura didn't answer, but instead looked at Miko.
The latter thought for a moment before gazing at Asakura with her golden eyes, answering somewhat tentatively: "Does it not match the appearance on the outside?"
"Correct."
Asakura then nodded. "Although the exterior looks like a majestic shrine, the scenery on the inside resembles a tenshu (castle keep) a bit more, whereas it doesn't look much like a shrine at all. As for a tenshu... whenever this kind of building appears on TV, especially when it's an internal structure, you should all be very clear about what happens."
"Yeah, scenes of a tenshu catching fire happen often in movies and games," Chika agreed, nodding her small head wildly, before asking curiously as if realizing something: "Is Asakura afraid of setting this shrine on fire?"
In her impression, Asakura's control over fire should be quite strong, so logically speaking, such an awkward blunder shouldn't happen.
When the young girl voiced her doubt, Asakura merely shook his head.
"It has nothing to do with control, it's simply that using fire easily triggers a collective unconsciousness, leading to the scenario where the tenshu gets burned down... This shrine, and even this space itself, is a type of anomaly; it cannot be treated as a real-world building that exists merely with physical properties."
Once the shrine catches fire, the original leisurely tower-climbing maze-clearing would immediately turn into the kind of time-limited abyss dungeon that gacha game players are forced to endure.
Although he kept saying 'time is short' and 'we're rushing' with his mouth, Asakura—who actually didn't want to make things so chaotic and pathetic—waved his hand while explaining. Thereupon, those spookish blue shadows gathered in the corner seemed to receive an order, scattering out once again with great enthusiasm to find the correct path leading to the center of the shrine for him.
After exploring for a period of time, Asakura had more or less discovered the derivative effect of the magic spell [Might]; in short, it could tame small fry and make them serve him.
Just like the demon kings in Journey to the West, almost none of them possessed specific abilities like 'controlling low-tier monsters', but as great monsters, their inherent pressure could gather those small fry monsters to serve them and rule supreme.
Of course, the definition of 'small fry' was subtle, and Asakura currently couldn't grasp what kind of existence counted as small fry either.
Inorganic matter was definitely out; at least the stones and wood in the shrine didn't jump up and shout 'Fight for you, my master!' or anything.
If he were a bit less picky, could ordinary muggles perhaps also be counted as small fry? After all, even if they held a shotgun, their combat power was only five...
Be that as it may, Asakura had no intention of randomly finding some ordinary people to experiment on.
For one thing, his moral standards didn't allow it, and for another, cleaning up the aftermath was very troublesome...
After the spookish blue shadows scattered, Asakura and the others simply advanced aimlessly along the hallway.
The surrounding scenery barely changed at all, giving people a feeling as if they were stepping in place. If Asakura and the others didn't have those who could be considered locals... or rather, local souls to lead the way, they probably would have been unable to resist becoming restless from this abnormal situation long ago.
Because waiting for the shadows to return and point out the direction took some time, Asakura simply split his attention to do two things at once. While walking forward casually, he took time to glance at the system page.
After the task [Discover an Anomalous Landmark] was completed, a new task naturally pushed its way up.
[Task: Obtain an Artificial Witch]
An artificial witch?
First, various mecha girls from anime popped up in Asakura's brain, but then he realized that it was unlikely to be asking him to craft an Ikaros by hand from scratch.
After all, his crafting skills weren't very good; if he really had to craft a mecha girl from scratch, the opponent's looks would probably be very disappointing to the audience, quite hideous.
My Magic Club can only have cute girls, period!
After blowing off steam, Asakura began to ponder seriously.
Thinking carefully, it shouldn't actually be hard to understand; the so-called 'artificial witch' likely referred to someone like Yanami—not a witch herself, yet able to use magic spells.
Then, should he expel Yanami from the Magic Club and have her re-join the club once more?
To be honest, Asakura felt that wouldn't work out.
Just as he was feeling distressed, a shadow finally ran back, seemingly having found the path leading to the interior of the shrine.
The moment Asakura, Chika, and Miko officially stepped onto the road leading to the center of the massive shrine, it felt as if they had stepped into a folded world—a world condensed from five hundred years of time.
The wooden planks beneath their feet instantly became long and drawn-out.
What originally looked like just an ordinary corridor was stretched out like an endless passage; lanterns extended outwards one by one on both sides, their warm orange light merging into flowing lines, like a river guiding people forward.
With the next step, the scene had quietly changed.
The hallway was no longer straight.
The wooden floor tilted slightly, as if winding upward along the mountain. Paper sliding doors were lined up one after another, projecting busy shadows onto the doors—someone bending over while holding a tray, someone walking through holding a lantern, someone lowering their head to adjust their collar.
The movements of the shadows were orderly, without any physical entity existing, as if the living daily routines of the stray spirits and wild ghosts incorporated into this shrine were stripped away and placed individually on this path, silently re-enacting over and over again.
Asakura and the others passed between the paper doors.
Chika's sleeves brushed against those door shadows several times; the shadows wobbled slightly, shattered apart, and then quickly restored to their original state.
The young girl involuntarily pulled her arms tight, pressing her sleeves close to her sides and lightening her steps, perhaps feeling a bit of regret over why she chose to wear a yukata out today.
Miko kept her head down the entire time, her golden eyes merely sweeping lightly over those paper doors and ghost shadows—which could still be seen even while wearing the Mystic Eye Killer—and no longer paid them any mind.
Asakura walked at the very front, his footsteps without pause, even speeding up by a few degrees.
Spreading out from all over his body was an aura of 'I'm a freaking capitalist now, why the hell do I still have to work overtime'.
In the next instant, the surrounding scenery shifted abruptly.
The warm orange lamplights were stretched long, turning into slender golden lines extending outward along the eaves.
The ground disappeared; the wooden planks beneath their feet gradually turned transparent, and below was slowly flowing water.
The water surface was very still, yet countlessly many lanterns could be seen floating upon it, one after another, densely packed like a reflection of a sea of stars.
The three walked above the surface of the water.
With every step that fell, a fine, subtle ripple drifted open upon the water surface.
Those drifting lanterns gently brushed aside beneath their feet and then slowly converged back together, as if making way for them.
The lamplight reflected on the three people's faces, now bright, now dim, as if countlessly many gazes were raised from beneath the water, watching them through a thin layer of the water's surface.
Chika unconsciously lowered her head to take a look, unable to help recalling the scene from when they were outside and Asakura led them onto the small river beside the shrine.
However, during that time, lanterns could hardly be seen in the small river anymore, looking nowhere near as grand as the current scene.
After walking another distance, the world around them shifted once more.
The water surface vanished, replaced by a steep stretch of stone steps.
The lanterns on both sides turned into tall light pillars, overlapping continuously like the Senbon Torii; the flames burned brightly without temperature, their light cold as moonlight.
People were standing on the stone steps.
Not living people.
They stood quietly on both sides in varied attire—there were old people wearing ancient kimonos, children holding wooden clogs, and samurai draped in worn-out haori.
The faces of the living souls and vengeful spirits captured by the Obon ritual over the past five hundred years were blurred and unclear, looking just like a watercolor painting soaked through with water, their features dissolved together, yet they still faced the exact same direction—the end of the stone steps, where there seemed to be a door leading to the otherworldly realm.
The three passed between them.
No one moved.
Yet at the moment they passed by, the heads of those figures tilted slightly.
The margin was extremely small.
Yet it was enough to make one realize that they were not statues.
Chika's fingers trembled slightly; she gripped her clothes hem tightly, her knuckles turning white.
She raised her head to look at Asakura; although the other party did not notice her fear, as long as that back profile was still walking firmly out front, it could bring immense courage to the young girl.
Miko's eyes were much more complex, seeming somewhat worried about the situation about to unfold, yet unable to resist feeling sorrow for those surrounding spirits that had already lost their sense of self.
Yet she couldn't do anything, and in the end, she could only silently follow behind Chika, occasionally helping to steady her.
The stone steps were very long, yet ended in the very next moment.
When they stepped across the final step, the sensation beneath their feet changed once more.
It was not soil, nor was it wooden flooring, and even less was it stone steps.
Rather, it was like stepping on paper that had been repeatedly compacted.
They entered an open space.
There were no walls here, nor was there a ceiling.
There were only layer upon layer of overlapping eaves extending outward from different heights and crisscrossing one another, like a three-dimensional maze unfolded.
Red pillars stood in forests among them; paper lanterns hung in mid-air without ropes, yet held stably right there, their flames swaying gently.
In the distance were bridges, with a great many bridges unfolding among them; it was hard to imagine how long an ordinary person's human life would be wasted away in a place like this without guidance.
The spookish blue shadows led the way in front, and Asakura caught up.
They advanced along the bridge.
The light of the lanterns swayed along with their footsteps; shadows were stretched long, overlapped, and crisscrossed on the bridge surface, and for a split second, they didn't even correspond to their respective bodies anymore, instead weaving together into a blurry shape.
Chika's steps noticeably slowed down a bit.
At the end of the bridge was a gate.
Giant lanterns hung on both sides of the gate, their light steady and barely swaying.
They came to a stop in front of the gate.
Everything around began to turn quiet, and the space was stretched open all at once.
In just a brief instant, the entire world was left with only a stretch of blank void and this solitary gate remaining within the void.
Asakura reached out his hand.
Then, he pushed open the gate.
Light spilled out from within.
It was not a blinding white, but a composed gold, like light settled through time.
Behind the gate was the center of the shrine.