Chikami Kirisu's movements were a blur of practiced precision. A white cloth, reeking of harsh chemicals, appeared from his pocket and was pressed firmly over Yuta's mouth and nose.
The moment he felt the boy's body go limp in his arms, a quiet sigh of relief escaped him. He stashed the cloth and immediately launched into his performance, his voice a masterful blend of exasperation and paternal concern.
"You impossible child! Where did you disappear to? You had me scared half to death!"
"Come on, we're going home!"
As he spoke, he hefted Yuta's seemingly unconscious form, expertly maneuvering the boy so his face was hidden in the folds of his shirt.
He then marched toward the exit with the purposeful stride of a frustrated parent, his confidence acting as the perfect shield.
He passed a woman sobbing for her missing child and even had the gall to pause, offering her a gentle, reassuring smile.
"Please, don't worry. I'm sure your little one just got curious and wandered into another bathhouse. They'll come back soon, you'll see."
"Look, I just found mine trying to sneak into the men's side."
After this brazen, public performance, Chikami Kirisu carried Yuta straight out of the resort's main gate. His act was so convincing that not a single soul questioned him or cast a suspicious glance his way.
From within his feigned unconsciousness, Yuta had to begrudgingly admire the man's sheer audacity and skill.
That said… he was starting to seriously regret his decision.
Had he known the plan involved being unceremoniously hauled around like a piece of luggage by another man, he would have simply subdued the cultist at the start and been done with it.
'Well, at least no one from Konoha saw this,' he consoled himself, clinging to the thought. An embarrassing moment only truly exists if it's seen. If there are no witnesses, it might as well have never happened.
He repeated this mantra internally, trying to ignore the lack of dignity in his current situation.
The cloth had been soaked in a potent, specialized anesthetic, a rare blend strong enough to render an ordinary person comatose for a full twenty-four hours.
However… such concoctions were ineffective against a trained shinobi. At most, it might cause a slight, temporary heaviness in the limbs. To truly incapacitate a ninja, one needed a formula specifically designed to interact with and suppress chakra.
Furthermore, Yuta was now a master of Medical Ninjutsu. A simple detoxification technique, a subtle circulation of chakra through his pathways, had neutralized the drug's effects the instant it made contact.
"Hey! You're moving like you're half-asleep! The Lord Priest's patience isn't infinite, you know!"
Near a pre-arranged rendezvous point a short distance from the resort, the other cultists tasked with receiving Chikami Kirisu greeted him with visible impatience.
"Quiet, you fool!" Chikami Kirisu shot back, his tone sharp with genuine annoyance. "You have no idea what it's like in there—it's bedlam! Do you know what I had to do to grab this one? Be grateful we succeeded at all."
"Enough. The delay is minimal. Let's return and report to the Lord Priest."
Listening carefully, Yuta confirmed his initial assessment. All of them were ordinary civilians; not a flicker of chakra could be sensed among the group.
Peering through slitted eyes, he observed the others. Aside from Chikami Kirisu, the four other cultists were draped in bulky, blood-red robes. The distinct, small shapes hidden beneath their garments could only be the other four abducted children, giving their figures a strangely bloated appearance.
Throughout the journey, Yuta listened intently to their hushed conversations, hoping to glean some useful intelligence.
Unfortunately, these five were just low-level grunts disconnected from the cult's core secrets.
Their talk never strayed beyond muttered references to "the sacrifice" and fearful mentions of "the Lord Priest." It was useless.
—
The world around them grew increasingly wild and desolate. The clean, orderly stone path dissolved into a muddy, uneven dirt track.
A faint, metallic tang began to stain the air—the unmistakable scent of blood. It was subtle at first, a mere hint on the breeze, but it grew stronger and more persistent with every step.
After a long and winding trek, a hidden cave entrance emerged from the landscape, its mouth all but invisible behind a thick curtain of vines and thorny weeds. The group pushed through the natural camouflage without hesitation.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the smell of blood intensified, now mixed with the cloying, smoky perfume of some strange incense.
The combination created a nauseating, pungent odor that clung to the back of the throat and filled the lungs with every breath.
Eerie, esoteric symbols were carved deep into the stone walls on either side of the passage. The grooves of these sigils were stained a dark, rusty red, as if they had been repeatedly filled with congealed blood.
The cavern system was far more extensive than Yuta had anticipated. They walked for several minutes through the winding, torch-lit tunnel before a faint, reddish glow appeared in the distance.
Soon, a raised stone dais came into Yuta's limited view.
Arranged around the platform like grotesque offerings were glass vessels of various twisted shapes, each one filled with a deep, unsettling crimson liquid.
Beside these containers stood a small, crude iron cage, packed with more than a dozen terrified children.
After swiftly processing this horrifying tableau, Yuta's focus snapped to the lone figure standing atop the dais.
He, too, wore a blood-red robe, but his was far more elaborate and ornate, embroidered with intricate, spiraling patterns. His face was completely hidden behind a mask of painted porcelain, crafted into the leering visage of a tormented ghost.
'So, this is the Lord Priest.'
"Lord Priest, we have returned," Chikami Kirisu announced. He unceremoniously dumped Yuta onto the cold, rough stone floor before dropping to his knees. His face transformed, instantly alight with a fanatical zeal. "Here are the five children you required. Now, you may commence the grand ritual and summon the Evil God to grace our world!"
'Summon the Evil God?'
That's a new and troubling piece of information.
Yuta's mind immediately recalibrated, and he forcefully suppressed his urge to end the charade. That single statement had changed everything. If not for that alarming revelation, he would have already had the entire cult subdued.
Now, he would wait. He needed to understand the true scope of this madman's ambition.
Was this priest actually attempting to pull a deity into the mortal realm?
"Your service is acknowledged, Chikami. The Evil God shall remember your devotion," the Priest declared, his voice a strange, hoarse rasp that seemed to slither unnaturally through the cavern.
He then reached to the side and pressed a hidden mechanism.
A violent, grinding rumble immediately shook the very foundations of the dais. The intense vibrations made the glass vessels of blood below tremble and slosh, their contents shimmering in the dim light.
With a final, grating shudder, a large, trough-like basin rose mechanically from the center of the platform.
The moment it locked into place, the crimson liquid in the surrounding glass vessels began to drain. A network of hidden pipes, now visible, slowly siphoned the blood, channeling it with a soft, gurgling sound into the newly revealed basin.
"This blood…" the Ghost-Masked Priest mused, his distorted voice dripping with a theatrical disappointment. "…I fear it may be insufficient."
He tilted his head in a gesture of eerie contemplation, the blank eyes of his mask seeming to scan the gathered children.
"Chikami," he commanded, his tone shifting to one of cold, pragmatic cruelty. "Begin the harvest. Start with the children in the cage, then move to the new arrivals. Remember the: you must not let them die. The blood must be taken from the living! Their vitality is the key!"
"If one's heart stops cease immediately! The Evil God savors only the essence of a beating heart…"
The Priest's masked head tilted back further, his entire body shuddering with a visible, ecstatic thrill at the gruesome command he had just issued.
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