The sacred grounds of Meiji Jingu, usually a sanctuary of peace and natural beauty, felt heavy with an oppressive aura today. Sunlight, filtering through the ancient cedar trees, cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to writhe with unspoken horrors. The air carries the faint scent of turned earth and something metallic—copper and rot intertwined.

Livie, an archer whose calm demeanour belied a fiercely focused spirit, adjusted the quiver on her back. The weight of her arrows was a familiar comfort, a testament to years of dedicated practice, but today, that comfort was tinged with a profound sense of responsibility. The leather strap of her bow presses warmly against her palm as she moves, the wood smooth from years of handling.

Her idol, Jada, the legendary psychic whose skill and guidance Livie had strived to emulate since she was a child, had personally assigned her this mission, and she was going alone.

"Livie," Jada’s voice, usually so steady and reassuring, had carried an edge of gravity during their briefing, "this is not a training exercise. The perpetrator responsible for the atrocities within Meiji Jingu must be apprehended. I am entrusting this to you. Do not disappoint me."

Do not disappoint Jada. The words resonated deep within Livie, igniting a potent mix of determination within her fearlessness. She yearned to prove her worth, not just to her idol, but to herself. To show that her reserved nature wasn't timidity, and her outgoing moments weren't mere superficiality, but reflections of a spirit capable of immense strength and unwavering resolve. A twig snaps under her boot, and she freezes, every muscle coiled like a spring.

But the grim reality of the mission was hard to ignore. Meiji Jingu had become a place of dread. Whispers turned into chilling reports, and the reports painted a gruesome picture: visitors, lured into the forest's embrace, met brutal ends. The villain had turned this sacred space into a charnel house.

The evidence was stark, undeniable. Patches of earth, disturbed and recently turned, marked the shallow graves of the unfortunate souls who had crossed the villain’s path. Each mound was a silent scream, a macabre tableau that Livie refused to let continue. She kneels briefly, fingers brushing the disturbed soil—still cool and damp from last night's rain.

Livie took a slow, deliberate breath, her eyes scanning the dense foliage. "Just a little further," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper against the rustling leaves. "Jada said the reports indicated the activity was concentrated near the northern perimeter. And she said I had to handle this solo. No backup. Just me."

She moved with a practiced, almost silent grace, her senses alive, attuned to the subtlest anomaly, the faintest sound that might betray her quarry. "The air feels... heavy here," she commented softly, her gaze sweeping across a particularly dense thicket where birds have suddenly ceased singing. "Almost like a storm is brewing, but there isn't a cloud in the sky. This silence is unnerving, though. Too quiet."

She paused, knocking an arrow, her fingers finding their familiar place on the string. The fletching brushes her cheek as she draws, her stance wide and steady. "This is where they've been active. I can feel it." Her eyes narrowed, focusing on a faint scuff mark on a tree trunk, almost invisible to the untrained eye. "Someone's been through here recently. And they weren't exactly trying to be subtle. Sloppy, or confident?"

She continued her cautious advance, her internal monologue a steady stream of observations and self-encouragement. "Stay calm, Livie. Focus. Jada believes in you. You can do this. Just one shot, one perfect shot, to end this. No mistakes allowed when you're the only one out here." The scent grows stronger as she rounds a massive cedar—fresh blood now mingling with the earlier metallic tang.