Chapter 3: Small Temple, Fierce Demons

My mind raced for a way to survive, my hunting knife flashing in my hand as I parried again and again. But this beast—half man, half bear—was simply too enormous, its hide thick and unyielding. My blows had barely wounded it, and instead, they only drove it into a frenzy.

Seizing an opening, I sprang upward, bracing my right foot against a sturdy tree trunk. Digging the knife deep into the bark for support, I climbed quickly, but the creature, enraged, began to clamber after me. With a surge of anger, I wrapped my legs around the trunk, tightened my waist, and, hanging down like a hook, drove the knife with all my strength into the beast’s massive head, shattering its right eye.

Blood spurted out in a hot jet, splashing my clothes as the creature let out a tremendous roar, making the very air tremble. It was utterly maddened now, pounding the tree with such violence that I feared it might snap. I scrambled upward, pushing myself to the limit, and soon reached the top. The entire tree swayed perilously. I gauged the distance to a neighboring tree—not too far. With all my might, I leapt, seized the next trunk, and stabilized myself, refusing to look back at the bear.

I continued to leap from tree to tree, moving like a monkey through the dense forest. Even with my stamina, I was reaching my limit—twenty trees, perhaps more. Exhausted, I knew I had to rest. Glancing back, I saw no sign of the beast, and doubted it could pursue me through such thick woodland at my speed.

Just as I reached for my water bottle, I noticed a structure below, partly concealed behind a large boulder. Peering carefully, I saw it was a dilapidated building—likely an old shrine. Suddenly, I recalled the shrine the man in the leather jacket had mentioned.

Could this be the very shrine he spoke of? I wasted no time, stuffed the bottle back in my pack, and jumped down from the tree. Closer now, I saw it truly was a small, timeworn shrine, standing alone in the wilds, its origins a mystery.

I cursed under my breath at the misleading directions—there was no road anywhere in sight. If I’d followed the path, I’d never have found it. But perhaps the landscape had changed over the years.

Slipping down the slope to the shrine, I noted that, though battered, it could still provide shelter from wind and rain. Dusk was falling, and the September air was tinged with a chill. I decided to spend the night here.

Crawling inside, a strange feeling gripped me. I’d seen many rural shrines before, but never one so large, and the deity enshrined within looked utterly bizarre. Though I knew little of such matters, I could see at once this was no Earth God. If anything, the idol resembled a monster.

Looking closer, my heart pounded. The statue, though damaged, clearly had six arms tucked behind its back, and its features were not solemn or benevolent as one might expect, but twisted and terrifying.

A cold draft seemed to brush my back and sweat prickled on my forehead. I shook my head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over my thoughts, as if I’d been momentarily entranced.

I forced myself to look away from the idol and cleared a dry spot to rest. The shrine was small—just enough space for three or four people to sleep, aside from the idol and altar. I set down my pack, took out some food and water, and ate while surveying my surroundings.

Beyond the shrine, there was nothing but dense, towering trees, blocking out what little light remained. Night in these mountains was not the time for wandering, especially after my encounter with the man-bear. The memory alone sent a chill through me.

I wrapped my thick jacket around myself, preparing to rest before continuing my journey. Before lying down, I tied small bells with fine string to the doorway and surrounding trees as a warning system. My knife lay within easy reach as I drifted off to sleep.

That night, my dreams were many and fragmented. Suddenly, a bell rang out, snapping my eyes open. My right hand seized the knife as I rolled to my feet, scanning the darkness. The sound vanished; all was silent again.

It must have been the dead of night. Had I imagined it? The bell had sounded so real. I waited, body tense, but nothing happened. Just as I was about to relax, the bells rang again—clear, sharp, unmistakable. It was not the wind; in this thick forest, the breeze was never strong enough to move such heavy bells.

I watched the shadows nervously, peering into the darkness beyond the door, but all was still. Determined not to let fear paralyze me, I decided to investigate.

Knife in hand, flashlight cutting through the gloom, I stepped outside. Nothing. No animals, nothing at all. But an uneasy feeling crept over me, as if something unseen was drawing near.

I turned instinctively and saw a flash of red flying toward me. With no time to dodge, I slashed with my knife, sending the thing tumbling to the ground—a red snake, small but vibrantly colored.

Before I could examine it, a soft hissing filled the air. The flashlight revealed more red shapes—snakes, everywhere, slithering through the undergrowth toward me in terrifying numbers.

I cursed to myself—what a cursed ancestral land! I’d barely escaped the man-bear, and now I was beset by these red snakes. This was my homeland, yet I was being hounded like a wretch.

But cursing was useless now. There was no escape—the snakes were closing in from all sides. I retreated back into the shrine, but before long, the red snakes crowded the entrance, writhing as if waiting for a signal. Oddly, none entered.

Frantically, I searched for anything to block the doorway. My eyes landed on the eerie idol—a solid enough barrier, if I could move it. Perhaps it was possible.

I crawled to the statue, its grotesque face unnerving me. Forcing myself not to look, I gave it a shove. To my surprise, it shifted. Dropping my pack, I wrapped my arms around it and dragged it toward the door.

No sooner had I moved it than the snakes surged forward, as if commanded, swarming the threshold. Against such a tide, I was helpless.

Just as I braced myself for a desperate fight, I noticed a hole beneath the idol—a black, gaping opening just wide enough for a person. Salvation! Without a second thought, as the snakes poured into the shrine and several neared the idol, I grabbed my pack and plunged into the darkness.

I tumbled into the void, losing all sense of up or down. The shaft was just wide enough for my body, the stone scraping my nose, hot blood trickling. If the snakes didn’t kill me, I’d be smashed to death at the bottom. Wasn’t this trip home cursed enough?

Lost in anxious thought, I suddenly dropped, landing with a splash into icy water.

The cold was shocking, but I could swim. I struggled upward, limbs quickly numbed by the chill, but managed to break the surface.

The darkness was absolute—my flashlight had vanished, but I remembered the spares in my pack. Groping forward, I soon found a large rock and hauled myself onto it. My body was stiff, legs cramping, every muscle crying out in agony. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stay awake, rubbing my limbs vigorously. With trembling hands, I fished a small bottle of spirits from my backpack and took a long, burning swig.