Conquest of the Three Mothers and Daughters: The Forest of Screams, a Shard of the Eternal Nightmare
A fragment of the Eternal Nightmare, the Forest of Screams.
It was a twisted sediment of shattered minds, where the laws of physics held no sway. The trees writhed in the shapes of humans convulsing in agony, and from the sodden earth rose the stench of utter despair.
At the heart of this horrific garden loomed its master, Yamanoke, a formless darkness, a living shadow reigning over the woods.
Before him stood countless "bitches" dragged into this nightmare, their eyes vacant as they stared into the void. They were no longer human—mere puppets dancing to Yamanoke's will, living dolls for his amusement.
"Now, shall we begin the performance..."
As Yamanoke's will rippled outward like a wave, the puppets' mouths opened in unison. Their voices overlapped in a chilling chorus, filling the forest with a massive, dissonant hymn.
"Ah...♡ Come... inside...♡ Fill my emptiness... with yours...♡"
"My mind... is melting...♡ My brain soaking in you...♡ Ahh...♡"
"I hate it... I think I hate it, but... my body... my body moves on its own...♡ Deeper... plunge even deeper...♡"
Transparent fluids trickled from between their thighs, mingling with the mud to release a scent of depravity. Faint glimmers of ecstasy lingered in their hollow eyes.
It was Yamanoke's cruel, obscene symphony—forcing them to relive the moments he had parasitized their bodies, ravaging and tormenting their souls.
The toy-like puppets twisted their bodies, confessing endlessly to the moments of their violation, their faces a grotesque blend of shame and rapture.
Yamanoke savored the scene of despair, his darkness writhing in satisfaction.
It was then.
A colossal voice transcending dimensions shook the entire Forest of Screams, crushing Yamanoke's very existence.
[The time has come, my minion.]
[Vessels bearing ancient blood have been found. Perfect offerings. Go forth and seize them.]
It was the voice of the outer god Yamanoke served.
Yamanoke halted the performance at once. His master's command from the creator outweighed any play. The puppets collapsed like marionettes with severed strings, motionless once more.
Yamanoke abandoned them without regret. His darkness coalesced into a single point, slipping through a dimensional rift toward the coordinates of the real world—faintly glowing with the scent of magical blood.
The border between Miyagi and Yamagata Prefectures, a remote mountain road devoid of traffic.
"Dad! Are we almost there?" From the back seat, Koharu with her twin tails asked in a cheerful voice.
"Almost, Koharu. Just past this tunnel and we're in Yamagata—hang in there a bit longer."
Tatsuhiro Yamashita, gripping the wheel, smiled warmly at his daughter in the rearview mirror.
His wife Akey in the passenger seat and eldest daughter Chiharu beside her wore equally excited expressions, anticipating their vacation at Zao Onsen.
It was then.
"Huh?"
As they neared the tunnel's exit, Tatsuhiro's foot eased off the accelerator. Every gauge on the dashboard went dark, and the engine sputtered to a halt.
In the pitch-black silence of the mountain road, the brand-new minivan ground to a helpless stop.
"A breakdown? Damn it..."
As Tatsuhiro flicked on the hazard lights and pulled out his smartphone, his wife Akey whispered in a low voice.
"Honey, look... there's someone standing in the middle of the road."
Sure enough, at the edge of the headlights' glow, a gaunt, eerie silhouette blocked the path. It stood utterly still, simply facing the car.
"What the hell is this lunatic!"
Tatsuhiro honked irritably, but the figure didn't budge.
Instead, it began ambling slowly toward the car.
"This won't do. I'll tell it to move. You all lock the doors tight."
"Honey, it's dangerous!"
Akey tried to stop him, but Tatsuhiro, driven by paternal duty, opened the door and stepped out.
"Hey! What are you doing here? Move!"
As he shouted and approached, the silhouette dissolved like smoke, morphing into a black shadow that brushed past him.
And that shadow slithered like a serpent through the gap in the still-open driver's door.
"Wh-what?!"
Tatsuhiro whirled in panic, only to freeze.
Koharu in the back seat slowly—ever so slowly—turned her head toward him. With vacant eyes, she opened her mouth.
"...It's inside."
"Koharu! What are you saying?!"
Her sister Chiharu shook her shoulder, but Koharu only smiled. Then Chiharu's head turned the same way.
"...It's inside."
"Chiharu! Not you too!"
Akey cried out in anguish. But she too turned her head, compelled by an irresistible force.
"...It's inside."
"Honey! Girls! Snap out of it!"
Tatsuhiro wailed, yanking at the door, but it had locked from inside. His beloved wife and daughters no longer responded to his voice.
They merely gazed at him through the glass with inhuman, grotesque smiles—their mouths stretched impossibly wide.
Meanwhile, in the Zao Onsen area of Yamagata Prefecture.
After the fierce battle at Masakado's Head Mound, Jinwoo had fled Tokyo's chaos to rest and evade pursuit. He now lodged in a luxurious ryokan suite, framed by snow-capped peaks like a natural screen.
Unlike a modern business hotel, the room featured tatami mats and a private open-air bath, serene and traditional. Draped loosely in a yukata, he sipped steaming green tea against the majestic backdrop of Mount Zao's smoking craters.
But his gaze fixed not on the scenic vista outside, but on the smartphone in his hand.
On the screen played a muted video of Kim Sea weeping as she surrendered to pleasure.
Her innocent face, duped by the lie of a "purification ritual."
The moment her resisting body crumbled into ecstasy.
And finally, the humiliating climax as she received his seed.
He slowly scrolled through the photos he'd taken: her passed out, defiled by his mark; a close-up of her lower abdomen glowing with the lewd Yinmun seal, molded into a perfect bitch.
These digital trophies were the ultimate tonic, erasing the fatigue of battle.
As he smiled in satisfaction, about to close the gallery, the Magic Grimoire spoke first.
[Master, an intriguing scent wafts from nearby.]
"A scent?"
[Yes. An ancient, faded magical aroma. Likely descendants of what your kind calls 'onmyoji'—mages.]
The Grimoire paused, as if collating data, then continued.
[Not direct lineage, of course. After witch hunts and your species' wars, they hid their power, blending with ordinary humans. Their mage blood has thinned to water, but embers still smolder within. Used well, they could serve as auxiliaries in your battles.]
Jinwoo turned his head slightly toward the Grimoire at his waist, switching off his phone. A sneer curled his lips.
"Spilling this now... You're scared, aren't you? Afraid I'll die?"
[......]
The Grimoire fell silent for a moment.
[I won't deny it. The outer god's hound was an unforeseen threat. You fought admirably, but 'what ifs' always lurk. Should something happen to you, I might slumber for centuries again.]
Having admitted it candidly, the Grimoire cut to the chase.
[But the greater reason is this: tracing that faint blood scent led to something far more repulsive and ravenous—an outer god's aura.]
"An outer god?"
[Indeed. It seems to have marked this world via Masakado's mound. That diluted mage blood makes perfect vessels for descent—or sacrificial offerings for the ritual. It'll target those descendants soon.]
Finally, the Grimoire dangled the bait Jinwoo would love most.
[And... among those descendants, I sensed a bitch ripe for taming. Pure, yet harboring strong power within... Like that wench on your screen—a type you'd enjoy.]
Auxiliary power, another clash with an outer god, and fresh pussy. No reason for Jinwoo to refuse. He rose, grabbing the shadowy robe from the wall. A predator's satisfied smile returned to his face.
"Fine. Those vessels or offerings or whatever—they'll be mine before any outer god claims them."
He donned the robe and crude plague doctor mask. "Lead the way."
[Of course, Master.]
Following the faint thread of mana the Grimoire guided him by, Jinwoo gunned his bike into the Zao mountain roads, vanishing into the night. Toward his new prey.