The first wave broke against them like water against stone — but the tide wasn't stopping. The ground itself began to convulse, ripples spreading as though the earth were only a thin skin stretched over something vast and angry beneath. More of the spiral-mouthed horrors clawed free, their bodies twitching, reforming as though bone and muscle couldn't decide where they belonged.
Shitsubo met them head-on, curse burning in his veins. His fists cracked through ribcages, his grip tore necks apart. Each kill fed the hunger inside him, the rune whispering sweeter every time blood soaked his skin. The minions screamed, a sound that wasn't merely sound — it drilled into the skulls of every survivor, rattling teeth, scratching at sanity.
"Hold!" Shitsubo barked, his voice loud enough to shatter through the panic. He spun, dragging a creature by its leg and slamming it against the street until its limbs tore off like wet paper. Black ichor sprayed across his chest. The curse hummed, satisfied for the moment.
Genji fought close to his brother's shadow, spear flashing. He was clumsy, his footwork uneven, but desperation turned mistakes into ferocity. He drove the sharpened pipe through a creature's chest and shoved until the thing sagged lifelessly. Genji's breaths came fast, wild, but he didn't stop.
Daigo was a whirlwind of chains and fists. He used the jagged edges of metal debris like extensions of his hands, gouging into flesh, yanking monsters off their feet. For every one that clawed at him, he struck back with twice the fury. "Come on, then! Tear me up, I'll drag you to hell with me!" His laughter was madness wrapped in defiance.
And through it all, Juro stood like a black pillar at the rear, his makeshift club of concrete swinging with calculated precision. He wasn't strong like Shitsubo or reckless like Daigo. He was efficient. Each blow was targeted, each movement sharp. Survivors huddled near him, their terror melting into grim focus as he barked orders.
"Stay behind the line! Don't waste energy screaming — breathe steady or you'll choke!"
"Eyes forward! Don't blink when they come — they're faster when you blink!"
His voice was a lifeline, cold but unshakable. Even with half his face ruined, Juro carried himself as though fear were a disease he'd already conquered.
The minions adapted.
The ones with spiral mouths stopped charging blindly. They circled now, movements jerky but calculated, their teeth grinding faster. One dropped to the ground and slithered like a centipede, its limbs elongating, bones snapping to reconfigure its shape. Another pressed its palm against the soil, and from the wound in its hand grew tendrils of black sinew that latched onto the ground, spreading corruption further.
Shitsubo felt his curse flare. The rune burned as though recognizing kin. Not just prey. Pieces of the same forge. Broken kin, twisted differently.
The thought made him laugh under his breath. He punched the centipede-shaped one as it lunged, shattering half its body into pulp. But even as it collapsed, the remains writhed, forming smaller creatures that skittered toward the survivors.
"Behind me!" Juro shouted, stepping forward. He swung his club, smashing two of the smaller spawn into paste before they reached the terrified group. His good eye darted to Shitsubo, voice like a blade: "Your leash is slipping. End it before they drown us!"
Shitsubo snarled back, blood dripping down his chin. "You think you command me? Watch and learn."
The curse roared inside him. He let it pour down his arm, veins bulging black, skin splitting in fine cracks as his fist grew heavy with power. When he struck the ground, the shockwave split the street in two. The pulse of the city-heart faltered, and for a moment, the minions froze, their spiral maws trembling as if confused.
Seizing the pause, Genji rammed his spear through two at once. Daigo wrapped his chain around another's throat and pulled until its head ripped free. Juro's club cracked skulls with brutal precision.
But the silence that followed was not victory.
The ground under their feet pulsed harder, angrier. Buildings groaned as if alive. The dead minions melted into the soil, their black ichor seeping downward, feeding something deeper.
Shitsubo felt it — not a presence, but a pull. A slow, patient hunger that dwarfed even his curse. The rune on his arm flared, and for a heartbeat he thought it might sear through his skin entirely.
Dagon was aware of them now.
He wiped ichor from his face, panting. His chest heaved, but the grin on his lips was wolfish. "They'll keep coming. This city's their hive."
"And hives have queens," Juro muttered, voice low, grim. His one eye narrowed. "What sits at the center of this one will crush us. Unless you're planning on dying here, Date, we need direction."
The words cut deeper than any accusation. They weren't shouted. They weren't mocking. They were precise — the exact truth no one wanted to face.
Genji's eyes darted between Juro and his brother. Daigo swore under his breath, shoulders heaving. The survivors clung to each other, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.
Shitsubo bared his teeth. He wanted to tear Juro apart, to silence that voice forever. But something held his hand. Not mercy — calculation. Juro's words kept the group from splintering into chaos. As much as he despised the man, he was useful.
"North," Shitsubo finally said, spitting black blood. "The river cuts through the city. If we follow it, we'll find a breach in their hold. And if not…" His grin widened, feral and cursed. "…then we drown them in it."
Juro's eye lingered on him a moment too long, searching for cracks. Then he gave a sharp nod. "Fine. But understand this, Date — if your curse turns on us, I'll finish you before it takes us all."
Shitsubo's laugh was low, ugly. "Try."
The survivors shivered.
The group moved north, silence clinging to their backs. The streets moaned, shadows slithered, and the pulse of Dagon's hive followed them like a second heartbeat.