The Hatched Rival and the Outer God's Obsession
It was right at that moment, as the three women—seething with venomous jealousy toward one another—stood frozen like statues, forced to watch the heroic tale of the "Fox Mask" looping endlessly on the TV screen as if it were punishment.
From the basement beneath the living room floor behind them came a faint but unmistakable ripple of mana. It wasn't the massive, overwhelming aura from before, but more like the subtle tremor of space itself when a single pebble drops into a still pond.
It was his presence! Faint, but unmistakably his!
All three women's bodies jolted upward simultaneously, as if electrocuted. There was no hesitation. The Master had returned! And only one of them could be the first to prostrate herself at his feet, to bless his homecoming, and receive his gaze!
Aki rose first, with elegant yet serpentine speed. She instinctively smoothed her disheveled silk garments, determined to claim the door first without losing her dignity as the matriarch.
Chiharu followed, launching herself low to the ground like a beast, her eyes fixed solely on the basement doorknob.
Koharu, lost in near-ecstatic rapture on the verge of tears, scrambled desperately to keep pace with the other two.
But by the time they reached the basement door, it was firmly shut, and the mana ripple they'd felt moments ago had vanished like a mirage. Had the Master not come after all?
As they stood in confusion, eyeing one another warily while catching their breath—
Bzzz— Koharu's smartphone vibrated briefly in her skirt pocket.
Her heart nearly stopped at the sender's name on the screen.
"Ah..."
A short, sob-like gasp escaped Koharu's lips. She cradled the smartphone screen like a holy relic between her palms and showed it to the other two.
Aki's eyes narrowed. Her gaze locked not on the message itself, but on the sender's name above it: [Jinwoo-nim♡]. A chilling sensation washed over her heart. What was that heart-shaped emoticon? And that intimate mark after the honorific "nim"?
The Master had never granted her such a title. She was the harem's matriarch, the eldest sister—yet this child alone... had been given this secret pet name?
A sharp crack formed in her pride as the "manager."
Chiharu scowled at the sender's name too. She had risked her life on hunts alongside the Master, basked in the supreme honor of washing his body with her own hands. Yet the most private channel of communication with him bore the name of her shut-in little sister, marked as "special."
Cold water doused her sense of superiority.
But Koharu had no time to notice their subtle shifts in mood.
"A gift...! The Master... has sent us a gift!"
All the jealousy and despair aimed at her sister on the TV screen melted away in an instant. In its place bloomed the pure, fanatical ecstasy of a shrine maiden receiving divine revelation.
This was the true mark of favor. Her sister had received merely a weapon. But she—they, no, she!—had been entrusted with nurturing and raising the Master's newest creation!
"Master... thank you... thank you...!"
Tears streaming down her face, she flung open the basement door first and raced down the stairs. Aki and Chiharu followed, masking their tangled emotions.
In the center of the basement, right where the summoning gate had once opened, sat a single tiny, unimpressive baby crow, as if freshly hatched. Sparse wet down clung to its body, and it trembled feebly, eyes not yet fully open.
At first, they thought it was just a small bird. But as they drew closer, Chiharu's blood—the onmyoji lineage flowing through her veins, the seal branded on her lower abdomen—sent a warning.
Within that tiny, pathetic-looking creature swirled a condensed, viciously familiar aura beyond imagination.
It was... the same essence as the "human-faced bird" she had once hunted.
Instinctively, she mimed drawing an invisible bow from her waist.
That's no pet.
Lightning flashed through her mind.
That's... the Master's tool, just like me.
The Master had given her a bow and made her his "hunting dog." Then what was this bird? This sky-flying being?
One day, it might grow to roam the hunt with her... or perhaps supplant her role as the "hunting hawk."
Would it run the earth while she soared the skies, flanking the Master on either side? Or... would they compete for his favor, vying to claim the prey's throat first?
A cold, razor-sharp jealousy unlike any she'd felt toward her mother or sister began to sprout in her chest. This wasn't the envy of a female. It was the primal rivalry between two predators serving the same master.
As Chiharu grappled with her turmoil, Koharu was already prostrated before the baby crow, cautiously extending her hand.
"It's okay... baby... holy baby... I'll... be your mommy...♡"
At that moment, the baby crow slowly opened its eyes for the first time. They weren't the black pupils of an ordinary crow. They gleamed with a deep, intelligent red, like abyssal night skies captured within.
Ignoring Koharu's touch, the crow turned its head and stared fixedly at Chiharu—the only other "predator" in the room radiating a similar aura.
Two red eyes met two black ones in the silent basement.
Thus, the curtain rose on a new rivalry.
It does not think. It exists.
Beyond time, past perception. In the void where billions of eyes blink in unison and infinite mouths whisper silence, "it" fragmented and reformed its consciousness in an eternal loop.
(Boring/bored/we are bored)
(The sensation of brushing dust from a galaxy/the taste of a dead star's final scream/everything/nothing)
So "we" began our pastime.
We dropped a fragment of our shadow into the fragile minds of mortals, where dreams and reality blurred. We dragged forth their deepest fears and built them a stage of their own.
Eternal Nightmare. What a... lovely name.
The symphony of screams echoing across that stage, the vibrant hues of despair. It was exquisite entertainment, soothing "my" eternal ennui, if only briefly.
(Fun/enjoyable/this game is quite to our liking)
But then.
(A single point/dissonance/an unforeseen worm)
An intruder appeared on our stage—not an actor, but something else. A pathetic insect. Yet one with an irritatingly resilient will, unlike the others.
It dared to ruin "our" stage and shatter "my" toys at will.
(Intriguing/a new toy perhaps/observe)
"I" wanted to test how long that worm could endure, how firm its will truly was, what color its despair would take.
So I unleashed my "hunting dog," fed it a shard of my shadow, shared my madness. My most cherished pet for the stage.
I expected it to rip the worm's limbs asunder, to let me hear its soul shatter.
But...
(Shattered/too easily/disappointing)
My hunting dog... was hunted.
A being of my favor, felled by a mere mortal's hand. Without even tormenting him properly. So futilely.
(Weak/boring/no fun)
That worm... might be a slightly more amusing toy than expected.
So "I" prepared a grander stage. To summon a mightier being to that land required a more magnificent sacrifice for utter ruin.
I dispatched my hunter. His task was simple: capture three perfect bitches (the Yamashita mother and daughters) alive, as catalysts to open the new stage.
(Anticipation/a new stage opening amid their screams/even greater ruin)
But...
(Failed/the hunter/once more/hunted again/by that mere worm)
Anger? No, not anger. It was the disappointment of expecting a perfect toy, only to open the box and find a shoddy knockoff.
The hunter and the dog were now beneath notice. Broken toys, nothing more.
Now, all of "my" gaze fixed on that single worm.
(Growing/strengthening/on my stage/fed by my despair)
It was a nuisance obstructing "my" game, yet the sole stimulus rousing "me" in this tedious eternity. The one actor monopolizing "our" attention.
(Want to hunt it/strip that arrogant mask/see the face screaming beneath)
(Want to possess it/break that iron will/make it my most beautiful puppet)
Love-hate. That's what mortals called it.
(Want to destroy it/want to love it)
Yes. Now "I" desire that little worm. Its soul shines more beautifully than any crystal amassed over eons.
If only I could claim it. Dismantle it, disassemble it, reassemble it into something perfect—gazing only at "me," screaming only for "me."
(Wait/my small arrogant worm)
(The next nightmare/will be a cage made just for you)
For the first time in ages, "its" splintered consciousness unified beneath a single, crystal-clear desire.