The Secrets Within These Four Walls [Plot/Event/Kina/Solo for Hyperion]

Descending the steps, Eight would find himself within another chamber. It lay untouched from the battles above, the walls clean and floors bare. It seemed empty, as though unentered for some time, save for a single pot. An incense-pot that burned softly amidst the vast chamber, the flame choking in its death-throes. If he came into the centre, he could see that the incense must have been lit recently. But who could be down here?

    Around the chamber, Eight would see there were three rooms joined there: the two side-rooms, one east and one west, along with the prayer-room he had descended into. Should he approach either side-room, he would find the entrances had nothing amiss. They were shut tight, allowing no chance that someone might have entered. It was like a ghost had risen awake from this mausoleum, before falling back into deathly sleep. What other explanation could there be?

The Incense-Pot:

Hyperion descended from the prayer room, wondering how they would fair against the high priest as well as their latest arrival. Hyperion would confirm his location on the blue prints from within the chamber, seeing the prayer room, the side rooms and a door that lead to the hall.

Hyperion had rushed down from the 18th floor, but now he would make sure to spend some time exploring what was here. There was also the 20th floor to think about. He would have to at least check the rooms right here, before entering the hall.

The censer seemed to rouse his suspicion after noticing the flames being lit. Now he would be wary of another being within his proximity, especially with none of the doors seemingly having been touched. Hyperion would make the choice to enter the room to the east, with his demon blade in hand.

His blade readied, Eight would approach the eastern side-room. If he checked the entrance, he could tell that it was locked shut. That would be no problem, however, should he use his sword. Entering inside, he would find nothing unusual: there were pillow-seats facing a golden statue, and candles burning coloured wax.

    The statue was slender, standing at one metre and a half, but nothing impressive when compared to the monstrous idols above. Indeed, it shared no similarities with the looming statues within the upper room; where they had been demonic and monstrous, this was serene and human. If Eight looked closer, he would find the gold-leaf had worn away in places. Looking closer still, the statue would look quite familiar. But what could he have seen like it?

The Golden Statue:

Hyperion would pop the door open with his animation magic. Upon entering, he couldn't help but experience deja vu at the sight of the gold plated statue. The holiness of this statue seemed to constrast very much with that of the high priest, but perhaps there were some similarties between the two now that he thought about it.

Hyperion would focus his reanimation magic on the gold leaf. He took quick stock of the pillows and candles as he turned to leave but not finding much value in them. But wondering how this once tightly shut room could also burning wax candles within them.

With his new animation target and a candle of wax in hand, he would assist the flame back in the chamber room and proceeding towards the western room.

His blade activated, Eight would see the gold-leaf peel back. As he looked on, it would reveal… nothing, but bone-white beneath. The animated gold-leaf would follow him, however, like honey-bees buzzing around his head.

    His options narrowed, Eight would approach the western side-room. If he used his sword, he could open the locked door. The space inside looked quite similar to the eastern side-room, save a painting where the statue would have been. It was no masterpiece, but a simple watercolour. Upon the canvas, the caricature of an oni had been painted, holding a small scroll within its hand. Were Eight to look closer, he could make out the Kina script: ”Blue.”

The Painted Oni:

Hyperion would take note of the words on the scroll as the golden butterfly fluttered behind him, eventually resting on his shoulder like a cape of gold. If there was nothing of interest behind the scroll, he would return to the chamber room. Before leaving to the hall ahead, he would coax one of the cicadas from his waist into his hand, and using the shell of his flint cicada to snuff the flame in the censer, before heading into the hall. He turned back once more to each of the rooms.

The prayer room where the high priest and a familiar voice had turned out to be opposition for everyone. Could the battle still be going even with such powerhouses? It was likely since no one had come down yet. The holy statue to the east stripped of its gold leaf and to the west, an oni scroll painting. He wanted to be sure he had every piece of information down as he progressed, perhaps more was at work here than he had expected.

But among the pieces of work, he remembered his sealed scroll. He would decide to reveal the information, now that he had some privacy, glancing upwards occasionally to take in the landscape of the hall as well.

His curiosity piqued, Eight would decide to consult the scroll he had received. Opening its sealed lip, he would find that there was another one within its mouth. If he chose to read them, he would find out:

Eight’s Scrolls:

    If Eight decided to investigate the doorway, he would find it was left unlocked. He could hear something muffled behind, sounding softly in the distance. He would smell something salty, but it was not immediately obvious. Whatever he thought, he could easily open the door if he chose.

Hyperion was able to piece together a few details from these bits and pieces of information, including something shared by Altan. Artists seemed to be the ones allowed to this floor, and there has been a change in their art in recent history, with a timeline correlating heavily with the opening of borders with Kina. What could it possibly be?

Hyperion grew more and more curious for clues. Before opening the door, he'd take a look at the hidden passage on Lady Amamaya's health, recognizing this woman as Manami's mother, and therefore the grandmother of Akihiko.

After sating his curiosity, he would venture forth. He would not actively investigate the source of the muffled noises nor would he look for the origin of this savory scent. Instead observing the hall as a whole. Now that he was separated from the pack, he could perhaps check all the rooms.

Curious and more curious, the scroll had revealed information which changed Eight’s perspective. When he opened the final one, however, he might question his understanding of these events even further:

Notes on Lady Amamaya:

But that was not enough for Eight. No, someone curious like him needed more. Passing through the double-doors, he would hunt for his next morsel. If he disregarded the scents and sounds, he would see that the first room had its door ajar. He could not determine whether the other rooms were open themselves from there, but this one seemed like it had been entreated recently. It was his choice whether he should enter or look for another room.

"The high priest must be insane..." The unfamiliar Suzaku name was still a mystery but more importantly there were two missing bodies of Manami's siblings whom she did not know of. But it wasn't even certain if they had died since there was no proof after the hogh priest had taken the children into his care.

There was more to discover still. Not only in terms of the larger, hidden narrative of Kina but also in the immediate viscinity. He would angle himself to get the best view of this first open room before walking theough to explore further.

In the first room, weapons lay discarded upon the floor, their display-cases broken. It did not look natural, not at all, but it was clearly not the work of someone. No, it seemed the work of something: the wires running along the entire vault, within its floors and ceilings, had burst through the ebony walls like some cancerous tumour. They pulsed lurid blue, beating with an unnerving rhythm. With every fourth beat, the wires slithered forwards and the floor resounded with mechanical groaning.

    It was Eight’s choice to enter, but he would notice that the next four rooms shared this feature. The strange-looking wires had taken root like weeds within a neglected garden. There seemed nothing he could salvage; the equipment inside had been covered and swallowed whole. All the while, he could feel the ground rumble beneath his feet with every fourth beat, as though some great machine were working below.

The tempo of the beating was unsettling to Hyperion. It was as if the wires were alive. Perhaps the heart of Kina wasn't as metaphorical as he had thought. There were some scrolls that Hyperion would be on the lookout in this room.

Subjects that would he prioritized would be any 1. Information on these wires, 2. information on the Kogata, especially that of Fumiko or Haruto, 3. Yasunori, the sole person allowed to visit and leave the twentieth floor, as well as 4. the Vaults manifest, which would allow him to choose rooms more efficiently as well as find other scrolls more quickly.

But on the offhand, any sort of martial arts, magical arts or stories of legendaries beasts would be enough to distract him, as the quest for power was always on his mind.

Walking inside, Eight would notice the doorframe had collapsed slightly. As he entered, he would feel something fall upon the back of his head; it seemed the doorframe was sinking lower. If that were the case, he would have limited time within each room before they collapsed fully. He would notice, however, that the wires were not responsible for this damage. Instead, it appeared as though they were holding the room together - the damage must have been caused from the battle above.

    As he looked for information, he would find most scrolls had been swallowed by the ever-growing wires. He could retrieve a few scrolls from the first room, but he did not salvage a single one from the other four. It seemed the wires had wrapped themselves tightly around the display cabinets, keeping ahold of the scrolls lying within.

Cult Practices in Eastern Kina, Volume II:

He would take fast glances and keep moving through the rooms at a quickened pace, trying to make sure he would not end up trapped. Could the battle up above be so intense that it was warping the very structure overhead in this high-security vault?

Between each of the rooms, he would manage to read through a passage of this scroll, each beast seemingly more powerful than the last. This would distract him what was wrong with his surroundings. As made it through the four rooms, he would look through inventory on this floor while simultaneously zigzagging through the hall, skipping a room as he would visit room at each side of the hall, but making sure to find a Hinamoto Clan Seal for his trouble.

His goal clear, Eight would scour the eighteenth floor. He would not find the prized seal, in spite of his efforts, learning that the vault was more like a museum than a storage-treasury. He would salvage some torn-up papers, however, which gave him insight into the Kinan sects. It would also be interesting that he could find little information about the High Priest and his sect.

    As he delved further, he could hear the first rooms collapse. He would thus be unable to enter those five, if he wanted to backtrack. The corridor sounded aloud with its beating, like the vault was mocking him, but there was another noise which he could hear. It sounded like rocks skimming upon the river but that seemed too poetic. It would be better to say it outright: it sounded like footsteps at the other end of the corridor.

Salvaged Notes:

The notes would not serve him much purpose right now, but should he want to doscover more about magic or if he were to expect a magician, it would likely be from a religious sect. However, as the vault continued to fall apart behind him, thinking of the value of the art pieces that would be lost forever to the chaos overhead. But once he caught wind of the footsteps in a clearer state of mind, he would pursue them with the utmost caution. Taking gentle footsteps as he snuck through the vault, with a weapon in hand, not pulling out all the stops in case this person could be of use to him.

His steps quiet, Eight would make his way deeper into the vault. In the rooms he passed, he could see the wires growing far and wide. If the floor did not collapse from the battle above, these wires would soon consume all its rooms. But they were not his focus, were they?

    As he came upon the half-way point, he would hear the footsteps slow to a walking-pace. Was the game of cat-and-mouse at an end? If he listened closely, he could hear a faint noise from the next room on the right-hand side. Was that the hiding-place where the mouse was waiting? But it did not matter what he thought, he would soon find out:

    “I can see that the vault is not empty, besides myself.” A honey-sweet voice caressed his ears with their saccharine tones. “I am not surprised that it is you either, boy.” A familiar figure drifted into the ebony-black corridor, their navy robes unmistakeable, “After all, you have a duty you must fulfil, do you not?”

    A poker-face masking her expression, it was none other than the lady Kogata Fumiko. “For you are just the little spider I have been expecting, boy.”

Kogata Fumiko:

Hyperion would bow his head to his host graciously. Is that why there were use marks? The choice of words coming from Fumiko seemed to verify her identity to the slaver.

"I do. I would like to ask how you got here, but I am not sure we have time to figure out the details of what's been happening. Assuming we're both here to remove the Hinamoto clan as the Shogun so the Kogata clan may rise from it's position as Daimyo, we'll be heading to The Heart?" He looked at the structure of hall as it continued to give way from the battle above, while the wores seemed to creep through like roots.

She was smiling, but it held no warmth. She was an experienced strategist after all, and her poker-face was second to none. If Eight was a spider, she was the snake watching from the high-grown grass.“Mmm, it is time that we finish our roles within Kina.” A blade could be seen within her left sleeve, and she tucked it further inside. It was unusual because her sleeve looked quite bloated, as if there was more than one point pushing outwards. There was not room, however, for another blade within her sleeves.

    “I must have you promoted from ginsho into narigin, if we wish to take the shogun’s position.” She did not seem concerned that Eight had seen her conceal a weapon. She walked onwards as though she had no care in the world, and all its time. “Ah, I suppose a boy like you has not played shogi? I have made efforts to spread the game into mainland Kou, but it has greater fame within Kina. It seems designed for the gambling dens after all. A quick and easy source of income, I must say. I trust you have your own?”

"Would you really promote a silver general who has not played shogi?" He was acutely aware of shogi as he was a fan of games, particularly chess. What sort of strategist wasn't a fan of such forms of entertainment? In his time in Kina, he had dedicated some time to learning the game, winning every match with ease. Perhaps they would be able to play in the future.

"I'm sure a woman of your caliber that leads the Kogata clan would already know the answer to that question." Bowing his head in a sort of reverence, "Anything important left on this floor or should we continue to the last floor together?"

Fumiko laughed at his remark, but Eight could see her smile remained static. “I am certain that I will remain entertained with you by my side.” She plucked a scroll from her sleeves, her eyes glinting like bloodied jewels. “It is no surprise that I know your pastime then, slaver. I have avoided dipping my feet in such dirty waters, ironic as that might seem. A woman like myself must have limits after all.” She did not change her expression, but he would notice her sarcasm and amusement. “If I were to employ another party? Well, that would be another story…"

    Fumiko gestured towards the room behind herself, when Eight mentioned where else they should go. “I did not find much of interest inside, but it might interest a man such as yourself.” If Eight looked inside, he would see something unusual. A monk sat inside upon a raised pedestal, head bent in prayer. He did not look like the priests from the chamber above, lacking their basket-shaped headwear. The wires had weaved their way within his body, bursting from his broken ribcage. He had reddened them with his blood, but his skin held no moisture. He looked like he had been mummified, but the process must have been shoddily done if there was still blood. Whatever the case, that was all Eight could see inside. If he was satisfied, Fumiko would walk towards the double-doors barring entry into the next chamber. “Come open these doors, boy. I would ask if you were prepared for what lies behind it… But I know the answer already. Ah, rather my business partner assured me what you would answer.

The Broken Priest:

There seemed to be an offer on the table. This would be the perfect method for him. He would understand his own incomplete thoughts in moments, as the missing puzzle to his plans would finally be revealed.

He would take a quick peak in the room suggested by Fumiko, and he was surprised at how the poorly mummified man was handled, but more importantly how the wires had grown through the area, littlenthought or emotion were put into the level of gore nor possible premortem anguish he had been witness to.

While Eight was unsure what Fumiko meant by business partner, one thought came to mind. The contractor, but was that even correct? This put more questions into his mind but without inquiring he would use the demon sword, which was oddly fitting to animate the doors, commanding them to open through the rukh.

Fumiko could see the cogs turning Eight’s mind, thinking upon her partner-in-crime, “If you do not know yet, boy, then I can assume they wish their identity to remain secret.” She seemed oddly satisfied, like she had placed a winning bet on some horse race. “But dwell on their identity too long, and you shall lose sight of your goal.” She did not react further, her face a marble mask, watching Eight open the double-doored chamber.

    Inside the chamber, there seemed nothing notable. It was much like the opposite room, decorated with towering statues, their faces grinning upon the new entrants. On both sides, there were sliding-doors which barred entrance into the twin side-rooms, while the backroom was locked. Beneath the statues, however, there lay a small altar filled with sweet-smelling incense. It was placed under their watchful gazes, skewed from the centre, as if an offering to those statues. Unlike the rooms before, the chamber did not seem affected by the wires’ rampant growth. Was the offering thanks to the Kinan deities for sparing this chamber?

    Eying his blade, Fumiko asked that Eight did not use its powers rampantly, “I can tell that tool is taking its toll, boy. I would rather you keep your pace, and not run out of power so quickly, for there may be a time I will require its use.” From her sleeve, she procured a well-made key and tossed it in Eight’s direction. “Instead, proceed in the old-fashioned way and check upon the left-hand side.” Her orders given, she left Eight to open the left side-room while she took the right-hand side.

    As he opened his side-room, an overpowering stench hit him in waves. It stung his nostrils like hot metal, forcing him to cover his mouth and eyes lest they begin watering. It seemed the sweet-smelling incense must have been intended to mask this obscene stench. If he looked upwards, however, he would see something stranger. Across the walls, a familiar phrase had been graffitied in garish red: ”atama soru yori kokoro wo soré”. As it dripped onto the floor, Eight would realise that red was unmistakably blood - and the room was covered with patches of dried-up blood as well. On one side, there was a painting lying abandoned within the room. It looked as though someone had scratched through the paper-thin canvas, scarring the beautiful coastline painted upon its surface. On the other, there was a burnt-out candle surrounded by a ring of blood and soot.

    That was all that was left, however, and he could not find a victim or suspect. If he followed the blood trailing outside, he would find the stains had been meticulously cleaned from the chamber's floors. He would not be able to find a body that way, but he could be sure that someone had died gruesomely - since nobody could have lost that much blood and survived. As he pondered these things, the lady Kogata would emerge from her own investigations, “Nothing interesting there, boy. Hmm, I trust yours had more exciting scenery?” If he wanted, he could check the right side-room. If he did not, she would guide him towards the massive double-doors at the back-room.

The spider would saunter through the corridors as he lent his ear to the Kogatan matriarch. Her words seemed to teeter on the edge of information, but keeping it just out of reach as if edging his curiosity onward with each word.

The spider would match Fumikos countenance with ease. The focal point of his thoughts now on the next doors. With the expressed concern, Eight would be sure to reserve his magoi in case there was more to do. Catching the key, giving it a cursory inspection before inserting it into the slit. With a twist he could hear the mechanism unlock, finally allowing itself to be pryed open at his hands.

Eight was reminded of the rooms opposite this corridors, wondering about the chaos overhead. He searched the room for any other inportant details to this massacre. He knelt by a dry patch of the crimson fluid and some compulsory behavior would overtake him to set a fingertip into the blood and taste the iron. The ash and candle wouldnoffer him no more information. The intensity of the situation seemed to impede his ability to soundly deduce what had happened.

Eight would meet up with Fumiko, hearing the lack of interest in her tone. Staying aloof in his inflection, he would mention a 'murder scene with enough blood that it could be its own painting.' The artistry and fiendishness of this area seemed to express itself at every turn.

Eight would not show curiosity to enter the room surveiled by his sponsor. But going to the double doors and only using his demon blade to open them if nmecessary.

As he opened the double-doors, Eight found himself at the top of a winding staircase - much like the one he took onto the nineteenth floor. He might have thought it interesting that the double-doors had not been locked, rather it seemed that the mechanism had been broken beforehand. In any case, he was followed closely by Fumiko, whose smile remained static. It was impossible to tell whether she was content or bloodthirsty; she was a master at this game of deceit. If he was the spider lurking in the corner, then she was a snake hiding in the grass.

    ‘Are you prepared, boy?’ She would not wait for his answer, walking down the steps eagerly, ‘If you are not, then I would advise you not follow me. Her tone was sharp, despite her expression not changing, and her pace did not slow, ‘I have waited a good few years for this opportunity, and I shall not waste any time if you retreat as a mere tokin’ As if to remind him of their good relationship, however, her lips twisted into a little smile. It was clear that she valued Eight more than her words might have implied. Indeed, if he followed her, she would strike up conversation:

    ‘I have heard that your group has plans for the new Kina, is that right?’ As she talked, their footsteps echoed upon the ebony-black staircase, ‘Ah, I apologise if I should not have grouped you with the other foreigners, for I know that they are not all interesting like yourself. I regard some as simple fuhyo, content to be moved, but I must recognise that there is one gyokusho. Unfortunately, however, he is unable to see more than one square ahead and moves blindly, just like the narrow-minded clans. They have both fixed themselves into one viewpoint, which they cannot remove themselves from. On each side, she was illuminated by the blue-coloured wires coiled around the staircases, casting a sinister shadow over her eyes. ‘And what good does it bring? Nothing. It limits them and prevents them from seeing anything but what they want.’

    ‘Mmm, what about you then?’ It looked like they were coming close to the bottom, a bright blue glow emerging from their feet. ‘Are you guided by stale faith and false morals, boy?’ As they descended further, Eight could hear whispers from the strange-looking wires whilst the blue glow became brighter and brighter. ‘Or have you opened your eyes and started thinking for yourself?’ It was not long before the glow became so bright that the blueness swallowed their vision. Indeed, all they could see was blue, engulfing their senses. And then…

    As blue faded from their sight, a sprawling landscape unfurled itself upon the underground caverns. A mess of dilapidated  buildings rose from carved rock, filling the claustrophobic expanse. As for Eight and Fumiko, they were left at the top of a downwards staircase, leading into this impossible Agartha. Looking over the entire complex, they saw no life or movement save for one tree-like structure, taller than a lighthouse, which touched the ceiling. It was an otherworldly thing, even in this subterranean ghost-town, glowing an ethereal blue that illuminated the entire place. Worse still, an uneasy silence hung upon the damp air, like a cemetary at midnight, broken at times with a high-pitched screaming.

    If Eight listened to his instincts, he could tell that his body wanted to run away: there was something wrong with this place; it was not somewhere that should exist. He could even see that Fumiko, that ace of poker-faces, was shivering slightly despite the warm air.

The Underground Complex: