Lancer wouldn't grow a tail, his hair wouldn't turn gold, and he wouldn't raise his hands to form a Spirit Bomb, but he had his own method.
A "Shikigami" is a contract between an Onmyoji and a Youkai. Youkai can strengthen themselves through the Onmyoji, and the Onmyoji can utilize the Youkai to feed back into themselves. Lancer was utilizing this very ability.
Lancer only true "Shikigami" was Yukari Yakumo, but there were many Youkai who had shared a drink with Lancer and made the "Red Oath." Almost at the moment Lancer asked those beside him, his voice rang out in the minds of those Youkai who weren't present.
Almost everyone chose to respond to Lancer "request" immediately. Even some who hadn't agreed at first for other reasons soon consented. None did so for their own sake; some worried about their partners or children, others about their parents, siblings, or tribesmen, but in the end, they all chose to believe in Lancer.
This man, just as he said, didn't discriminate against any Youkai. As long as he promised something, he would fulfill it. Perhaps these weak Youkai usually couldn't help Lancer with much, but at this moment, they chose to believe and help him, no matter how "insignificant" that help might be.
Auras of all colors began to gather behind Lancer. The complex and chaotic atmosphere was noticed even by the Youkai standing beside him. They directly discovered the existence of their own demonic power (Yoki); only then did they realize the drain on their Yoki wasn't a hallucination.
"Lancer, are you mad?"
Yukari realized what he intended to do almost as soon as he acted. But precisely because she knew, she couldn't help wanting to stop him.
Power enhancement isn't as simple as 1+1; it's more like a jigsaw puzzle.
Through constant familiarity and cooperation, everyone grinds down their sharp edges for a perfect fit, finally integrating all power. In the process, some power is lost to the "grinding," but it's a necessary loss.
What Lancer was doing now was like stuffing all hazardous materials (power) directly into a bag (his own body). One could easily foresee these things rubbing together until the bag simply exploded.
"Don't worry, at least for now, I'm not mad yet."
Though Lancer had thought of a solution, even downloading a game requires a progress bar. Internet speed only represents download time, but the process of the progress bar cannot be skipped.
Though it was all Yoki, its manifestation differed by race. The Kappa's was like water, the Oni's like needles with sharp edges. The only thing that puzzled Lancer was that Yukari Yoki was very "pure"—so pure it didn't feel like Yoki to him.
But these were minor matters. What he needed to do now was something else—
The Yoki used him as a transfer station, constantly being injected into the spear in his right hand. The originally blood-colored spear turned pitch black under the mixture of various energies.
Lancer had seen enough of Eirin terror. Even the prelude to her attack had nearly made the moon lose its light. He could imagine the destructive power of this strike, so it wasn't enough!!
Thus, it didn't end there. Almost as Yoki was injected into Lancer body, countless phantoms of Youkai surged from him and were forcibly crammed into the spear.
These phantoms were Youkai Lancer had killed. Normally they were his strength, but now they were more simply acting as "fuel" to ignite everything.
A massive amount of complex Yoki, his own long-accumulated blood vitality, and the Youkai resentment forcibly injected into the spear...
All the power continuously appeared behind Lancer, then surged into his body. His expression went from serious to increasingly distorted, yet he had no intention of giving up.
"Secret Technique: Night Parade of a Hundred Demons"
When the energy in the spear reached its limit, Lancer increasingly distorted face finally showed a look of relief.
His body coiled slightly, the muscles in his right arm bulging. The veins in his right hand gripping the spear were clearly visible. As Lancer began to move, static transformed into dynamic in an instant. The spear he held shot forward along his motion.
The spear, now almost completely black, hadn't even let out a sonic boom before a ring-shaped halo appeared behind it. When everyone saw it again, it had already reached Eirin. Undoubtedly, its speed had surpassed the speed of sound.
Eirin hadn't expected Lancer to choose a preemptive strike, but she immediately moved the magic circles around her to block the attack. But even the magic circles she made with all her power seemed to lose their meaning before this terrifying strike. No one even saw what happened before it was instantly pierced.
The pierced magic circle didn't show cracks; it was as if the spear was supposed to appear in its center. Then it collapsed, turning into basic mana...
Eirin hadn't expected Lancer strike to have such a terrifying effect. Her own attack hadn't reached its limit, but sensing the terrifying power in this strike, she had to release her bowstring early.
Whirr~
Accompanied by the light vibration of the bowstring, an arrow as beautiful as moonlight finally shot toward its target.
The moonlight-pure arrow and the chaotic yet integrated spear crossed in the air, heading for their respective targets without interference.
Bang!!!
With a massive roar, Lancer, who had been coiled, was pinned directly into the ground. But feeling the pain in his shoulder blade, he couldn't help but laugh out loud. That arrow's original target was his throat. He had survived only because he was prepared from the start.
But what made him laugh even more was that Eirin, who had been standing high in the night sky, was now falling straight down like a downed eagle...
Unlike Lancer, who had lost nearly all ability to resist and couldn't even pull the arrow from his shoulder blade, Eirin face was filled with pain. She tried to force herself to stand as she approached the ground, but her expression changed and she bent over again. The black spear in her kidney area was bone-chilling. Almost at the same time, she buckled and fell forward, only avoiding total embarrassment by propping herself up with the hand that wasn't clutching her wound.
Both combatants looked more wretched than the other...
There was no winner in this battle.