Narrator:
The village was already burning.
Dark figures moved through the smoke—evil sorcerers, chanting in twisted tongues as houses collapsed and screams filled the night. The village guards fell one after another, powerless before the invading magic.
At the center of the chaos, the Village Head stood trembling.
There was only one option left.
One vow left to break.
[Scene – The Village Head's backyard]
Hidden behind his home, the old man knelt on the cold earth, clutching a weathered scroll wrapped in ancient cloth—the Heavenly Scroll of the Late Falling God.
His hands shook.
Village Head: (whispering)
Forgive me…
He unrolled the scroll and began to draw on the ground. A circle, and within it, a triangle—symbols forbidden for generations.
The vow was clear.
The punishment was death.
Still, he raised a blade.
[He slits his palm.]
Blood spilled onto the symbols.
Village Head: (chanting)
In the words of Henomakabuchi,
On the day of the Red Moon,
Any who offers the sacrifice of blood in accordance with my will—
[He lifts his bleeding palm.]
—I shall be granted your strength…
For generations to come.
Narrator:
The earth responded.
The blood ignited—turning into fire. The symbols burned crimson as power surged upward. The Village Head's sword screamed as it became enchanted, overflowing with enormous energy.
A cross-shaped mark burned onto his forehead.
He gasped.
Then—
a voice echoed, calm and ancient.
God:
So… the vow has been broken at last.
The Village Head froze.
No one else heard it.
God:
You call upon my strength with blood and desperation.
Know this, mortal—
the dance you awaken will demand more than you can give.
The old man clenched his burning sword and stepped forward toward the battlefield.
Narrator:
The air crackled. Flames and divine energy licked the edges of the backyard, but outside, the village still screamed in chaos. The dark sorcerers advanced, their twisted magic colliding with the burst of Henomakabuchi's power.
The Village Head tightened his grip on the glowing sword, stepping forward like a man possessed. Each swing of the blade left a streak of energy in the air, forcing the attackers back—but there were too many.
Village Head: (gritting his teeth)
I won't let my people die… not tonight.
Narrator;the Village Head's grip tightened on the glowing sword, sweat and blood mingling on his brow. The dark sorcerers pressed forward, their twisted magic clawing at the edges of the village, but something inside him ignited.
Village Head (in thoughts):
I've gotta do it… my people… all their hopes depend on me.
Narrator:
He exhaled sharply and planted his feet firmly on the cracked ground. Raising his blade, he sliced his palm, letting blood drip onto the ritual markings.
Village Head (softly):
Fire Dancing(breaths)
The moment the words left his lips, the ground beneath his feet cracked violently, flames spiraling outward in intricate patterns, forming the first steps of the ancient dance. Energy surged from him like a pulse, shaking the air itself.
Dark Sorcerer #1: (eyes widening, whispering)
Why… do I feel this presence? This isn't normal magic… no human should emit energy like this…
Village Head: (focused, voice low and steady)
First Step…
Narrator:
The flames twisted around his sword as he moved, tracing the motions of a ritual long forgotten. The dance of fire and blood was alive, responding to each precise movement.
Dark Sorcerer #1(staggering back, feeling scared)
I heard it(stammering)… I heard it… Dan… Dan… Dancing…
Village Head: (voice strong, eyes aflame)
Raging Fire – Swift Burst!
Narrator:
He dashes off with blazing speed and channels his sword on the neck of a dark sorcerer member but before he could land his hit..
Dark sorcerer 3#(male):smiles
The village head: wondering why he smiled at him.. until he saw the gigantic spinning saw blades very close to him...