Angles of death: Ayanokoji Invasion

Whispers of the Impure

The cold air hits me like a cold shower in the winter morning. However, the acrid, chemical scent invades my nostrils, nearly making my head spin with its intensity.

Ray's face drains of color, her breath forming ragged puffs. 'It's...cold,' she whispers, her voice barely more than a shiver as she squeezes her eyes shut in discomfort.

She staggers as her legs give way, falling against my chest, her hands clutching my shirt.

I tighten my grip around her, steadying her as she struggles to stay on her feet. Her fingers dig into my shirt, and I can feel her trembling. "Take it easy," I whisper softly, my breath creating small puffs of mist in the frigid air.

She nods slightly, but her eyes remain shut, as if she's trying to block out the overwhelming sensations. I brush a strand of hair from her face, our eyes locking for a fleeting moment, her cheeks flushing with sudden embarrassment.

She quickly averts her eyes, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out.

Ray pushes herself away hurriedly, her legs trembling, her breathing shallow and ragged. She stumbles, catching herself against the door frame.

As I step out of the elevator after her, my gaze is drawn to an eerie pool before me. The bluish-green waters shimmer ominously, split by a narrow path.

Ray leans toward the water, her flushed face reflected in the wavering surface, creating ghostly ripples. Her breath briefly fogs the air, dissipating quickly.

The murky waters reflect a distorted version of Ray, her image wavering like someone trapped beneath the surface, "Ray, let's not get too close," I say, my voice breaking the eerie silence.

She leans back, her eyes lingering on the water.

She wraps her arms around herself, trying to fend off the cold. Her breath comes in short gasps, like a bird trapped in a cage, fluttering desperately.

She finally notices a shape beneath the surface-almost human-like, but the pool is too deep and murky to make out any details.

Ray hesitates, pulling herself back slightly from the edge. She wrinkles her nose, clearly disgusted by the persistent, pungent scent.

"What do you think it is?" I whisper, though a part of me isn't sure I want to know the answer.

Ray's brow furrowed as she stared intently into the murky depths, her hands gripping the edge of the pool. "I don't know," she replied, her voice barely audible. "But it doesn't feel...right.

Staring across the short bridge, I can see that there is a sign near the door there. It says 'Second Cemetery,' and beside the awful smell of chemicals, there's a faint smell of dirt.

A cold sweat runs down my forehead. There is a whole cemetery on this floor? And I assume it's not just one.....Unreal.

"Ray, we need to move. Now," I said, my voice was low and insistent, trying to sound urgent.

Her jaw clenched, and her shoulders tensed and she nodded silently. With slow, deliberate movements, she pushed herself up from the water's edge.

Soon after she catches up to me, we walk along the bridge to the gate.

The dense chemical air isn't deadly but it would typically make anyone sick, yet she handled it better than expected. But then again, she's anything but 'normal.'

"Are we really inside a building...?" Ray murmured to herself.

The Second Cemetery is revealed to be a spacious, wide room. The old-looking walls are made of brick, and the dirt beneath our feet is dotted with several tombstones, each engraved with names.

As we walk among the graves, something large looms ahead, standing out among the tombstones. It's a monument. "There's something written on it," Ray whispered, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity.

Compared to earlier, she is doing much better. The further we walk into the cemetery, the more the chemical scent disappears.

Is this their method to lure people in? It doesn't matter anyway-we are going to confront the killer either way.

As we reach the monument, Ray pauses, takes a deep breath, and steps closer to the engraved words. Her fingers trace the letters etched into the stone.

"What is this?" she mutters, almost to herself, why would they create something like this?"

"Here lie the graves of those impure. The pitiful ones, neither wanted by God nor the angels. Covered by soil, beneath the dirt, they wait for purification." Ray's voice wavered as she read, her fingers tracing the letters.

The words hung heavy in the air, a cruel judgment from an unseen hand.

Her words hang in the air, and I take a deep breath, steeling myself. This isn't just a cemetery, it's a perverse creation.

A delusional person, possibly driven by a twisted sense of morality or religious fervor. views their victims as somehow tainted, in need of redemption.

I glance at Ray, noticing the way her face contorts with a mix of confusion and disgust. She looks as though she might be sick. But then, she composes herself, her eyes narrowing as she stares at the stone.

Her fingers tremble over the stone. "It's like...you said, they're playing gods," she whispers.

"Yeah, it's disgusting" I said, meeting her eyes, a flicker of emotions shining through them. We...we have to escape," she says, her voice trembling. "For my parents... and for us"

leaving the second cemetery. We go down a hallway. There, till we came across a door with a signboard that states “First Cemetery"

While the Second Cemetery was open and oppressive with its pungent chemical air and looming monument, this one is more claustrophobic, almost as if the gravestones are closing in on us, creating a sense of being trapped.

Our eyes alight upon a glittering new tombstone. We move closer, walking across the damp earth and between the other gravestones.

“…”

The grave, which gleams unnaturally in this room completely devoid of any presence of life, has tiny letters neatly engraved in it.

"I...it's my name," Ray murmurs, her voice a trembling whisper that barely pierces the thick silence.