7

In the corners of the octagonal room stood eight braziers, flames aflicker, illuminating the dark recesses of the hall. From time to time, a fly or a moth would drift too close and be engulfed in the flames, falling to the wooden floor in a twitching cinder.

The main thing people knew about the upper reaches of the Fire Tower was that it consisted entirely of female staff, but another trait of the Flamebound was that they sought to avoid technological advancement, even in an age where it was common to incorporate such developments into religion. This was one reason the large hall sported not even a single fluorescent light and was instead lit only by fire. However, while this practice seemed regressive at first glance, it did indeed heighten the mystique and lead to even deeper levels of enlightenment.

The hall was filled with priestesses wearing thin robes modeled after blazing flames, all chanting softly. There were only a mere hundred people packed into their room, but their dazzling good looks made it clear that these were the cream of the crop.

…They’re burning narcotics…

Milo detected traces of mind-altering compounds in the floral scent wafting through the air. He had already vaccinated himself against them a long time ago, but he could see their effects in the sweaty faces and trembling lips of the beautiful priestesses around him.

Suddenly, the priestess standing next to him collapsed to the floor. Milo stooped to help her, only to find her with her eyes rolled back in her head, unconscious.

“They would go this far…?”

Presently, the high priestess walked out onto a platform, clad in a gorgeous robe and flanked by two guards (also women). Milo followed suit with the other priestesses and lowered his head in her presence, stealing a look at her when he had the chance. He saw the face of Kyurumon, the leader of the Flamebound. She had close-cropped hair and a pair of hoop earrings in both of her ears, and within her enchanting beauty lurked a powerful and chilling gaze.

But what most grabbed Milo’s attention were the three masks floating around her head. There was one representing joy, one for anger, and one for sorrow, and they hovered in the air as if under the effects of some kind of spell, at certain times floating in front of the priestess’s face.

“This concludes the Death Breath techniques,” uttered the angry-looking mask in a deep male voice. “Fill the mouths of the dead with centipedes. The lower priests will transport them to Tokyo.”

The warrior monk guards stepped off the platform and began gathering up the expired priestesses. As one of them bent down to pick up the body by Milo, he stepped in.

“Excuse me. This woman is still alive. I can resuscitate her.”

“Being laid unconscious by the Death Breath arts is the same as death. It is a matter of honor. Do not intervene.”

“If she’s alive, she can still deepen her faith. Doesn’t that make it more blasphemous to kill her now?”

“You dare speak to me of blasphemy, child?”

Just as it seemed things were about to take a nasty turn, there was a crash as the wall of the chamber collapsed. Screams filled the hall as countless figures, covered in rust from head to toe, rushed inside through the hole. They looked as though they were once the Flamebound’s warrior monks, but their supple bodies were cruelly torn open, and jets of rust blasted like steam from the cavities.

…Necromancy!

As if answering Milo’s thoughts, Kyurumon herself muttered underneath her breath, “…Playing the assassin at their own game. Curse that old man. Where does he get all this power?” The zombies made a beeline for their former master and, with horrifying strength, tore apart anyone who stood in their way. Having fought them before, it was clear to Milo that Kelshinha was commanding them with intent. Just as one of them was about to reach Kyurumon’s throat, her lips, daubed in blue lipstick, began to move.

“Won-shad-lib-varuler-nyu…”

As she chanted, the blood of the mangled priestesses flew from their bodies in a dozen spear-like threads and pierced the zombie in midair.

The sad-looking mask spoke in a voice devoid of compassion. “But still, that rust-eaten old fool shall not lay so much as a scratch on me.” Kyurumon, her expression unchanging, made a series of signs with one hand, and one of the masks twirled and shot out in a semicircular orbit, slicing the head of the creature clean off.

The priestesses gaped with awe at Kyurumon’s power, but still more zombies came. They struck down the guards protecting her one by one, whittling them down.

“You cur…,” growled the anger mask, and for the first time, Kyurumon’s impenetrable gaze became tinged with the slightest hint of wrath. At that moment, one of the zombies broke through her guard and struck her clean in the gut, interrupting her chanting, then took her head in both its hands.

“Gr…! Rrgh…!”

Its veins bulged, and just as Kyurumon’s head was about to split in two, a blue-haired priestess appeared in a flash of steel, and with her unbelievably sharp blade, she lopped off the zombie’s arm.

“Finish him off, Your Eminence!” she cried.

“Won-shad-varuler-nyu!”

In a hoarse voice, Kyurumon resumed her mantra, and hundreds of spears of blood shot out of the bodies of the fallen priestesses and guards, impaling the remaining zombies.

“…How dare you make me use so much strength,” muttered the joy mask, and Kyurumon looked slightly irritated as she flashed her hand signs, causing the three masks to fly around in a circle, almost as if they had wills of their own, chopping off the heads of all the remaining zombies.

After all was silent in the hall once more, Kyurumon’s guards and several of the priestesses ran to her side.

“Your Eminence! Are you hurt!”

“I am not. How many are dead?”

“A dozen or so… But this room was supposed to be filled with the greatest assassins the sect had to offer. How could that doddering old fool Kelshinha command such power…?”

“…Somebody must be assisting him.” Kyurumon glared into space, drawing her thumb across her blue lips. “Or else, that vixen…”

“Your Eminence?”

“It is nothing. You are not paid to think. Prepare for an attack at any time…”

“Wait, you there.”

Kyurumon stopped speaking through the mask and called out in her own captivating voice to the priestess who had just saved her, who now seemed to be trying to remove herself from the room as quickly and quietly as possible.

“You don’t seem to have understood the precepts, bringing a blade into this place of worship.”

“I apologize, Your Eminence.”

She answered in a clear voice, a bit deep for a woman. Kyurumon tore back her cloth hood and held the priestess’s chin in her long, slender fingers. The girl was pretty, with dazzlingly pale skin and sky-blue hair. She looked young, and her face held vestiges of boyish charm and gallantry. For Kyurumon, accustomed as she was to being surrounded by perfect faces, there was a strange charm to the mark around her eye and the traces of rust that even the makeup couldn’t hide.

“I will punish her for her transgressions,” said a guard.

“No need. This one saved my life. Her sins shall be pardoned.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“…In fact, you shall be rewarded.” The corners of her icy lips turned up into a smile. “You seem to know how to fight. I will have you guard my bedroom tonight.”

“Your Eminence! I must object! This upstart should not be allowed near you—!”

Suddenly, a surviving zombie dropped from above and tore out the guard’s throat without even giving her a chance to scream. Kyurumon wheeled around, a pale light appearing in her fingertips.

“Won-shad-vawa-snew…”

As she completed her mantra, a powerful force blew away the zombie, sending it crashing through the wall and far off outside toward the Earth Tower. Then she relaxed and blew on her finger as if it were a pistol.

“Excellent timing. It appears a position has just opened up,” she said, looking down at the guard’s mangled corpse with a heartless smile. “Come visit me in my bedroom when you have finished disposing of the bodies. We will continue the orientation ceremony there.”

“…As you command…”

Milo kneeled with his head to the ground. His eye glinted at the opportunity that had just presented itself, as Kelshinha’s sutras echoed endlessly within his mind.

“Okay, let us begin…”

On the first floor of the upper reaches of the Earth Tower lay a vast circular hall where the initiation process of the Wizened took place. An enormous number of seats surrounded the hall like an arena, and today those seats were filled with paying merchants and other non-priests enthralled by the proceedings. And what exactly were they watching, you ask…?

“He strikes…”

“Wrah!”

As the speaker said those two words, one red-haired priest suddenly launched himself nearly three meters and swiped a card off the ground. He then grinned at his dumbstruck opponent opposite him and showed the speaker the card in his hand.

“‘He strikes down the Yaksha in their land of shadows.’ Here, it’s Enbiten’s card.”

“Very good. Please return to your seat.”

It was karuta. A simple game, in which the player must locate the deity related to the words on the speaker’s card. For the Wizened, this game served a dual purpose, testing both the reflexes and the spiritual knowledge of its applicants.

However, there was something today that made this event far more exciting than ever before. The red-haired young monk was absolutely stealing the show with his insane reflexes and acrobatic skills. Every time he swiped up another card, his opponents groaned, but the crowd went wild with applause and cheers.

“Huh. I didn’t expect ya to be any good at this. Yer smarter than I gave ya credit for!”

Tirol’s voice came through the hidden earpiece in Bisco’s ear. She was sitting among the audience, watching the whole thing through Bisco’s cat-eye goggles, ready to give Bisco support if the situation called for it.

“Heh, I know. We used to play this all the time as kids. Wasn’t much else for young Mushroom Keepers to do. But I’m surprised the others are goin’ so easy on me. They’re all just sittin’ still. There hasn’t been any punchin’ or kickin’ at all.”

“You think karuta is a contact sport?”

“It’s not?”

“…”

“Very well. Next question… He splits…”

As the speaker began the next round, there was a tremendous rumble that reverberated throughout the bleachers. A humanoid figure broke through the walls, scattering rubble, and headed straight for the center of the playing field. Bisco leaped up with split-second reflexes and delivered a spinning kick, launching the intruder into the crowd of spectators like a stray baseball. The crowd was just able to get out of the way before it crashed into the seating.

“Wh-whoa, what the hell was that?!”

“Same things we saw at the Metal Tower. One of them walking dead guys,” Bisco whispered to the frightened voice on the other side. “Has the old dude figured out where I am…? That thing was already dead before I kicked it.”

“Sir, what was that?” one priest whispered to the speaker. “It appeared to be one of the Flamebound’s assassins. You don’t suppose he was…?”

“Yes. That was necromancy. Kelshinha’s specialty. He has finally begun to make his move. We must protect His Eminence.”

The elderly examiner stroked his beard as the other priests around him seemed to panic. Then he addressed the room in a loud voice.

“Stay calm! The Wizened will not allow the sacred examination to be halted by such an insignificant interruption. Now then, prepare to continue where we left off…”

“No need, it was ‘He splits the stars and unleashes a torrent of sand.’”

“What…?”

“I already got it,” said Bisco, removing from between his toes the Jakokuten card that he had picked up during the earlier fight. “Let’s keep going. There seems to be some kinda crisis going on, so let’s get this over with.”

The examiner shared a look with the other priests, who nodded and set about collecting all the remaining cards.

“Hey, hey, what’s this about? Was it somethin’ I said?”

“Not at all,” answered the examiner, scratching his bald head, “but there is little sense in continuing. Err… Bisco Akaboshi. Congratulations on your induction. Everyone else has failed.”

“Seriously, Gramps?!”

“Take this card and advance to the upper floor. They will allow you to take the next examination immediately if you wish.”

The elderly examiner handed Bisco a block of wood before turning back and signaling the other two priests. They nodded before climbing the bleachers with surprising agility, throwing open the windows and leaping out of the tower.

“Somethin’ the matter, Gramps?”

“Nothing at all. Simply focus on your studies. A man who aspires to wisdom should not allow his mind to wander. ”

The elderly priest then jumped out of the tower himself with a speed entirely unfitting for his age.

“Hmm. I guess these guys ain’t so bad after all.”

“If that’s all it takes to change yer mind, then you really are a kid, Bisco. C’mon, let’s get going!”

Bisco scaled the chairs amid the cheering crowd, scooped up Tirol and hid her in his cloak, and then dashed up the stairs to the next floor.

Guarding the bedroom… That means…

The decoration of Kyurumon’s private quarters was simple yet refined, mostly black with subdued colorings—a far cry from Corpulo’s bedroom. Kyurumon was sitting atop the jet-black bed puffing on a thin pipe. Her bed gown was so thin as to be more or less transparent, and the three masks that usually hovered around her head were now hanging above the fireplace, silent.

I’m on night duty, so to speak…!

Milo had already heard from Tirol that Kyurumon, leader of the Flamebound, had a taste for beautiful women, and Raskeni had also passed along the rumors that she had the prettiest among them wait upon her, even taking them to bed personally if it struck her fancy.

…If I can make it through this, I have a chance. But how?

“Relax.”

Seeing Milo sweating, frozen in the doorway, Kyurumon stood up and walked over to him, so close that the indescribable scent of her perfume filled Milo’s nostrils.

Uh-oh…!

Tirol had assured him that his disguise would fool any woman, but Milo was not so confident it would pass scrutiny. Kyurumon traced her fingers along his neck, down his arm, and wrapped them around his hand.

“…Your Eminence… I am not worthy… You sully your hands…”

“Hee-hee-hee… Are you afraid?”

Kyurumon smoothly stepped back and began playing with her earring. Through her paper-thin gown, the flames of the fireplace illuminated the perfect contours of her body.

“Hee-hee. Be calm. Those fears will soon melt away…”

Her whispers tickled Milo’s ear and brought beads of sweat to his face.

Suddenly, a distant rumble shook the whole tower. Kyurumon quickly pulled on her flame-themed robe and looked out the window. Milo ran up beside her, and what he saw struck him speechless.

“What the…!”

The Wood Tower was burning.

Originally fashioned from a hollowed-out old tree, the Wood Tower was characteristic of the High Hall’s penchant for preserving and making use of nature’s bounty. Now scarlet flames coiled around it, wreathing trunk and boughs alike in fire. From the upper floors, Milo could even see priests leaping from the tower to escape the conflagration, only to be swallowed up by the dark tangle of platforms and stairways below.

“The Wood Tower has fallen. Damn Kugunotsu… Has Kelshinha already surpassed you…?”

Kyurumon made a brief show of disappointment before uttering a short mantra, and the masks hanging above the fireplace flew off the wall and into their gentle rotation about her face.

“…Your Eminence!”

Milo moved to protect her as a corpse came crashing in through the window. He recognized the state of the body, riddled with holes. It was one of Kelshinha’s puppets. A pair of monks entered the same way, in pursuit. One of them was young, about the same age as the corpse, the other an elderly priest.

“Lady Kyurumon. Pray forgive our rudeness. We appear to have a bit of a crisis on our hands. The Metal, Water, and Wood Towers have fallen.”

“I can see that,” said the anger mask. “That does not give you permission to taint this sacred space with your feet.”

“Lady Kyurumon. While the towers have fallen, Kugunotsu yet lives. We must put aside our differences and stand united against this threat.”

“…”

Kyurumon scratched her lip, irritated, but quickly reverted to her aloof posture as she schemed up a way to turn the situation to her advantage.

“And what of Kandori? Still engrossed in his cards, I expect.”

“I assure you not. He will be along shortly.”

“You have nerve to suggest we work together. Know that without the Flamebound, you lack the strength to kill even one senile old man. You had better not hold me back.”

As the joy mask finished speaking, Kyurumon snapped her fingers, and several of her personal guards stepped out of the shadows and kneeled beside her. Then she turned to Milo and, in a seductive voice, whispered into his ear.

“…I have not forgotten your admirable conduct. You saved me the bother of marring my flawless skin. Watch over this room in my absence. We shall continue upon my return. Ah, I have neglected to ask. What is your name?”

“…I am Milo Nekoyanagi, Your Eminence…”

“…Heh-heh. Milo. I entrust this place to you. Do not disappoint me…”

Then, without warning, she sprang out of the window and took off toward the blazing Wood Tower, leaping across the power lines that ran between the buildings. Her guards and the two priests from the Earth Tower followed her.

Is she going to fight Kelshinha? What should I do? Follow her?

At that moment, Milo hesitated.

…I can’t get so wrapped up in the Six Towers’ customs and forget what I came here for. I’m after Bisco’s stomach, not the Scripture.

And so Milo decided to abandon the perfect chance he had been presented with and took off like a shadow toward the towering inferno.

Boom!

The sudden rumble shook the tower, scattering the shogi pieces atop the board. Kandori’s eyes shot open, and with a yell of “Kah!” the pieces all froze in position. The room was bathed in silence, illuminated only by the orange light filtering in through the open window.

“…Dude, this is not a ‘Kah’ moment!” said Bisco, sitting opposite the boulder-like giant of a man. “Do you not see that pillar of flame out there? Look, that tree’s on fire!”

“Ignore it!! Your focus should be on this match. This very move!! Devote your mind and play your finest game!!!” yelled the Wizened’s high priest in a deep, booming voice that gave even Bisco a start. The vessels on the man’s oblong face looked ready to burst.

“Excuse us, Your Eminence!”

A group of priests burst into the room from the lower floor. When they spotted Kandori glowering at the shogi board, however, their faces turned pale. Eventually, one of the priests gulped and addressed their leader.

“Lord Kandori! The Wood Tower is burning down! Kelshinha was behind the attack on the Metal Tower after all!”

“…”

“C-currently, Lord Kugunotsu of the High Hall and Lady Kyurumon of the Flamebound are joining forces to defeat him! W-we implore you to lend us your strength, Lord Kandori!”

“I know. As soon as this match is over, I will join them.”

“B-but…”

“I am in the midst of a battle of wits!!”

Kandori picked up his pawn and, with fearsome might, smashed it into the high-grade Shimobuki-wood shogi board in front of Bisco’s bishop, tearing a spiderweb of cracks into the surface.

“I will not permit your transgression into this holy sphere of clashing minds! Begone!”

“Y-yes, Your Eminence!!”

The monk fell to his knees and scurried out of the room. Bisco watched them go and turned back to Kandori, his eye twitching.

W-what’s this guy’s deal?!

At first, Bisco had thought him a pleasant man, a rare find in this city of towers, physically fit and with a kindly expression on his face. He had even been so generous as to accept Bisco’s challenge, despite the objections from those around him that Bisco had only just joined.

However, ever since Bisco’s extraordinary skill at the game became clear, the priest’s personality completely changed. His skin became flushed with rage, his muscles bulged, and steam almost seemed to be blasting from his nostrils.

“Pardon those fools’ intrusion. It’s your move.”

“I—I know…”

A little taken aback by Kandori’s overwhelming pressure, Bisco adjusted his cat-eye goggles and reexamined the board.

“…Hey, Tirol, can I even win? I don’t have that many pieces left…”

Of course, it was not Bisco who was so incredibly skilled at shogi. Through his goggles, he was relaying the state of the board to Tirol, who was feeding him his next moves through the tiny communicator in his ear.

“…’Kay, forget the bishop. Take the silver with your pawn on c4 and promote.”

“Okay. W-which one’s the pawn again?”

“For crying out loud, learn the pieces already! Their names are written on the front!”

Even though Tirol had given him the complete rundown before the game, sweat poured off Bisco’s face like a waterfall as he struggled to identify the pieces by the intricate handwritten characters scattered across their faces. Still, whether through perseverance or sheer luck, he somehow continued to execute the moves as Tirol commanded.

A clear snap, like a struck gong, echoed as he slapped his piece on the board.

“WROOOAAARGH!!”

The very air around him seemed to shake as Kandori flared up with emotion. Bisco was so surprised that a pair of Rust-Eater mushrooms sprang from his body. Hurriedly picking them off before Kandori noticed, he turned to see the old man still glaring fixedly at the board.

“What was that move…? Pure genius…”

“Tirol, this guy’s a psycho! Even the Rust-Eaters are scared of him! I’m startin’ to think it’s possible to kill someone just through shogi! Let’s switch places!”

“Sorry, that won’t work, ’cuz I’m cheating.”

As the battle of the century took place on the floor above her, Tirol fiddled with a small pocket computer in her hand. As Bisco relayed the state of the board to her, she fed it into the machine, which spat out the optimal move.

“It’s a shogi computer I dug up somewhere called Bonanza. I was gonna try sellin’ it to a collector or somethin’, ’cause I didn’t think it would ever come in so handy. Lucky us, eh?”

“Just end the game before this guy’s face turns from red and into purple!”

“Yeah, yeah. The next move’s mate. Ya just gotta move your rook to the right of his king!”

“R-rook…”

“The biggest piece on the board!”

“R-right of the king…? Right…”

“Your right! Man, I thought havin’ this thing would make it child’s play, but this is more stressful than ever!”

Fingers drenched in sweat, Bisco gripped the rook so tightly it might have crumbled in his hand and slapped it down with a clear knock that reverberated throughout the hall.

The silence lasted five seconds…ten…

“H-hey, what’s wrong? Did I make a mistake?”

“Huh? No, th-that’s mate, I’m pretty sure…”

Suddenly…

Crackk!!

The giant man Kandori swung his head down with such force that it shattered the shogi board in two. One of the pieces struck Bisco in the nose, and he leaped backward, hand to the sword at his belt.

“What’s goin’ on? You wanna fight after all?”

“Your Eminence…”

“W-what…?”

“I have waited my entire life for this day…”

When Kandori raised his head at last, all the anger was gone from his face, replaced with a look of sheer rapture, his tears flowing like twin waterfalls. Bisco could only look on in blank-faced amazement, his mouth hanging open in shock at the man’s sudden transformation once again.

“I have been awaiting one of true wisdom, to whom I should bequeath my title…and the Scripture. This match today was surely the will of the heavens…of the god of wisdom himself!”

As he said this, Kandori looked at the broken shogi board…and hidden within was a cylindrical container wrapped in cloth embroidered in holy texts, identical to the Scripture from the Metal Tower.

Kandori extended his rugged, boulder-like hands and offered the Scripture to the dumbfounded Bisco. “From this moment on, you shall be the one to lead us…Lord Akaboshi.”