Raiden watched the Little Ice Man stand before him in silence. At his subtle command, it attempted to use Transparent World.
Air swirled around the ice construct, forming a faint vortex. Its body glowed from within, ice crystals shining with a cold, white luminescence. Points of light multiplied, and the Little Ice Man soon looked like a lantern filled with inner radiance.
But the brilliance was short-lived. As the energy focused, the ice crystals strained against their limits, tiny cracks spreading rapidly across its surface. The smooth, perfect form fractured, the white glow flickering into dull gray. Its structure began collapsing inward, until finally, a faint cracking sound echoed and the Little Ice Man shattered. Shards of ice fell like diamonds, leaving only a faint crystalline residue.
"It won't work?" Raiden murmured. Then he shook his head, realizing that if even a clone couldn't wield Transparent World, the skill wasn't meant to be trivial.
"Then, Compass Needle," he muttered, reforming the Little Ice Man.
This time, the construct simulated his movements flawlessly. A hexagrammatic formation appeared beneath its feet as it swung an invisible Nichirin blade. The air seemed sliced with precision, the faint sounds revealing the success of Blood Demon Art: Destructive Kill - Compass. Though lacking Raiden's full strength, the technique's accuracy was remarkably close to the original.
Raiden nodded, satisfied. One Little Ice Man wielding Compass Needle could already rival a Pillar-level combatant. It was a clear boost to his power.
The next day, Zenitsu's hands still tingled from hours of Shamisen practice. He prepared to rest, muttering to himself.
"What am I doing? I'm here on a mission, not to play the Shamisen. And I haven't heard a thing about Tsuruhina-san…"
Suddenly, his ears twitched. A soft cry carried from down the corridor.
"A girl crying? Over there!" Zenitsu rushed toward the sound, forgetting Raiden's warning not to act alone.
He turned two corners and stopped at a door in a shadowed hallway. Peering inside, he saw a small girl with her hair in a bun, her face hidden, softly sobbing.
"You… what's wrong? Did someone hurt you?" Zenitsu asked, stepping forward to comfort her.
The girl didn't respond, head still bowed.
Zenitsu reached out and patted her back. "It's okay, don't—bang—"
A chill shot down his spine.
"What are you doing in someone else's room?"
The icy voice behind him was like a blade scraping skin. Zenitsu's throat tightened, sweat dripping down his face.
He realized the presence wasn't human. Silent, imperceptible, terrifying. Could this be an Upper Moon demon?
Memories of Akaza, Upper Moon Three, flashed in his mind. Though the sound wasn't as piercing, it carried a similar weight.
Daki's amber eyes narrowed. "Hey, are you deaf?"
Two trembling girls at the door tried to explain, "Daki Oiran, that person just arrived two days ago…"
"So what?" Daki interrupted, glaring.
The girls' legs wobbled, fear overtaking them.
"I'm sorry, I came in without permission. I saw the room was messy, and she was crying…" Zenitsu stepped in, trying to explain.
Before he could finish, Daki spoke again, her voice cold and cutting.
"You really are an ugly freak, disgusting. You might as well die sooner. And what's with your hair? Are you showing off?"
Zenitsu froze. Her words weren't exaggeration—they were truth from her perspective.
"Indeed, the room is still messy," Daki continued, approaching the crying girl. She twisted the girl's ear sharply, blood seeping out.
"Stop making noise. What are you yelling about? Hurry up and clean."
"I'm sorry, I'll clean it now, please spare me," the girl cried.
Zenitsu's face darkened at the cruelty. He stood and grabbed Daki's wrist.
"What?"
Daki glanced down, then at Zenitsu, her expression turning cold.
"Let go!" Zenitsu demanded.
"Let go?" Daki's eyes glinted with disdain, her voice icy.
The room fell into tense silence. Zenitsu's resolve hardened. He wouldn't allow this demon to harm the helpless child.
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