It began with a letter.
Handwritten in crimson ink.
Folded inside a torn school pamphlet from a city that shouldn't exist.
The sender?
Unknown.
The location?
A district that had vanished from maps twenty years ago:
"Hoshiyama – The Forgotten Festival Grounds."
Three weeks had passed since the shutdown of Eden.exe.
Hiragi was still recovering from the soul-link with Lain.
The girl now lived at their office, mostly silent—her presence like a ghost.
Ishigami noticed first.
A series of cases from nearby prefectures all had the same pattern:
Missing children. Broken shrine seals. Dreams filled with songs in languages no one remembered.
Then came the letter.
"When the sky turns backwards,
And the gods return to dance,
Follow the puppets of prayer.
Or be devoured by the festival."
They arrived at Hoshiyama Station on a fog-drenched morning.
Everything was… wrong.
The clocks didn't tick.
Shadows moved slower than the people.
And the locals spoke in old dialects—like they hadn't left the 1800s.
Banners hung in the wind:
"Welcome to the 77th Festival of Hollow Gods."
Airi whispered,
"But… there's no one celebrating."
And yet—
Every night, a parade of masked figures walked the street, playing flutes and drums no one else could hear.
When Hiragi tried to follow them—
He vanished from view.
Only Lain could see him.
That night, in a dream soaked in candlelight and blood, Hiragi stood in front of a giant torii gate made of bone.
A voice welcomed him:
"You've entered the Festival, Slayer.
One god will bless you.
The others… will feast on you."
And from the gate, ten figures stepped out.
Each a Forgotten God.
And each wearing a mask with a slit smile.