25 Unspoken Divide
The factory loomed ahead, a grotesque parody of the vibrant district we'd left behind. Its rusted metal skin was a stark contrast to the neon signs, a grim reminder that even in the heart of Susukino, darkness could fester.
"This way," Fushiguro murmured, his shadow slipping through the shattered factory doors.
The pulse of cursed energy thrummed beneath my skin with each step, a hum against the desolate emptiness of the factory floor. Dust swirled in the shafts of moonlight piercing the broken windows.
A flicker of movement ahead - rats, or something else? Each new corridor, each rust-stained machine, promised ambush, whispered of danger. I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon us, of being meticulously hunted.
Then, a noise. Not the echoes of our footsteps, not the groan of old machinery. A whimper, muffled, a choked sob carried on the stale air. We froze, every sense straining against the gloom.
"There." Nobara pointed towards a narrow stairwell, the metal steps barely visible in the darkness.
We descended, and the shadows closed in.
The whimpers grew louder, transforming into broken sobs - raw and fear-choked. Then, a flicker of light speared the gloom ahead. Voices, harsh and cruel, echoed off the metal walls.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumroll against the rising horror. This wasn't a random hideout - it was a nest, and it was far worse than I'd imagined.
The stairwell opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. The floor... it pulsed with a network of glowing symbols, a malevolent sigil I'd never seen before. And at the center, a writhing mass tied to stakes driven into the concrete - the missing victims, their eyes blank with terror.
A figure stepped out from deeper shadows, a twisted grin splitting its face. Human, yet warped by something foul. "Took you long enough," it rasped, its voice a hiss of malice. "Master will be happy, the party's about to start!"
The figure's words hung in the air and then the shadows exploded. Grotesque figures, humanoid but twisted into monstrous shapes, leaped from the darkness. Claws ripped the air, their eyes glowing with malevolent hunger.
I was in front of one and my threads lashed out, seeking not to bind, but to eviscerate. One curse shattered under my fists, its shriek cut short. Another fell back, disintegrating from the threads slicing into its grotesque limbs.
Yet, even as I tore through them, my focus was on those terrified faces. Every move had to be precise. Raw power wasn't enough here; it was a liability. If my threads were off even a little, it could kill someone I was here to save.
"Hairpin! 40% output!" Nobara's voice cut through. Her nails, glimmering dully in the gloom, whipped through the air. They struck with vicious accuracy, piercing eye sockets, burying themselves into the monstrous skulls. The cursed creatures screeched... then exploded in a shower of purple blood, the force of her technique blasting them apart.
My vision narrowed. There were too many curses, Fushiguro was beginning to be overwhelmed, and Nobara grunted in exertion, a smear of blood across her cheek. I couldn't fail them, I couldn't let the victims down...
Something changed. The glowing sigil pulsed, brighter with each deathblow we landed, and the victims' whimpers transformed into agonized screams. I twisted, easily avoiding a clawed hand, and realized the truth.
"They're getting stronger," I yelled out between blows. "The sigil - it's feeding on them!"
"Damn it!" Nobara snarled. Sweat mingled with the purple ichor staining her skin as she slammed her hammer into another curse.
The twisted figure in the shadows cackled, a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Master's ritual is almost complete, and your precious energy will fuel its power."
My eyes darted across the chamber, searching. The sigil... There! It had to be the key.
Nobara, as if sensing my focus, switched tactics. She targeted her nails not at the curses, but the floor, gouging deep furrows between the glowing lines. Fushiguro, breathing heavy but determination burning in his eyes, used his dog shikigami to harass the figure, forcing it to dodge.
"Now!" I roared, threads whipping out not to attack, but to anchor me to the ground. With every ounce of strength, I pulled.
The figure let out a peal of mocking laughter. "Idiots, you can't stop..."
Its voice choked off as the ground beneath me moved. With every ounce of cursed energy fueled by desperation, I pulled, not against the curses, but the sigil itself. The concrete groaned in protest, the glowing lines flickering as the energy flow was disrupted.
A wave of wrongness washed over me, and the cursed creatures faltered mid-strike. The victims' whimpers quieted to a trembling silence as the sigil's malevolent light began to sputter.
The figure, its smugness shattered, let out a shriek of fury. "What have you done?!"
Nobara, a savage grin on her blood-splattered face, slammed her hammer down once more, widening the cracks, the sigil fading with each strike. Fushiguro's shikigami seized their chance, fangs tearing into the figure's exposed flank.
A blinding pulse emanated from the sigil, and the ground beneath us began to crack. Not a subtle distortion, but a violent buckling, like the factory floor itself was about to twist apart.
"They're going to collapse!" Fushiguro shouted, barely audible over the roar of crumbling concrete.
Curses, their power waning, disintegrated into dust. The figure cursed and vanished into the shadows as the sigil let out one final agonized flash and shattered into inert fragments.
The air around us thrummed with volatile energy, the remnants of the shattered sigil twisting in the gloom like dying embers. My head pounded, my senses reeling from the sudden shift.
It wasn't over. Even in victory, the factory itself was now the enemy. The walls groaned, concrete dust rained down, and the ceiling buckled like a monstrous creature stretching before the kill.
My threads whipped out to form a protective cradle, a makeshift web to shield us as the factory imploded. The ceiling came down in chunks. Each impact sent shockwaves through my web, but the threads held.
"Can you keep it up?" Nobara's voice was strained, a sliver of her usual bravado barely clinging on. She and Fushiguro were beside me, their gazes darting between the unmoving victims and the factory that was eager to make us part of the wreckage.
My web trembled, groaning under the strain of holding back tons of concrete and twisted metal, yet somehow holding. "I have enough energy to reinforce it, but hurry."
Without waiting for further discussion, Fushiguro was moving. One of the victims, a frail-looking woman, was in his arms, and he was sprinting across the shifting floor towards the gap.
He burst through the gap, nearly stumbling as he deposited the woman outside. "Next!" he barked, already sprinting back inside.
Nobara was next, a young man slung over her shoulder. She moved with a surprising grace even burdened, her voice steady as she called out, "Keep it up! We still have more..."
One by one, we ferried them across the treacherous gap and finally, the last victim, a girl who was probably in middle school, was carried out by Fushiguro. We collapsed in a heap, the adrenaline bleeding away into a bone-deep exhaustion.
We huddled just outside the ruined factory, waiting for the chaos of emergency sirens to bring some semblance of order. But as the first rays of dawn broke through the dust, the full magnitude of the horror seeped into my numbed senses.
My web had held. The victims were safe, if unconscious from the ordeal. Yet, as the paramedics moved among them, their grim faces told a story I didn't want to accept.
Then, the murmur from one of the medics - "...no vital signs... it's not... "
Time seemed to fracture. Nobara was frozen, her eyes wide, the blood on her cheek a stark contrast to her paleness.
Every step was a lead weight as I approached the medics, my heart thudding a sickening counterpoint to the distant sirens. Their faces were a blur, their words a muffled hum against the roaring in my ears. They hadn't made it... none of them.
And then, the details. The remnants of a ritual laid bare, a grotesque mockery of life left in the wake of slaughter. Yet, Fushiguro was already focusing on them, his camera flashing in the half-light. He moved with a methodical precision, but his gaze never strayed towards the bodies being loaded onto stretchers.
"Look," he mumbled, barely audible over my echoing heartbeat. "This... this symbol is different, see?"
"Don't care," I managed between clenched teeth. My gaze refused to focus on the debris, instead fixating on the empty space where the victims had been moments before.
He let out a frustrated sigh. "This wasn't just some feeding ritual, there's something bigger at play..." He trailed off, the implication clear.
"At least we didn't charge in blind like some invincible rookie," he finally said it, the words sharp despite his low tone.
My head snapped to the left, the anger I'd swallowed bursting forth. "Maybe if we'd done exactly that, they'd still be alive!"
He opened his mouth, a retort ready, but then hesitated, a flicker of doubt clouding his usually resolute features.
Nobara materialized between us, her gaze shifting with a worried frown. "Guys, this isn't..."
But I was past reason. The images of the victims, the knowledge that I could have prevented their deaths, gnawed at me. Fushiguro's caution felt like a cold indifference, a betrayal of those who were counting on us.
"They needed us," I forced the words out, my voice raw. "They needed us to fight, not...not hide in the shadows and analyze..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Fushiguro just turned away. This wasn't just a mission gone wrong. This was a fundamental fracture, a question of what we each saw as a sorcerer's duty. And standing there, surrounded by death, the answers felt impossibly far away.
"We need to report back," Fushiguro's voice was flat, devoid of any usual bite. He took a step back as if physically distancing himself from the argument, from me.
The hotel lobby was jarring - the normalcy of tourists milling about, the cheerful chatter, it all felt obscene. Fushiguro moved to the reception desk without a word, his mechanical gestures a brutal contrast to his usually controlled movements.
The receptionist's smile faltered when she saw us, her eyes widening in barely concealed recognition. "Your... your mission was successful?"
Nobara forced a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "As successful as it could be, under the circumstances," she said, the bitterness in her voice poorly masked.
I watched the interaction, a numb hollowness settling inside me. Was that what we would become? Sorcerers going through the motions, pretending normalcy while the weight of death clung to us like a second skin?
The elevator ride was even worse. The confined space, the knowledge of our unspoken accusations hanging heavy between us... it was almost unbearable. When the doors finally opened to our floor, I stumbled out, desperate for any escape, no matter how temporary.
Nobara paused in the hallway, her hand hovering in front of our room's door. "Kaito..." she started, and then faltered.
Instead of answering, I shouldered past her and marched down the hall. I didn't know where I was going, only that I couldn't face another minute of that agonizing silence.
