Drip... drip...
Scalding blood dripped continuously through the gaps of Musashi Miyamoto's calloused fingers, splattering onto the scorched ruins in startling blossoms of crimson.
A breeze brushed past, carrying the heavy, sickening stench of blood and burning.
This Special Grade incarnated sorcerer who had shaken the realm four centuries ago was now clutching the stump where his right arm had been severed, his chest heaving violently.
He panted heavily for breath, his scar-riddled, arrogant face completely overwhelmed by profound shock.
"How is this possible..."
"My Swallow Reversal... was broken head-on?"
Musashi Miyamoto murmured under his breath, an unmistakable tremor in his voice.
He had lived for four hundred years, surviving countless brutal life-or-death struggles.
Whether facing Special Grade Cursed Spirits with bizarre innate techniques or sorcerers who considered themselves geniuses, the twin blades in his hands had never once failed him.
Above all, his ultimate secret art, Swallow Reversal—a guaranteed-kill slash he had forged on the brink of death time and time again—was completely unavoidable!
Yet today.
In this absurd colony.
A black-haired youth without even a trace of cursed energy fluctuation had used a cyclical swordsmanship he had never witnessed before to effortlessly shatter four centuries of his pride!
"What kind of swordsmanship was that?"
"That seamless, flawless defense... and that terrifying fire that seemed capable of incinerating all evil..."
Musashi Miyamoto raised his head with difficulty, his gaze locked onto the straight back of the figure standing not far off.
"That is simply not an art any human could master!"
"That blade... that boy... it's as if he's a deity descended from another dimension!"
Just as Musashi Miyamoto fell into overwhelming shock and self-doubt, Yoru finally turned around slowly in front of him.
Within his deep crimson eyes, the patterns of the Transparent World had quietly faded away, and the terrifying, Asura-like murderous aura had completely receded.
Yoru looked emotionlessly at the one-armed Musashi Miyamoto and flicked his wrist slightly.
The blazing setting-sun flames on Shiranui's blade instantly extinguished, releasing a crisp ring.
Clang!
Accompanied by a resonant click, the Special Grade Cursed Tool that had drunk the blood of countless ancient sorcerers was steadily returned to the scabbard at Yoru's waist.
"Your sword is indeed fast."
Yoru regarded Musashi Miyamoto, his tone as calm as though evaluating an ordinary piece of craft.
"To unleash three slashes in a single instant that completely seal off any retreat—in terms of pure technique, you have reached the limits of human capability."
"However..."
Yoru changed the subject, an unsettlingly sharp glint flashing across his deep crimson eyes, seeming to see right through Musashi Miyamoto's soul.
"Your heart lacks purity."
At those words, Musashi Miyamoto froze in shock, his remaining left hand subconsciously tightening around his other famous blade at his waist.
"What did you say?"
He gritted his teeth and stared intently at Yoru, indignant fury blazing in his eyes.
"For four hundred years, day and night, I honed my swordsmanship without slacking for a single day!"
"I dedicated my entire life to the way of the sword! What right do you have to say my heart lacks purity?!"
Facing Musashi Miyamoto's confrontation, Yoru showed no anger; instead, he shook his head gently.
"Why did you hone your swordsmanship?"
"Was it to chase the so-called 'strongest'? Was it to savor the thrill of slaughter? Or was it to prove your worth in this cruel world?"
Yoru stepped forward slowly, an invisible yet irresistible pressure instantly blanketing the entire ruin.
"Your sword is tainted with greed for strength, thirst for slaughter, and contempt for the weak."
"It is a blade of slaughter, existing purely to extinguish life."
"Whereas my sword..."
Yoru gently caressed Shiranui's hilt, his gaze turning exceptionally profound and gentle.
"My sword exists to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and to sever all the tragedies and evil that should never have existed in this world."
"It is a blade of redemption, swung to save lives."
"When a sword that knows only slaughter meets a sword born to protect..."
Yoru lifted his head, staring straight into Musashi Miyamoto's trembling eyes, enunciating every word clearly.
"From the moment you drew your blade, you had already lost."
Boom!
Yoru's words struck like a heavy sledgehammer, crashing directly into the depths of Musashi Miyamoto's soul!
His mind roared violently, and his vision even began to blur.
Memories from four hundred years ago flashed madly across his thoughts like a revolving lantern.
He remembered striking down his own master without hesitation in his pursuit of becoming the strongest.
He remembered slaughtering countless innocent civilians and weak sorcerers just to test his blade.
He remembered that across these long centuries, aside from that hollow title of 'the strongest,' he had ended up with nothing at all.
"So... that's how it is?"
"The way of the sword I took such pride in is so utterly fragile before true purity..."
Musashi Miyamoto's body began to tremble violently.
He looked at his empty right sleeve, then back at the black-haired youth before him, who stood majestic and compassionate as a god.
The arrogance, bitterness, and morbid obsession with power within his heart finally collapsed entirely in this moment.
Clatter.
A crisp metallic clink broke the dead silence hanging over the ruins.
Musashi Miyamoto released his left hand, and the famed blade Izumi no Kami Kanesada, which had accompanied him for four centuries and slain countless powerful foes, fell limply onto the dust-covered ground.
Then, under the terrified, disbelieving stares of Hiromi Higuruma and Yuji Itadori—as if they had just seen a ghost—
This once-unrivaled ancient Sword Saint, the most terrifying nightmare in all of Tokyo Colony No. 1, dragged his heavily injured body and slowly took a step forward.
And then.
He dropped to one knee, lowering his proud head deeply toward the ground!
"I have lost."
Though Musashi Miyamoto's voice was hoarse, it carried an unprecedented sense of relief and reverence.
"Not merely a total defeat in swordsmanship, but a complete crushing of my soul."
"Your sword has revealed a supreme realm that I could never hope to touch in a lifetime of searching."
He raised his head to look up at Yoru, the murderous intent and arrogance gone from his eyes, replaced by an extreme fervor and devotion akin to a believer gazing upon a god!
"From this day forth, I renounce all my past empty renown and sins."
"I, Musashi Miyamoto, swear with my remaining blade to follow you until death!"
"I ask only that you allow me to witness, in what remains of my life, the ultimate strike that severs all evil in this world!"
Silence.
Dead silence.
Across the entire ruins, nothing could be heard except for the rustle of the wind blowing over the rubble.
In the distance, Yuji Itadori had gone completely dumbfounded, his jaw practically dropping to the ground.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa... am I seeing things?"
"That ancient Special Grade incarnated sorcerer who was bragging so arrogantly just now and didn't even care about Lawyer Higuruma's domain..."
"He was actually talked down just like that by Senior Yoru? And he dropped to his knees to pledge allegiance on the spot?!"
Standing beside him, Hiromi Higuruma was equally astounded; pushing up the gold-rimmed glasses that had slipped down his nose, he drew in a sharp breath of cold air.
"This is no longer simple subjugation by martial force."
"That guy Yoru... he practically shattered and rebuilt the man's convictions on a spiritual level!"
"Not only does he possess absolute violence capable of crushing all opposition, but he also possesses a pure soul that commands the submission of the strongest..."
Hiromi Higuruma looked at Yoru's slender back, the awe in his heart surging to an unprecedented height once again.
'Just how much more shock is this kid going to bring us?'
Meanwhile, in the center of the ruins.
Yoru looked at Musashi Miyamoto kneeling on one knee before him without displaying the slightest surprise.
He had long seen through Musashi Miyamoto's heart using the Transparent World.
Though this man was bloodthirsty by nature, at his core, he was a pure seeker of the martial path.
As long as one completely surpassed him in both the realm of swordsmanship and the realm of the soul, he would submit willingly.
"Rise."
Yoru spoke casually, simultaneously retrieving a bottle of high-grade hemostatic potion from his system space and tossing it to Musashi Miyamoto.
"Since you chose to follow me, treat your wound first."
"I have no use for useless subordinates who bleed to death."
Catching the potion, a glimmer of gratitude flashed through Musashi Miyamoto's eyes.
Without hesitation, he poured the potion over his severed arm; the blood that had been gushing wildly stopped instantly, and the wound even began scabbing over at a pace visible to the naked eye.
"Thank you for the medicine, Lord!"
Musashi Miyamoto stood up and took his place respectfully behind Yoru, like a loyal guard.
With that, this ancient Sword Saint who had unleashed boundless slaughter within the Culling Game formally became the sharpest blade under the protagonist's command!
However, Yoru did not linger his gaze on Musashi Miyamoto, instead looking directly toward the very center of Tokyo Colony No. 1.
A bizarre and immense fluctuation of cursed energy was faintly emanating from that area.
"Musashi."
Yoru asked without turning his head.
"Since you are the leader of the ancient sorcerer alliance, you should know very well where the core of this colony is hidden, right?"
Upon hearing Yoru's question, Musashi Miyamoto's expression instantly grew extraordinarily grim.
An exceptionally rare look of wariness and solemnity flashed across the newly submitted ancient Sword Saint's eyes.
And with the answer he was about to give, the situation across the entire Culling Game was bound to undergo an earth-shattering upheaval!