At that moment, deep within the darkness at the foot of the mountain beneath the Demon-Hunting Village—
Amari Kento's eyes glowed with a deep crimson light, his expression twisted and shadowed as he crouched upon a grass mat already corroded beyond recognition by yokai miasma.
Around him lay piles of mangled human remains. Most of the corpses were headless, their flesh long gone, leaving behind only skeletal frames wrapped in tattered clothes.
"As expected, the two-pronged assault has successfully diverted the exorcists' attention. However... that Purification Arrow just now proves that a shrine maiden is present within the village."
The distorted visage that still faintly resembled a human face twisted further with venom and unease. In this age, yokai were the natural enemies of humankind—yet for yokai like him, shrine maidens were equally terrifying foes.
"Still, this time my plan isn't as simple as the last one. Hmph~ Once the village's internal barrier is destroyed, countless yokai from the surrounding lands will rush in to finish off the Demon-Hunting Village!"
As he spoke, Amari Kento's hair began to fall off in clumps like dead grass. His eye sockets bulged outward, his facial features pushing forward and deforming until they formed something like a mask fused to his face.
A huge split tore open from the corners of his mouth to his ears, revealing two rows of razor-sharp, saw-like teeth that gleamed wickedly in the dark.
He had completely shed his human form, transforming into a true yokai.
"Root-Head, proceed as planned!"
"Yes, Mask of Death... my lord."
A guttural voice echoed from the shadows, followed by the sound of something enormous crawling forward.
It was a yokai made entirely of thick, writhing vines. Dozens of severed human heads dangled beneath its massive body. Its gaping maw filled two-thirds of its torso, while a single enormous crimson eye occupied the rest.
Though its speech was slurred and simple, it was clear that the creature—known as Root-Head—possessed limited intelligence. Yet the malice and miasma surrounding it were overwhelming.
The Mask of Death was not a yokai of great raw power. In fact, it could not even take on a humanoid form on its own—it could only possess human hosts, devouring their internal organs and using their bodies as vessels.
Externally, its hosts appeared unchanged, indistinguishable from the living. But inside, they were nothing more than empty husks.
Moreover, the Mask of Death could retain the memories of those it possessed. That ability allowed it to infiltrate human society—using its hosts' identities to manipulate refugees and bandits as pawns for gathering yokai.
Now that it had revealed its true form, a pale purple haze of miasma swirled constantly around its body. The souls of the humans it had slaughtered radiated intense fear and resentment, their emotions fueling the yokai's energy.
Though not particularly strong on its own, the Mask of Death used these negative emotions, merging them with its yokai power. The resulting mixture of corrupted energy flowed downward—into a massive pentagram array beneath it.
That array, now fully activated by its energy, was what allowed it to provide a defensive barrier for the flock of yokai attacking from above.
Originally, the Mask of Death had not planned to appear here at all. It preferred to remain hidden, watching everything unfold from the shadows as its plan progressed perfectly.
Once the Demon-Hunting Village was annihilated, it would finally earn the right to ascend—to the next stage of existence.
"If I destroy this village, I'll finally be worthy of joining the [Moon God Hall]!" it hissed, clutching a black magatama tightly in one hand.
Its memories drifted back to a few months earlier. At that time, it had still been wandering aimlessly through the Kinai region, living purely by instinct—slaughtering humans to strengthen its power.
But one day, it had witnessed the impossible—the stuff of legend.
Two titanic beings clashed in the distance, each towering higher than mountains.
One was the colossal dragon yokai [Ryūkotsusei], a creature that had cultivated for a thousand years by devouring ancient dragon remains. The other was the mighty leopard-cat yokai [Panther King], a grand demon of fearsome power.
The region was completely devoid of human life. As far as the eye could see, the mountains were littered only with the corpses of yokai, pecked at by flocks of corpse crows.
Only those mindless, lowly creatures dared to scavenge near the battlefield of such monstrous beings.
The Mask of Death had long since risen above the level of the lowest-class yokai such as corpse crows. He could clearly sense the overwhelming yokai energy radiating from the two titanic demons before him—their every movement tore apart the land and reshaped the terrain. Even a casual breath from either of them unleashed a wave of miasma strong enough to destroy a city or a nation.
Only the strongest yokai—those just below the level of great demons—had any chance of surviving such a battle's aftershocks.
The sky itself seemed to split under their clash, and the ground quaked unceasingly, rumbling like a world-ending earthquake.
"So these are the kings who stand at the pinnacle of all yokai... the true sovereigns of this world?"
Every lesser yokai witnessing the duel trembled in terror.
In the world of yokai, power defined hierarchy. All yokai dreamed of one day ascending to the legendary rank of a great demon.
But what happened next shattered every spectator's understanding.
As the two great yokai fought, the moon above silently grew larger, unnoticed by most.
Then—its surface rippled like water. Even the Mask of Death, when he first caught sight of it, dismissed it as an illusion.
But moments later, a black vortex of distorted space opened high in the sky—and from it emerged three humanoid figures, each radiating a distinct aura, standing motionless in midair.
Bathed in the cold moonlight, one of them—a figure wreathed in crimson light, with blood-red wings sprouting from his back—descended from the heavens. His movement was so fast it was almost instantaneous; in the blink of an eye, he appeared between the two great yokai.
The Mask of Death saw the two demons' faces twist in rage. Though he was too far to hear their words, he saw their jaws open wide, unleashing twin blasts of concentrated yokai energy toward the crimson-winged figure.
Compared to their mountain-sized bodies, the newcomer looked like an ant standing before two elephants.
No one could defy two great yokai at once and live. No one.
Death—that was the only possible outcome for such audacity.
Yet the unthinkable happened.
The crimson figure merely flapped his wings once—and the yokai energy beams were effortlessly reflected back.
The scene was so absurd that even yokai found it beyond belief. But it was real.
The two great yokai, unprepared for their own power's reflection, were blasted away by their attacks. Even beings of their level could not withstand such force. Gravely wounded, they transformed into orbs of light and fled the battlefield.
The crimson-winged being surveyed the area with his golden eyes, expression calm and detached.
Fear—raw, instinctive fear—surged like a tide through the hearts of every yokai present.
A crushing, suffocating pressure descended upon them all, heavier and more dreadful than that of any great demon, spreading across hundreds of li.
Then, the other two figures descended under the moonlight. Before the stunned gaze of countless yokai, they scattered a multitude of magatama into the air.
Each magatama streaked through the sky, leaving trails of violet light before shooting off in all directions.
And by chance—one fell right beside the Mask of Death.
He still didn't know where he found the courage to move his trembling, half-ruined body—but he reached out and picked it up.
The moment his fingers touched the magatama, a word—an unknown, divine word—echoed in his mind.
—[Moon God Hall].
...
However, the Mask of Death's moment of triumph was quickly interrupted by grim news from Root-Head.
"Lord Mask of Death, most of my clones within the village... they've been destroyed."
"What? Impossible!"
"It may have been the shrine maiden within the village. She must have sensed the yokai energy from my fragments."
Hearing this, the Mask of Death roared furiously, his nightmare-like face twisting as he turned his venomous gaze toward the Demon-Hunting Village. "Why now, of all times?! I had already ordered those sorcerers to purify the traces of your yokai energy!"
"These worthless insects! They can't even handle cleansing a low-grade yokai's miasma properly?!"
Upon hearing those words, the dim-witted Root-Head showed no reaction. It merely continued to feed instinctively. From the shadows came the faint sound of human screams—cries of despair and agony that soon faded into silence, replaced by the wet, tearing sounds of flesh being pierced and devoured.
The Mask of Death, who had dealt with both the Demon-Hunting Village and shrine maidens many times before, knew full well that the feeble barrier sustained by those lesser yokai wouldn't last long against a shrine maiden's Purification Arrows.
If the barrier were destroyed and the Demon-Hunting Village's own barrier remained intact, his operation would end in total failure.
Snarling, he demanded, "Root-Head, how many of your clones within the village are still intact?"
"My lord... only one remains."
"Activate it!"
"Yes."
...
Thump... thump... thump...
While grinding herbs, Satsuki cast a sidelong glance at the small package on the floor. The yokai aura within was growing stronger and stronger. The wrapping bulged and pulsed as though something inside was struggling to break free.
Rip...
With a tearing sound, a small length of vine burst through the cloth. The moment it appeared, it seemed to possess a will of its own, wriggling frantically as it tried to burrow into the ground.
But within the Dead Line Boundary, all such efforts were futile.
"Oh? Yokai energy transmission strong enough to bypass even the Dead Line Boundary? That's no simple feat."
Through her Tenseigan, Satsuki could clearly perceive every fluctuation of energy in the air—and thus she saw how the vine's internal energy suddenly became wildly active, as though materializing from nowhere.
The energy had no direction, no source—it simply appeared out of nothing. That was what made the vine's movement so erratic.
"Root-Head's yokai power is pitifully weak, but its vitality is monstrously abnormal... perhaps the secret lies in the way its energy circulates."
With a wave of her hand, the Dead Line Boundary turned pitch-black, sealing the vine completely within its confines.
Then, she turned her gaze outward.
Beyond the village barrier, the shrine maiden Miko rode through the sky on the back of a white fox yokai with nine tails.
Whoosh~ whoosh~ whoosh~ whoosh~
While soaring through the air, Miko continuously fired her arrows from [Sakura and the Waning Moon].
The first arrow—cracks spread across the barrier's surface.
The second arrow—those cracks spread wider, webbing across the entire structure.
The third arrow—a sharp, crystalline shatter echoed like breaking glass.
The fourth arrow—pierced straight through the barrier and impaled the entire flock of bird yokai beyond.
Fast—too fast.
Neither the exorcists nor the Mask of Death lurking behind the yokai swarm had expected the shrine maiden to possess such overwhelming strength.
The battle instantly turned on its head.
Yet Miko seemed unsatisfied. Dozens of bird yokai remained, already within a hundred meters of the village barrier. In mere seconds, they would crash directly into it.
Even if they couldn't break through, their miasma, toxins, and sonic waves would still inflict serious harm on the exorcists at the front lines.
Seeing this, Miko acted without hesitation. She patted the white fox beneath her. "Ruri, how fast can you go?"
"Oh?" The white fox glanced up with a sly grin, gliding swiftly through the air. "However fast you can move—I can match it!"
"Good. Let's hope you're not bluffing."
At her words, Miko raised [Sakura and the Waning Moon] horizontally. The ethereal bowstring of energy vanished, and the weapon transformed into a massive blade forged for slaying yokai.
Standing tall on the fox's back, she stepped forward with her right foot, her left slightly behind. Her left hand slid under the sacred blade's hilt, thumb locking beneath the guard as she positioned the weapon along her left hip.
The massive sword coiled like a compressed spring, tension building in every fiber of her body.
In that instant, the world itself seemed to freeze before her eyes. A vast field of sword pressure emanated from her, expanding outward like a tidal wave.
Every yokai caught within that range felt an icy chill stab deep into their cores.
Then, Miko heard the blade's faint hum—a sacred resonance echoing from the weapon itself.
It was the voice of a divine instrument yearning for its destined purpose: the annihilation of yokai.
It was the shedding of all distractions, the perfection of one's spiritual resolve.
It was the decree of the gods—to purge all impurities from existence.
Then, from her lips came the invocation of her technique—
"Tenjin Katori Shintō-ryū Secret Technique: Iaijutsu of Ultimate Truth—Cloud-Cutting Blade."
In the next instant, Miko's form vanished into a flash of invisible divine light. Moving faster than the wind itself, her blade and body became one, leaving behind only streaks of brilliance that the human eye could scarcely follow. To the astonished exorcists below, her figure seemed to multiply—countless afterimages weaving through the massive flock of yokai birds.
A horizontal sweep—three demonic light-birds' eyes dimmed as their lives were severed.
A downward slash—seven poison-taloned hawks fell, their throats no longer pulsing.
A diagonal strike—ten colorful sonic falcons exploded in showers of feathers.
...
Miko's technique was not ornate—she repeated only the eight basic forms of the sword: cleave, parry, slice, sweep, pierce, cut, thrust, and strike.
But the combination of her chosen angles, her godlike speed, and the divine sharpness of [Sakura and the Waning Moon] turned those simple motions into an unstoppable massacre.
As the wind-rending sounds faded, the air itself within her sword domain seemed to distort. Countless traces of sword light carved through the sky, fracturing the space around her. Even the clouds above looked as though they had been sliced into glittering fragments.
Swish... Swish... Swish... Swish...
The sword light ceased. Miko's form reappeared behind the stunned flock of yokai, her silhouette framed by the moonlight like that of a divine valkyrie. Standing atop the white fox's back, she exhaled slowly, then sheathed her divine blade in one smooth motion.
Clack.
The sound of the blade locking into its scabbard echoed—and at that moment, the air behind her erupted.
The sword domain shattered, unleashing a vortex of pure spiritual energy. Blades of light tore through the sky, shredding the yokai flock as though they had been drawn into a celestial grinder, erasing every trace of corruption.
—This was the divine art inherited from Katori-no-Kami, a fusion of Shintō swordsmanship and the supreme essence of iaijutsu. A sacred killing ritual—a dance of divine slaughter.
That single strike was enough to slay a hundred yokai. It was not a mere martial technique—it was a divine art beyond mortal reach, the sword of the gods themselves.
For a moment, silence gripped the battlefield.
Then, the exorcists erupted in thunderous cheers.
None of them had ever witnessed such godlike power, nor believed that human hands could achieve such transcendence.
There had always been those who questioned why exorcists continued to resist, why they kept fighting instead of surrendering to despair and corruption—why they refused to join the yokai and dance in darkness.
They were not born rebellious. They had simply endured suffering beyond imagination until they could no longer bear it, and in that hopelessness, some had yielded.
How could humanity hope to stand against yokai—creatures far stronger, faster, and deadlier than any man? When a single great demon could obliterate a nation, where did hope lie? What future could there be?
Now, for those who had the fortune to witness this miracle—the answer was finally clear.