Outside the commercial building—
Umaru and the others stepped into the open street, only to see about twenty figures standing guard. They were dressed in the distinctive white exorcist uniforms of the Onmyoji, their posture sharp and professional.
Men and women both, none of them looked older than thirty.
"Eh? So these are… Onmyoji?"
Umaru tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
In her imagination, Onmyoji were supposed to be mysterious masters wielding talismans, summoning fire, thunder, or storms with a flick of their wrist. But here—these men and women stood with weapons strapped to their backs and belts, blades gleaming under the gray haze.
Cold weapons? That wasn't what she expected.
Of course, Umaru had no idea how much the art of Onmyoji had evolved in the modern age.
Once, in ancient times, they relied on talismans, rituals, and occasionally a blessed weapon. But now—modern Onmyoji combined spiritual techniques with enchanted equipment. It increased their survival rates and massively boosted their ability to fight Filth.
Sure, everyone could cast the most basic of spells, but against Filth? Bare hands and paper charms wouldn't get you far. Specialized tools mattered.
Of course, this excluded the great Onmyoji Clans. Families like the Ikaruga House, the Otomi House, the Ioroi House, the Mitosaka House, still possessed secret arts passed down from the Heian era. The spells they commanded were on a different level entirely—something an ordinary exorcist couldn't hope to match.
"Hey, Umaru-san, Kirara-san,"
Shirakawa Shiroha suddenly spoke up, her tone unusually serious.
"Do you feel it too? This gray mist in the air—it's getting thicker."
Her small face tilted up, staring toward the cloudy horizon.
For some reason, her heart gave her a bad premonition.
"Huh? More mist?"
Umaru and Kirara exchanged a glance, then turned to scan their surroundings.
And indeed—the thin gray haze that had earlier just drifted lazily in the air… now seemed to spread like choking smog, curling around their bodies.
"It really is getting thicker. And the smell—ugh, it's awful."
Kirara wrinkled her nose, fanning the air in front of her face with one hand.
No matter how much she tried, the stench clung, sharp and bitter like rotting meat mixed with sulfur.
Umaru and Kiyomi both covered their noses too. Words weren't enough to describe the foulness, it was bad. Incredibly bad.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Applause echoed suddenly.
A female Onmyoji walked forward, clapping to gather everyone's attention. Her white uniform swayed as she stood straight, her expression composed.
"Everyone, be quiet for a moment! Please, listen to me."
In an instant, the noisy crowd of displaced civilians fell silent.
Even Kirara blinked in surprise. The oppressive fear everyone had felt inside the Calamity Realm seemed to lighten, if only slightly.
After all—this was an Onmyoji. To these terrified civilians, she wasn't just a person in white clothes. She represented hope.
A way back home.
The woman scanned the crowd, clearly satisfied, then continued:
"In just a short while, we will unlock the Gate of Reality. Once you pass through, you will return to the real world. There, others will be waiting to receive you. They may ask some questions, but don't be afraid—they are Onmyoji as well. They will make sure you are safe."
Her words eased some of the tension. A few people even sighed in relief.
But suddenly—
"Captain! Filths are sighted ahead! Everyone on guard!"
The shout came from one of the rear guards.
The female captain froze for a second, then her brows furrowed deeply.
"Of course… it had to show up now."
Timing couldn't have been worse.
Still—she forced her voice to remain steady.
The key points had been explained already. That was what mattered. If they failed to reassure the civilians first, panic would break out when some strangers dragged them into the real world.
"Makino! You and your team unlock the Gate of Reality. Get them out first."
"Yes, Captain!"
A young Onmyoji—Makino—nodded firmly, his face tense. He turned to the civilians and spoke with urgency:
"Everyone, stay calm. We'll open the gate immediately. When it appears, go through quickly. Don't stop for anything."
At his signal, five more Onmyoji stepped forward. The others moved to form a protective perimeter, talismans and blades ready, standing between the civilians and the distant growls already echoing from the fog.
Makino and his group drew their charms in unison, chanting together:
"Gate of Reality—Unlock!"
Six talismans glowed faintly in their hands.
And then… nothing.
Silence—
The air stayed still.
Makino's eyes widened in disbelief.
"…Impossible!"
He shouted louder than he meant to, everyone heard him and that cause panic to rise. Never—not once in his training or missions—had the Gate of Reality failed to respond.
"Makino!" The female captain's voice cracked from the distance, filled with anger and urgency. "What's going on? Why haven't you left yet!?"
Gritting his teeth, Makino ignored her for a moment. He steadied his breath, looked to his companions, and nodded firmly.
Again, the six exorcists raised their charms. Their voices shook, but they shouted in unison:
"Gate of Reality—Unlock!!"
This time, their spiritual energy burned brighter, flooding into the charms at a dangerous pace.
Grrrroooaaannn—
The air quivered.
At last, a golden doorway flared open, three meters high, shimmering with the faint outlines of talismanic script. Its glow radiated hope.
"Go! Hurry, get inside!! Now" Makino bellowed, his right hand trembling as sweat poured down his face. His voice cracked, desperate.
The civilians surged forward instinctively. But before a single foot could cross the threshold—
The gate flickered. Then, like fragile glass, it dissolved into sparks of light.
Gone.
The crowd froze.
And then, with a dull thud, Makino and the other five Onmyoji collapsed onto the ground, completely drained.
"…No…!" Makino's voice rasped, his face pale as death. His whole body felt like lead. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs wouldn'desperate.
"How…? Even six of us together… and still… we couldn't open it?!"
The female captain's expression twisted.
Makino clenched his fists weakly, mind racing. The Gate of Reality wasn't supposed to be this difficult. The spiritual power required was usually stable—rare, yes, but not impossible. Six Onmyoji should have been more than enough.
And yet here, their strength had been swallowed as if it meant nothing.
His vision blurred, his chest heaving. A dull throb pounded inside his skull.
And then… clarity struck him.
"This miasma…" he whispered hoarsely. "No… it's not normal. It's corrupting our spell power. That's why… the gate won't open!"
His eyes widened with dawning horror, even as his consciousness began to fade.
All around, the gray mist thickened. What had once only smelled foul now carried an aura of suffocating malice—like something alive, gnawing at every breath, leeching the strength from both spirit and body.
The crowd, sensing something deeply wrong, began to murmur in rising panic.
And in the distance… the growls of Filth drew closer.
...
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