Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Blood Angel

Red.

Scarlet blood streamed forth like living crimson silk ribbons, unfurling and sweeping across the entire scene with the vigor of a writhing dragon. Before most could even react, the blood-red ocean had already surged up like a true sea, engulfing everything within the precincts of the “Judiciary Hall.”

Tentacles rose from the ocean, freely waving and twisting, winding around each person indiscriminately—rich or poor, noble or humble, man or woman, young or old. The instant the tentacles appeared, they burrowed in, freezing minds and slowing thoughts.

Even so, some managed to maintain their ability to think. But consciousness alone was meaningless; their bodies were already sluggish, unable to move, unable to flee.

Shuji Yamada stood on the stage, eyes wide, watching as scarlet tentacles seized his body. He struggled with all his might to break free, but his efforts were futile; sweat poured down, but nothing changed.

Casting his gaze toward the side of the stage, he saw the staff, similarly bound, their bodies crawling with tentacles. They had lost all semblance of awareness, their faces twisted into eerie smiles, bodies slowly dissolving into the crimson sea, flesh and blood becoming part of the ocean.

Shuji Yamada finally understood why no one stopped the girl when she stepped onto the stage.

—It must have been that this strange red ocean had already spread secretly before she ascended, and those staff members below were the first to be devoured!

Confronted with this surreal spectacle, Shuji Yamada could no longer restrain himself; filled with terror and rage, he shouted at the figure of Miu Ito as she walked calmly toward the audience:

“You monster!”

But the girl paid him no heed, proceeding peacefully.

“Monster,” “Amanojaku,” “Birthmark girl”—countless slurs she had heard since childhood. Even before she possessed supernatural powers, such words had ceased to affect her; now, they meant even less.

So Miu Ito walked on, never once looking back.

Behind her, Shuji Yamada’s consciousness blurred. At last, unwilling to accept his fate, he collapsed, his blood and flesh gradually merging into the crimson ocean, enriching its existence. His spirit and memories surged into Miu Ito’s mind, to be preserved forever in that eternal land of bliss.

…

Those on stage and beside it had been dissolved by the sea of blood, but most of the audience remained.

Though their bodies were bound by tentacles, their minds were still clear—they could still speak. Watching Miu Ito approach, whether devotees or social elites, all cried out in terror:

“What is this!”

“Help, help!”

“Why can’t I move at all!”

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“Monster… she’s a monster!”

The anguished cries mingled with the surge of blood as ordinary people dissolved in the crimson ocean, blooming into grotesque flowers of flesh and blood.

Within this hellish yet beautiful tableau wrought of blood and body, Miu Ito strolled, like the Mistress of the Underworld idly plucking flowers from the banks of the Sanzu River.

So beautiful.

Yet so perilous.

Because those in the farthest corner of the “Judiciary Hall” suffered less from the onslaught, the registrar remained lucid.

But even he could not move a muscle—he could only stare, dumbstruck, at the unfolding horror.

“…Miu Ito…the girl I brought in…turned out to be such an existence…”

What have I done!?

Such thoughts flashed through his mind, but curiously, he felt little regret. Perhaps he understood that, given the power Miu Ito displayed, even without his help, this heavily guarded “Pilgrimage Assembly” would have been no obstacle for her.

Terror welled up, impossible to suppress. Yet, beyond fear, watching Miu Ito’s breathtaking figure—like a goddess walking along the river of dissolving humanity—his mind reeled, shaken to its core. In a surge of delirium, the registrar reached out toward her, murmuring:

“Ah… Miss Ito, take me with you…”

A moment later, his consciousness plunged into chaos. His mind dulled as he smiled a twisted smile, and his body gradually dissolved, attaining exactly the end he had wished for.

…

The fusion continued.

The sea of blood rippled on.

Within mere minutes, of the thousands present, few retained any sense of self.

Some managed to pull out their phones, trying to call for help or alert the authorities, but before they could utter a word, their bodies were swept into the blood ocean, becoming part of Miu Ito. Phones dropped to the floor, left behind with only the echo of silence.

Those who remained were swiftly assimilated. Some clutched their phones, hands shaking, watching their bodies dissolve, screaming helplessly; others cried out in despair:

“I should have known… I should have remembered when I saw that face… That girl—she’s the ‘Blood Angel of Mokushita Town’! The viral video online…”

Blood Angel? Video?

That voice reached Miu Ito, stirring her thoughts.

Still, she did not pause. Wherever she walked, flowers of flesh and blood blossomed.

It was like hell, yet also like paradise.

But it was neither hell nor paradise.

Moments later, silence fell, broken only by the girl’s figure and the crisp sound of her footsteps.

The blood sea reversed, streams curling back into Miu Ito’s body. Not a drop remained on the floor; the scene was spotless, as if freshly cleaned.

Only the scattered meditation cushions, strewn like a wild jungle, remained. Crooked chairs, overturned seats, abandoned clothes and phones—all bore silent witness to the events of those last few minutes.

A fullness blossomed within.

Thousands had merged with her, their flesh resonating, becoming one. The unprecedented numbers drove Miu Ito to feel her life had leapt forward once again.

Moreover, the power of “Resonance of Blood and Flesh” had advanced, its essence elevated; she sensed she could do more, though she could not yet fully grasp the strange new abilities that had arisen.

Even her pure physical attributes had taken another great leap.

By Shitani’s standards, her evolution level now surpassed ninety, inching ever closer to one hundred.

Miu Ito paused in a corner of the “Judiciary Hall.”

She picked up a phone from the floor. The screen showed a fingerprint lock—she was not the owner, so it failed to unlock.

But she merely smiled, and in the next instant, her body—face, bones, skin—all transformed into the owner’s likeness.

Then the phone displayed: “Unlock successful.”

Taking up the phone, Miu Ito thoughtfully opened a video app on the home screen. At the top of the rankings, the most viewed video appeared before her.

“Shocking: A Sea of Blood Appears in Mokushita, Tokyo! The Blood Angel’s Ruthless Manifesto!”

Without hesitation, she opened the video. At once, its contents unfolded before her:

The scene showed Mokushita Town, the phone’s owner aiming the camera at a falling crimson meteor, shouting excitedly:

“Wow, everyone, look! What’s happening here? Isn’t it amazing…”

As Miu Ito watched intently, far above, several indistinct black dots flew through the sky, heading in her direction.

A flashing camera tightly focused on the interior of the Judiciary Hall, locking onto Miu Ito herself.