Chapter 151: Why Are You Filing a Complaint Against This Official?
This time, Natsuya couldn't even be bothered to ask the demon about Muzan.
He had finally figured it out. Every demon was bound by the Progenitor's blood;
the moment they tried to leak classified intel about the Demon King, the blood
inside their veins would rebel and execute them on the spot.
Either a giant hand would manifest to crush their skull, or internal spikes
would sprout to drain them dry.
To Natsuya, getting consumed by a curse was annoying mostly because it robbed
him of his XP. Slayers didn't get full bounty payouts if the demon
self-destructed. He had tested this before on low-level bandits—the proficiency
dropped dramatically compared to cleanly executing a demon.
So... the massive XP drops I get from slaying demons are mostly funded by
Muzan's blood?
When he first realized this, a rather heretical thought had crossed his mind: If
I personally chop up Kibutsuji Muzan, how much XP is that going to drop?
Followed immediately by: Wait, how strong is the Boss actually?
A few drops of blood were enough to turn a regular human into a powerhouse, and
consuming more blood let them evolve further. Not to mention the built-in
wireless features: remote assassination, mind control, mental interference, and
what looked suspiciously like a built-in comms network.
And if all those abilities came from the Progenitor's blood... just how
overpowered was the source?
He had to be at least a few thousand times stronger than a standard demon.
If I map this to RPG tiers, Natsuya reasoned, Upper Moons are like
Core-Formation or Nascent Soul stage cultivators. The Lower Moons are Foundation
Establishment. As for the Demon King himself? He's probably hanging out in the
Divine Transformation or Immortality realm.
While his brain wandered through these high-fantasy power-scaling tiers, his
hands didn't stop the interrogation.
Unfortunately, as expected, it yielded zero useful data. Aside from the "Smiling
Ice Mage" Upper Moon Two (Doma), the demon knew nothing about the other Upper
Moons. Their names, abilities, and identities were locked behind a mental
firewall.
As for the Lower Moons? Minonenmaru only knew two: one with a high-tier
reality-warping dream power, and the other—the one he planned to challenge—a
spatial-type Lower Moon Four.
The reason the demon knew so little came down to simple corporate culture:
demons didn't hold team-building exercises. There was zero internal
collaboration.
And honestly, what is the Demon King's PR department doing? Natsuya thought. The
Boss is clearly overpowered, but he keeps his workforce atomized. If he just
ordered all the Lower and Upper Moons to swarm the Corps in a coordinated raid,
even I'd have a hard time carrying that raid.
"Lord Luminary, that's really all I know! Please, is there anything else you
want to ask?" the demon whined, attempting a flattering tone.
Three interrogation skills combined, and the guy's brain is still completely
empty of plot progression.
Natsuya gave him a cold, disappointed look.
"Useless."
His fingers flexed.
SPLAT.
A dull, wet sound echoed as the demon's head popped like an overripe watermelon.
The headless torso twitched amidst the spray of black blood before dissolving
into ash washed away by the rain.
The mess of gore and body parts littering the Zaizen courtyard also began to
evaporate into the damp night air.
[Luminary Breathing] LV.4 (3950/4000)
Ooh, almost at Level 5.
While Natsuya checked his progress, the fat patriarch of the Zaizen clan quietly
tried to crawl toward the gate.
"Stop trying. The hinges are rusted through; you aren't pushing it open with one
arm."
Hearing Natsuya's casual voice, the merchant nearly soiled himself. The image of
Minonenmaru being smeared across the stone floor was still fresh in his mind. He
knew he didn't possess a demon's regeneration; a single hit from this boy would
turn him into chunky salsa.
Clutching his broken arm, he put on a brave, trembling front. "W-Who do you
think you are?!"
"Breaking and entering, assaulting my staff, and now murder?!"
"I'm calling the police! I have powerful friends at the Metropolitan Police
Department—!"
Such civilian threats registered as background noise to Natsuya. He stood up and
strolled slowly toward the terrified man.
"Murder? What murder? Whose corpse do you see?"
Before the merchant could process the fact that the demon's remains had
vanished, Natsuya continued smoothly.
"And you want to call the police? Sure, go ahead. Let's see how the authorities
react when they find out a human aristocrat has been collaborating with an
anti-human, man-eating anomaly."
"Hired assassination, corporate sabotage, assaulting law enforcement..."
"Why do you assume the police are going to take your side?"
The merchant froze. The first two points were true enough to make him sweat
blood, but the last one...
"Wh-What law enforcement?!"
Natsuya reached into his white haori and pulled out a glistening, gold-embossed
chrysanthemum badge—a piece of official-looking hardware he had spent an entire
Saturday morning crafting in his forge.
"Tokyo Metropolitan Police, Special Service Section 9: Demon Suppression Unit."
Natsuya offered a smile that made the merchant's blood run cold.
"I'm a Senior Special Agent. Name's Matsushita Handbrake."
"Zaizen Tamasa, are you sure you want to file a complaint against me with the
local precinct?"
The badge was entirely fictional. But to a corrupt local businessman who knew he
was knee-deep in illegal blood money, the combination of the badge, the
supernatural display he'd just witnessed, and Natsuya's terrifying aura was 100%
convincing.
The merchant collapsed, hyperventilating in the mud.
Just then, the main gates of the Zaizen estate were knocked upon—firmly,
politely, and with absolute authority.
A procession of traditional retainers pushed the heavy doors open, escorting an
elderly, impeccably dressed estate steward into the courtyard.
The steward bowed deeply to Natsuya. "Lord Luminary. My master heard that
certain unruly elements were disrupting the peace in this district, and has
dispatched me to handle the... administrative details."
Outside the gates, several Kakushi members and local Shinto priests stood in
quiet formation under umbrellas.
The merchant's remaining hope evaporated into the rain.
He recognized the steward. That was the representative of the noble peerage
family who practically owned half of Sendai. And here he was, treating this
teenage "cop" with absolute, unquestioning deference.
Within twenty-four hours, an airtight case file detailing the Zaizen clan's
history of corporate espionage, tax evasion, and illegal wet-work was compiled,
stamped, and delivered.
One copy was dispatched to the local magistrate and police department.
The other copies were "accidentally" leaked to Zaizen's primary business rivals.
The fat merchant didn't even make it to sunrise before passing out from sheer,
unadulterated terror in the muddy courtyard.
By the following afternoon, the story had swept through the upper crust of
Sendai society.
Whispers of the "Zaizen clan being dismantled by a secret Tokyo agent after
colluding with monsters" spread like wildfire.
And as for Natsuya?
The reputation of the [Karakura Pavilion] became an untouchable legend in the
North. Ordinary citizens whispered in awe, while the local syndicates
collectively agreed that the "God of Flashiness" from Tokyo was a deity you
simply did not cross.
☆☆☆
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