Inazuma swordsmith named Senko Muramasa

The next moment, all the villagers who followed, including the two elders, slowly closed their eyes.

Their hands were either clasped in front of their chests or hung naturally at their sides, and without exception, a peaceful and contented smile appeared on their faces.

The only thing left in the world was the silent flow of thick fog and the boy wearing a crown of thorns on the altar.

"It's about to begin..."

According to Michiyo's description, next...

Two figures walked out from the devout crowd. The one in front was a tall man. He held a spear steadily in both hands, and the tip of the spear shone with a cold bronze light.

Following behind him was a woman holding a golden cup in her hands. The cup still shone brightly under the gloomy sky, and the wall of the cup was carved with an intricate thunderbird totem.

Their faces also showed an almost sacred tranquility.

The tall man stepped onto the altar, each step landing right in the middle of the stone steps.

He walked in front of Aru, who was standing there with only one step between them.

He didn't speak, and Aru didn't move either, just looked at him quietly, her clear eyes reflecting the shadow of the man and the spear in his hand.

The man raised the spear to his chest and thrust his arm forward steadily.

The bronze gun tip silently sank into the boy's thin chest, accurately piercing the beating heart.

Aru's body trembled at the other person's actions, then returned to stillness, with an unchanging smile fixed on the corners of her mouth.

The woman holding the golden cup followed closely behind. She knelt in front of Aru, raised the gorgeous cup high, and placed it under the wound caused by the gun tip.

The vivid red liquid flowed down the gun, forming a thin line and falling precisely into the golden cup.

The scarlet blood in the cup was rising, a quarter... half...

When the cup is almost full...

"唳——!!!"

A sharp, high-pitched, heart-wrenching wail pierced the sky.

The voice came from right in front of the altar, from deep within the Storm Barrier.

The lightning within the storm barrier suddenly became violent, emitting a deafening roar that intertwined with the wailing.

However, the villagers around the altar turned a deaf ear to this. They were still immersed in their own world and arbitrarily misinterpreted the meaning:

"Look how happy Lord Thunderbird is!"

The Swordsmith from Another World: Chapter 125 Rasputin?

The woman holding the golden cup spoke first. Her voice rose slightly and her face was filled with happiness.

As she finished speaking, the villagers who had closed their eyes in prayer slowly opened their eyes.

They looked towards the Storm Wall, the peaceful smiles on their faces becoming even brighter, their eyes filled with gratitude and admiration.

The lightning is the fireworks that burst forth when the gods are happy, and the roar is the passionate drumbeat of the celebration.

"..."

Muramasa was silent. His gaze did not linger on these fools, but was fixed on Aru who was kneeling silently on the ground.

The spear was slowly pulled out of his body, and except for the blood in the cup, the rest were unwanted parts.

So no one cared about the blood seeping into the board, and no one cared about the lifeless boy.

The thunderstorm in the distance became more and more intense, and the old woman immediately knelt down, raising high the golden cup overflowing with blood in her hand.

The next moment, a thunderstorm struck.

The silvery-white light of the rice paddies was about to cover the festival site, but it stopped in mid-air.

The expressions on all the villagers' faces were frozen on the eve of transformation.

The gray-white mist boiled up at the same time, swallowing Heguan into the next cycle.

"Oh~ Still no use?"

Aru's sigh came from the fog, clear yet distant, until everything around her was completely swallowed up in milky white.

The voice of the Son of God cannot be heard.

A feeling of peeling arose from within the body, and then the thin milky white smoke in front of my eyes began to darken and thicken.

"Ahem... What's going on?"

Muramasa coughed and waved his hands unconsciously in front of his eyes.

It should have been a futile act, but the smoke dispersed with just a flick of his brush.

What appeared before his eyes was a scene he had seen countless times.

Anvil, borax, fire...

My hands are so sore that I can't lift them.

But the porridge next to it smelled delicious, maybe because my stomach was empty.

This is the part inside the window, and outside the window...

are people.

Or rather, someone from the past.

They were either lying or curled up, like rag bags discarded at random.

The clothes were so tattered that their original color could no longer be seen, and they clung tightly to the bony frame.

They are hopeless.

"The old man's memory?"

This is Sengo Muramasa's memory, but it does not completely belong to him.

"Because your previous memories were like watching a movie. You were just a passive second person. Everything here had nothing to do with you."

Can anyone come and rescue them?

He couldn't help but wonder if someone could show up and save these people who were starving and waiting for death.

“But this time, it’s more real, you’re experiencing it firsthand.”

"Your expectations are merged into this, a question identical to the one you asked in my memory."

Can anyone come and rescue them?

The voice repeated itself, but this time it was more childish.

"This is……"

"Apparently, this time there's a 'third person' mixed in with my memories."

You know, no.

“You” also know, no.

Looking back, I saw another sea of ​​fire. This was the prototype of "you".

It is not "yours", but it is about your experience.

"wrong."

"Why is it that when 'it' extracts memories about you, the parts that appear are those belonging to 'you'?"

"Because 'Just call me Emiya Shirou'."

"This is a switch that belongs to you, one and only."

So, that guy told me not to say "his" name?

My consciousness became blurred in the thick smoke and high temperature.

"Can anyone come and rescue them?"

"The naive question rang out from your throat. You are still the first person, completing the first-hand experience that belongs to "you"."

no respond.

The world is sinking and the light is fading away.

Just as the vision was about to be completely swallowed by darkness, a vague outline appeared at the end of the sea of ​​fire, stepping on the scorched earth.

A black figure passed through the smoke and dust, stopped in front of you, and then slowly squatted down.

I can't see the other person's face, I can only see their eyes.

There was no pity or sadness in those eyes, only one kind... the kind of relief and pure joy that comes from finding a lost treasure.

A hand reached out and carefully held the hand that was stretched out and about to drop.

Then, I saw a smile.

A smile that seemed to have exhausted all his strength, but was extremely satisfying.

"It's troublesome..."

Muramasa murmured, but he couldn't take his eyes off that smile.

His consciousness was fading away, but only one thought remained in his mind...

A borrowed idea.

"Old man—"

"Old man?"

"Muramasa!"

The pink fox's no longer lazy voice came, forcibly waking up Muramasa who was sinking into unconsciousness.

"Ok?"

Opening his eyes, Muramasa found himself still in the same place.

The fog has completely retreated, and it is deep night again.

The surrounding layout is very festive, like a festival that has not yet begun.

"call……"

The voice in my head finally relaxed, apparently having been made a little nervous by the previous disconnection.

"You just...disconnected. I thought you were swallowed whole by the fog."

The Son of God's voice regained some of its usual laziness, but the hint of concern mixed in it could not be completely concealed.

"……nothing."

Muramasa supported himself on the ground and sat up, with dry and soft grass under his palms.

His gaze passed across the empty festival grounds and looked towards the circular altar in the distance, which was surrounded by huge stones.

Under the cover of night, it lies dormant like a silent giant beast, waiting for another sacrifice.

He remembered Aru's clear and calm eyes, and how he walked towards the altar wearing a crown of thorns.

"What a perfect stage, isn't it?"

A deep and steady male voice came from behind without any warning.

There was a strange quality to the voice, like the Scriptures being recited in church, yet it was also imbued with a certain kind of uncomfortable pleasure.

Muramasa's body tensed up for a moment, but the alertness that was about to explode solidified into a more complex emotion the next second after he heard the voice.

This voice...

He slowly turned around and looked at two people standing in the shadow of the torii archway not far away.

Leading the group was a tall priest wearing a strict black cassock with a silver cross hanging on his chest.

There was a gentle, stylized smile in his eyes, but the curve of his mouth made people feel numb.

Behind him, a man wearing the same blue-based clothing, but in a blue and white velvet robe, was leaning against the pillar of the archway.

"You guy..."

He ignored the guy behind him and instead turned his attention to the "fake priest".