— — — — — —
The morning sun rose. A new day began over the crumbling ruins of a once-proud city.
Among the shattered walls and broken streets, only one building still stood mostly intact—the city lord's mansion at its center. Well... calling it "intact" was being generous.
"Good Morning, World."
A young man stepped out of the main hall. His long black hair fell loosely down his back, his bright eyes sharp and focused. It was obvious his style had been shaped by reading too much about Cheon Ma. His name is Kira Kuroda.
"Sigh~ The grind don't stop."
Dressed in light training clothes, Kira walked to the edge of what had once been a pond—now dry and cracked—set his stance, and began his morning practice.
Each punch and movement looked slow, yet every motion carried a coiled strength that could shatter stone. No need to guess—if that punch hit an ordinary man, it'd turn his insides to paste.
Half an hour later, Kira exhaled slowly. A violent gust burst from his mouth, warping the air in front of him.
⌠⟦White • Basic Fist Style: Lv8⟧⌡
"Been practicing since I was three," Kira murmured. "Fifteen years later, my Fist Style is at level eight."
He frowned. "But I've been stuck at this level for almost a year now. Who knows when I'll finally upgrade it... sigh~"
He straightened, tilting his head to look up at the bright blue sky. "Hard to believe it's been eighteen years since I got reborn into this world."
Eighteen years ago, Kira had just graduated college on Earth. The day he received his diploma, an old man who claimed to be a fortune-teller stopped him and said he was about to experience great luck.
Kira just sneered and walked away. Having seen many movies and scam stories, he could smell the scam.
But it turns out, that "great luck wasn't baseless." The Next day, Kira was hit by Truck-kun and sent into another world—a world crawling with ghosts, spirits, and yokai.
As for the rest? The usual transmigrator starter pack: parents dead, alone since day one.
The only thing special was the "ability" he got. Hard to say if it was a real system, but it acted like one. At least it could be called his cheat.
He could acquire traits that represented everything he learned or mastered.
And once he acquired a trait, he could keep leveling it up just by training.
Work hard, get strong. Simple as that.
⌠⟦White • Basic Fist Style: Lv8⟧⌡
⌠⟦White • Basic Kick Style: Lv7⟧⌡
⌠⟦White • Basic Blade Style: Lv6⟧⌡
⌠⟦White • Basic Sword Style: Lv7⟧⌡
⌠⟦...…⟧⌡
⌠⟦Purple • Spirit Power: Lv4⟧⌡
Kira scanned the long list of white traits.
From martial arts to weapon techniques—fist, sword, blade, staff—he'd learned everything he could get his hands on.
Kira had wanted to fuse his techniques—after all, his time and energy were limited, and focusing on them one by one was inefficient. But no matter how hard he tried, it just wouldn't work. Even skills that were practically the same thing, like Blade and Sword, refused to merge. He was honestly speechless.
As for "Spirit Power," he hadn't learned any onmyoji spells, but he'd trained the basics to a decent level.
And then there was—
⌠⟦Purple • Yokai Energy: Lv4⟧⌡
That's right.
A human who could wield Yokai energy.
Ridiculous, right? But that was just how his trait system worked—if he saw something, experienced it, or tried it, he could somehow understand it.
"Still… this cheat of mine really needs a manual," he muttered. "From what I've tested, the max level should be nine. But that last step… damn, it's hard."
He'd studied his "system" for years. There were levels—Lv1 through Lv9—and each trait had a color rank.
White, green, blue, purple.
And that ranking was made by him as the highest trait he'd seen was purple-level traits—his Spirit Power and Yokai Energy.
No sign of anything higher yet.
"Kira, breakfast is ready."
A gentle, soothing voice floated out from the mansion.
"I'm coming, Auntie," Kira called back, shaking off his thoughts as he walked toward the house.
After years of testing and analyzing his powers, these musings had become part of his daily routine.
The mansion, though better off than the ruined city outside, was still mostly abandoned. Only the main hall had been renovated—two bedrooms, a small living area, a kitchen, and a bath.
It wasn't much, but it was home.
Inside, a tall woman with long black hair stood by the table, setting down dishes one by one. A few loose strands brushed her cheeks. She wore a black skirt beneath a kimono top, white socks and wooden sandals on her feet, and a sheer silk shawl draped lightly over her shoulders.
The soft warmth in her expression made her beauty almost maternal.
"Kira, you're back," she said, turning with a smile. A faint golden mark gleamed on her forehead, perfectly accentuating her stunning features.
"Auntie," Kira greeted, taking a seat.
"Sit tight, the soup's almost ready," she said with a graceful nod before returning to the kitchen.
Kira couldn't help but smile. "Auntie, you really don't have to go through so much trouble."
"You're still growing, and with how much you train every day, this is the least I can do," came her soft reply from the kitchen.
He said nothing more. After all, she'd been looking after him for eighteen years—he was long used to her care. He saw her as his mommy.
The truth was, this ruined city technically belonged to him—or rather, it was his inheritance.
In this world of monsters and spirits, the powerful built cities and ruled them as lords. Everything within their walls was their personal domain.
When Kira had been reborn into this world, his "cheap" parents had died soon after his birth, leaving the city to him.
And his "Auntie"?
Her name was Matsuyoi—though she wasn't related by blood. She was a powerful Yokai, a Ubume, and it was only thanks to her protection that Kira had survived long enough to grow strong.
[Matsuyoi's Image]
The moment he'd heard her name, Kira realized what kind of world he was in. Onmyoji.
Then he thought back to all the names he'd heard—"Nurarihyon," "Western Lands," "Yokai Sage"—a chaotic pile of terms spinning in his head. It felt like someone had dumped every anime and game setting into a blender.
Yeah… this world was basically a mashup of Onmyoji, Touhou Project, Inuyasha, and Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan—pure chaos.
As for why Matsuyoi treated him like family—protecting him, raising him, cherishing him like her own son—he'd asked once.
And she hadn't answered.
"Kira, the soup's ready," Matsuyoi called, emerging from the kitchen with a steaming clay pot. Her golden eyes glowed with warmth, her gentle smile filled with affection so deep that, for a moment, the whole world seemed to vanish—leaving only him in her gaze.
.
.
.