That Time When I Fell Down the Stairs and Became a Jujutsu Sorcerer

Chapter 24 - Threads (NSFW)

In the heart of the ancient Buddhist temple, hidden away from the glow of candles and incense, lies a dimly lit, mysterious room. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and ancient wisdom. As I entered, the room unveiled itself as a sacred space adorned with intricate tapestries and timeworn statues.

Dim light filtered through narrow, time-stained windows, revealing a room that seemed frozen in time. The walls were draped with faded murals depicting long-forgotten tales of enlightenment. In the center of the room, an old wooden table supported a flickering oil lamp, casting eerie shadows on the thread-laden corners.

The most captivating aspect of this room was the intricate web of threads that crisscrossed the space. Like an ethereal spider's creation, these threads stretched from corner to corner, creating a delicate yet elaborate pattern. Each thread seemed to hold a silent story, a connection to the spiritual realm.

Hanging from these threads were small, weathered scrolls containing ancient sutras and prayers. The threads themselves, some thin as silk and others sturdy like braided rope, formed a complex network reminiscent of an otherworldly spider's web. It's as if these threads were the silent conduits through which the spiritual energy of the temple flowed.

The subdued light caught on the threads, creating a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights. As I moved through the room, the threads gently brushed against me, imbued with a timeless energy that seems to transcend the physical realm. The atmosphere was both tranquil and haunting.

He was in here somewhere. The Threadweaver they'd called him. I could feel his energy somewhere amid the gentle energy coming from the threads. Slowly I drew my dagger, holding it at the ready in my hand as I took another cautious step forward.

"Wherefore has't thee intrud'd into mine own temple? What business doth thee has't with the weav'r of fate?" A dry, rattling voice hissed from the darkness.

"I've come for a particular scroll that you've been tricked into purchasing." I called back, "A man going by Nezumi sold it to you a while back, but it belonged to the Zen'in clan. They'd really appreciate it's return."

"T matt'rs not wh're mine own scrolls has't cometh but yond those words stayeth. Fate hast deem'd those words cometh to me and fate shall not beest int'rf'r'd with." The voice hissed again.

I groaned, "Look, I really don't want to have to fight you. My boyfriend is right outside and he'll have another fit if I kill someone I don't have to." I twirled the dagger in my hand and lifted it, pointing it forward in the darkness, "Now, hand it over."

I took a defensive stance, eyes focused on the intricate dance of threads in front of me. The threadweaver began by flicking a single thread, the vibration spreading throughout the room across the various shimmering wires.

The threads began to writhe, some snapping loose and attempted to wrap around my arms and legs. Slicing through swaths of the strings with my dagger, I easily countered. Staying cautious, I didn't attempt to move in, there was no way this was all he could do.

Sensing the danger, the Threadweaver surrounded himself with a protective barrier of swirling strings. Each thread was layered carefully like a spider eggsack, thrumming with a dull pulse of cursed energy. I sighed, stepping forward and grabbing a handful of the threads. Razor sharp and as elastic as a bungee cord, I pulled hard as blood trickled down my fingers only for it to snap back to its original form.

I shook the blood from my hand and clicked my tongue, "Don't be like this."

Sliding the dagger deep into the threads I tapped the handle, "You got this bud?"

In a burst of cursed energy, the long skeletal arm of the daggers spirit reached outward and grabbed into the threads. A being of only cursed energy, he easily bypassed the threads and climbed inside the cocoon. There was a muffled scream, and the cocoon burst apart.