Chapter 26: The Call
Oni Aura was a peculiar branch on the twisted tree of demonic energy.
Countless forms of turbid energy existed between heaven and earth. Beasts that absorbed it developed a cold and feral Beast Aura. Plants that drank it in manifested a deep, heavy Wood Aura. Inanimate objects steeped in it for ages could gain a Weapon Aura—sharp, unyielding, and steeped in the lingering obsessions of their wielders.
And then there was Oni Aura, a special existence born from the fusion of a dead soul's resentment with Yao Qi. It possessed the inherent corruption of demonic energy, the chilling cold of the undead, and the undying obsessions of a human will.
Such an aura was exceedingly rare, even among demons. The resentment of most mortals was simply too weak, dissipating into the ether long before it could ever bond with Yao Qi. Only warriors of exceptional skill, those who carried deep obsessions even in death, had a chance of being reborn as an Oni Samurai.
Yet, Kobe Hikaru's Oni Aura was more special still.
As previously established, the transformations of ordinary demons—even other Oni Samurai—were fueled by absorbing the raw Yao Qi of the world. This so-called demonic energy was, in essence, a vile concoction: a mixture of the grievances of countless living beings, the stench of decay, and a thousand other profane elements. It was the sinking, corrupt counterpart to the pure spiritual energy of nature. Even demons themselves could not wield such a turbid force without consequence. It was like trying to knead dough with muddy water; the final product would always be riddled with impurities.
But Hikaru was different.
Every one of his transformations was achieved by conquering a weapon and integrating its power into his very being. While those weapons were often tainted with Yao Qi, the favorability system purified their essence as he claimed them. His power was dough made with distilled water—clean, firm, and utterly without flaw.
Therefore—
At this moment, as Hikaru unleashed his full power, the Oni Aura that surged from his body was actually denser than the Qualitative Transformation-level Yao Qi of the Kamaitachi.
It was more solid.
It was even sharper.
For a stunning instant, though his reserves of energy were quantitatively far inferior to the demon before him, Hikaru achieved the impossible: he broke through the oppressive, gale-force suppression of the Kamaitachi's wind.
"Awooo!"
A confused hiss escaped the Kamaitachi. It felt the pressure of that Oni Aura, a sensation wholly alien to it. A lower-level demon, one still mired in Physical Transformation, was making it feel threatened?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Within the Kamaitachi's hollow eye sockets, the cyclones of air began to spin faster. The time for testing was over.
"Since that is the case—" its voice was the howl of a rising gale, "—then let me see where your limit truly lies."
The Kamaitachi opened its mouth, and a torrent of gray-white airflow spewed from the depths of its throat. This was no mere wind; it was a storm of blades condensed to their absolute limit. Countless razors of wind, each as fine as a strand of hair, were woven into an airtight net that descended upon Hikaru.
This was the hallmark of a high-level demon at the 'Qualitative Transformation' stage: the extreme compression of its element. Wherever this storm passed, even solid rock would be ground into fine powder.
Hikaru's pupils contracted to pinpricks.
He could see them. Through the blood mist scattered in the air by his [Resonance with Blood], he could clearly perceive the trajectory of every single wind blade.
But seeing them did not mean he could dodge them. The storm was too dense, so tightly woven there were almost no gaps to exploit.
He raised his sword to block. Oni Aura erupted, condensing into a shield of black energy along the length of the blade.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-clang! The sound of a million tiny impacts merged into a single, continuous shriek of metal. The wind blades hammered against his shield, each strike visibly thinning the protective layer of aura.
Hikaru was forced back, his feet carving two deep grooves into the shattered blue bricks of the courtyard.
But he was still holding. He had blocked it.
In the Kamaitachi's eye sockets, the airflow spun with gathering fury. "Interesting," it rasped.
Then, its body began to change. The towering, three-zhang form started to shrink. But Hikaru knew it wasn't truly getting smaller. It was condensing—the core ability of a Qualitative Transformation demon. Density Manipulation.
It was compressing its dispersed mass into a smaller volume. The size decreased, but the weight remained the same. The only things that would change were its speed and power, both of which would skyrocket. Its attacks would become unimaginably sharp.
This was the terror of a Qualitative Transformation demon. They could alter their form at will, switching between overwhelming power and blinding speed in an instant.
The Kamaitachi's body compressed from three zhang down to a single zhang.
Then—it vanished.
It wasn't invisibility. Its speed was simply too great for the naked eye to follow.
Hikaru's [Sharp Eye Transformation] strained to its absolute limit, coordinating with his [Blood Transformation] as he desperately tried to capture the afterimage tearing through the air.
'Left!'
The thought was a flash of instinct. Hikaru threw his blade up horizontally to parry.
CLANG—!
A colossal force slammed into him, a titan's hammer strike that sent him flying sideways into a corridor pillar. Before he could even regain his footing, the sound of rending air screamed from behind him. He lunged forward, a desperate dive that narrowly evaded the strike.
The thick wooden pillar behind him was sliced cleanly in half.
Too fast. Even when he could see it coming, his body couldn't react in time. And he had the sinking feeling that this Kamaitachi was still holding back. The chasm between Qualitative and Physical Transformation was not so easily bridged. Even with his pure Oni Aura, he was only at the peak of the lesser stage.
The Kamaitachi's attacks grew faster and faster. Hikaru could no longer block them all.
A wind blade grazed his arm, and a searing line of pain erupted. The wound was a canyon carved through flesh and muscle, deep enough to reveal the glint of bone beneath. Another grazed his thigh, and blood gushed forth.
Fortunately, [Bloodthirsty Immortality] was already at work, the torn flesh slowly knitting itself back together. But the rate of healing could not keep up with the rate of injury.
Still, he could hold on.
Hikaru was forced into a corner, his back to the main hall. Behind him, Kikyo was pouring every ounce of her spiritual power into suppressing the Magatsuhi. He could not retreat. He would not retreat.
"Is this your limit?" The Kamaitachi's voice dripped with mockery. "I thought you might bring me more surprises, little oni!"
Its body condensed again, shrinking from one zhang down to a mere half-zhang. This meant its next attack would be twice as fast and twice as powerful. An attack Hikaru knew he had no chance of surviving.
"Forget it," the Kamaitachi sighed, a sound like rustling leaves. "Though this has been interesting, it is time to end it."
Its gaze passed over Hikaru, landing on the Shikon Jewel, which hovered in mid-air, shrouded in the multiple layers of Kikyo's sacred seals.
"That jewel—I will have it."
BOOM!
Before the gale even manifested, the venting shockwaves of its power caused the entire shrine—and the very ground beneath it—to tremble.
Hikaru knew he couldn't block this.
But he didn't try to dodge.
He simply opened his mouth.
"Old Locust Tree," he called out, his voice clear and steady.
"Big Rock."
"Water Well."
"Thatched Cottage."
"Hoe."
He was calling their names. The names of the things he had diligently "visited" every single day for the past week.
The Kamaitachi froze for a fraction of a second. Had this little demon finally gone mad? Muttering such nonsense in the face of his own death?
But in the next moment, it knew it was wrong. Terribly, catastrophically wrong.
Because the things he had called… had actually responded.
The ground began to shake violently. At the village entrance, the two-hundred-year-old locust tree, its shadows swaying, began to move against the wind, its branches twisting to obstruct the gale's flow. The massive boulder Hikaru spoke to every day began to roll on its own, positioning itself directly in the Kamaitachi's path of attack.
A great geyser of water erupted from the village well. Timbers from an abandoned thatched cottage flew into the air, shooting out like a barrage of hidden weapons. Even a discarded hoe, lying in a nearby field, stood up, wobbling unsteadily on its handle.
The wind was being stripped away, layer by layer. The Kamaitachi's blinding speed was forcibly slowed. It dodged left and right, evading the bizarre swarm of "enemies" that had suddenly assaulted it from every direction.
But there were too many of them. They were everywhere.
"This is…" For the first time, genuine shock laced the Kamaitachi's voice—a reaction far stronger than when it had witnessed his unusually dense demonic energy. "What is happening!?"
It stared at Hikaru, its mind reeling. It was impossible to understand, impossible to fathom.
The blood-soaked Oni Samurai simply stood his ground, a faint curve hooking the corner of his mouth. Watching the notifications that were now scrolling crazily across the system panel only he could see, he let out a sudden, quiet laugh.
[The Old Locust Tree: Favorability 15. It heard your call and is willing to help you.]
[Big Rock: Favorability 12. It heard your call. Though it was difficult, it still moved.]
[The Water Well: Favorability 18. It heard your call and is very happy to be of service.]
[Abandoned Thatched Cottage: Favorability 12. It heard your call and is doing its best.]
[The Hoe: Favorability 9. It heard your call and is trying hard.]
Looking at the flood of notifications, Hikaru couldn't suppress a wider, more genuine smile.
Yes. This was the fruit of his labor—the result of spending days on end talking to flowers, trees, stones, and wells.
This was his backup plan.
Tonight, it wasn't only Kikyo who had come thoroughly prepared. He had learned of her dangerous gambit from Naohi three days ago and had long since decided to participate.
Naturally, he had made his own preparations in advance.
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