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:
That night, a sacred vow was shattered.
A god's power returned to the world.
And somewhere among the flames, a boy watched—
unaware that his own blood would one day learn the same steps..in the future more mystery awaits