The rumor that has no origin
Akihiko walked away from Hanekura in a fine rain, leaving behind the red mist, the false judgments, and the boy who now knew that silence wasn't punishment. He walked aimlessly, but not without direction. Because even without judgment, the world still spoke. Only now it did so through fear, twisted symbols, and truths no one dared to write.
At the edge of the district, a woman in a gray robe was waiting for him by a collapsed bridge. She carried no weapons. She bore no name. She had only a wooden box and a question:
—Can you still hear what hasn't been said?
Akihiko stopped. The rain intensified.
—It depends on who keeps quiet.
The woman opened the box. Inside, a single object: a withered flower with petals of white roots. It couldn't be. The hill was sealed, guarded by the earth itself. No roots should have emerged from there. And yet, there it was. The woman didn't explain. She only said:
—There's a city that doesn't exist. It's called Muraku . In it, the roots of the Tree didn't die... they went mad.
Muraku, the forgotten city
For centuries, Muraku was a minor node in the spiritual network. It had no large temples or important lineages. But it was stable. Until, after the White Chant, something in its roots broke. They didn't disconnect. They didn't wither. They became unpredictable. The vibrations began to repeat themselves like faulty echoes. Some inhabitants heard their own thoughts replicated hours later. Others dreamed of sentences they never lived.
Soon, the marks of judgment began to change. They didn't disappear. They mutated. Some saw them moving beneath their skin. Others felt the roots trying to grow inside their bodies. The Tree had abandoned the city… but its remains didn't leave. They remained trapped. Twisted. Living.
The local government collapsed. The mafias split. And at the center, a new figure emerged: The Silenced One . No one knew his face. It was said he spoke with a voice that made roots bleed. That he could stop a plant from growing with a word. That he knew the hill without ever having set foot there.
III. Entry into the broken domain
Akihiko arrived in Muraku via the old salt road. In the distance, the concrete towers were covered by rotting vegetation. There were no signs. No guards. Only murmurs. Every so often, a word floated in the air, like a leaf blown by the wind: "approved," "corrected," "reborn." Echoes without a transmitter.
In the center of the city, a half-collapsed building still emitted light: the ancient Temple of the Lesser Judgment. There, survivors gathered to try to remember what it was like to be judged. Inside, Akihiko found a mural: a leafless tree, but with roots that reached up to the sky instead of going underground. And at the base, carved in stone:
"Whoever hears this echo… must not respond."
Encounter with the Silenced
In the deepest room of the temple, a hooded figure waited for him. He didn't move when Akihiko entered. He didn't raise his head. He just raised one hand, showing it bore no mark. And when he spoke, it was in a voice that didn't belong to him:
—Sora still sings. Did you know that?
Akihiko felt the world's pulse shift. It wasn't a surprise. It was confirmation.
- Who are you?
—An echo that learned to live without a Tree. A root that didn't grow, but didn't die either. I am what happens when judgment doesn't fade... but loses meaning.
The Silenced One walked toward him. His face was everyone's. His voice, no one's.
—If you keep walking, you'll reach where the roots not only mutate... —But speak for themselves?
The Silenced One smiled.
—And that's where it all starts again.
END OF CHAPTER 104