The black mountain of Cursed Spirits shuddered, then exploded outward as Kenjaku emerged from within, his borrowed body disheveled and panting. His clothes were torn in a dozen places, and sweat plastered Kanon's pink hair to her forehead.
"Stop these meaningless probes," he gasped.
Geto's lips curved into a cold smile. "Meaningless? You look rather ragged for something meaningless."
Kenjaku straightened, his breathing gradually steadying. "You're right about one thing, though. This fighting style suits my current body, but it doesn't suit me."
His eyes narrowed. "But if you're done playing..."
Geto's smile widened. "I was just getting started."
He raised both hands, and the space behind him cracked open.
Special Grade Illusory Cursed Spirit: Inugami. *
A massive form stepped through the rift—wolf-like, towering, its greenish-brown skin textured like cracked earth. Claws like curved daggers scraped the ground. Fangs longer than a human hand gleamed with cold hunger. Its blood-red eyes fixed on Kenjaku with infinite killing intent.
Black fur along its spine crackled with electric sparks, each discharge making the very air tremble.
Special Grade Illusory Cursed Spirit: Nekomata. *
A second figure emerged—cat-like but wrong, with a split tail that writhed like separate serpents. Its fur was midnight black, its eyes mismatched pools of amber and emerald. It moved with liquid grace, each step silent, predatory.
Special Grade Illusory Cursed Spirit: Yōtōhime. *
A feminine form materialized, elegant and terrifying. Silk robes that seemed woven from moonlight draped a figure of inhuman beauty. In her hands, a blade that hummed with trapped souls, their whispers barely audible.
Special Grade Illusory Cursed Spirit: Incarnation of Tamamo-no-Mae. *
The final emergence stole the breath from the air. A nine-tailed fox, massive and regal, its golden fur shimmering with internal light. Each tail moved independently, tipped with power that distorted space itself. Its eyes held the wisdom of centuries—and the cruelty of a thousand murders.
Four Special Grades. Four nightmares given form.
Kenjaku's expression shifted. The confident smirk wavered.
Geto Suguru stood among his summoned army, his eyes cold as winter graves.
"You wanted me to stop probing, Kenjaku." His voice was quiet, absolute. "So I stopped."
He pointed.
"Now let's see how long you last against these."
Nekomata moved with predatory grace, its massive black form—the size of a small calf—circling Kenjaku's position like a patient hunter. Its fur shimmered with an internal luminescence, each ripple of muscle sending mysterious light across its sleek coat. Serrated teeth gleamed like polished daggers, and its forked tail lashed the air with whip-like cracks.
Yōtōhime had transformed completely into its blade form—a demon sword of breathtaking beauty. The hilt sparkled with inset gems, and the elegantly curved blade emitted a faint blue luminescence. Thin as a cicada's wing but impossibly hard, it hummed with power. Mysterious runes along its edge pulsed with each of Geto's movements, drawing strength from the surrounding domain.
And the domain itself—Tamamo-no-Mae's gift. A hazy mist filled the space, dotted with countless fox statues that seemed to watch with knowing eyes. Within this realm, Geto and his summoned spirits felt their cursed energy surge, enhanced by the ancient fox's power. Kenjaku, by contrast, felt an invisible weight pressing down, his blood churning, his movements slightly sluggish.
"Let's continue." Geto's voice was ice. "Don't worry—I won't escape without exorcising you first."
He moved, Yōtōhime singing through the air in a devastating arc aimed at Kenjaku's throat. Inugami and Nekomata flanked him, their attacks perfectly synchronized—claws and fangs and lashing tail creating a net of death.
Kenjaku dodged, weaved, parried with water constructs formed from Kanon's technique. "Where did you get so many Special Grade Cursed Spirits?" he demanded, genuine surprise coloring his voice.
"My cult spans Japan." Geto pressed his attack, blade flashing. "It would be stranger if I hadn't collected them."
His demon sword struck—and met a wall of water. The blade sank in, losing momentum, splashing harmlessly. Inugami's electrified claws and Nekomata's whipping tail met the same barrier, unable to penetrate.
Kenjaku's smirk returned behind his watery shield. "Numbers mean nothing if your individual strength is lacking. You're still just a rabble."
Geto's eyes narrowed. He could feel it—Kenjaku was right. The water wall wasn't just defense; it was a statement. Without Kamo Itsuki's overwhelming power or Gojo Satoru's absolute techniques, he was struggling to break through even this basic obstruction.
But he wasn't done yet.
"Is that so?" Geto's voice dropped lower. "Then let me show you what rabble can do."
He raised his free hand. Behind him, the space cracked open again.
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