The night was bright with a rising full moon.
Sesshōmaru stood silently on a jagged cliff, his golden eyes distant, unfocused, as though trapped within the haze of old memories.
His mind drifted back to that fateful night—the night his father, the Great Dog Demon, perished.
It had been a snowy night, the world cloaked in white beneath the very same cold moonlight.
That was the first time Sesshōmaru had bared his fangs not out of bloodlust, but to cast aside everything for the sake of saving a single human woman.
And yet, his father had ignored him.
Since you had two swords… why give me the one that cannot kill?
Sesshōmaru's clawed fingers brushed against the hilt of the Tenseiga—the so-called "Heavenly Life Fang"—resting at his waist. His expression darkened, lips tightening into a cold line.
The Tessaiga, forged from his father's fang, could cleave through a hundred demons with a single stroke. The Sounga, the cursed sword of Hell, held unparalleled destructive power.
And to him—Sesshōmaru, heir of the proud Dog Demon clan—was entrusted the Tenseiga, a blade incapable of killing, a weapon meant to save lives.
A sword of healing, of mercy. A sword to rescue mortals…
His father had forced it upon him, as though mocking his ambition.
Was this meant to deny the very path he walked?
Sesshōmaru's chosen way was clear: the overbearing path of domination, the path where monsters were ruled with cold indifference and ruthless authority.
But the Great Dog Demon—his father—had refused to grant him that power.
And so his pride, sharp as any fang, festered with resentment.
Just as Sesshōmaru's thoughts grew tangled with anger, something small hopped into view near his feet.
A flea demon.
"My lord Sesshōmaru!" the tiny creature piped up, bowing nervously. "The Dragon Bone Spirit has been freed. Master Tōtōsai sent me to inform you immediately!"
Sesshōmaru blinked, his reverie shattered. His gaze dropped.
Myōga…
His father's longtime retainer.
"And what business does Tōtōsai have meddling this time?" Sesshōmaru asked coolly.
"I heard someone either slew or subdued the Dragon Bone Spirit," Myōga explained, voice trembling. "Now the creature has been taken by a Thunderbird! It seems the intention is to forge weapons from its remains."
Sesshōmaru's eyes narrowed.
Weapons… forged from the body of the Dragon Bone Spirit?
His amber gaze briefly glimmered with interest before turning sharp and dismissive. "Could it not simply be another charlatan, deceiving that senile old fool?"
Sesshōmaru rarely had patience for his father's retainers.
Tōtōsai played the idiot, eccentric to the point of madness. Myōga, cowardly as ever, usually fled at the mere sight of him.
Only the sage Jaken remained at his side, tolerated if not respected.
And the scabbard spirit—since his father's passing, Sesshōmaru had never encountered him again.
Myōga was used to the sharp sting of Sesshōmaru's disdain. In truth, he counted it a blessing whenever Sesshōmaru refrained from flattening him outright.
"I only came to deliver the message," Myōga muttered, already preparing to flee. "So I'll be taking my leave—goodbye!"
With that, the flea demon bounced away, vanishing from sight.
Sesshōmaru exhaled slowly, then glanced toward the shadowed trees.
"Jaken. We depart."
The imp scuttled forward, bowing deeply. "At once, young master! But… forgive me for asking, do you truly believe anyone could slay the Dragon Bone Spirit?"
"We go to see for ourselves," Sesshōmaru replied curtly.
"Yes, milord."
Jaken lowered his head quickly, though unease churned in his gut. He suspected what his master desired—an ideal weapon, forged for one worthy of command.
Yet if someone truly possessed the power to defeat the Dragon Bone Spirit, then claiming such a weapon would not be simple.
He longed to caution Sesshōmaru… but the gleam of anticipation in those golden eyes kept him silent.
If he spoke carelessly, he might find himself punted off a cliff for his trouble.
Sesshōmaru wanted the Dragon Bone Spirit. That much was clear. And no one could deny him.
After all, had the creature not once rivaled even his father's strength?
If its body were reforged into a blade, that sword would surely surpass the battered remnants Sesshōmaru now carried.
And if it meant obtaining power befitting his ambition…
No one—not man, not demon—would stand in Sesshōmaru's way.
By the next day at noon, after traveling through the night, Sesshōmaru and Jaken arrived at Dragon Canyon.
The air was thick with heat and the acrid stench of smoke.
Sesshōmaru frowned. There were no volcanoes in this region. And yet before him, black smoke rose in great plumes from a mountain, spilling into the sky.
As he drew closer, he realized the mountain itself had been hollowed into a crater—an artificial volcano, billowing with unnatural fire.
The miasma that had once blanketed Dragon Canyon was gone.
Sesshōmaru's surprise grew with each step. He passed demons soaring overhead, radiating auras of unusual strength. On the ground, humans carried supplies alongside yokai, working in strange harmony.
A world where humans and demons labored side by side?
Curious indeed.
Finally, Sesshōmaru beheld the one he had come for—the Dragon Bone Spirit.
Once a mighty foe, the creature now lay sprawled upon a cliff, decrepit and broken, his vast body shackled in despair. His once-massive tail had been severed into several sections, each dragged away by groups of humans and yokai toward the smoke-filled mountains.
Jaken snickered cruelly at the pitiful sight. "Master, look at him! Helpless as slaughtered livestock—he's little more than meat on the butcher's block!"
Sesshōmaru's gaze hardened. "Fool. The Dragon Bone Spirit has been sealed."
Jaken's grin froze.
Indeed, Sesshōmaru's piercing eyes discerned layers upon layers of barriers etched into the creature's flesh—hundreds of seals. Its demonic energy was utterly bound, its very aura suppressed beneath an alien sacred power that prickled even Sesshōmaru's skin.
Such power turned his stomach. If that force were directed at him… even he would feel the pain.
At that moment, a great thunderbird descended from the sky, its wings sparking with electricity. It landed before Sesshōmaru, feathers gleaming, and spoke with calm authority.
"Who are you? Do you seek to join our Eternal Church?"
"Eternal Church?" Sesshōmaru echoed coldly.
"Yes," the bird said proudly. "We are followers of the Eternal Faith. Though we are demons, by devoting ourselves to righteousness, the gods shall grant us forgiveness."
Sesshōmaru regarded the creature with narrowed eyes. The thunderbird carried itself with confidence, but its transformation was imperfect—its human guise flawed, its bloodline inferior.
A mongrel compared to him.
Sesshōmaru brushed past, disdain radiating from every step.
"Wait! You still haven't answered me!"
The thunderbird bristled at being ignored. How dare this stranger dismiss him? He was no ordinary yokai—he was mount and companion to the envoy of the Eternal Church herself: Lady Kikyo.
To insult him was to insult her.
Jaken sneered. "Mind your tongue, bird! You are beneath my lord Sesshōmaru. He does not waste words on the likes of you."
The thunderbird's feathers crackled with suppressed rage. He readied himself to strike—
But a new figure descended from the skies, landing heavily between them. A broad-shouldered man wielding a massive bone hammer.
The village chief of Chuyō Village.
He smiled pleasantly, though his eyes glimmered with murder. "Stranger, our gods have shown you no offense. Is it not excessive to provoke us without cause?"
The Eternal Church preached coexistence between humans and demons. Yet when opposed, their wrath was merciless. Already, more than two hundred yokai had fallen to their hand.
Sesshōmaru's eyes flicked to the hammer. "That weapon… forged from dragon bone?"
The corners of his lips curved upward in a chilling smile.
Without warning, he lunged.
"You insolent fool—face me!"
The clash rang out, Sesshōmaru's poisoned claws against the weight of the bone hammer.
And in that instant, Sesshōmaru's arrogance shattered.
The hammer struck with the force of a mountain, sending him hurtling back, his armor splintering, blood streaking his face.
One blow. One blow was enough to crush him.
The onlookers gasped, disbelief rippling through the crowd.
Sesshōmaru—proud heir of the Dog Demons—laid low so easily.
With just a single strike, his pride was ground to dust.
A guttural roar tore from his throat as he lunged again, more beast than man. His silver hair whipped wildly, his claws dripping venom.
But the village chief only laughed, voice booming.
"Still not convinced? Hah! How arrogant you demons are! Yet before the Eternal God—even a dragon must bow! Even a tiger must crawl!"
The battle drew the attention of every villager, human and yokai alike. From within a stone house, a priestess stirred.
Kikyo.
"What is happening?" she asked calmly.
"Lady Envoy," someone reported breathlessly, "an arrogant demon refused to answer Lord Thunderbird and tried to force his way through. The village chief now holds him back."
"I see…"
Kikyo's gaze darkened, and she moved swiftly toward the clash.
By the time she arrived, Sesshōmaru was staggering, bloodied and on the verge of collapse.
"Boy," the village chief mocked. "Surrender. Were I serious, you'd already be dead. With such meager strength, you dare dream of meeting the High Priest? Ridiculous."
"Dare to mock me?!" Sesshōmaru roared, fury consuming him. His body twisted and grew, silver fur bristling as he transformed into his true form: the towering demon hound.
But before he could strike—
"Enough."
A single soft command cut through the chaos like thunder.
Chains of light materialized, snaking around his massive body, binding him in place.
Sesshōmaru froze mid-leap, eyes widening in shock. His strength would not answer. His demonic energy drowned, smothered as though cast into the depths of an endless sea.
Kikyo stood calmly before him, her bow at her side, her presence suffocating.
"If you remain silent," she said coldly, "then you will share the Dragon Bone Spirit's fate. Stripped of flesh, stripped of bone."
The crowd fell to their knees.
"All hail the Divine Envoy, Lady Kikyo!"
Sesshōmaru's pride burned, humiliation searing deeper than any wound.
At last, through clenched teeth, he forced the words out. "I… seek the Dragon Bone Spirit. I will forge a weapon."
To beg so lowly… him, Sesshōmaru, son of the Great Dog Demon.
The shame was unbearable. Yet to refuse would mean death.
Kikyo's lips curved faintly.
"Had you spoken so honestly from the start, a demon bone might have been granted. But now… you must atone."
Her eyes glinted as she judged his fate.
"You will serve the Eternal Church for ten years. Obey, repent, and perhaps mercy will find you sooner."
Ten years. A mere blink to a demon's long life. But to Sesshōmaru, bound and humiliated, it was an eternity of torment.
"Change it," he spat. "I will not give my loyalty. Kill me instead!"
Kikyo's expression hardened.
"Still so defiant."
From the crowd, a warrior named Xiaofeng strode forward, sneering. With a single kick, he drove his heel into Sesshōmaru's ribs.
Bones cracked. Sesshōmaru's vision darkened. Blood spilled from his lips as his body collapsed.
And the proud dog demon knew no more.
"Take him to the craftsmen," Xiaofeng ordered casually. "His pelt will make a fine blanket."
"Yes, Lord Xiaofeng!"
Hands seized Sesshōmaru's broken form, dragging him away.
The moon above shone pitilessly on the fallen heir, its silver glow no comfort to a pride now shattered.