A Manufactured God

Inside the underground laboratory of the Divine Kingdom Cult, the mood was celebration.

"God, we succeeded!"

"Yamata no Orochi was created by our hands!"

"Those people should feel honored to become sacrifices for a god!"

Researchers crowded around a screen, faces bright with exhaustion and madness. The image showed the white phantom forming above Tokyo's commercial district, huge enough to swallow buildings beneath its shadow.

The man called God stood behind them.

Greed flashed in his eyes, then disappeared beneath religious fervor.

He raised both arms.

"We are the lords. We are the gods. We are the pioneers of this world."

The researchers turned toward him.

"Because of our work, the world evolves. We are the creators who will break the limits of mankind."

Those words struck the researchers harder than any drug. Most of them had lived for years inside white rooms, dismissed by ordinary society, told their work was monstrous or useless. God had given them freedom, funding, materials, and permission.

He had given their obsession a temple.

They knelt as one, right hands over their hearts, left hands to their foreheads in the strange posture of the cult.

"God, almighty lord, we will serve you forever."

"You are the faith that never dies in our hearts."

God accepted the worship with a satisfied smile.

"The Yamata no Orochi project is temporarily complete. Leave two people to record data. Everyone else begins the next project."

The room went still.

God's smile widened.

"By the end of next year, I want a successful Susanoo summoning."

Excitement broke out behind him as he left the room.

The Yamata no Orochi project had consumed nearly thirty years. It had used faith, fear, a cursed womb from the nutrient chamber, and more than ten thousand human lives. The result was a fake, but its strength was comparable to that of a standard special-grade imaginary cursed spirit.

For God, that was enough.

Then he remembered the figure that had crossed the screen for an instant.

Pale, moonlit eyes.

His smile twisted.

"Ren Zenin," he murmured. "I hope this gift does not disappoint you."

Above Tokyo, the manufactured Orochi became nearly solid.

Its eight heads swayed beneath a rainbow of reflected sunlight. Eight tails lashed through the district, scattering cars and tearing buildings apart as if the city had been made from toys.

Human screams rose from the ruins.

They did not bring rescue.

They brought more impact.

Dorin and Koyuka crawled behind a half-collapsed wall and vomited until bile dripped from their mouths.

"Dorin, run," Koyuka said hoarsely.

"No. I brought you out. I take you back."

Dorin's hair was a mess. Her makeup had run. Her hands trembled around Koyuka's wrist, but she did not let go.

Koyuka looked at the injured people scattered nearby. Some could not stand. Some cried for help. Some simply stared at the sky, too broken to move.

She belonged to a temple lineage. In a disaster, she was supposed to help.

"Dorin, I never told you properly. I am from a temple family. In a crisis like this, I should protect people."

"I do not care what your teachings say," Dorin snapped. "Right now you have one identity. You are my woman, and you are leaving with me."

She pulled Koyuka forward without asking permission.

Then Koyuka saw Ren.

"Two o'clock," she said, breath catching.

Dorin glanced over and became furious for an entirely different reason.

"We are running for our lives, and you are looking at handsome men?"

"He can save us."

The direction of their escape changed almost immediately.

Koyuka stared at Dorin.

Dorin did not look back. "What? Survival matters."

Ren stood amid the ruined street, eating chips as black mist and cursed energy drifted toward him. The power of Yamata no Orochi's source had changed the way fear moved around him. Negative emotion from humans, whether born from disaster, death, or ordinary terror, now carried a portion of itself toward that source.

The manufactured serpent was born from faith, fantasy, and fear.

It was not a true cursed spirit. If it had been, ordinary civilians would not have seen it forming so clearly, let alone recorded it.

Ren finished the bag of chips.

"Interesting."

Then he tossed the empty bag aside.

"The show is over."

He began to leave.

"Sir, please wait."

Koyuka dragged herself in front of him, breathing hard.

"Are you Ren Zenin?"

Ren looked at her.

"I am Koyuka Shufuku, from a temple lineage. We are asking for your protection."

Dorin nodded from behind her with far too much enthusiasm for someone in mortal danger.

Ren's pale eyes moved over them.

The cold in that gaze had no human sympathy in it. Koyuka felt it pass through skin, blood, and bone, reaching something deeper. For a moment she was certain she would disappear from the world if he decided she was not worth leaving alive.

Her knees failed.

When the pressure vanished, she fell to the ground.

Dorin had already collapsed beside her, but her eyes remained fixed on Ren's back with a dazed fascination.

"Follow him," Koyuka whispered. "He is our only way out."

Explosions rolled through the district.

Dorin sprang up like fear had pulled strings through her body and hauled Koyuka after Ren.

"So your name is Ren Zenin," she said, voice shaking and bright at the same time. "I am Dorin Fuya. Our names sound good together, don't they?"

Koyuka nearly tripped.

Dorin continued. "I saw you eating chips. I like chips too. What flavor do you like?"

Ren did not answer.

That did not stop her.

They had not gone far before several survivors stumbled out from broken buildings and blocked the way.

"You are so calm. You must have some ability. Take me out of here."

"Please, I have an elderly mother. If I die, no one will care for her."

"My mother is injured. Help us."

Koyuka's expression softened despite herself. If she had power enough, she would have helped them.

Ren kept walking.

The cold around him frightened the survivors back.

Dorin glanced at him. "Why not help them?"

"Even ants struggle to live," Ren said. "They are waiting here for someone else to carry them. Pitiful? No. Ridiculous."

The words struck Koyuka harder than she expected.

The people behind them began to curse.

"What is so great about you?"

"If I had powers, I would save everyone."

"Someone will come. Something this big will not be ignored."

Koyuka's pity cooled.

Those people had seen an escape route and refused to move. They had asked to be saved, then cursed the person who did not stop for them.

For the first time, she wondered how many people her compassion had been trained to protect were truly asking for help, and how many were only waiting to spend someone else's life.

Dorin squeezed her hand.

Then the street behind them shook.

Yamata no Orochi had noticed Ren.

Eight heads came down from eight directions, tongues lashing, eyes wild.

Ren stopped.

"Hm?"

Pressure filled the district.

Every living thing lost its sense of the world. Color drained from the sky and stone. Only pale eyes seemed to hang above them like frozen moons, looking down without warmth.

Dorin and Koyuka hit the ground.

Death did not arrive.

Something worse did.

They were forced to watch the shape of their own deaths approach and were denied the mercy of closing their eyes.

The eight serpent heads crashed to the street.

Madness retreated from their eyes, replaced by fear and unwilling submission.

The fake Orochi did not understand why a human suppressed it on the level of the soul.

Its instinct understood enough.

Run.

It could not move.

Ren looked at the serpent and let out a quiet laugh.

"Interesting."

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