I loaded the geek game

In the present day, in Tokyo.

The streets were deathly silent, like a giant, abandoned sketch, with only the ceaseless ashes acting as a screeching eraser, slowly wiping away the world's remaining outlines and colors.

In this all-consuming gloom, two dazzling bright yellow lights suddenly appeared.

They were two one-piece hooded raincoats, like two bright streaks of paint flowing down a post-apocalyptic scene. They moved slowly, leaving two brief but stubborn marks on this lifeless, gray canvas.

Recently, the exorcists from the Special Countermeasures Unit have been wearing these eye-catching outfits when they go out on missions.

The newcomer walking behind was named Yuichi Kobayashi, a shrine disciple with keen intuition. He had previously performed exceptionally well during an exchange at the Kyokon Shrine, demonstrating remarkable affinity for the talismanic arts passed down from Abe no Seimei.

But theoretical learning is still just theory. When it comes to real-world experience of fighting evil spirits face-to-face, Kobayashi is still a complete novice.

So-so—

Kobayashi pulled up his dust mask, but the acrid smell mixed with a faint stench of decay still seeped in. He instinctively gripped his specially made flashlight tighter—

One of the standard pieces of equipment in the countermeasures office.

This flashlight was originally a psionic detector used to locate traces of ghost stories. Thanks to the strange blueprints that Kamiyagawa, who is hailed as "unparalleled in the world," has been provided to the countermeasures office, it has now been improved to be more portable. It not only retains the core function of detecting psionic reactions, but the strong light it emits can also temporarily dispel some low-level evil spirits.

"Speaking of which, the talisman exchange I participated in was initially organized by Mr. Kamiya... He really is an amazing person."

His thoughts drifted briefly, conjuring up images of that legendary figure in the exorcism world, which seemed to slightly alleviate the chill growing in his heart. The novice exorcist unconsciously swung his flashlight, but in this impenetrable gray fog, the beam of light was like a trapped firefly, futilely illuminating only a short section.

"Xiao Lin, stay close, don't get distracted."

A deep voice came from ahead, penetrating the mask, carrying an undeniable calmness.

"Yes, Mr. Nagatomo."

Kobayashi immediately responded, his gaze fixed on the solid figure in front of him.

A thin layer of ash had accumulated on the shoulders of the raincoat, but its owner seemed oblivious, each step he took with unwavering steadiness. The stone hammer behind him, its head wrapped in talismanic paper, emitted a rhythmic, slight rustling sound against the raincoat with each step, becoming the only reassuring rhythm in the deathly silence.

Masao Nagatomo is an elite member of the countermeasures team who has grown rapidly through trials and tribulations. Although the team is currently short-staffed, Nagatomo adheres to the tradition of mentoring newcomers, becoming Kobayashi's de facto mentor.

Kobayashi had heard bits and pieces about Nagatomo from his colleagues—since the sacrifice of the respected Mr. Yukima Kensuke, this young senior had become increasingly taciturn.

“During the Obon festival, the boundary between the present world and the afterlife becomes even more blurred.” Nagatomo spoke as if to a newlywed, or perhaps as if reminding himself, “Even in ordinary times, troublesome things will visit the present world along with this change, let alone… now.”

Earlier, the countermeasures office had already learned of the situation from Kanoya and Tsurumi—

During the Obon festival, Tokyo is highly likely to face an unprecedented parade of demons, orchestrated by the forces of the underworld.

However, opportunities also lie hidden within crises.

According to Kamiya's judgment and plan, this potential disaster is also an opportunity to draw out the hidden evil spirits and counterattack and eliminate the evil spirits of the underworld.

Under the coordination and arrangement of Shika and Tsurumi, the entire countermeasures office has already entered a state of high alert, ready to fight at any time, and has formulated detailed contingency plans for all possible extreme situations.

However, the reality is that human resources are finite.

The Obon festival lasts for several days, and no one can predict from which corner of Tokyo the evil tide of "Yomi" will first breach the dam. In the neighborhood that Nagatomo and Kobayashi are responsible for patrolling, there are more than a dozen colleagues in the countermeasures office who are on simultaneous patrols and ready to support each other at any time.

Throughout Tokyo, those bright yellow fireflies, trudging through ashes and shadows, are striving to emit a faint light on this land in its decline.

……

The old and new exorcists continued their patrols along the streets.

A cold wind blew by, and a broken lantern rolled past Kobayashi Yuichi's feet, covered in ashes, making only a hollow sound.

"The Ghost Festival..."

At this time of year, near the shrine in Kobayashi's hometown, one could see bonfires lit to welcome the ancestors, and the air was filled with the scent of incense.

He subconsciously looked towards both sides of the street.

On some apartment balconies or windowsills, Obon festival decorations were placed crookedly. However, in the current situation of scarcity, the spirit horses that should have been carefully made of eggplants and cucumbers were mostly replaced by substitutes pieced together from scraps of paper or rags.

As they passed through an exceptionally dark and damp narrow alley, Changyou, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped, clenched his right fist, and raised it to his shoulder.

Kobayashi held his breath instantly, following his senior's solemn gaze—

At the corner of the alley, there was a small, unusual pile of ashes. Unlike the black ash falling from the sky, this pile of ashes was a glaring, deathly white, like the residue left after something like hemp stalks had completely burned out.

According to the traditions of the Hungry Ghost Festival, this is undoubtedly a trace left by the "welcoming fire." People believe that lighting the "welcoming fire" with hemp stalks can serve as a road sign, guiding the souls of ancestors home.

However, the pile of ashes in front of him looked unnatural, presenting a swirling shape as if it had been maliciously stirred.

It's like... something crawled out of it.

Masao Nagatomo keenly noticed the anomaly, pulled out a talisman from inside his raincoat, flicked it with his fingertips, and the talisman landed precisely in the center of the vortex.

laugh--!
The moment the talisman touched the ground, it turned black and curled at a speed visible to the naked eye, with a cold, almost gray flame rising from its edges. In the blink of an eye, it completely turned into a clump of white ash indistinguishable from the ground.

“Evil aura…” A familiar voice, audible only to Nagatomo, sounded from behind him, “The person who lit the soul-welcoming fire here, the one they wanted to guide… was probably not their ancestor…”

Before he finished speaking, a wisp of translucent white spirit emerged like a wisp of smoke from the stone hammer wrapped with talisman paper behind Nagatomo Masao's back.

Then, a gentle spiritual energy flowed down his spine and into Changyou's eyes.

With the help of his "predecessor," his perspective changed instantly.

Changyou looked up at the dark apartment building at the edge of the alley. In his spiritual vision, this seemingly ordinary apartment building resembled a living, festering wound, tightly enveloped by a thick, blood-like energy flow, with countless pained and distorted faces floating and wailing within it.

In stark contrast to this hellish scene were the faint yet warm orange lights shining from the few remaining windows inside the building.

In such a state, it resembles a desperate struggle, or a deadly bait that attracts moths.

“There are still a few people in this building who haven’t been contaminated.” Nagatomo took a deep breath, suppressing the strange sight in his eyes, and quickly handed the walkie-talkie to Kobayashi. His voice was extremely low, yet incredibly decisive. “Kobayashi, notify the others on the street to meet up—we’ve found a severely contaminated site where someone worshipped the Yellow Springs.”

……

Apartment building, three stories.

The Matsumoto family lived in the only room on this floor, which was still lit by a dim yellow light.

A young couple and their breastfeeding child.

The Matsumoto family was relatively fortunate amidst the upheavals that swept across Japan.

This was not accidental, but stemmed from Mr. Matsumoto's almost obsessive sense of crisis—he had a deep fear of major disasters such as earthquakes for many years, and always kept a considerable amount of emergency food, drinking water and medicine at home.

This "excessive caution," which once made his wife smile wryly, has now become a fragile barrier that sustains the family of three.

Today is the Ghost Festival, the day for welcoming the souls of the dead.

Mr. Matsumoto stood before the small Buddhist shrine in the living room, his hands trembling as he lit a thin stick of incense. The peaceful scent that should have filled the air was now drowned out by the increasingly strong musty smell and atmosphere of despair in the room.

"Wow... Wow wow..."

The weak, persistent cries of a baby shattered the fragile peace that had been maintained in the bedroom.

"Sh-!"

Mr. Matsumoto turned around abruptly and let out a rapid, suppressed growl towards the bedroom.

He strode into the bedroom and saw his haggard wife holding their child, futilely and gently shaking him.

Lack of sleep had left deep dark circles under the wife's eyes, and her once bright eyes now held only bottomless exhaustion and fear. The baby in her arms had a flushed face, clearly suffering from extreme discomfort due to insufficient breast milk, hunger, and the suffocating environment.

Or perhaps they were drawn by the sound of crying—

Boom!Boom!Boom!
From the next room, a heavy, rhythmic thud suddenly came.

The Matsumoto couple's breath caught in their throats. They stared at each other in horror. Even the baby in their arms seemed to sense the danger, its cries choked up, leaving only soft, aggrieved sobs.

A man named Hiroshi Yamada lived next door to them.

That guy... he's probably gone mad.

Over the past two days, they have been hearing various strange noises coming from next door from time to time:

The sounds of heavy impacts, or the constant scratching of something wet and heavy on the floor, and the interspersed, fluctuating chants that sounded like both crying and laughing.

The Matsumoto couple, carrying the baby, staggered back to the center of the living room and locked the bedroom door behind them.

The chilling crashing sounds and delirious murmurs from next door, Yamada Hiroshi, still seemed to echo in my ears, but just then...

Knock, knock, knock.

A voice that filled the Matsumoto couple with even greater despair rang out—

Hollow footsteps echoed through the deathly silent stairwell, growing louder as they approached, finally stopping in front of their door. A gentle knocking, delivered with knuckles in a monotone, unsettling rhythm, devoid of emotion, resonated with a chilling intensity.

"Mr. Matsumoto, Mrs. Matsumoto..."

Ms. Asano's voice came from outside the door.

In my memory, it should have been the voice of a kind, always smiling old woman.

But at this moment, the tone of voice coming from outside the door was just like the knocking sound—stiff, flat, and terrifyingly hollow.

"Good news, a miracle has occurred."

"Well……"

Mrs. Matsumoto covered her mouth tightly, stifling a scream; Mr. Matsumoto instinctively shielded his wife and children behind him, his eyes filled with terror as he looked toward the entrance.

It's not just Yamada Hiroshi... most people in this building are probably insane!

As soon as Ms. Asano's voice rang out, the terrifying noises made by Hiroshi Yamada next door abruptly stopped.

The entire floor fell into an even more unsettling silence, with only the persistent knocking and whispers outside the door continuing relentlessly, like a phonograph with its needle stuck, repeatedly scraping the same chilling words: "Worship the gods... and you won't be hungry... everything will be alright."

The stalemate, which lasted only a few minutes, felt like centuries.

The knocking finally stopped.

In the living room, the Matsumoto couple almost collapsed, looking at each other with relief that the nightmare was temporarily over.

"I saw it, baby..."

Ms. Asano's voice rang out again, cold and clear, as if it had squeezed in through a crack in the door.
"...Are you hungry too?"

As if in response to this statement, the baby in the young couple's arms burst into tears again.

boom! boom! boom!
The fragile door suddenly shook violently, and plaster fell from the walls!

The force of the knocking suddenly became completely unlike that of an old woman. At the same time, dense, chaotic footsteps echoed in the corridor, and behind the unseen door, it seemed as if countless hands were frantically pounding and scratching at the door, just like Ms. Asano!

"Worship the gods... as long as you worship the gods, everything will be alright..." (End of Chapter)