Kazé, The god of immortality stood in front of man kind. He was once worshipped by humans but now he is to be feared, obviously he had diverted or has been driven to change because of how humans treat themselves, they will pay for their sins, Kazé said "they will perish by my hand".
But what Kazé couldn't comprehend was the authority that hold man kind close to it, a demonic destruction formed by hatred and love, who knew a such a monstrosity resides in us.
In Tokyo City, the 21st century around the period where man was able to place a contract with superior life forms that call themselves god, where each month a thousand humans has to be sacrificed, criminals where given out but that was a 100 years ago, by now the criminals aren't even enough to satisfy their hunger, or maybe just test for blood.
Somewhere in the spirit relm_
"It's almost time for our monthly feast on those humans" a figure in the shadows spoke
"Exactly each decade their blood taste even better than the last, nothing pleases me more than thier suffering " another spoke
And a figure appeared before them at that point.
The shadows recoiled.
The spirit realm trembled as if the air itself recognized an authority greater than hunger. A lone presence stood between the whispering void and the crimson-lit altar—tall, silent, cloaked in drifting fragments of light and ash. Its form was unclear, as though reality refused to fully define it.
The voices fell quiet.
"…That aura," one of the figures muttered. "That isn't one of us."
The newcomer raised its head, and where eyes should have been burned a calm, terrifying clarity—neither divine nor demonic, but something forged in between.
"You speak of feasts," the figure said, its voice echoing across layers of existence, "as though mankind were cattle."
A low growl rippled through the shadows.
"And who are you to deny us?" another voice hissed. "We were promised blood. Contracts were signed. Gods do not break pacts."
The figure stepped forward, and with each step, the spirit realm warped—symbols of ancient agreements cracking like fragile glass.
"Those contracts," it replied, "were born from fear. Sustained by despair. And enforced by beings too cowardly to face the consequence of their own divinity."
A pause followed. Then laughter—sharp, mocking.
"You dare lecture us?" one said. "We shaped the era you stand in. Tokyo kneels because we allow it to exist."
The figure finally lifted its hand.
"No," it said quietly. "Tokyo survives because something else watches over it."
Far away, in the waking world, the skies above Tokyo darkened unnaturally. Sigils long thought dormant began to glow across the city—etched into streets, hidden beneath shrines, carved into the bones of forgotten buildings.
Humans stopped in their tracks, hearts pounding for reasons they could not explain.
And Kazé, the god of immortality, felt it too.
For the first time in centuries, his certainty wavered.
"…That presence," he whispered. "It's not human. Not god. Not demon."
Back in the spirit realm, the figure's voice hardened.
"This cycle ends tonight. No more sacrifices. No more feasts."
The shadows surged forward in rage.
"Then war," they roared.
The figure did not move.
"So be it," it answered.
"And this time… mankind will not stand alone."