In the crowd of people in Shibuya, Tokyo, I am the only one who can see "craziness" - the neon noise in others' eyes, but here it is the veins of ghost stories that wrap around my body, the whispers of traps are hidden in the subway vents, and the shadows of other dimensions dangle in the reflections of high-rise buildings.
I originally relied on the tree spirit anchor point in Inokashira Park to survive, but unexpectedly the tree spirit was contaminated by black mud, and half of my sanity collapsed on the spot. If he continues to go crazy, he will become a new footnote in urban ghost stories.
When he was desperate, he found a deal with a mirror merchant, exchanged the memory of his hometown for "tuning" skills, and relied on information alchemy to change the drunkard's mood as a cover, so he could barely stop the erosion of madness. But the trouble has just begun:
Homecoming will have its eyes on all narrative anchors, and the next one is the Gargoyles of Ikebukuro;
Mori Ogai from the Exorcist Division looks gentle and gentle, but secretly absorbs the purest emotional energy while purifying Kaidan;
There is also a silver-haired girl holding a rabbit, always staring at me in the dark and smiling: "Brother, the sadness in you has become stronger~"
Being forced into a desperate situation, I built an anonymous shrine "Messes" to collect prayers - to deal with the crying Fu Mang Sword, relying on the obsession of believers as nourishment, and weaving a way out with the flow of information.
But no one knew that when I was trying not to go crazy in the shadows of Tokyo, those beings who were staring at my narrative energy had already drawn me into a larger hunting ground...
In this survival trip to Tokyo, am I hiding from monsters, or am I slowly turning into "them"?
