The Temple of the Mountain

Chapter 0: Tokyo Transmissions

A light-skinned man walked towards the building of what was left of Tokyo Tower. People began pulling away from his direction as if he were crossing the Red Sea. He wore a dirtied lab coat and was missing his left hand, only a stub on his limb. Attached to his waist was a belt, hung various tools, including a gas mask, a small intercom, a canteen, among others. All was gone of Tokyo, but it had been rebuilt. Rebuilt from the apocalypse. 

Strolling down the street, were people. Some with gas masks, hazmats, face coverings, burns, missing limbs, balded hair, and worn out faces. As if they were drifting aimlessly to no destination, only to live on. The well-known acidic stench that oozes from place to place, the tan, polluted sky, were things that everyone had known for the new decade. The sky remained at a harsh tone of brownish-gray, with the sun barely penetrating its light through.

The man then opened the doors to the building adjacent to the tower, and then was presented with a number of radiomen working vigorously, using what was left of Tokyo Tower to establish a radio connection. A primeval antenna strung from Tokyo Tower, with the actual tower collapsed behind, smashed into a large bundle of buildings. 

The inside resembled an old office building, with an L-shaped reception desk with foldable chairs standing against it. On the foldable desks showed many items, maps, paper, records, and electronic devices. Large radio sets were strung on tables facing the walls, all of them emitting a faint static noise. On one of the tables was an elaborate blueprint sketch showing a circular object resembling a medal.

"Any news on in northern Saitama?" He asked one of them with a headset, hanging his gas mask on a rack nearby. The man with the headset had a deformed face, with a part of his lower lip protruding into his mouth.

"No sir, they haven't reported anything," The radioman responded politely.

"Dammit. Looks like there isn't anything but Saitama and us."

The man in the lab coat sighed and sat down on an office chair next to them as they continued observing various instruments and devices. He stared out the window of the first floor, and looked at the Tokyo settlement, the crippled buildings, the people, and the rising sun bringing a new morn. 

"Sir! We just picked up a signal from them!" A radioman shouted, standing up with his hand placed on his headset.

"What? Show me."

"It's coming from Saitama via the Yama route, broadcasting now."

Through loud pitches of static, a faint voice could be heard, a nervous tremble was audible.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! There's somet-ing atta-king us! M- men don't know what the he-l they are, and we're goi-g down like flies! S-nd fu-kin' re-nfor-cemen-s!

Gunshots and screams could be heard on the receiving end, the man in the coat looked in confusion. Soon a baleful screech pierced the sounds of the speaker as more shots and bloodcurdling screams pervaded. The radioman covered his mouth in horror.

The-'re comi-g sou-hwa-d! Ju-t te-l me one thin-, j-st w--t t-e fuc- -id -e --?!

Static overshone the person's voice, now sounding like unintelligible gibberish. Nervous sweat came down from the sides of the lab coat man's face. The radioman shuttered as he twisted a dial hopelessly, and at the end, only fierce static was playing. He shut off the speakers and slumped back in his seat. 

"Where is the position of those men in the Yama route?" The lab coat man asked.

"Near Akishima, sir."

"Dear god," He pressed his hands on his face, and wiped the sweat off. 

Saitama was just north of the Tokyo and Fuchu settlements, then Yokohama, Odawara, and Gotemba and the rumored so-called Chureito. On a map on the wall, listed the settlements and Chureito marked with a gray area and question mark.

"Well, this looks interesting."

He turned around to see a person with jet brown hair with white tips, and an unzipped large black cloak rested on his shoulders, with a gray medallion around his neck. Made out of steel, the medallion showed various symbols and certain carved out segments on it, and had a strange compartment confiding inside. 

"Want me to go check out what's up there? I'm perfect for the job," The strange man chuckled boastfully.

"Go ahead. I don't want anything to do with you."

"Aw that's harsh, Hokichi, I'm going up there to check things out, and you're not sending more men up there?" He then responded. 

"Of course not. Dead men cannot be recovered in a worst-case scenario."

"Understandable, but they were useless men anyway."

"Don't speak lowly of the people that protect us," Hokichi stood up, glaring at him.

The peculiar individual clenched the medallion strapped to his neck, as they stared at each other. They leered threateningly, ready for a brawl.

"Sir, the signal is back on!" A radioman alerted. Hokichi raced back to the speaker as the other stayed in his place, arms crossed. This time, the audio was clear.

Hey, hey. Matsura here. I'm currently hiding inside an old convenience store with some survivors left. If anything, we're only alive so that we can tell you the details.

There's some sort of creature, I dunno what it is. It's some demon looking monster. I can't start on how to describe it. It's like a man's head inside an ox-wheel. It moves and has sharp appendages on the outside part of the wheel.

Those things massacred us this morning, and there's a bunch of 'em rolling around the area. I'ma try to find some traders headin' down the Yama route to escape. Wish us luck.

And that was the end of it. No other frequencies were detected afterward. The line went dark. 

"The hell? The hell was he talking about?" Hokichi irately asked the radioman. All of them looked at each other and shrugged.

"We don't know sir. We don't have any clue," One of them finally answered. 

"Aaand if you excuse me, I'll be on my way to save your men's asses," The mysterious man playfully walked towards the doors.

"If you don't come back you don't know how much of a loss-"

"I'll be fine as long as I have the stupid epinephriwhatever ensign I won't lose to some animal," He gloated back, "Unlike the dude that escaped to Chureito, he's the thief who stole one."

Hokichi grimaced as the man exited and went back to his chair. He rolled towards a large office table with a map, and glanced intensely at Chureito, tapping a blue fountain pen rhythmically. He noticed that the man had taken his gas mask left hanging near the door, and cursed silently under his breath.

"Maybe if... No, that's impossible."