Boom!
The earth violently fractured. With a hollow, grinding roar, a third shrine erupted from the soil at the southern border of the territory. Yorimitsu's eyes widened as he watched the swirling mass of crimson clouds expand, breaching the defensive perimeter and surging out toward the defenceless countryside beyond.
Within mere moments, the distant, peaceful villages nestled along the valleys were completely engulfed by the stagnant downpour, the blood rain beginning its merciless work on the unsuspecting populace.
"Hehehe... that makes three," Orochi's voice echoed, muffled yet resonant beneath his mask.
As he spoke, the porcelain surface of his mask shifted and warped once more. The physical features began to melt and smooth out entirely, dissolving the defined contours until nothing remained but a smooth, stark-white facade. There was no nose, no mouth, only two sharply curved, smiling eyes that glowed with a predatory mirth.
"His Reiryoku... it has altered yet again," Yorimitsu noted, his grip tightening on his hilt as the heavy air grew even more stagnant.
Leaping high into the crimson storm, he muttered a low, guttural incantation. His blade extended into a long, terrifying arc of steel as a dense wreath of black flame enveloped the edge.
Orochi did not even attempt to evade. He stood perfectly still, watching the descent of the dark blade with those unblinking, smiling eyes.
The strike connected with a deafening crash. A massive explosion erupted from the point of impact, sending violent shockwaves ripping across the terrain, causing the remaining structures to groan, buckle, and collapse into rubble.
"Hmmmmm... is it merely my imagination, or have your movements grown terribly sluggish?" Orochi mused, his tone entirely unamused.
The strike had landed squarely on his shoulder, yet it had left no visible scar, nor a single drop of blood. Instead, Orochi had casually caught the burning edge with his bare hand, the black flames hissing uselessly against his pale skin.
"What is the meaning of this? Has your edge truly lost its age?"
With a sickening display of brute force, Orochi yanked the blade upward, lifting the weapon along with Yorimitsu's entire weight.
"Tch... what an utter disappointment."
Before Yorimitsu could recover his balance, Orochi's free hand thrust forward like a striking viper, his fingers rigid as iron as they drove straight into the commander's chest.
SPLAT.
The smooth, porcelain-skinned arm tore through flesh, bone, and armour with terrifying ease, protruding violently out of Yorimitsu's back in a spray of dark crimson.
Fssssst!
Yorimitsu's impaled body suddenly dissolved, his flesh and armour bursting into a brilliant flurry of flickering blue embers.
Before Orochi could even register the trick, a second Yorimitsu materialised directly beneath his blind spot, lunging upward with savage precision. The commander thrust his black-flame blade straight toward the faceless white porcelain. The steel struck with a harsh, grating shriek, managing to deeply score the mask and leave a jagged scratch across the smooth surface.
"Hmph!"
Orochi grunted, snapping his head backwards to avoid a lethal pierce. Yorimitsu sailed past him through the heavy air, landing seamlessly on the damp earth on the opposite side of the clearing.
"Not a terrible effort. You managed to utilise a dou—" Orochi broke off, glancing downward as a low chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Oh... you truly are a deceptive creature, aren't you?"
Orochi clapped his hands together with a sharp, resonant snap. The moment the sound echoed, the space around them warped, twisting the very layout of the terrain. Down from the dark sky drifted a massive swarm of parchment talismans that Yorimitsu had been subtly creating and planting across the environment throughout the entire duration of their duel.
"To think you were actively weaving an array while trading blows with me," Orochi mused.
But before he could finish dismantling the traps, a third Yorimitsu clone erupted from the shadows directly behind his back. Moving with blinding speed, the duplicate drove another fierce strike across Orochi's face, his blade biting into the exact same spot and deepening the fracture on the porcelain mask.
'Ha?!'
Orochi's smiling, eyeless gaze locked onto Yorimitsu as the clone dissolved back into embers. 'He targeted my mask yet again... Has he already deduced that it serves as the primary conduit for this ritual?'
Orochi's thoughts turned dark as he braced his stance against the shifting earth. 'Following his transformation, his movements have grown entirely too swift. And for some inexplicable reason... the blood coursing through my own veins is hesitating. It is refusing to strike him down with its full ferocity. Just what manner of entity is he...?'
A surge of urgency gripped Orochi's core. 'I cannot afford to play with him any longer. I must force the completion of the final shrine and accelerate my ascension before his edge manages to shatter my focus.'
…
Far on the outer borders of Kitakami village, Bushido approached, moving at a steady pace while remaining seated upon his wooden staff.
"Mmmh... how utterly vile," Bushido mused, his eyes narrowing as he gazed toward the horizon. "Does he truly intend to reduce that entire region into a stagnant wasteland?"
He adjusted his posture, his mind drifting back to old scars. 'Orochi... that ancient monster. I wonder just how much stronger he has grown since the last time we clashed. His martial arts were never anything to boast about, but his Onmyōdō is an entirely different matter. That signature art of his... it completely defies all logic. "Self-Embodiment of Creation"... tch.'
A rare flicker of concern crossed his weathered face. 'I only hope the children manage to hang on to their lives somehow. If the entire next generation is wiped out on that island, it will cause endless complications for our school.'
With a sudden, violent flex of his aura, Bushido shattered a massive boulder blocking his path, turning the stone to dust.
"Hahahahahaha! It has been far too long since my pulse raced like this! Wait for me, you old bastard!"
Forming a single-handed sign, Bushido channelled his energy. His speed increased exponentially, his form dissolving into a jagged blur as he tore toward Kitakami.
But the descent of the crimson rain had already finished its work. Throughout the neighbouring sanctuary villages, absolute madness had broken out. Screams echoed off the hillsides. While a few terrified commoners scrambled to flee, the vast majority had already succumbed to the stagnant moisture, their flesh rewriting itself as they morphed into predatory monsters.
Inside a small, darkened house on the edge of the village, the air was thick with panic.
"Big bro..." Ichiyoshi whispered, his voice trembling as he turned to face Gabimaru. "What is happening out there...? Can you hear those screams?"
"Yeah. Stay low and wait right here. Let me take a look," Gabimaru replied quietly.
Creeping toward the wooden frame, Gabimaru slid the window open just a fraction of an inch. Through the narrow gap, the raw horror of the night bared its teeth. In the middle of the dirt road, grotesque, freshly transformed entities were leaping across the thatched roofs, lunging down onto the fleeing villagers and violently tearing them apart in the dark.