The instant Kobe Hikaru charged into the yokai horde, he regretted it.
Not that he regretted taking action.
He regretted not counting them properly first.
Three or four hundred?
Bullshit.
There had to be at least five hundred!
Gray-green figures flooded the mountains and fields, swallowing him in an instant.
All kinds of shrieks, roars, and howls crashed together, nearly blasting through his eardrums.
Foul demonic energy rushed into his face.
It was so thick it almost felt solid, making even an oni samurai who did not need to breathe feel nauseous.
A bird-headed yokai was the first to pounce, its sharp claws aiming straight for his face at shocking speed.
Hikaru turned sideways to dodge, and Muramasa swept across with the motion.
The blade passed through the bird-headed yokai’s neck without the slightest resistance.
With a wet pop, the bird head flew off, spinning through the air as blood sprayed in an arc.
The headless body rushed forward two more steps before collapsing with a heavy thud.
[Demon Blade Muramasa: Affection +1.]
There was no time to look at the panel.
Three snake-bodied yokai surged in from the left.
Their lower halves were tangled serpent tails, while their upper bodies were scaly humanoid torsos.
Their jaws opened wide as they lunged at him.
On the right, two blue-skinned oni raised bone clubs and smashed them down.
The clubs were still smeared with someone’s blood and flesh.
Hikaru tapped one foot against the ground and leaped high into the air, avoiding the coiling snake bodies.
His blade drew an arc in midair.
Kesagiri.
The heads of the two blue-skinned oni hit the ground at the same time, landing in the grass with dull thuds.
Before Hikaru could even land, demonic energy closed in from behind.
His body twisted in midair.
For a living person, the movement would have been almost impossible, but the body of an oni samurai was not bound by common sense.
His waist and abdomen turned sharply, and the tip of his blade stabbed backward.
A centipede yokai trying to ambush him was pierced through the throat.
Its body, covered in dozens of legs, writhed and twitched on the blade as it let out an ear-piercing scream.
Hikaru flicked his sword and sent the centipede yokai flying, smashing it into several small fry that had rushed in behind it.
‘Four.’
He counted silently, stepping onto a yokai corpse for momentum before charging toward the old man again.
Muramasa’s temper line had already begun turning from blood-red to purple.
It was excited.
Extremely excited.
Every kill let it devour blood, and every mouthful it swallowed raised its sharpness by a tiny bit.
It felt like feeding a starving beast.
With every bite, it became even more savage.
Hikaru did not get carried away with the fight.
His goal was clear.
Rescue the old man first, then think about everything else.
“Move!”
He cut down three lesser yokai blocking the way.
With a flash of blade-light, three arms flew into the sky, and screams rang out one after another.
At last, he reached the old man’s side.
Up close, the old man’s condition was even worse than Hikaru had imagined.
He was over seventy, dressed in a gray-white robe, with graying hair and a face covered in wrinkles and blood.
His left arm was ruined.
The entire limb had been cut off by some sharp weapon, leaving only a short stump below the shoulder.
It had been hastily wrapped in cloth, but blood had already soaked through and was dripping down nonstop.
His right hand formed a seal commonly used by human spellcasters.
His remaining left arm—what little was left of it—held a cloth bundle tightly against his chest, guarding it with his life.
The old man clearly had not expected reinforcements.
And he certainly had not expected those reinforcements to be an oni samurai.
His cloudy eyes filled with vigilance, and the last of his spiritual power instantly surged to the surface of his body, forming a faint film of light.
Though that film was weak, it was still a threat to Hikaru.
His skin felt a slight burning pain from it.
This was a “barrier” formed by human spellcasters to protect themselves with spiritual power.
Hikaru had seen it from afar before.
“Don’t get excited, old man!”
Hikaru shouted while blocking the yokai lunging at them from every direction.
“I’m here to save you!”
“You are a yokai!”
The old man’s voice was hoarse, thick with wariness and distrust.
“How could a yokai possibly save a human?”
“I know I’m a yokai!”
Hikaru cut down a scorpion yokai that pounced too close.
It was the size of a human head, and the venomous stinger on its tail had almost pierced his eye.
Without looking back, he said, “But I’m a yokai with standards!
And I used to be human too!
Believe me or don’t.
If you don’t, I’m leaving!”
He had come here to profit from the chaos and save someone along the way.
If the person could not be saved, that was not his fault.
Hikaru had a tiny bit of moral bottom line, but he was only an ordinary person, not a saint.
He would only do what he could, and he would never throw his own life away for it.
“…”
The old man fell silent for a moment.
He looked at the yokai gathering thicker and thicker around them, those gray-green figures almost blocking out the sky.
Then he looked at his nearly exhausted spiritual power.
Finally, he glanced down at the cloth bundle in his arms.
Then he sighed.
“Very well.”
He withdrew the layer of light.
“This old man has no other choice!”
“That’s more like it.”
Hikaru grabbed the old man’s arm, and demonic energy surged beneath his feet.
“Hold on tight.
This is going to get a little bumpy.”
The next instant, he charged out of the yokai encirclement with the old man in tow.
[Ghost Step] pushed its explosive speed to the limit.
The two figures passed through the densely packed yokai like phantoms, moving so fast they were nearly impossible to follow with the naked eye.
All they left behind were severed limbs, mangled bodies, and screams that shook the night.
Hikaru ignored the injured yokai collapsing behind him.
He only focused on rushing forward.
Using [Ghost Step] for short-range bursts, he constantly changed direction in the forest and threw off the pursuers behind them.
When he encountered lone lesser yokai, he cut them down in passing.
One slash per kill, clean and precise.
When he ran into larger groups, he took a detour.
There was no need to clash head-on.
The horde looked terrifying because of how densely packed it was, but in the end, they were still yokai.
They had no idea how to form ranks and coordinate like humans.
Because of that, there were actually many gaps inside the swarm, giving Hikaru room to move freely.
The old man seemed to have already fainted.
His whole body hung against Hikaru’s back, yet his severed arm still clutched the cloth bundle tightly, as if that thing mattered more than his own life.
And honestly, Hikaru was extremely curious about that treasure too.
Half an hour later.
Inside a hidden cave.
Hikaru placed the old man on the ground, then leaned against the cave wall to catch his breath.
Although an oni samurai did not need to breathe, the intense battle and high-output demonic energy had still drained a large amount of his stamina.
His body felt slightly stiff.
That was a sign of insufficient demonic energy.
For him, that was rare.
“Cough… cough, cough…”
The old man woke up.
He coughed violently, and each cough brought up a large amount of blood.
Hikaru watched him without saying anything.
He could tell that the old man would not last much longer.
His injuries were too severe.
He had lost too much blood.
His spiritual power was exhausted.
He was also old.
With those four fatal factors stacked together, even a god could not save him.
Had Hikaru saved him for nothing?
Not quite.
At the very least, the weapon affection he had gained was real.
“You… why… did you save me?”
The old man’s voice was so weak it sounded as if it were coming from another world.
“I saw injustice on the road and drew my blade to help.
Is that reason good enough?”
Hikaru said.
The old man looked at him.
His cloudy eyes lifted slightly, and something flickered through them.
Perhaps surprise.
Perhaps relief.
More than that, it was resolve born from having no other choice.
“This old man… is the head of an exorcist clan… from a mountain village ten ri away…”
He spoke with great difficulty, every word seeming to drain all his strength.
“Those yokai were chasing me… because of… this…”
Trembling, he used his remaining hand to pass the cloth bundle in his arms toward Hikaru.
“This object… must never… fall into the hands of yokai…”
Hearing this, Hikaru froze slightly.
He had not expected the old man to suddenly start entrusting his final wishes to him, but after a moment of thought, he understood.
Although he was a yokai, he was at least a yokai who could communicate normally.
This old man truly had no other choice.
Hikaru took the cloth bundle.
It was very light, only about the size of a fist, and wrapped in rough hemp cloth.
He opened it and found a jewel inside.
It was the size of a thumb, pale purple, round and clear, radiating a soft glow.
That light was strange.
It was not glaring like spiritual power, nor cold and gloomy like demonic energy.
Instead, it carried a feeling that was hard to describe.
Almost…
Familiar?
Hikaru stared at the jewel, and the system panel automatically popped up.
[Eligible conquest target detected.]
[Shikon Jewel]
[Quality: Divine Artifact]
[Current State: Dormant]
[Affection: Cannot be unlocked.
Prerequisites must be met.]
Hikaru stared at the words on the panel.
Then he looked at the jewel in his hand.
Then at the panel again.
“…”
His expression froze.
“Wait.”
His voice trembled slightly, thick with disbelief.
“What the hell is this thing?!”
The old man did not seem to hear what he said.
He did not answer Hikaru’s question and simply continued struggling to deliver his last words.
“Please take this object… to the village… beyond several mountains…”
“Give it… to a shrine maiden… named Kikyo…”
“She is… the only one… who can suppress the Shikon Jewel…”
“I beg… of you…”
Hikaru was no longer listening.
Only one thought kept echoing through his mind.
The Shikon Jewel.
The Shikon Jewel from Inuyasha.
The jewel that could grant any wish.
The jewel that could make a yokai’s power skyrocket.
The jewel that drove every force in the entire series mad with desire.
The old man’s voice grew lower and lower, thin as a fading thread.
“My… grandson… is still waiting in the village…”
“Tell them… their grandfather…”
“Is sorry…”
His voice stopped abruptly.
The old man’s head drooped, and he no longer breathed.
The cave fell silent.
Only Hikaru remained, lowering his head as he stared at the Shikon Jewel in his hand.
Pale purple light pulsed in his palm, soft and mysterious.
“So this is the world of Inuyasha…”
He murmured.
Fate really was fucking marvelous.
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