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[center][h3]--Nagano Prefecture - Abandoned Mansion--[/h3][/center]
Like a warhorse - or in this case, war-centipede - that had been given a sonorous warcry of a command by her 'rider', [color=fe2863][b]"GgRrAaAaAgHh!!"[/b][/color] The Ōmukade... roared, which was something a centipede, or any insect really, [i]shouldn't[/i] be able to do, but to be fair, if one was being charged at by a creepy-crawly the size of a schoolbus, pondering whether or not it should be able to roar would be hovering at the bottom of one's list of priorities. Spurred by Agent Murakami's directive, Teratoma did exactly that, galloping on a hundred legs as she tore a path forward, literally ripping and tearing anything that stood in its way; be it an ashigaru, a squad of ashigaru, tatami doors, or some random decorative fixture, nothing was spared from its insectoid wrath. 

Not too far behind the Ōmukade, Agent Mae's exorcizing incense worked well at making sure the downed specters stayed down, or at the very least delaying their resurrection process enough for them to be a non-issue. Furthermore, the sengoku wraiths that did manage to revive at their backs were promptly dispatched by Agent Yūma. The collective effort of the two teams kept the scales in their favor, but at this point, it'd be folly to believe that they'd not succumb to a war of attrition. The wraiths were endless, and unlike living, breathing soldiers each with their own fears and willpower, these apparitions were mere extensions of a greater being; like clusters of white blood cells, they knew not fear, nor morale, they'd fight to the death, and when given the chance, live again to do the same, until the threat had been eliminated.

An outcome that Sefirot obviously wouldn't tolerate and the sentiment was shared amongst its agents, including the not-so-human ones. As yet another set of antique shoji doors fell victim to the carapace-clad youkai, Teratoma eschewed any sense of historical preservation over maintaining its momentum, its innumerable feet creating puncture and gash marks all over the tatami flooring and wooden beams. If whatever entity behind this considered the whole manor to be its "body", then it'd surely be writhing in agony right now. 

The Fleshweaver could feel it, they were closing in on the enemy's heart, it wouldn't be too long now, wouldn't be too long indeed...

[@VitaVitaAR] [@Raineh Daze] [@Eisenhorn] [@OwO] [@Rune_Alchemist]