Chapter 248: Curse Entanglement
Chapter 248: Curse Entanglement
Three rectangular paintings hung on the wall. Each piece was incredibly unique, distinctively placed on the surface.
Their sizes differed slightly, and even their angles on the wall varied a bit.
Just like a real art exhibit, small plaques beneath each painting stated their different “themes”.
The theme of the first painting seemed to be called “Celestial Realm”. Yet, the scene depicted mainly war. Soldiers in silver armor clashed fiercely against others in black armor across a vast battlefield. Flames poured down castle walls, and thick smoke drifted across battle positions.
Corpses scattered in every direction. The land overflowed with hatred. Carnage left the surroundings utterly desolate. So much blood flowed it might have been a river.
Exactly at the center of this battlefield, the sky appeared ruptured. The image seemed split from its middle. Countless twisting, branching, tiny cracks formed the focal point.
The painter masterfully fractured the scene with strange brushwork. Above the cracked heavens emerged a holy and radiant domain, mistily displayed at the other end of the horizon… One glimpse through that long, narrow fissure easily revealed otherworldly sights, like a realm of the gods.
Through that giant crack, an ugly moon plummeted downward. It emanated light, falling from a collapsed, alien realm like a dimensional void, crashing towards the earth.
Soldiers battling far below looked up at that immense moon, wreathed in swirling black-gray dust and mist. One by one, terror filled their faces.
This was the first painting. Titled “Celestial Realm”, framed in gold-plated borders, it occupied the exact center of the wall.
The “Celestial Realm” piece possessed a distinct character – depicting both cruelty and detached indifference in its style.
Next, Fang Jing turned his gaze to another painting nearby.
The second work seemingly had a theme labeled “Calamity Origin”. Compared to the previous painting, this name felt stranger, more obscure.
The painting named “Calamity Origin” lacked clear imagery. Its background was nearly pure white. Across the entire sky fell steadily drifting flakes of gray snow.
Far away, villages and settlements appeared faintly. Pure white trees sprouted one after another, scattered in patches upon the ground.
The earth crisscrossed with peculiar black cracks, spread like veins stretching in all directions. They were like countless overlapping black threads.
Fang Jing instinctively stepped back, confused. He noticed some details prompted him to shift his position and peer again at this bizarre artwork.
Changing his angle made the picture alter. A strange, skeletal face materialized within the frame.
“Anamorphosis? Hmm…not entirely…”
This piece held an uncanny oddity. He started circling it, viewing it from varied angles. Something fascinating unfolded: depending on his viewpoint, the peculiar artwork dubbed “Calamity Origin” continuously changed scenes.
The eerie skeletal face: half bleached bone, half rotting flesh;
An elegantly dressed noblewoman in white cradling an immense clock;
A gray carriage pulled by headless horses;
A ruined church with shattered, tilted pews everywhere, a giant silver sphere resting within the debris…
He lacked deep knowledge of art. So, he couldn’t grasp “Calamity Origin” beyond its surface strangeness.
He folded his arms across his chest, his expression calm. He couldn’t fathom why these items manifested within the Mirror Image Space. Yet, he sensed these “paintings” held profound hidden meanings and symbols. Perhaps they even contained cryptic semiotic messages.
Fang Jing didn’t linger. He shifted attention to observe the third painting. The first two artworks were bizarre enough. But the third surpassed them in sheer abnormality.
Its theme was “Black Prison”. Depicted were seven strange “stairways”, layered and floating mid-air. Each step in these stairs dwarfed astronomical scales. Each platform held immense fortresses, entire nations, and multitudes of chaotic monsters.
The stairs twisted downwards, vanishing into an abyssal blackness beneath the scene. Titled “Black Prison”, every living being within slaughtered and devoured each other, repeatedly presenting viewers with scenes soaked in blood.
Celestial Realm. Calamity Origin. Black Prison. These three paintings with distinct themes shared a disconcerting, unsettling effect. They stirred an indistinct dread within the viewer.
It was an inexplicable sensation. He surmised if he followed these clues further, he might uncover critical “information”.
“If you truly believe that, your end draws near.”
A mysterious voice erupted behind him. Fang Jing’s heart leaped violently.
His senses were extremely sharp. This person closed the distance soundlessly.
Fang Jing whirled around. Standing behind him was a figure clad entirely in black.
His arrival lacked presence or sound.
This black-clad man wore a dark hat. His hair was long. His complexion ghostly pale. Round spectacles covered his eyes.
Behind the lenses peered two slitted, narrow eyes stretching towards the temples. A long pitch-black trench coat draped over him, its edges embroidered with subtle golden threads.
His entire demeanor resembled late 19th to early 20th-century styles, down to his plain white shirt. It created a jarring feeling of time displacement.
“…Who are you?”
Through the spectacles, Fang Jing and the man locked eyes.
“I am the ‘Caretaker’ here. Nishizuka Tsukasa.”
The corners under that face curved slightly, like a crescent moon splitting open. A cold, mocking sneer appeared.
“You know me.”
Hearing the man’s words, Fang Jing felt confusion. He didn’t recognize him.
Moreover, something felt definitively wrong. He detected no signs of life emanating from this black man.
He could capture smells, heat, the slightest air fluctuations. Yet, the figure offered nothing identifiable as living warmth. Instead, it represented some other level of existence.
(It wasn’t a Spirit either, but something harder to define. Still, undeniably physical…)
“In a sense…”
The pitch-black figure showed no visible age. His voice held heavy undertones. His response felt casual, dismissive.
“Must admit…your arrival surprises me slightly.”
He moved his lips slowly, his tone deliberate: “This is not where you belong.”
“Why is Ichinose Apartment connected to a place like this?”
Fang Jing questioned: “Also, what’s your connection to that building? Who exactly are you?”
The black man stepped forward, pausing near the corner of the central wall. He silently contemplated the three paintings. His tone became measured.
“Ichinose Apartment serves as a Seal for a certain entity. I function as its keeper. Who I am ultimately matters little. Still, since asked, I shall answer. You may address me as ‘Juemon Inshi’.”
Fang Jing stiffened visibly. He never expected that name here. It left a deep impression. The author signature on the research materials he once held – Jiling Local Customs Research Survey Collection and Jiling Local Customs Research Survey Collection·Supplement – was precisely “Juemon Inshi”.
Moreover, the illustrator collaborating with Kiryu Reizuke on the picture book The Secret of the Baron of the Red Cloak apparently used the same name.
Fang Jing suspected these diverse works shared a single creator.
“You are Juemon Inshi?”
Fang Jing forced his gaze and tone to remain steady, masking inner turmoil.
“Then…what truly hides inside the apartment?”
“That secret far exceeds your clearance. Knowing won’t benefit you.”
Juemon Inshi curled his lip in a faint trace of a smile.
“I know your desires…lifting your Curse poses little difficulty. A temporary solution. Yet, truly shattering it demands the entity buried beneath Kiryō breaking free. All caught within its causal web are likely trapped by its influence forever…”
“You…What are you implying?”
Fang Jing’s eyes locked onto the man alertly. That knowing, insightful smile radiated unnerving coldness.
“No need for concern, Nishizuka Tsukasa. As of now, roughly seventy years remain before its release. A mere cycle. Historically not unique…”
“Not unique?”
Silently dissecting the phrase, Fang Jing remembered words shared by Yuasa Junichi, the landlord of Ichinose Apartment.
“This ‘cycle’ you mention…That entity arrives periodically!”
“Bingo! Correct assessment. You grasp things well.”
Juemon Inshi replied unperturbed: “Yuasa likely possessed mere fragments of information. His understanding is flawed. Kiryō serves as an anomalous nexus. For that reason, the great Seal Ritual transpired here centuries ago. The Esoteric Rite succeeded. However, bound power proved too immense. Most recurring anomalies affecting this city stem from the entity.”
“And this apartment?”
“The Seal remains imperfect. Hence, ‘pores’ linking the mundane world to lingering emanations exist. Voracious activity intensifies within its area.”
Juemon Inshi smiled thinly: “The Sealing Ritual completed roughly three centuries past. Executed by the combined might of the ancient Clan ‘Handan’. Handan’s Curse Entanglement Power connected deeply to dreams, thought, consciousness, and spirit. Hence, the entire Clan poured itself into blood sacrifice, locking themselves, their Sanctified Land, and the fallen entity within a plane termed ‘Neither Dream Nor Thought’. Nevertheless…that holding grows tenuous.”
“The Clans…Then why haven’t others intervened?”
“And why should they?”
The reply arched swiftly back: “Clans have never championed justice. A Curse flattening Kiryō scarcely concerns them. Perhaps the loss of two-thirds Japan’s populace merely registers as a mild inconvenience…”
“Can they truly stand separate?”
Fang Jing’s brow creased.
“Because you lack grasp on what truly defines a Clan.”
Juemon Inshi stated indifferently: “Though fundamentally human, awakening Course Entanglement Power marks maturity. Innate bloodline gifts ignite within.”
“Curse Entanglement represents inherent power. Each Clan manifests differently. Yet, all descendants bearing this Gift awaken under its protection. Their simplest divergence? Extraordinary resilience grants immunity to death. Unless opposing strength breaches essential energy layers, mere physical destruction heals swiftly.”
“Ordinarily, breaking Curse Entanglement demands an even mightier rivaling the Curse Entanglement Power itself…”
The crux remained: Curse Entanglement transcended a surface shield. Fundamentally, it granted near-immunity to death. This power seeped into every cell of the Esper’s body when activated, rendering physical injury largely meaningless without thoroughly destroying the root power itself.