Pfft!
After splitting the last cursed spirit in two, Shinji hoisted his greatsword and let out a long sigh.
Though the feast had been delivered on a silver platter, swallowing it all was still no small task.
Fortunately, the dog at home was reliable—after a frenzy of biting and tearing, it had helped him rake in a huge amount of cursed soul points.
"Got a total of 17,500 cursed soul points. Not bad, not bad. With this, I can do two more ten-rolls."
Shinji immediately felt relieved.
Indeed, killing a whole horde in one sweep was the fastest way to earn "money," and the efficiency was unmatched.
But opportunities like this were rare.
Normally, cursed spirits didn't gather in such large numbers. A gathering this big could only occur because of the presence of an [Special-Grade Cursed Spirit], capable of amassing these lower-level curses.
And not every [Special-Grade Cursed Spirit] would even bother doing so.
When dealing with [Special-Grade Cursed Spirits], the strong could be so powerful that they made you question reality, and the weak… well, they could make you question reality too.
Opportunities like this truly were few and far between.
"Finally, all these damned things are dead."
Hidan tossed aside his Scythe, spread his arms, and collapsed onto the sand.
Then, the next second…
"Ah! Hot, hot, hot!"
He yelped and leapt back up.
Shinji slapped his forehead, utterly speechless.
How could someone be this stupid?
Shaking his head, he ignored the idiot and pulled out the [Greedy Eyeball], feeding it the blood and flesh on the ground.
Though all the curses should be dead, it was safer to double-check for any stragglers.
Full from eating, the [Greedy Eyeball] immediately emitted invisible rings of light. If any cursed spirits remained within its detection range, Shinji could instantly pinpoint them.
100 meters… 200 meters… 300 meters…
Suddenly, Shinji looked up toward the left front.
"Huh? Nothing?"
Though he saw nothing, Shinji was certain that a cursed spirit lingered roughly 300 meters away.
"Hidan, careful—"
Shinji intended to warn Hidan to be cautious.
But before he could finish, the sand beneath Hidan suddenly seemed to come alive, sprouting countless hands that gripped him tightly, pulling him downward with all their might.
Shinji cursed under his breath and moved to help, only to find the ground beneath his feet vanish.
"Quicksand?!"
He was stunned.
He was certain that just moments ago, this area had no quicksand.
But after the attack, it had mysteriously appeared.
He couldn't help but suspect that the unseen cursed spirit was behind it.
Snap!
Two blood packs burst instantly, blood streaming down his legs.
Once satisfied, he activated his cursed energy for manipulation.
Crack, crack, crack…
The blood on the ground fused with the yellow sand, forming a crystalline platform.
Shinji immediately stepped on it, using it to launch himself out of the quicksand pit.
By now, however, only half of Hidan's body remained above ground, with numerous sand-hands still dragging him down.
If Hidan were buried alive, his immortality wouldn't help; he would be condemned to an endless, living-death entombment in the desert.
Shinji quickly realized that the area around Hidan had turned into quicksand. Rather than rushing in recklessly, he ensured he was on safe ground first, then tossed two strong blood ropes into Hidan's hands.
"Wrap these around yourself. I'll find a way to pull you out."
Hidan didn't hesitate. Fighting off the sand-hands, he managed to wrap the ropes around himself with effort.
The sand-hands were extremely obstructive, and his struggles only made him sink faster.
Estimating the danger, Hidan stopped resisting outright.
One blood rope was wrapped simply around his chest, while the other he looped around his neck multiple times, tying a tight knot.
As he finished, sure enough, the blood rope on his body had already been loosened.
It was too late to secure it again; the quicksand was nearly at his neck.
"Pull!"
Hidan shouted.
Shinji didn't hesitate, gripping the ropes and tugging with all his strength.
Hidan's neck turned blue-purple, his face flushed red, but his body inched steadily out of the quicksand.
If it had been anyone else, they might have suffocated from the sand or strangled by the ropes.
But neither Shinji nor Hidan considered such a thing.
Even if his neck was broken, it could heal quickly. If he was swallowed by the quicksand… now that would be deadly.
Creaaak… creaaak…
Hidan's neck protested under the strain, his eyes rolling back.
Just then, Shinji sensed a powerful threat from behind.
He didn't need to turn around to understand what it meant.
The enemy had chosen this exact moment—when his focus was on saving Hidan—to strike.
But—
"I've been waiting for you!"
"Crimson Scale Surge · Load!"
Blood-red markings ignited across Shinji's face. In an instant, his physical limits were forcefully torn open—his speed, strength, and reflexes climbing to the absolute peak his body could endure.
With one hand, he clenched the rope and hauled with explosive force, tearing Hidan free from the sucking grip of the quicksand.
At the same time, Shinji twisted his waist and swung the executioner greatsword backward with everything he had.
The blade screamed through the air.
A strike like this could cleave steel—nothing living should have survived it.
At the same moment, the blood energy surging around Shinji condensed into countless razor-sharp blades, shooting backward like a crimson storm.
Whoosh!
Shinji's pupils shrank.
The sword had cut through… nothing?
Empty air.
The enemy wasn't behind him?
No—impossible.
That overwhelming sense of danger was still there, pressing down on him like a suffocating weight.
Then, from the corner of his eye, Shinji caught sight of it behind him.
The enemy's form was barely humanoid now, its outline warped and unstable—like a corrupted image, grainy and fragmented, as though its body were composed of countless individual particles of sand.
His greatsword passed straight through the figure without resistance.
The blood blades followed—only to vanish upon contact, swallowed as if they had never existed.
Not destroyed.
Absorbed.
The realization sent a cold shiver through Shinji.
It wasn't attacking in a conventional way.
It was closing in—trying to envelop him.
If that thing succeeded…
The consequences didn't bear thinking about.
He had to dodge.
Immediately.
But reality was cruel.
Hidan was only just pulled free, and the momentum of Shinji's full-power swing had dragged him dangerously close. There was no space left to retreat. No time to reposition.
He was trapped.
At the last moment—
Bang!
The sand beneath Shinji detonated violently. A thick, jet-black tentacle burst upward from below, striking him squarely and hurling his body through the air like a rag doll.
"Hey! Are you okay?!"
Hidan—dark bruises still circling his neck—snatched up his scythe and sprinted toward where Shinji had fallen.
Then he stopped cold.
His breath caught in his throat.
Shinji's state was horrifying.
One arm and one leg on the right side of his body had been severely damaged, their vitality completely gone, hanging limp and unresponsive like dried branches devoid of any liquid.
His condition was unmistakably critical—far worse than any injury Hidan had ever seen him suffer before.
Even for someone who boasted immortality…
This kind of damage might not be something the body could simply recover from.
Hidan's vision darkened at the edges.
His eyes flooded with blood-red fury, burning brighter by the second.
Something inside him snapped.
With a violent surge energy, Hidan entered a berserk state fueled purely by bloodlust.
The killing intent rolling off his body was so dense and oppressive that the blazing desert seemed to freeze. Under the midday sun, the air grew deathly cold—like the coming of midnight in a graveyard.
The hunt had begun.