Strength?
The topic startled Sesshōmaru.
Of all things, strength was what he desired most at this moment.
"You aren't lying to me?" His amber eyes narrowed, suspicion glinting within them.
Kikyo's expression remained serene. "For a demon stripped of his ability to resist, what use would lies be? Even if I took a blade and cut you into pieces right now, you'd have no means to refuse."
Sesshōmaru said nothing. She was right.
He was a prisoner now, bound like livestock.
If not for the threat of castration—too humiliating even for death to cleanse—he would have chosen to die rather than yield.
Silence stretched. Finally, he lowered his gaze and spoke slowly, his voice heavy with reluctant pride.
"I vow to become a believer. For twenty years, I will not betray the woman before me, nor harm those under her care. That is the term."
He was no fool.
Surrender was only temporary. By setting a deadline, he bought himself the freedom to reclaim his pride when the time came.
Kikyo only smiled faintly, offering no comment. In her heart, she mused: He thinks he's suffering to join us now. But in time… even if he wanted to leave, he would find the chains unbreakable.
What a ridiculous, prideful dog.
Half an hour later, Sesshōmaru, Jaken scurrying at his heels, appeared before Kikyo once more.
"Speak," he said curtly. "What do you want me to do?"
His tone was even, detached. No trace of inferiority colored his words.
Even as a captive, even as a new "believer," Sesshōmaru held himself tall, convinced that respect was owed only to strength.
And right now, Kikyo held the advantage. Nothing more.
Surrender was merely a pause, not an end.
Kikyo did not take offense. She produced a scroll and extended it toward him.
"This is the Eternal Meditation of our doctrine," she explained. "According to our research, all monsters possess great flaws. Miasma may strengthen them in one sense, but have you ever seen a yokai transcend the level of a demon?"
The question froze Sesshōmaru in place.
In all his years, he had never seen it.
In his mind, only one reigned supreme: his father, the Great Dog Demon, Tōga.
Unmatched, invincible—he had embodied the true king.
"Flaws? Explain yourself," Sesshōmaru said at last.
"It is simple," Kikyo continued. "Right now, your body brims with miasma. It props up your demonic power, becoming a second force. Your poison claws, for instance, rely on it. But tell me—did the Dragon Bone Spirit wield miasma? Did your father?"
Sesshōmaru frowned. He recalled his father's battles, fierce and unrelenting, fought with nothing more than fang, claw, and sword.
No… his father had never relied on miasma.
Could it be that miasma is truly a weakness, not a strength?
Perhaps the flaw was not his alone, but the curse of all monsters.
Without another word, Sesshōmaru sat cross-legged and opened the scroll, his sharp gaze scanning the passages of Eternal Meditation.
A great dog moved quickly when he set his mind to it.
As he sank into meditation, black smoke began to leak from his body, curling into the air.
Jaken's eyes bulged. "Young master! The miasma—it's pouring out!"
Xiaofeng, watching nearby, nodded gravely. "Just as Sister Yaya said. The miasma never belonged. It's a flaw of existence."
Kikyo's eyes softened with calculation. "If this is true, then our next step must be to enter the underworld. Otherwise, this world faces calamity."
Xiaofeng bowed. "Yes. After the sacrifices are gathered, we'll make the journey."
An hour passed.
Sesshōmaru opened his eyes, returning from meditation. For the first time in centuries, his body felt… weightless.
As though drifting upon clouds.
His demonic power, however, surged within him like a raging volcano, brimming with life.
The miasma—gone. Every trace burned away.
A rare gleam crossed his eyes. "Is this… the power of God?"
He tried to rise, but his legs buckled, and he collapsed onto his knees.
"Master, are you hurt?!" Jaken panicked.
"Silence," Sesshōmaru barked, mortified. "My legs are merely… unsteady!"
How could a being who had touched divine strength be reduced to weak knees? Impossible!
Yet it took him ten full minutes before he could stand on his own.
When at last he steadied himself, his gaze lingered warily on Kikyo.
She studied him and asked, "How does it feel?"
"…Better than ever," he admitted flatly. "But tell me—by giving me this method, do you not fear I'll betray you?"
For within him, new confidence burned.
He had chosen the Moon's Meditation, attuned to lunar force. It allowed him to negate the powers of the gods of light—and even twist that radiance to his own benefit.
With this… perhaps he could rival Kikyo herself.
Kikyo only smiled, serene as a shrine bell.
"If betrayal tempts you, then try it. You have now glimpsed the power of God. Consider, then, the fate of those who turned against us. The last betrayer was punished in the Ghost Sea—tormented for a thousand years.
It wasn't our doing. Eternal Executors mete out such justice. God loves the world. But for those who spurn grace… unimaginable tortures await. Do you wish to share that fate?"
Beside her, Xiaofeng grinned wickedly like a mischievous imp.
A chill rippled through Sesshōmaru and Jaken both.
Never betray. Never.
Even Sesshōmaru's pride recognized the truth—there were forces even he could not withstand.
Jaken thought bitterly: So much for the twenty-year limit, young master. Betrayal now leads straight to the Ghost Sea.
Sesshōmaru cleared his throat, masking unease. Small sacrifices were acceptable if they brought greater strength.
From there, Kikyo questioned him closely, and through his answers pieced together the flaws of this world.
Souls themselves were incomplete. All living beings bore defects, and yokai most of all.
The later a demon was born, the weaker its potential—and the heavier its burden of miasma.
Only half-demons, untainted by miasma, escaped this curse.
Sesshōmaru's eyes tightened. Was this why his father had sought Princess Izayoi, giving birth to Inuyasha?
It made sense. A stronger heir, untainted by flaws.
Though his pride rebelled, he could not deny the truth: his own miasma weakened him.
"…By the way," he said suddenly, "I heard Tōtōsai works here. I would meet him. There are matters I wish to commission."
"What matters?" Xiaofeng tilted his head.
"A weapon," Sesshōmaru replied. He loosened the Tenseiga at his hip. "This blade serves me no longer. I offer it as a sacrifice."
Another benefit of joining this religion: proximity. Tōtōsai could no longer escape him.
And if Kikyo valued souls above all, then what need had he of a blade that could not kill? Better to offer it up and seize Tessaiga for himself.
"Master, that sword is your father's legacy!" Jaken protested.
"Hmph. A sword that cannot kill is useless to me."
Together, master and servant walked toward Furnace Mountain.
Kikyo, left holding the Tenseiga, examined it with mild surprise. "This blade is extraordinary. I sense the power of the underworld within it. He shouldn't know this, though."
Xiaofeng asked, "So can it be a sacrifice?"
"Yes," Kikyo said softly. "The second offering has been found."
She had intended to gather three sacrifices before returning to Kaede's Village.
Now she had two: the heart of the Dragon Bone Spirit, and the inheritance blade of the Great Dog Demon.
One more… with the Tree of Ages, the trinity would be complete.
Then the true festival could begin.
The Fox Demon World
Since pledging themselves to the gods, the fox clan who walked the path of affection had not lost strength.
They had grown stronger.
At their forefront, Tu Shan Honghong had ascended to the twelfth realm. Her fur shimmered with a noble luster, dreamlike, divine.
Under the rule of the three sisters, dynasties of man had crumbled. A new harmony dawned—no exploitation, no oppression, every soul with food to eat.
Progress slowed without competition, yet compared to those who had not embraced the Eternal Faith, the difference was staggering.
The Dao League had split. Royal descendants and countless soldiers fled to the territory of Aolai Kingdom, creating a world divided.
One realm embraced the Eternal God. One rejected it.
Those who believed enjoyed divine favor. Storms, earthquakes, floods—all disasters were subdued before they could strike.
Those who resisted… floundered.
The Dao League's strength dwindled. Monsters infested their lands unchecked, chaos rampant.
Even Aolai's proud armies, dispatched to suppress rebellion, could not tame the turmoil.
Worse still, Liu Che's meddling had shattered an ancient seal, releasing countless malevolent spirits. Aolai bled troops battling them, leaving none to challenge Tu Shan Honghong's dominion.
Atop the Eternal Temple, voices chattered like gamblers in a market.
"Look, another Hydra crawls from the rift! I'll bet five coins it lasts a day."
"Tch. Last time with the Black-Spotted Bear, you swore it would hold an hour. It barely outlasted a burning incense stick. Keep your mouth shut!"
"Still, a Hydra's no joke. I'll give it some credit."
Their noise rose like a tide, but it could not disturb the three fox sisters.
Tu Shan Honghong sat upon her throne, gaze distant as she watched chaos churn across the lands.
"Why," she murmured, "do they resist the light of our God so fiercely?"
"Selfishness," Tu Shan Rongrong said with scorn. "Aolai clings to its superiority, blind to salvation."
Only Tu Shan Yaya reclined lazily, tail swishing, absorbed in the multiverse chat group.
"Sister, the matter last time is settled," she said absently. "And you were right—souls here are deeply flawed."
Honghong's eyes narrowed. Beyond the mortal veil, the world itself trembled.
The sacrifices gathered. The festival neared.
And the flawed order of heaven and earth hung by a thread.