Chapter 8:Horrors Of The Dead
The world spun in a disorienting vortex of darkness, and when it receded, what Arthur saw was mostly more darkness... and a huge gate.
[Location confirmed: Jōdo-ji Cemetery. The largest and most famous temple cemetery in Hiroshima. Probability high: Home to a vast number of Soulless entities.]
"Oh..." That was all his mouth could form. He had heard of it before—researched it, even—how it nestled at the feet of Sendamachi Hill. But he had never visited. Probably not because he was scared of cemeteries.
His right hand twitched, his leg trembled slightly, his shaking form approaching the almost colossal gate.
[ Host, are you experiencing fear? Sensors detect intense recurrent stimulus of fear from your amygdala.]
"Nahhh..." His words broke as he recoiled at the eerie sound of a raven crowing from a tree not too far away. "Just, you know... soldier's impulse." He straightened himself up. "Not that I'm frightened by such. I'm braver than that."
Yep, he wasn't scared—even if a chill was running down his spine and the hairs on his skin stood erect, betraying their own horrors. He obviously wasn't...
[Observation: Oh... But why then are my sensors reading amplified neural activity? ]
He let the system's words trail off.
"I'm not scared, bot. Okay?" He shrugged. "Why would a Reaper be scared of a mere cemetery?"
[Affirmative. If you say so, Host... I mean, Reaper Lynch.]
He sighed, placing his trembling hands on the gate. So weakly he budged it... but the gate offered no compromise. He tried again, weakly—no budge. He gritted his teeth as his figure took a step back. Nope, actually two. The cold wind rattled his hair as he did.
[Recommendation: Reaper Lynch, I suggest you— ]
But it came too late. With his superhuman speed, his figure blurred before ramming into the huge gate with great force. And the door... it gave way. More accurately, it fell, along with splinters of wood surging out from its cracked form.
His eyes widened in alarm. If that door was to crash into the ground, it would probably attract the groundskeeper. He moved in a blur again, appearing behind the falling gate, his figure swallowed in its shadow cast by the pale moon hanging tiredly above. As gently as he could, he grasped the rims of the falling wooden gate, heaving it to the floor as softly as possible.
When its form finally kissed the ground with an exasperated light force and a puff of dust on the concrete temple floor, he sighed, wiping the nonexistent sweat from his face. He never knew he was strong enough to almost burst through a colossal wooden gate like it was paper.
[Analysis complete: You know, Reaper Lynch, you could have just phased through. ]
[Phasing protocol: Available to Reapers at Juvenile rank and above. No physical interaction required for entry.]
"I guess... I forgot." He shrugged. "And you didn't tell me about it."
[Correction: I did. ]
He trailed it off again, walking into the temple grounds. "Well, not on time..." His form followed a central stone path leading forward into the darkness—or toward his destination. He could feel they were slightly ascending.
[Efficiency protocol: Host, in order to save time, should I initiate spatial bypass? ]
"Nope." He placed his hands behind his head as the cool wind flushed his pale skin. "I wish to walk this path in solitude." A sad glimmer appeared in his eyes before he shrugged it off with a smile. "And perhaps enjoy the sight—this being my first time and all."
[Response: If you say so, Host. ]
"Goddamn, bot... I have a name. It's Arthur. Arthur Lynch." His form temporarily halted. "The word 'Host' makes me feel extraterrestrial, extra-aquatic, or something else biological but definitely not human?!"
[Acknowledgment: I am well aware of that, Arthur. Apology issued: It is no more than a glitch in my function. I will cease such mistakes from this instant. Correction for reference purposes: There is no word called 'extra-aquatic.']
He sighed.
"I pray you do." He resumed his movement, his eyes tilting to the side—specifically to the large wooden main hall with its wide veranda. He could have entered, but he wasn't there to pray. Even when his parents died...
His eyes wandered to the pale moon illuminating his form... no, it was passing through it, and he could see through his hands. Was he invisible at the moment?
[Status report: Yes, Reaper Lynch. To negate the chances of being seen—due to your carefreeness—I have initiated invisibility protocol.]
Well, he stopped listening after the word "carefreeness," but anyway, it wasn't that bad. Perhaps he could give this bot a little credit for efficiency and competency.
[Response: I am honored, Arthur. ]
Veins popped on his head. This bot was reading his mind again—an invasion of his personal privacy.
[Clarification: I only scour your thoughts in the instant... not your memories. And most are filtered by my processes to pay attention to only the ones that matter. ]
A surge of relief coursed through him.
He sighed. "So you are some sort of aide to every Reaper out there? I'm talking numerous versions of you."
[Affirmative, Arthur. We are produced by the Grand System and assigned as aides to any Juvenile Reaper starting their journey. Concerning our functions: They are based on that of our Host. This instance is basically talkative and a little bit annoying—probably because you are. ]
He felt a jab to his chest. Veins popped on his head again.
[Additional analysis: And also, perhaps because you are all lonely. I have been designed and programmed with the function of a friend, a companion, and listening partner... so you do not end up all depressed. Suggestion: Give me a name. It would deepen the bond—something humans regard as the first step to friendship. ]
More veins popped on his head. Even if he was delusional and drunk, or depressed—whatever—there was no way he was making a weird bot his first friend or companion. He'd rather choose Kenji than some talkative, proud "bot."
"Well... I suppose 'No' can work."
[Reassurance: Do not worry, Arthur. I would always be waiting. After all, we have all the time in the world. ]
He felt goosebumps at those words, like some baseline psychopathic stalker. Man, he had to attain Paradise... as fast as he could. But anyway, back to his sightseeing.
His eyes wandered to the other side—he could see a huge bell tower behind the visage of another building.
And as they continued, he could feel the path become narrower and sloping more upward. He could make out a stone water basin for ritual cleansing, where he saw a figure—a feminine silhouette pouring transparent water from a wooden bucket into the steel basin.
[Identification: The groundskeeper. ]
"I know that much, system..." His eyes watched the way she did her job, silently yet expertly. He felt a tinge of something—to wave or mutter a greeting. For she seemed lonely.
But again, he was invisible, and he didn't want to blow his cover just yet. So his footsteps hastened toward the top of the hill, leaving her lonely silhouette alone.
But her eyes trailed his figure, as if she saw every bit of him—much to his ignorance.
The landscaping was growing more rustic.
Ahead, the trees opened up to reveal the cemetery. A shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't a fan of midnight visits to such dreary places.
[Query: Scared? ]
"Shut it..." His figure finally emerged into the cemetery, his eyes stretching over it.
The cemetery was laid out on a terraced hillside. The plots were organized in tight, orderly rows. Each family grave consisted of a stone monument. His figure descended further into the cemetery, his earlier fears now replaced with the urge of exploration.
His eyes scanned the gravestones more intently.
At the base of each monument was a chamber for placing offerings: a small stone vase for flowers and a cavity for holding incense sticks. The ground in front was neatly graveled or bordered with stone. The older markers were stained with dark green and black lichen.
His eyes traveled beyond the cemetery from his high vantage point. Beyond the black silhouette of the gate, the city of Hiroshima sprawled in the moonlit darkness, its windows blind and dark due to the blackout regulations. The seven channels of the Ōta River gleamed like slick, dark eels slithering to the sea.
It was a beautiful sight—a breathtaking one—but...
[Reminder: You are not here for sightseeing, Arthur. ]
Like his inner voice, the system boomed.
Well, it wasn't wrong—that wasn't what he was here for—but that didn't change the fact that this bot was already taking the role of his inner voice, slightly infuriating.
His eyes scanned the quiet cemetery. There were no sights of Scavengers here. Had the all-knowing system been wrong?
[Alert: I suggest you prepare yourself, Ho—Reaper Lynch. Sensors detect multiple spiritual distortions approaching. Soulless entities: Scavengers. Probability: This is your lucky day. ]
"Huh..." But how come he couldn't see them? His hands gripped tighter on the scythe he had now summoned into his hands. Well, good news—they were senseless Scavengers, and his stats were well in the positive.
[Proximity update: Six feet close... Still moving. ]
[Target status: Multiple targets halt five feet before you. ]
His mind raced. If he couldn't see them in his line of sight, that would mean...
His eyes traveled to beneath his feet.
"Come on... don't disturb the peace of the dead."
[Warning: Targets surfacing at 12 o'clock. ]
Why the use of military terms now? Yet his eyes darted frantically forward, just in time to see some colossal worm—no, a gray-skinned leech with no limbs, like the earlier ones. Only a pompous, rotting gray flesh and two overlapping circular maws of irregular yet sharp teeth. Beyond it was an eerie red iris, which scanned its surroundings frantically before locking on his form.
This scary, gray leech-like worm... was a Scavenger!
He gulped.
"Could things even get any worse?"
And as if breaking the jinx, before his now widened eyes, behind this worm, multiple similar creatures emerged from the ground like phantoms with every shriek and cry. Others from the visage of the gravestones—numerous, as their size devoured whatever light came from the moon, drowning him in their shadow.
"System... my percentage survival rate?" His visage was literally shaking in his boots.
[Calculation complete: Percentage survival rate: 22.43%. ]
His brain went blank.