The city's neon lights flickered, barely cutting through the thick, unnatural mist that rose from the streets. Shadows seemed to breathe, coiling between alleys, twisting around corners, and pressing against windows like invisible hands. Those who could see them felt an oppressive weight—a suffocating presence that blurred lines between life and death.
Yutsumi walked alongside Yuka and Tsurugi, every step measured. His cursed energy hummed softly, analyzing patterns in the chaos. Even in the midst of terror, Adaptive Perfect Copy worked: observing, adjusting, preparing.
"Why does it feel like Tokyo itself is… wrong?" Yuka whispered, voice barely audible over the distant screams and the whispering of spirits.
Tsurugi's sword was drawn, tip glinting in the unnatural light. "Because it is. This isn't a normal cursed outbreak. It's a confluence. Spirits, Mul residue, Simurian resonance… it's all colliding."
Yutsumi nodded silently. He could feel the layered threads of energy—the cursed, the alien, the human—and they were all tangled together in a chaotic rhythm. Each pulse, each fluctuation, demanded adaptation, testing him in ways that even his grandfather's techniques had never prepared him for.
Maru hovered above a damaged street, scanning. His third eye remained closed but alert. The city had been sealed partially, but cursed energy still leaked through gaps, walls, and doors. Every structure vibrated faintly, responding to the density of spirits inside.
"This," Maru said quietly, "is the Inhuman Makyo. Tokyo is a sacred site for Kalyans—the Simurian spiritual equivalents of curses. Humans have always misinterpreted them, calling them spirits or curses, when in fact, they are sacred guardians."
Yuka's eyes narrowed. "So humans… we've been lying to ourselves all this time?"
Maru nodded. "The government concealed it. They claimed curses manifested only here, localized, manageable. But the truth is… this city is alive with sacred energy. The Kalyans are restless. And now, because of Mul interference, they are violent."
A low growl echoed from a nearby alley. Shadows writhed unnaturally. Yutsumi instinctively raised his hands, cursed energy flowing in patterns that mirrored the movements of the spirits. He didn't attack immediately—he observed, learned, adapted.
One spirit lunged—a towering, blackened humanoid with multiple faces that screamed silently. Yutsumi's energy flared, analyzing the attack, adjusting his stance, and countering with a precise energy pulse. The spirit recoiled, not destroyed, but stabilized, as if acknowledging his control.
"Perfect," Tsurugi muttered, watching his brother's adaptation in awe.
Yuka's cursed energy surged toward him instinctively. "Careful, Yutsumi! Don't overextend!"
"I'm fine," he said calmly, though a spark of tension ran through his veins. "I can feel its intention. I just need to align with it, not against it."
Maru's gaze flicked toward him. "Good. That's how you interact with Kalyans. Force doesn't work. You must synchronize, understand, and guide."
Suddenly, a surge of energy rippled through the city like a shockwave. Windows shattered, lights flickered, and the air thickened. Yutsumi staggered slightly, his adaptation straining.
Tsurugi cursed under his breath. "What now?"
Maru's eyes darkened. "That… is human panic. The Kalyans respond to intent. Fear amplifies chaos. And now, humans are accelerating the instability."
Yuka gritted her teeth. "So the city itself is fighting us because humans are scared?"
"In part," Maru admitted. "And in part because Mul residue reacts unpredictably with cursed energy. It's a volatile mixture."
Yutsumi clenched his fists, focusing. Adaptive Perfect Copy began to work at a higher level—not just copying or understanding energy flows, but preempting them, adjusting his stance and cursed energy in anticipation of violent fluctuations.
A group of spirits surged toward a collapsed building. Yuka wanted to run, but Yutsumi's hand shot out, creating a faint energy dome that redirected the spirits' movement. They didn't vanish—they were merely guided, calmed.
"This is… incredible," Tsurugi muttered. "He's not fighting them. He's controlling them."
Yuka glanced at her younger brother, awe and protective concern mixing in her expression. "Yutsumi… don't push too hard."
He gave her a faint smile. "I'm listening."
Maru's voice carried across the street. "Humans think they control cursed spirits. They do not. They can suppress, exorcise, or ignore. But to truly survive the Makyo… one must understand, not destroy."
Suddenly, an explosion of energy erupted near the center of the city. A massive Kalyan, larger than any spirit they had faced, emerged from the ground, its form shifting between beast and humanoid, glowing with golden Mul-infused energy.
Yutsumi's eyes widened. This was the first time he had faced a Kalyan at full power. Adaptive Perfect Copy surged, analyzing every pulse, every motion, every intention—but the scale was overwhelming.
"Yutsumi!" Yuka shouted. "Focus on me!"
He exhaled sharply, letting her presence anchor him. Slowly, he synchronized his energy with the Kalyan's, not copying, but aligning. The creature paused, confused by the unexpected harmony, and for a moment, the city held its breath.
Maru nodded. "This… is remarkable. He's not just adapting. He's integrating. But even this will be tested."
From the shadows, a faint laughter echoed. Mahito.
"Ah… a new player," he whispered. "Adaptive, cautious, connected. Let's see how long that lasts."
Yuka tightened her grip on Yutsumi's arm. "No matter what, we're together," she whispered fiercely.
He nodded, eyes fixed on the Kalyan, ready to navigate the chaos.
Tokyo trembled. The sacred and the cursed, the human and the Simurian, and the unknown beyond—all converged in the Inhuman Makyo.
And somewhere in the distance, the first threads of war began to stir.