Moments before, as the creatures began their first movements, Nozomi sensed something deeply wrong. She grabbed Shion's hand and yanked her away from the area.
"Nomi-chan, what are those things?" Shion asked, her voice trembling with panic as they ran.
"How would I know? But I have a bad feeling about staying there," Nozomi replied, her heart pounding with an unshakable unease she couldn't explain.
They hadn't gotten far when the catastrophe struck. As the music began, Nozomi was suddenly struck by an inexplicable, searing headache.
She collapsed to the ground, clutching her head, her face contorted in agony.
"Nomi-chan! Nomi-chan, what's wrong? Don't scare me like this…" Shion crouched beside her, helpless and frantic, unsure of what was happening.
Nozomi writhed in pain, her mind invaded by a bizarre vision. In it, everything was bathed in a deep crimson—not the red of blood, but a radiant glow seeping from a blood-red solar eclipse hanging in a torn sky. There was no sound. No life. Only ruins floated in the air, as if gravity had abandoned the earth, fragmenting rocks and shattered buildings into suspended debris.
At the heart of this scene, Nozomi saw a massive vortex, like an eye opening wide, staring directly at her.
"Come…"
A voice echoed through the void—deep, majestic, as if rising from the dawn of the cosmos. Its timbre didn't just reach her ears; it burrowed into her soul, stirring a primal fear she couldn't name. Her heart clenched, her breathing grew ragged, and her legs moved against her will. She stepped forward—silently, unconsciously, as if drawn by an unseen force.
With each step, the scene shifted. The vortex, that glaring eye, dissolved, replaced by a colossal door, towering as if it predated time itself. Its surface was etched with grotesque patterns, writhing like serpents, interwoven with cracks large and small, remnants of ancient wrath that had once struck it.
Nozomi raised her hand, her fingers brushing the icy door. The moment they made contact—
Boom.
The door swung open.
A low, resonant thud spread like thunder, like the tolling of a death knell for a decaying world. Each reverberation pounded into Nozomi's mind, heavy and relentless, impossible to resist. She felt it clearly: something had begun, and no one could stop it now.
Beyond the door, a scene beyond her imagination unfolded.
She stood in a vast hall, its boundaries immeasurable, as if the space defied the laws of physics. The ceiling soared into misty darkness, with no lights or windows, yet everything was illuminated, as if lit by the glow of the void itself. The architecture was utterly alien, unlike any human civilization; it was both ancient and surreal, as if crafted from the forgotten memories of long-lost dreams.
Flanking the hall were eight colossal pillars, each so wide that ten people couldn't encircle one. On each pillar, Nozomi saw statues of strange creatures—the same beings she'd seen in the sky above Earth, wielding instruments, wings spread wide, faces veiled. Here, they were frozen, petrified, as if time had sealed them in stone. Their hands still clutched their instruments, their bodies bound by black chains that coiled like living serpents, embedded deep in the stone and tightening endlessly.
Nozomi shuddered.
Her gaze drifted to the center of the hall, where the light grew thick and heavy, as if gravity itself intensified. There, atop a towering stone pedestal, stood a throne carved from what looked like bone, yellowed by eons. Its intricate engravings were dazzling yet unsettling, their beauty laced with dread.
And then…
On the throne sat a colossal entity, its existence rendering everything Nozomi knew about life meaningless.
Its body was encased in ashen armor, as if forged from the nightmares of the cosmos, its broad, arched back seeming to bear the weight of an entire world. Long, curling horns sprouted from its head, forming a crown befitting a fallen monarch. Its face was shrouded in darkness, with only a single, glowing eye at the center of its forehead… and that eye was fixed on Nozomi.
Unblinking. Unwavering.
Only now did Nozomi notice another figure standing beside the pedestal, below the throne. It was the book-wielding entity, the conductor of the deadly performance unfolding in the real world.
This creature, smaller than the throne's occupant, exuded an air of cold majesty. It wore the same priestly robe, its face hidden behind a veil. Its hands gripped the book tightly, the cryptic runes on its cover glinting with an icy glow, as if it held immeasurable power.
The creature stood motionless, a silent guardian, yet the gaze beneath its veil seemed to pierce everything, sweeping across the hall before locking onto Nozomi with undeniable intent.
Suddenly, the space trembled faintly, like a deep, resonant echo, and the voice from the throne's single eye boomed, freezing Nozomi's heart: "Resonator, the time has come for you to fulfill your purpose."
"Purpose…?" Nozomi whispered, confused. The entity spoke in a language she didn't recognize, yet she understood it, as if the meaning was transmitted directly into her mind.
At that moment, the book-wielding creature took a step forward.
"The feast has begun," it declared. "The gods have fallen, and punishment shall descend upon all. In the name of the 'Executor of Justice,' I pronounce the verdict! The penalty is death for all, to cycle through countless eons before becoming servants to the new king!"
With those words, the statues around the hall stirred. Their instruments began to play, a haunting melody amplifying the proclaimed verdict.
The music defied any rhythm or structure Nozomi had ever known. It was the wail of thousands of souls dragged through hell, the scrape of metal against bone, the howl of wind through lifeless ruins. Each note, each pulse, chilled her blood, as if her soul was being forced to align with this so-called "verdict."
The chained statues, now fully freed, descended from their pillars in a shroud of dark, oppressive light. They moved, their motions a ritualistic dance—swaying, twisting, a macabre performance synchronized with the music. Each beat was a command, each step a distorted prayer for the end of days.
Nozomi's head felt like it would split apart. Part of her wanted to flee, but another part was anchored, held captive. Deep within, a call stirred—not from the creatures, but from something else, something long dormant inside her…
A question formed in her mind: "I am the Resonator… but who am I resonating with?"
"Fulfill your purpose. The day of our triumph is near," the book-wielding creature said again.
The space warped, and Nozomi was pulled away. When she opened her eyes, she was back in reality.
"Nomi-chan, are you okay? You scared me to death!" Shion's urgent, frantic voice broke through.
Nozomi gasped, as if surfacing from deep water. Cold sweat drenched her forehead, her heart pounding so fiercely she thought it might burst. She looked around aimlessly, her breathing erratic, her eyes still clouded with the lingering shadows of that otherworldly realm.
"Shion… I… I just saw…" Nozomi stammered, but her words caught in her throat. She wanted to explain, but suddenly couldn't recall what to say. "What did I just go through…?"
"It's okay, you're awake now, that's what matters!" Shion said, her voice cracking as if she might cry. She gripped Nozomi's hand tighter. "I kept shaking you, but you wouldn't wake up. I thought… I thought something happened to you…!"
"I'm fine now," Nozomi said, forcing a smile. She patted Shion's head to reassure her, but inside, a restless anxiety gnawed at her, refusing to fade.