Gashin rolled his shoulders, crimson eyes narrowing as he studied Kairo with renewed interest.
Blood still dripped lazily from his chin, but the ancient demon’s expression had shifted from amusement to something sharper.
”This vessel…” Gashin muttered, voice layered with that deep, echoing timbre.
“It’s nothing special.
Just a normal boy.
Not even an exorcist.
No training, no spiritual core.
Yet here I am, fused with his flesh and soul so cleanly.
Almost like we were always meant to become one.”
A wide, fanged grin split his face.
”And you… you know far too much about me, exorcist.
My name.
My nature.
Things even most of your kind have forgotten.”
Kairo threw his head back and laughed, bright and carefree, as if they were chatting over drinks instead of standing in a ruined alley.
“Hahaha!
Stories, my friend.
Just stories passed down through the ages.
You’d be surprised how many dusty old scrolls still whisper about the Devouring Eclipse.”
He tilted his head, still grinning.
“But seriously—where are all those legendary techniques I’ve heard about?
The ones that supposedly devoured armies and swallowed battlefields whole?
Reduced to throwing punches like some street thug?
How embarrassing.”
Gashin’s smirk twisted into something ugly and furious.
“This is not my full power, you arrogant whelp.
This body is still adjusting.
For now, I can only use raw strength—punches and kicks.
But even this is more than enough to crush insects like you.”
Kairo casually picked at his ear with one pinky, flicking away imaginary wax.
“Yeah, yeah.
Big scary demon talk.
I’ve heard better from low-rank yokai.
Keep coping, Eclipse-chan.”
That did it.
”Insolent brat—!” Gashin snarled, exploding forward in a blur of motion.
He weaved through the air like liquid shadow, sidestepping invisible currents of spiritual pressure Kairo hadn’t even fully released yet.
”Die!”
He slammed his fist into the ground with catastrophic force.
CRAAAAASH!
The pavement erupted.
A shockwave tore outward in a jagged circle, shattering concrete and sending chunks of debris flying like shrapnel.
Kairo staggered back a few steps, ponytail whipping wildly, but his smirk never faded.
Before the dust could settle, Gashin was already on him—hand shooting out like a striking serpent, aiming straight for Kairo’s throat.
In the space of a heartbeat, the teacher had vanished.
Gashin’s fingers closed on empty air.
”Behind you,” a cheerful voice called.
Gashin spun.
Kairo sat casually atop a large floating rock that hovered several feet off the ground, legs crossed, one hand resting on his knee.
In his other hand, he lazily held a severed arm—Gashin’s own severed arm—still twitching and dripping dark blood.
Gashin blinked.
He glanced down at his right shoulder.
Indeed, the arm was gone.
A clean, cauterized stump remained.
”…When?” Gashin muttered, genuine surprise flickering across his bloody features.
The demon’s expression darkened.
With a low growl, the stump bubbled and writhed.
Flesh, muscle, and bone rapidly regenerated in a grotesque display until a new arm flexed into existence, good as new.
Kairo grinned wider, tossing the severed limb aside like trash.
“Not bad.
Regeneration’s still working fine.
But you’re way too slow right now, Gashin.
At this rate, training you is gonna be a real pain in the ass.”
He cracked his knuckles, spiritual energy crackling faintly around him.
”Ready for round two, partner?”