The battle was not yet over.
Yōkai continued to surge forward in an endless stream.
Kōbe Hikaru’s Muramasa had already turned crimson from the slaughter, the purple veins on the blade pulsing frantically like living blood vessels.
The sword’s appetite was growing larger by the second.
Hikaru had no time to complain, as two more yōkai charged at him.
One was a four-armed ape, each arm three times thicker than normal, with bulging veins and knotted muscles.
Without a doubt, this was another [Strength Transformation].
A pure strength-based mutation—the most straightforward, yet the most troublesome.
Not to mention it had four arms, and each arm essentially represented a single stage of transformation.
It was above Five Stages.
The other was a humanoid figure formed entirely of mist.
It had no facial features, only a blurry outline, its body constantly shifting between solid and intangible.
But this was not an object that had turned into mist.
Rather, the mist itself had gained consciousness.
It had become a Fog Demon, a Mirage Yōkai.
This was undoubtedly an extremely troublesome type of yōkai.
In this world and era, all things could become yōkai.
However, the more rigid and ‘lifeless’ an object was, the harder it was to transform.
For something like mist, it was even more difficult.
Yet, if successful, it would immediately emerge as a high-level yōkai close to the Sixth Stage or higher.
Because for mist to become a yōkai, it first needed to go through the stages of perceiving, moving, gathering, and dispersing, before finally gaining complete control over itself to become a demon.
And each of these stages counted as one transformation.
‘One hard, one intangible,’ Hikaru thought.
‘What a disgusting combo.’
As the thought crossed his mind, the four-armed ape struck first, smashing all four fists down simultaneously.
Hikaru did not take the blow head-on, instead dodging to the side with [Ghost Step].
But the moment he found his footing, the mass of mist had already drifted over.
A black hand extended from the fog, aiming straight for his chest.
“Bang!”
Hikaru was sent flying by the palm strike, snapping two corridor pillars in his wake.
This was exactly what made the Fog Demon so difficult to deal with—it solidified when attacking, but turned intangible when attacked.
Unless one could seize the exact moment it solidified, it was impossible to harm it.
“Cough…”
Hikaru climbed out of the rubble, a trace of black blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
That strike had hit hard.
But his eyes lit up.
Because he saw it.
Through the blood mist drifting across the battlefield, he saw the pattern of the fog’s solidification.
Before every attack, its “core” would solidify first.
That core was located at its chest, only the size of a fist, and it remained solid for about half a breath.
Half a breath.
That was enough.
Hikaru tightened his grip on Muramasa and charged toward the mass of mist.
The four-armed ape blocked his path, bringing its four fists down once more.
This time, Hikaru did not dodge.
He raised his blade to parry.
“Clang—!”
A tremendous force traveled down the sword, making both of his arms tremble.
But he held his ground.
Right at that moment, the mist drifted out from behind the ape, its hand reaching for his back once again.
Hikaru did not turn around.
He simply stepped sideways, perfectly clearing the line of sight behind him.
“Twang!”
An Exorcism Arrow whistled through the air.
The mass of mist tried to turn intangible, but the arrow arrived too fast.
It only had time to solidify its core in preparation for its attack—and then the arrow nailed right into that core.
Spiritual Power erupted.
The mist dissipated completely.
Then, Hikaru pressed the advantage.
He swung his blade upward, slicing off one of the four-armed ape’s arms in the brief moment it stood stunned.
The ape shrieked and retreated.
But with only three arms left, it was no longer a threat.
Hikaru pursued it, delivering three swift slashes.
All its limbs were severed.
The final strike decapitated it.
Hikaru glanced at his panel, his heart stirring.
93.
Only 7 points away from the maximum value.
He looked around; there were eight yōkai left.
That was enough.
“Continue,” he muttered, charging at the next yōkai.
The ensuing battle was an entirely one-sided slaughter.
The already seamless coordination between Hikaru and Kikyō grew even more flawless.
Consequently, the Affinity of the Muramasa in his hand continued to rise.
94.
96.
98.
99…
“The last one.”
Hikaru looked at the One-Horned Snake Demon trembling before him.
As a mere Five Stages yōkai, it was already scared out of its wits, wanting to flee but unable to move its body.
Hikaru raised his blade.
The sword fell.
Its head rolled across the ground.
Just as he had anticipated, Hikaru looked down at the Muramasa in his hand.
The black tachi was glowing.
Purple light spilled from the blade, climbing up his arm and seeping into his skin.
It did not hurt.
Instead, it brought a strange sense of comfort.
It felt like…
coming home.
His stagnant blood, which had ceased flowing after his death, began to move once more—along with his heartbeat.
For a Ghost Samurai like Hikaru, the so-called demonic transformation was essentially a process of making his dead body move step by step, restoring its vitality.
From now on, even without holding the sword, Hikaru could wield the power of ‘blood’.
He looked at the prompt on his panel.
He could also feel his own progression.
He had completed the sixth stage of the Body Transformation phase: Blood Transformation.
From this point forward, he could use blood as his eyes to achieve Blood Resonance, agitate the blood within his body to enter a Bloodthirst Frenzy without any side effects, and even more—he could bathe in blood during battle, absorbing the blood on the battlefield to endlessly regenerate himself.
Six Stages.
Body Transformation perfected.
He had finally forged the first major stage of yōkai evolution, reaching the absolute pinnacle of Body Transformation.
He had acquired a permanent ability from Muramasa.
This was a massive profit.
He opened his free hand.
An invisible mist of blood rose from his palm.
“…Not bad,” he murmured.
He clenched his fist around the blood mist, letting it dissipate.
Faint footsteps sounded from behind him.
Kikyō walked over.
Her face was somewhat pale, having expended a significant amount of Spiritual Power.
But as her gaze fell upon Hikaru’s hand, her brows furrowed slightly.
“You…
got stronger?”
“Yes,” Hikaru replied briefly.
“I got stronger.”
Kikyō fell silent for a moment.
But she did not press the matter.
Instead, she turned around and looked at the Jewel of Four Souls suspended in midair.
The orb was still radiating a pitch-black light.
The Crooked Spirit was still restless.
“It’s not over yet,” she said.
She added, “Tonight is still very long.”
Hikaru tightened his grip on the demonic sword Muramasa.
Although the blade’s abilities had already merged into his body, its inherent sharpness and the perfect control granted by max Affinity still made it an indispensable weapon for him right now.
He replied, “I know.”