War.
Shinji frowned. He was already more than familiar with this sight.
Three months ago, when he first crossed over to this world, he'd woken up in a sea of corpses.
Back then, he was a freshly dead demon warrior, but essentially just a modern person who'd just crossed over. The scene had been deeply unsettling.
Now, he just frowned.
Kikyō's reaction was stronger.
Though she walked through this chaotic world, as a shrine maiden, Kikyō mostly dealt with demons. She was too strong, disasters tended to avoid her.
She had seen war, but never a slaughtered village.
This was her first time witnessing such a scene.
Such an image.
"Let's go," she said. Her voice was soft, but firm. "We should see."
She sensed an overwhelming resentment.
They quickened their pace.
The further they walked, the stronger the smell of blood.
Not the scent of one or two people's blood. This was the death of hundreds, thousands.
At the end of the mountain path, the open plain revealed itself fully before them.
Shinji paused.
Kikyō stopped too.
They stood side by side on the hillside, looking down at everything below.
It was a hell.
A true, living hell.
The fields were no longer fields.
The land that should have been planted with crops was soaked in blood. The earth had turned into red mud.
Corpses lay everywhere.
Everywhere.
Peasants in ragged clothes. Farmers still holding hoes. Women with terror on their faces.
And children.
Very young children.
Some cut in half. Some trampled into pulp. Some left with only half a body, still hanging on the edge of a rice paddy.
Shinji looked at all this, his expression unchanged.
But Kikyō's breathing was noticeably quicker.
"Who did this?" Kikyō's voice was cold. Frighteningly cold.
Shinji didn't answer. Because he already saw the answer.
The further they walked, the more bodies.
Different causes of death, all equally gruesome.
Shinji didn't stop. He walked through the blood pools, stepped over the severed limbs, kept moving forward.
Until he reached the center of this wasteland of hell.
There were still living people.
No, still fighting.
An army in armor was fighting another group.
Only seven people, but they were pushing back the army of hundreds.
Shinji's eyes narrowed.
Seven people.
Each with an unusual presence.
Leading them was a young man carrying a massive greatsword, two jō long, radiating a ferocious aura.
Behind him, six figures.
A giant, mountainous in build, swinging a meteor hammer, crushing several men with each blow.
A strange figure wrapped in steel, mechanisms on his body constantly shooting hidden weapons.
A man with delicate, womanly features, wielding a peculiar long sword. The blade could bend and extend like a snake, each sweep taking a dozen heads.
A short, stunted man, surrounded by green poison mist. Soldiers who got near him collapsed.
A bald man who looked like a monk, spewing flames from his mouth, burning enemies to charcoal.
A man dressed as a doctor, with sharp claws on his hands, tearing through enemy armor with each swing.
Seven people.
Seven death-dealing figures.
They moved freely through the army, like they were walking on empty ground.
Shinji's eyes shifted.
He recognized them.
Recognized these seven—
"The Shichinintai." He murmured the name.
Kikyō turned to look at him. "You know them?"
"Heard of them." Shinji's voice was calm, but inside, waves stirred.
The Shichinintai.
From the original story of Inuyasha.
A band of seven mercenaries active in the chaotic Warring States era. Known for their cruelty.
They killed indiscriminately men, women, children. Anything for money.
It was said they had once slaughtered an entire castle town.
Later, they were all killed in a trap set by some lord.
But in the original story, they were resurrected by Naraku using Shikon shards, becoming his servants.
Only this shouldn't be that time yet.
The original story's events wouldn't start for another fifty years.
So these seven… should still be alive.
Not yet killed. Not yet resurrected. Theoretically, not as powerful as they would later become with the Shikon shards.
But still, they were definitely at the peak of ordinary human physical ability.
"Who are they?" Kikyō asked.
"Mercenaries," Shinji answered briefly. "Seven of them. Called themselves the Shichinintai."
"Said to be the most brutal band of mercenaries in the Kantō region. Murder, arson, they'll do anything for money."
Kikyō's gaze turned cold. "They did this?" She gestured at the surrounding corpses.
Shinji shook his head. "Not sure."
He looked at the battlefield.
The Shichinintai was slaughtering an army, not civilians.
And these civilian corpses around them…
"Could be one side or the other in this conflict. Could be the Shichinintai."
Kikyō was silent.
She looked at the battlefield, at the soldiers dying under the Shichinintai's blades, her brow furrowed deeper.
War.
This was war.
No right or wrong. Only killing.
No justice. Only death.
…
The Shichinintai's slaughter continued. The army of hundreds was down to a few dozen.
They tried to flee, but found their escape blocked.
"What's the rush?" The young man carrying the massive greatsword, Bankotsu, leader of the Shichinintai grinned.
That smile on the battlefield was especially jarring.
"You're here now, so stay." He swung his greatsword.
That massive blade, named Banryū, cut through the air, bringing a gust of bloody wind.
Thud
Another dozen heads hit the ground.
"Big brother! I'm done over here!" The delicate-featured man, Jakotsu, sheathed his curving long sword and called to Bankotsu.
"Me too." The steel-clad Ginkotsu said in a mechanical voice.
"Hee hee… poison's done too." The short, stunted Mukotsu emerged from the poison mist, licking his lips.
"All the deserving ones are dead." The flame-spitting Renkotsu dusted off his hands.
"Phew…" The massive Kyōkotsu yawned, slinging his meteor hammer over his shoulder.
"The doctor doesn't need to do anything." The clawed Suikotsu stood to the side, his expression calm, even with a hint of eerie gentleness.
They had slaughtered an army. Seven people had killed a force dozens of times their size.
Time taken less than fifteen minutes.
Shinji watched this scene, not at all surprised.
This was the Shichinintai.
This was the most brutal mercenary group of this era.
Their strength… Bankotsu was probably equivalent to a Sixth Change demon. And without any spiritual power just raw physical ability.
Among humans, that was almost unheard of.
The other six varied, but aside from the poison-user, the weakest was Third Change.
Seven of them together, without anything specifically targeting or restraining them, could definitely sweep aside most human forces.
"What now?" Kikyō asked.
Shinji didn't answer immediately.
He just watched the seven figures, watched them laughing among the corpses.
Then
He heard their conversation.