[ 2 Years Later ]
In front of a small, shabby Buddhist altar where the acrid smoke of incense drifted up.
I, now fourteen years old, quietly pressed my hands together in prayer.
"...."
Two years.
It was a time that could be considered long or short. My features had grown sharper in proportion to my height, and the eyes reflected in the mirror held a deep sense of fatigue and killing intent, etched there by crossing the line between life and death dozens of times.
I slowly lowered my hands and murmured.
"I'm heading to the Zenin Clan now."
Those arrogant bloodline-purists who abandoned both me and the father of this body.
Tearing them all to pieces and serving them on an ancestral offering table... would be a bit of an overkill. Besides, I don't quite have the power to pull off that level of carnage just yet.
"However, I intend to squeeze out the minimum treatment and alimony I rightfully deserve."
I put on a worn coat lying on the floor and let out a cold smile.
It was time to collect the debt.
CRASH—!
Inside the massive main assembly hall of the Zenin Clan estate, located on the outskirts of Kyoto.
In the seat of honor within the tatami room, which reeked of centuries of stale tradition, the current head, Naobito Zenin, sat in a haughty posture, tilting his sake cup. To his left and right, the high-ranking male elders of the Zenin Clan, including Ougi and Jinichi, stood in a row with grim expressions.
Three steps behind the seats of honor, in the shadows, their wives and retainers knelt with bated breath. It was a scene of suffocatingly archaic and disgusting hierarchy.
Suddenly, the heavy sliding doors of the hall burst open as if they were being shattered, tearing through the solemn atmosphere.
"H-Head of the Clan!! An intruder is... Gack!"
A servant, his face beaten into a bloody pulp, screamed as he was sent sprawling into the center of the room.
And behind him, stepping over the dusty threshold, an uninvited guest casually walked in. He was holding a collapsed gatekeeper by the scruff of his neck with one hand.
"The beggar's back, he didn't die~♪ He's back again to ask for more~♪"
A hum that was incredibly frivolous. Humming a mocking beggar's tune, I tossed the gatekeeper I was holding in front of the elders like a piece of trash.
"...!!"
"Who goes there!!"
The first to react was the mountain-sized enforcer, Jinichi. He shouted, his face twisted into a menacing scowl as he radiated bloodlust.
"Where do you think you're stepping foot! State your name this instant!"
I picked at my ear and answered nonchalantly.
"Kuroda Hachiro."
At that unfamiliar name, one of Naobito's eyebrows twitched. He looked as if he had never heard it before. I smirked and pointed a finger at a middle-aged man sitting in a corner of the high seats.
"That old fart sitting over there might know my name, though. Isn't that right, Ougi?"
"...You, those eyes... No way."
Ougi's pupils dilated slightly.
Naobito clicked his tongue and asked me.
"I don't know who you are, but you're a fearless one. What is it you want, breaking into the Zenin main house?"
"What I want? Nothing much."
I cracked my neck from side to side, making a satisfying popping sound.
"I've just come to collect what I should have received in the first place. Oh! And with a hefty amount of interest added, of course."
"...Low-born trash, how dare you!"
SHING—!
It was even before Naobito could open his mouth. Ougi's anger had passed its breaking point.
Still sitting, he drew the katana at his waist. It was a high-speed quick-draw technique that was hard to follow even with the eyes. A slash imbued with sharp Cursed Energy tore through the air, surging toward my waist.
SLICE—!
The blade flew with the intent to bisect me in a single stroke. A red line was drawn across my waist, and blood splattered violently.
"Hmph. A brat who doesn't know his place."
Ougi snorted, flicking the blood off his blade to sheath it when...
"...Urgh, that actually hurt, you old geezer."
"...W-What?!"
I, who should have had my waist cut in half with my guts spilling out, was standing perfectly fine in the same spot, rubbing the wound. A misty aura rose from the severed surface of my waist, and in an instant, new flesh sprouted, knitting back together without leaving even a scar.
A heavy silence descended upon the assembly hall.
Soon, a murmur of shock erupted from the elders.
"R-Reverse Cursed Technique at that age?!"
"No! He repaired himself the moment he was hit. Is he someone who possesses healing as an Innate Technique?!"
Even Naobito, who had looked at me like a bug until a moment ago, sharpened his gaze. It was at the exact moment they were spiraling into confusion over the nature of my healing ability.
CLICK—!
The wheel floating in the air above my head—the Dharma Wheel—made a chilling metallic sound as it completed one full rotation.
It was the signal that it had completed its adaptation to the numerous skirmishes I faced while breaking into the Zenin main hall, as well as the accumulated attacks and the concept of combat itself during that process.
"...W-What on earth is that grotesque wheel?"
"Is it a Cursed Spirit? No, a Shikigami...?"
The flustered Ougi and Jinichi muttered while taking a defensive stance.
At their stupid reaction, I burst into a cynical laugh and sneered at them.
"Haha, this is truly absurd. Don't you guys study history? You're supposed to be the core of the Zenin Clan, and you can't even recognize the final destination of your own Inherited Technique?"
With my hands shoved into my pockets, I slowly walked toward the frozen elders.
"...No way, that disgusting wheel is!"
The one who broke the silence was an old elder with age spots on his face, sitting at the edge of the high seats. His wrinkled lips trembled convulsively as he gasped out a hoarse voice in disbelief.
"A... A... Are you talking about the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General?!"
"Yatsuka-no-Tsurugi...? Elder, what are you talking about! Are you saying this brat is using the Ten Shadows Technique's... Mahoraga?!"
Triggered by Ougi's vein-popping shout, the massive assembly hall instantly descended into panic.
'Mahoraga.' The symbol of calamity that not a single clan head in the history of the Zenin Clan had ever tamed, and which had even driven a head of the Gojo family to death.
That legendary Dharma Wheel was now casually spinning above the head of some nameless fourteen-year-old punk.
"Impossible! Kill him now! He's a monster that stole the Zenin bloodline!"
"Save me! Argh!"
Arrogant high-rankers like Jinichi gripped their weapons while radiating sinister bloodlust, while the servants and retainers prostrate behind the high seats crawled on the floor, screaming in terror. It was a chaotic mess, showing none of the dignity expected from a centuries-old prestigious family.
Only one person.
The current head, Naobito Zenin, remained sitting upright, sipping sake from his gourd while staring at my Dharma Wheel with interest.
"Sigh..."
Watching the noisy ruckus, I let out an exaggerated sigh.
"It's impossible to have a conversation like this. Isn't that right, old man?"
With a faint, acerbic smile, I slowly brought my hands together in front of my chest.
The moment I formed the mudra—my left hand's index finger extended and my right hand wrapping around it—the vast Cursed Energy I had been suppressing within me began to boil and explode upward.
The empty sketchbook I had felt so acutely in the subway's Innate Domain two years ago.
On that thin canvas of the Simple Domain, I had layered paint over the past two years while crossing the border of life and death.
"Domain Expansion."
A cold incantation flowed from my lips.
" ■ □ ■ □. "
RUMBLE—!!
In an instant, the entire massive assembly hall of the Zenin Clan was submerged into pitch-black darkness.
An overwhelming expansion of Cursed Energy that distorted the very concept of space.
"Aaaargh! It-It's a Domain!"
"The barrier is closing!"
The moment Ougi and Jinichi screamed and drew upon their Cursed Energy, the barrier of my Domain began to execute an incredibly precise 'condition.'
Like a massive wave filtering out impurities, the powerless servants and the female retainers inside the hall were safely pushed outside the barrier as if by a transparent membrane.
Leaving behind only the strongest and most responsible core figures of this nauseating family.
Whir—!
Soon, the barrier closed completely, and my mental landscape perfectly devoured the reality of the assembly hall.
In the center of this newly unfurled, bizarre, and overwhelming domain.
Centered around me, only five people remained, crushed by the suffocating pressure.
Naobito Zenin, still holding his sake bottle; Ougi, clutching his katana's hilt while breaking into a cold sweat; Jinichi, growling like a beast; the old elder, whose jaw was practically hanging open in shock; and a man in a suit cowering in a corner, trembling like a leaf (the Zenin Clan's exclusive attorney, Lawyer Furudate).
I took in each of their faces, frozen in panic, and tilted the Dharma Wheel above my head.
"Alright."
I snapped my fingers at the highest-ranking members of the Zenin Clan and spoke.
"Now that the noise is cleared out, let's try negotiating again."