[The End of Osamu Ashikaga] The Devil Revealed

The next morning, Hannes answered a firm knock upon his door. Three police officers stood on the front steps of his home with plush ushankas on their heads and black, bullet-proof vests secured around their torsos. The officers immediately noticed that Hannes answered the door with a duffle bag filled with his essential belongings clutched tightly in his right hand.

“I’ve been expecting you.” Hannes said. “I take it you’re here to move me?”

“That’s right.” replied one of the officers. “If you’re ready to go, then please get in the car. We’ll be taking you to a secure location”

Hannes stepped outside into the cold, tightening his scarf around his neck. He turned to lock the front door before stuffing his jingly keys in his back pocket. “One question. Will the Kozlov be coming as well?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” a second officer said.

A slight smile briefly flashed across Hannes’s face, as though he never meant to show it in the first place. His lips flattened and his eyes sagged downwards along with his brows, mimicking a worried expression. “Why not? Is something wrong?”

Joseph’s and Irina’s apartment unit was swarming with police officers walking in and out, cordoning off the unit with lines of yellow tape. They had come to move the Kozlovs just as Hannes we being moved, but when no one answered the door, the police, led by Carmilla, barged into the apartment and made a tragic discovery.

Joseph was found hanging from the ceiling lamp in the master bedroom wearing his underwear and one sock. He used the bedsheets to tie a noose for himself, leaving the mattress below him naked. Carmilla opened the door to the bathroom to find Irina lying in the bathtub. There were no visible signs of injury and no blood around her body, but there will sleeping pills scattered across the inside of the tub and dried vomit around her mouth. It was clear she overdosed and asphyxiated on her own vomit in the process.

“Oh god…” Carmilla recoiled, holding a handkerchief to her mouth and nose to block out the pungent odor of rot. She looked to her left and saw a note on the bathroom counter. The handwriting was messy and clearly written in a hurry, but the words were still clear enough for Carmilla to read them aloud.

“We’ve made our decision.” Carmilla began, “Without freedom, there’s nothing left to live for. Lord Osamu will surely expose our secret to Minavere and our lives will become a living hell with no way out. Joseph and I have come to realize that the best thing we can do for the world and for ourselves is to end it all. We would much rather go be with Peter and the others than spend the rest of our lives like fugitives. Thank you for trying to help us, Carmilla. I’m sorry if you’re the one that has to see this. Sincerely, Irina.”

It felt as though a colony of insects crawled around inside of Carmilla’s hands, the tingling sensation radiating through her palm and spreading through her fingers. She pinched her the bridge of her nose and released a frustrated sigh. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach and dissolved in an acidic pool of deep regret. She truly wanted Joseph and Irina to survive the upheaval rocking Minavere, but even she knew that there wasn’t much of a life for them to live. Tragic and abrupt as their deaths were, it didn’t come as much surprise that they preferred death over a life on the run.

“Get the bodies out of here and the place cleaned up.” Carmilla ordered. “I’ll report this to Lord Osamu.”

Grappling with the Sorin’s deception, Osamu met with Manami and Taeko on the roof of the hotel, the slithering aurora borealis casting its jade green shade down upon them. Osamu paced back and forth with his arms crossed and his phone against his ear as Manami leaned against the black iron rails lining the edge of the rooftop. Taeko stood between them, bowing her head as she thought through the situation in her head.

“Okay. Thank you for handing that, Carmilla. See you soon.” Osamu said, hanging up the phone. “Joseph and Irina Kozlov are dead. Looks like they killed themselves.”

“My god, Osamu.” Taeko recoiled. “There’s no one you won’t sacrifice, is there?”

“Hey, I wanted to avoid this as much as you did, but we couldn’t stop our work just to save three people.” Osamu argued. “Hannes is alive and well. He’s on his way here. As far I’m concerned, his life is more valuable to us than the Kozlovs. We know now that Sorin was impersonating Johan, but it only begs the question; what happened to the real Johan?”

“I wish I could give you a solid answer.” Manami said. “Like I told Omagatoki, we thought Johan was dead. To hear he was alive and well in the first place was a complete surprise to me.”

“Do you think Johan Sommers actually is dead, then?” Osamu questioned. “I can’t imagine it would’ve been so easy to impersonate a decorated soldier if he was still alive.”

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Manami answered. “Lucrezia’s grandmother reported his death to the Exorcist Program when she immigrated to Japan from the Soviet Union. Though, considering the work we did with Taeko, I think it’s fair to say that we shouldn’t believe he’s dead just because someone else said so. The question then becomes; if he’s alive, where is he now?”

Osamu took a few paces forward, wrapping his hand around the safety railing at the edge of the roof as he looked out at the city below him. “There’s more to this. We just have to find out what. In the meantime, the police should be carrying out my orders right about now. Time to watch the United Pacifist Party burn.”

Looking out at the same city with a pensive gaze, Hannes sat in the back of the police squad car with his left leg crossed over his right. The scenery of West End protests and candlelight vigils turned into ultranationalist marches, passionate megaphone speeches, and flags of the Old Kingdom fluttering from the windows and balconies of the East End. Calls for mercy towards humanity were replaced with cries for its complete annihilation, for Osamu to carry out his global genocide with the utmost fervor.

Perhaps most intriguing of all were the sights of black flags being waved in the streets of the East End by droves of nationalists gathering around car radios and television screens inside. Hannes recognized the three, vertical lances on the flags as the symbol of Lăncile de Onix. With so many radios and televisions all tuned to the same police announcement, Hannes could hear every word of it from inside the squad car.

“While we cannot condone the violence that claimed their lives, we also cannot ignore the gravity of the information that has come to light. The physical evidence collected from Peter Kozlov’s home not only reveals the Kozlov’s connection to the Dragavei family, but also that the man we called Johan Sommers was an imposter. Our teams are working diligently to understand why and how Sorin Dragavei climbed the political ladder of our city while impersonating a member of the military. This revelation, in conjunction with our discovery of Sorin’s correspondence with Moscow, calls the reputation of him, his colleagues, and the United Pacifist Party as a whole.”

Hannes turned his head towards the officers in the front seats. “Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with Lord Osamu?”

The officer in the passenger seat turned his head back to answer. “You want to meet the king? That’s not up to us, but we can forward your request to the Yakutsk Lords.”

“Thank you, I would like that very much.” Hannes said. “To think that all of this is happening because of a simple family name. Such savagery…”

After driving through the entire political landscape of Minavere, the squad car swerved down into an underground parking space just below the hotel where Osamu was. The car stopped as the officers had their ID’s checked by SSK agents guarding the entrance. Within a minute, the bollards blocking the path were lowered and the officers were free to proceed.

Many of the parking spaces in this section were occupied by the black SUV’s used by the SSK and the patrol cars used by the police. It was clear to see that Osamu had all the protection and muscle he needed at the hotel, all while still being able to spare enough force to suppress the West End’s population and the Scarlet Senate.

Before Hannes knew it, the car was parked right beneath the hotel. The long ride was over.

“Hey, you awake?” asked one of the officers. “Good news, Lord Osamu has agreed to meet you. We’ll show you to your room first.”

Delighted, Hannes smiled. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

A quiet elevator ride and a winding walk down the snaking halls of the hotel later, Hannes was brought to his room on the fifth floor. He walked in and set his bag down on one of the red sofas in the middle of the room. A second, red sofa sat opposite of the first, divided by an oval-shaped glass coffee table. A wall-mounted television was on the left side of the room while a bed fitted with white linens was on the right, along with an ebony nightstand an a room phone.

Hannes had a good view of the East End from the row of windows ahead of the sofas. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed upon the city beneath the glowing aurora borealis.

“The SSK will be guarding the door. You need anything, you let them know.” one of the officers advised on his way out. “Don’t go anywhere on your own and don’t let anyone know that you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Hannes said with a brief smile. “Guilt by association is a powerful thing. I’m sure half the city would tear me to shreds if they could. I’ll be careful.”

Left on his own, Hannes looked around the hotel room with an inquisitive eye. The phone and nightstand in particular grabbed his attention. They seemed like an ordinary phone and nightstand that any person would have in their home, but Hannes knew that nothing was what it seemed when it came to Osamu Ashikaga. Nothing was ordinary nor was it to be overlooked. To be capable of initiating the end of the world and position himself as the central figure of a nationalist uprising, Osamu had to be capable of devilish deception and merciless decision making.

Hannes could sniff out his own breed from miles away. There weren’t many men in the world like Osamu and himself, after all. They were both men unbound by morality or fate. There was no shrouded hand guiding their every step. They had to forge their own paths and use their own methods to do so. Men like that were the ones capable of changing the world for better or for worse. The wind didn’t blow until they gave it permission. The sun didn’t rise until they ordered it to do so.

His own careful planning and manipulation got Hannes into the very room he was in, in the very same hotel where the king of Minavere dwelled. Rousing Anton’s curiosity about his family, driving Sorin to suicide, provoking Yura into killing Peter Kozlov and his family, and sapping Joseph and Irina Kozlov of all hope was all to put himself in that room. It was all to meet the man who would end humanity.

The front door beeped as the SSK tapped the room key against the sensor. Osamu stepped inside and locked eyes with Hannes, who stood at the row of windows ahead of the sofa. The aurora borealis shining above the city outlines Hannes in its emerald-green light, casting the rest of him in deep shadow. And yet, his ocean-blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

Osamu expected to find the young man in grief over his father’s passing and the overnight destruction of life as he knew it. Instead, he was met with a calm, well-collected Hannes who showed no signs of mourning on his face, not a trace of human emotion dwelling in his sapphire eyes. Whereas others looked into Hannes’s eyes and felt as though they were being pulled into the deep sea, Osamu felt the ocean parting and swirling around him, encasing the two of them in an impenetrable sphere of water.

Despite his beautiful, youthful appearance, Osamu saw cities drowning in Hannes’s eyes. He saw humanity itself submerged in the abyss of his very soul, smothered by its darkness and cold. Osamu’s piercing glare was unlike any other that Hannes had ever encountered. His assumptions were right. Osamu wasn’t looking here or there. He was looking beyond where very few people could look. He was looking at the Eden ahead and fighting his way towards it.

“Lord Osamu.” Hannes said, bowing his head. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

“You’re Hannes, right?” Osamu asked, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black, fur coat. “I’m sorry for your loss. I want you to know that I disagreed with your father quite strongly about Dark Dawn, but even so, I’d never kill him over such a disagreement. I can’t promise the people of the East End can practice self-control of that degree, hence why you’re here.”

Hannes smiled. “The West End can be just as savage, if not more so. Now that the city knows about the Dragavei connection, the mask of pacifism can finally slip off. Believe it or not, I feel safer here than there.”

Osamu cocked his head slightly, taken aback by what Hannes said. “I wasn’t expecting the son of Sorin to hold the West End in such abysmal regard.”

“Well, I do often find myself making a mockery of people’s expectations of me. Why don’t we have a seat, Osamu? There’s much I want to discuss.”

Osamu and Hannes sat across from each other in that quiet room. The only lights were that of the aurora borealis seeping in through the windows and warding off the darkness with its sickly, green glow.

“I never would’ve expected a human to inspire a cult of personality among vampires.” Hannes said with a soft chuckle. “I’m sure even Dracula would laugh at the irony of it all.”

Hannes took a moment to listen to the chants outside, the East End’s never-ending cries for revenge against humanity. Inari’s adage haunted the very air of Minavere. It lied upon every tongue on the East End and traveled through just about every pair of ears in Minavere itself. Even five stories up from the street, the chants could still be heard very faintly.

“The sound of a species desperately clinging to life.” Hannes remarked. “Very few people have ever achieved something like this. In all honesty, I’ve wondered what kind of man I’d meet if I asked to see you. Looking at you now, it’s like gazing into a mirror. Just so we’re clear, I know that you didn’t murder Sorin. His death was a suicide.”

“What makes you so certain?” Osamu questioned. “If anyone would suspect me if killing Sorin, I thought it would’ve been you.”

“Sorin was a tortured man who tried and failed to run from his phantoms. I know that more than anyone. He was going to commit suicide sooner or later. It’s the only way a life like his could’ve ended.”

“You had nothing but disdain for the man, didn’t you?”

Hannes chuckled. “What makes you so certain?”

“I don’t know that many people who refer to their parents by their name. The ones who do don’t see them as parents, for one reason or another.”

Hannes leaned back on the sofa, his left leg crossed over his right. “Well…I sense curiosity in your voice, Lord Osamu. You’re just as curious as the rest of Minavere to know who Sorin was and why he lived the life he did. What if I told you Sorin was perhaps the most insignificant part of the puzzle?”

“What do you mean?”

Hannes pointed his index finger at the nightstand behind Osamu. “You’ve bugged these rooms, haven’t you? Minavere’s secret police are serving you well.”

Osamu knew exactly where Hannes’s train of thought was going. He stood and walked over to the night stand, opening the drawer and popping up the false bottom. Just as Hannes thought, the false bottom was loaded with a microphone and recording equipment. Osamu pulled the black cord powering the equipment, shutting off the SSK’s monitoring device. Osamu returned to his seat with his fingers interlaced and his sharp gaze aimed at Hannes.

“It’s all as it appears.” Hannes began. “Sorin was a plant put in place by Moscow. He was meant to be the Kremlin’s inside man, a leader who could be trusted to subvert the politics of Yakutsk. Moscow’s goal was to keep the vampiric population in check.”

“Why would Sorin work to undermine his own race?” Osamu asked.

“He had his own burden of guilt to deal with, just like Joseph and Irina did. Our race as a whole is shackled by guilt and shame. It’s like a curse that has bound us since the fall of the Old Kingdom, so much so that even Dracula’s brothers and cousins all vowed to never have children. They wanted Dracula’s legacy to die with them. They must be turning in their graves knowing that their suicide pact was in vain.

“To Sorin and the people of the West End, there is no greater agony than to be born into this world. To be born a vampire is to be sentenced to death. No country will accept us. No human being will have sympathy for us. All that awaits a vampire is a life of subjugation and torture at the hands of humanity.”

“If that were the case, you’d think that Minavere would be united in supporting Dark Dawn. Instead, it’s split down the middle.”

“Yes, you’re right. That’s because the West End believes that we deserve to be eradicated from the world as penance for our history.”

Osamu leaned forward. “And where do you stand on the issue, Hannes?”

“I’ve never bowed to fate nor guilt.” Hannes answered. “I was born into this world with nothing, and so I owe it nothing.”

“…How did you know all of this about Sorin?”

“I know because I was the one who gave him his cover. I gave him his name, his story, and even his philosophy. Johan Sommers is alive and well…and you’re sitting in the same room as him.”

Osamu’s eyes widened in disbelief. The air was sucked out of his lungs by the revelation. The gentle smile on Johan’s face now took on a sinister air, and Osamu understood why in that very moment. It was because every diabolical machination Johan put in place to get into that room had paid off. All the deaths, the public outcry, the political unrest, it was all going exactly as Johan planned.

“You’re…Johan?” Osamu stammered, completely taken off guard by the revelation.

Johan’s ocean-blue eyes seemed to gaze at something thousands of yards away. It was as though he wasn’t even in the place nor time as Osamu. He was looking ahead, searching for his own ideal version of the world.

“Don't be so shocked. You and I have met before, Osamu, in a nation and time far, far away." Johan said, his hands clasped. "Whether they want to admit it or not, most people in this world are all bound by something. Bound by laws, morality, genetics, expectation. You and I are not like them. Sorin was. When you and Hima arrived here, it threw all of our plans into turmoil. Just listen to them out there. We’ve never seen a resurgence of nationalism this strong in our race’s history. Once Moscow figured out that it was you who caused all of this, Sorin became dead weight to them. He wanted to find a way to stop Moscow from razing this city to the ground, and to stop you from taking our people to hell with you. I rejected his wishes.”

Osamu’s brows angled downward in suspicion. “Johan’s body didn’t show any signs of foul play or even the slightest hint of a struggle…”

“I didn’t murder him.” Johan said. “I simply…reminded him of who he truly was. He was so buried in my identity that he forgot the sins he committed. All he needed was a little refresher and a swig of alcohol. His own nature did the rest.”

“Yura and the Kozlovs…was that your work too?”

“Poor Yura…” Johan chuckled. “I had Anton Kozlov dig up Peter’s secrets and bring them to me. I told Yura of the Dragavei connection, and just like with Sorin, I let her nature do the rest. In her heart, Yura was a vengeful widow who simply learned to hush her rage. I gave her every reason she needed to let it out. It’s a shame that Anton never knew what he was being murdered for.”

“You bastard.” Osamu growled. “Joseph and Irina, too?”

“Oh, no.” Johan snickered with a sly smile. “You and I did that together, Osamu. Without your limitless ambition, they never would’ve found themselves in the inescapable hell you put them in. All I did was twist the knife and remind them of their hopeless futures as vampires. Ultimately, what happened to them was their own choice, their own nature, if you will.”

Osamu spent all that time wondering why thing seemed to be going wrong at the most crucial moments. Now, he was staring at the reason why. Johan was always there in every corner with no other weapon available to him but the venomous words in his mouth. Johan’s deceit initiated a reactionary movement to counter the nationalists of the East End. Even Osamu felt the hairs on his arm stand up. It was as though Johan had his own brand of Bloodcraft.

“Let me guess,” Osamu began, “you’re telling me all of this because you have me right where you want me.”

“That’s correct.”

“And now that I’m here, what is it you intend to do? You have no hope of killing me, if that’s what you’re after. Cunning as you are, I have plenty of tricks up my own sleeve.”

“I didn’t come here to kill you. Rather, I wanted to make a request.”

“A request?”

Johan stood from his seat and walked over to the row of windows. He looked down upon the chaos engulfing Yakutsk, at the pillars of black smoke rising from the West End as protests spiraled into riots and crowd control teams turned into death squads. None of the thousands of people out there knew they were suffering because of the carefully selected words of one, young man.

“As far as Dark Dawn is concerned, I agree with you wholeheartedly.” Johan said. “I support the extermination of humanity. All I ask…is that you annihilate vampires as well.”

Osamu physically recoiled in surprise. The request surprised him so much that he thought Johan was joking at first, but the sad glint in his eyes showed he was completely serious.

“I don’t understand.” Osamu said. “What do you get out of that? You made it sound like you disagreed with the West End. You still think they’re right?”

“Not at all.” Johan rebuffed. “They want our race to fade from existence because they believe we’re a blight upon the world. They think our deaths will save humanity and foster a better future. I don’t wish to save humanity or the vampiric race. Let me ask you something, Osamu. When you decided you were going to destroy the world…what did you see ahead of all the carnage? Something encouraged you to do it, perhaps a vision of what the world would look like after you were done.

“You saw a world beyond the fire and ash. You saw an Eden of your own making. I’m sure it widened your eyes and gave you the will to keep fighting. It reignited the fire in your soul and made your blood hot again. I can see it too, Osamu. I can see the Eden beyond it all. But you see, Eden cannot prevail while people live. True peace…can only exist in death.”

Osamu stood from the sofa with his fists balled tightly. “There’s no need for that, Johan. You said being born a vampire entitles you to a life of pure hell at the hands of humanity. By the time I’m done, there won’t be much of humanity left. Minavere will be the only nation left standing. The vampires will get to decide what happens in this world.”

“Unless you exterminate humanity to the last man, including your family, there’s no guarantee that you’ll ever see the Eden you’re fighting for.” Johan retorted.

“Yes there is. I have the power to make that happen.”

“Bloodcraft…” Johan chuckled. “So, what are you planning to do with it?”

“I’m going to bind this nation and the remnants of humanity to my will. Every living being on this earth will take the vow to abstain from war, and they won’t even realize it. That’s what I’m using Inari’s power for. It’s why I have to shrink the human population to nearly nothing.”

“So, you plan to enslave all living things so they adhere to your philosophy? You think that makes existence more bearable, because we won’t be able to sense the chains that bind us? You plan to enslave us all just as humanity did. It wouldn’t matter to the people of the West End if they ruled this world or not. In fact, I imagine it would only reaffirm their belief that our existence is a plague upon the world. Making them the benefactors of this global genocide and handing them to reigns to rule this world will only inspire more suffering. It’ll strengthen their desire to end their own race.”

“I can even wipe away their collective guilt with this power.” Osamu said. “There’s no limit to what I can do.”

Johan turned to face Osamu, his lips curving upward in a slight smile. “Hima and the Yakutsk Lords have no idea you can use your power to such an extent, do they? I can’t imagine they would’ve ever let you near Hima if they knew you could control the people around you.”

“They don’t. I plan to use my power on them soon. It’s not the right time yet.”

“Now I understand why you haven’t just used it on the people of Minavere and voided the entire political crisis. You’re not confident you can control this many people simultaneously. If you mess up, the others will find out and you’ll lose your legitimacy as King. You need time for Inari’s Bloodcraft to cover everyone here and the world over. Is that correct?”

Osamu gritted his teeth and held his words in his mouth. Johan hit the nail on the head. It was no wonder that someone capable of causing so much chaos with words alone was as perceptive as he was.

“Of course, my request is more of a demand.” Johan said. “Everything is already in motion. The public won’t trust you if you tell them Sorin’s death was a suicide. My word will have more weight. But I see you accounted for that and decided to test the odds by announcing the Dragavei connection. I figured you would do that. It’s why I nudged Joseph and Irina to kill themselves. The public will know that you went ahead with the announcement knowing that it would ruin them.

“All I need to throw a wrench in your plan is to divide this country so far down the line that you have no choice but to consider using Inari’s Bloodcraft to control them, a feat that you know will be almost impossible to do. It’s too big of an undertaking. You’ll get sloppy, and then you’ll get caught. You can’t just kill me now that you’ve taken me into protective custody, either. Things will only get worse for you. The public won’t accept that the deaths of Sorin and so many people close to him in such a short span of time is just suicide and coincidence. It won’t matter if you try to control me, either. They’ll think you forced my hand after taking me into your custody.”

Johan did what an entire pantheon of gods couldn’t do. He successfully outwitted and cornered Osamu. The vexation on Osamu’s face was clear to see, and yet, he didn’t seem totally defeated.

“You got me.” Osamu sighed, raising his hands in a shrug. “You made some great moves. You’re right. Killing you isn’t an option now that you’re here, and neither is controlling you. Trying to manipulate this entire city all at once is next to impossible. The odds would be stacked against me if it came to that. However…I plan for every eventuality, Johan.

“I agreed to meet you because I wanted to know the truth about you and Sorin. I know that you have no intention of announcing anything you just said to me. If you did, the depth of your treachery might just outweigh the recent tragedies. If my hunch about you is right, there’s still plenty you’re not telling me. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You tell people half-truths and let their nature do the rest.”

Osamu cocked his head towards the front door and raised his voice. “Taeko. You can come in.”

To Johan’s surprise, Taeko walked in through the front door and closed it behind her. She locked eyes with Johan as she paced towards the sofa.

“I don’t see how her presence here changes anything.” Johan said. “She couldn’t have heard us through the walls.”

“You’re right.” Osamu said. “That’s not why she’s here. Taeko is part of the Akiyama clan. Back during the Warring States era of Japan, the Akiyama lost many of their family members to war. That grief often took hold of their mothers, and so the Akiyama became especially predisposed to undergoing Mu-Onna transformations. One thing Mu-Onna can do is extract information from people.

“Back then, they used to be able to peer into the thoughts and memories of children. That ability mutated over time and takes many different forms today. One of my wives is an Akiyama. She can extract information with a kiss. For Taeko, she can travel through a person’s memories if she uses her powers in conjunction with mine.”

“What’s going on, Osamu?” Taeko asked.

“Taeko…meet Johan Sommers.” Osamu said. “He’s responsible for everything that’s been happening lately. Everything from Sorin’s rise to power to the deaths of the Kozlovs.”

“I see.” Johan laughed, sitting back down on the sofa opposite of Osamu. “You intend to use her powers to go through my memories. Even after all this, you still intend to fight the odds.”

Johan extended both of his hands out towards Taeko, that haunting, gentle smile permanently stuck on his face. “If you truly believe you can comprehend what you’re about to see…then go right ahead. The more you’ll learn, the less you’ll know. The abyss of my soul is far greater than any you’ve ever encountered. Let’s see if you can travel there and back, Lord Taeko.”

“Osamu…are you sure about this?” Taeko asked, sensing Johan’s cold aura take over the room.

“Take his hand, Taeko.” Osamu ordered. “It’s time we finally learn the truth.”

Following Osamu’s order, Taeko reached out and touched Johan’s hand with her own. She used her right hand, the side of her that was afflicted with the Mu-Onna curse long ago. The moment her cursed flesh met with Johan’s head, the scenery around Osamu and Taeko turned as white as snow. A blinding light took them far from Minavere during the Third Great Holy War, and transported them to the starting point of Johan’s memories; Kazakhstan in 1944.