Chapter 33: Adaptation of the Slash
Ibaraki Doji did not die, for at the critical moment, Kidomaru kicked Mahoraga away, saving him from the fatal blow.
Yet despite surviving, Ibaraki Doji was severely wounded, left entirely powerless to continue the fight.
While a yokai's vitality is ten times, even dozens of times greater than that of a human, they still bleed, they still suffer injuries, and they still require a long period of recovery.
One could look to Nurarihyon as a reference.
In the original timeline, that man had been exceptionally fierce during his youth. After his battle with Hagoromo Gitsune, although he emerged victorious and became the new Lord of Pandemonium, he sustained irreversible wounds.
Over the span of four hundred years, the Nurarihyon who was once in his absolute prime gradually withered into a shrunken, frail old man.
Had he not suffered such severe trauma back then, he never would have aged so drastically.
After being sent flying, Mahoraga stood up completely expressionless, its deep crimson gaze locking onto Kidomaru.
Kidomaru said, "Step back, Ibaraki Doji."
He intended to take over this fight.
"No, I can still..." However, a fierce pride would not allow Ibaraki Doji to simply retreat.
But right after those words left his mouth, Gairōta moved.
A heavy slap landed squarely on the back of Ibaraki Doji's head, producing a dull, blunt thud.
Under normal circumstances, an attack of this level would mean nothing, but right now Ibaraki Doji was grievously injured and at his absolute weakest. Gairōta's strike instantly caused Ibaraki Doji to close his eyes and lose consciousness.
It perfectly demonstrated the resilient physical constitution of a young yokai.
Kidomaru nodded toward Gairōta. Gairōta replied with a simple "be careful," then carried Ibaraki Doji away toward the sidelines, leaving the center of the stage entirely to Kidomaru.
Yumesaki's casual voice echoed from above, "Honestly, I wouldn't mind if you two came at me together. I'm completely fine with that either way."
Kidomaru acted as though he hadn't heard a thing, driven by his own sense of pride.
Yumesaki shrugged, remaining silent as he looked down at Kidomaru and Mahoraga facing off on the field.
Even though neither figure had launched an attack yet, the arena was already thick with an overwhelming, palpable killing intent.
Kidomaru's thumb pressed against the tsuba of his sword, nudging the blade forward by a single inch.
With just that single inch, the exposed section of the blade split the ground in two. The fissure in the earth extended all the way across, right beneath Mahoraga's feet.
The sword had not even been unsheathed, yet the intent had already arrived.
Yumesaki couldn't help but look at Kidomaru with a hint of surprise; this guy definitely possessed real skill.
Mahoraga looked down at the crack beneath its feet. Upon its layered armor, a very shallow, faint white line had appeared.
It didn't even know how the mark had been made.
At that exact moment.
Kidomaru drew his sword.
The instant his figure vanished from his original position, a torn vacuum channel was left behind in the air. The atmosphere from both sides rushed inward to fill the void, unleashing a sharp, piercing sonic boom.
And by the time his form solidified once more, the edge of his blade had already sliced into Mahoraga's left ribs.
The slash was devoid of any flashy ornaments—there was no thunder, no fire, let alone any blinding light.
It was nothing but pure, unadulterated sharpness pushed to its absolute limit.
Wherever the blade passed, the armor that Mahoraga took such pride in was sliced through like thin paper. Before the raw tissue underneath could even react, a second slash flashed from the opposite direction, crossing precisely over the exact same spot to form an X.
The crossed slash marks exploded across Mahoraga's torso, nearly severing its entire upper body diagonally into two pieces.
"Umu, that is highly impressive."
Nero declared that this strike, even to her as the Emperor, felt exceptionally remarkable.
Mahoraga stumbled backward, the cross-shaped wound on its outer shell writhing madly as it attempted to heal.
But Kidomaru was not about to grant it any time.
The waves of his sword came crashing down like an incoming tide. Every single slash landed on a different position, every single strike cleaved through the outer shell, cutting deep into the bodily tissue and striking toward the core.
His footsteps were incredibly steady, neither hurried nor slow, yet they created a strange illusion—as if he wasn't the one chasing after Mahoraga to cut it down, but rather Mahoraga itself was repeatedly throwing its own body against the edge of his blade.
The flashing silver light of the sword wove an airtight net within the theater of the Aestus Domus Aurea.
The net continued to tighten, and the figure of Mahoraga inside was hacked, minced, and utterly torn to pieces.
Its left arm was completely severed from the shoulder, the cut surface as smooth as a mirror. Its right leg was separated at the knee, and before it could even touch the ground, it was shredded into tiny fragments by the wind of a horizontal gale-like slash. Its head was split diagonally from the lower jaw, sending half of its face along with its neck flying outward.
The dense, overlapping slash marks on its torso crossed over one another, carving it into a puzzle of flesh and blood that barely maintained a humanoid shape.
Kidomaru stood at the very epicenter of the sword net, his long hair dancing wildly amidst the tempest raised by his blade.
Not a single drop of blood stained the steel. This wasn't because Kidomaru's sword possessed some special quality, but because his swings were simply too fast—so blindingly fast that blood didn't even have the time to cling to it.
The Mahoraga before him looked like nothing more than a helpless toy, utterly devoid of any ability to retaliate.
Kidomaru felt no surprise at this outcome. This was the swordsmanship he had forged, strike by strike, over hundreds of years. Every single movement was concentrated with his utmost effort and relentless dedication; it was absolutely not something a mere Shikigami could withstand.
Watching Mahoraga being reduced to tatters by his own slashes, Kidomaru swung his blade once more, his face devoid of emotion.
This final slash would execute Mahoraga entirely.
However.
As the sword descended, a sound completely different from before rang out.
It was no longer the dull echo of an edge slicing through flesh, but a clear, resonant clanging, like the collision of solid metal against metal.
Kidomaru's pupils contracted slightly. The edge of his blade ground to a halt against Mahoraga's body, completely obstructed.
At this moment, after enduring a succession of the most agonizing strikes, Mahoraga had finally adapted to Kidomaru's slashes.
Immediately afterward, Mahoraga's body began to regenerate at a speed visible to the naked eye. Sliced wounds mended themselves, and the severed limbs sprouted anew.
Every single detail of this scene filled Kidomaru with a sense of dread.
This couldn't be allowed. He couldn't let it continue like this.
Seeing Mahoraga slowly rise to its feet, Kidomaru instantly hardened his resolve.
Sword Technique: Plum Tree!
In an instant, countless slashes rained down upon Mahoraga's body like a torrential storm, but it was entirely futile.
Without a moment's hesitation, Kidomaru switched his stance.
Sword Technique: Sakura!
This technique was faster and more powerful than anything prior, the speed of the slashes increasing at least tenfold.
Yet it remained entirely useless, because by now, Mahoraga had fully adapted to Kidomaru's slashes. No matter how swift his blade was, no matter how breathtaking the technique, what ultimately connected was still fundamentally a slash.
Since Mahoraga had already adapted, slashes no longer held any effect whatsoever.
At the exact same time, Mahoraga's counterattack arrived.
It seized the Great Sword from the ground and swung it heavily toward Kidomaru.
Kidomaru held his sword horizontally to parry. The moment the blades collided, a wave of raw, brutal force surged up along his weapon.
His feet skidded backward across the ground for more than ten paces before he could barely stabilize his form. At the same time, his blade cracked under the sheer pressure, a fracture running cleanly across the length of the metal.
This caused Kidomaru to lose his composure. This sword had been continuously nurtured by his own Youki, evolving over centuries into a genuine Youtou; it was not only incredibly sharp but also immensely durable.
It had been a very long time since it last sustained such severe damage.
"You are very strong," Kidomaru said slowly, acknowledging Mahoraga's might, but this did not mean he was about to surrender.
Taking a deep breath, he raised the fractured sword back into a mid-level guard.
The cracks in the blade were clearly visible under the reflecting light, looking like a fragile spiderweb that could shatter at any given moment.
Yet his hands remained as steady as stone, his gaze as tranquil as still water.
For hundreds of years, he had faced countless formidable foes and crossed through life-or-death battles time and time again. He had never once retreated or begged for mercy simply because an enemy possessed superior strength.
The sword might shatter, the body might perish, but a swordsman's will never would. Into this single strike, he poured every ounce of his remaining strength.
He stepped forward, and he swung.
The sound of the blade cleaving through the air resembled a sort of ancient chant. The long sword that had accompanied him for a thousand years unleashed its final radiance within this attack, every single crack along the steel glowing brightly.
This strike fused the entirety of Kidomaru's power, uniting a thousand years of Fear, a thousand years of killing intent, and his complete dignity as a demon leader into a single point, and then—
He thrust.
The moment the tip of the sword made contact with Mahoraga's armor, time seemed to grind to a halt.
Then, the sword shattered.
Beginning from the very tip, inch by inch, it crumbled into fine powder. The fragments scattered beneath the light like cherry blossoms drifting in the wind. Meanwhile, upon Mahoraga's outer shell, there remained nothing but a single, shallow indentation.
The mark had failed to even breach the outer plating.
Mahoraga raised its hand, clamping its fingers tightly around Kidomaru's throat. Kidomaru could hear his own windpipe emitting a strained groan, on the verge of collapsing.
His air supply was cut off, and his vision began to blur.
Mahoraga's expressionless face loomed larger right in front of his eyes. Just when Kidomaru braced himself for death.
The earth trembled.
A massive black shadow crashed in from the side at a speed completely disproportionate to its colossal size, carrying enough raw force to split mountains and shatter boulders. It slammed violently against Mahoraga's flank.
Mahoraga's armor let out a loud, heavy metallic booming sound against that immense weight.
Its body was hurled horizontally like a struck stone, smashing cleanly through the walls of the Aestus Domus Aurea.
And the hand choking Kidomaru's throat naturally slipped away during the separation.
Kidomaru dropped to one knee, gasping raggedly for air.
His vision had not fully recovered, but he knew exactly which yokai had saved him.
After all, within this Aestus Domus Aurea, the only one capable of saving him was not the severely wounded Ibaraki Doji, but Gairōta, who remained completely uninjured.
Right now, Gairōta's massive frame loomed in front of Kidomaru like a fortress.
His breath was heavy, like the gust of wind from a blacksmith's bellows, each exhalation causing the surrounding air to visibly vibrate.
He didn't look back. Instead, he lifted his lightning club from his shoulder, gripping it with both hands as the tip pointed directly toward Mahoraga.
Mahoraga had already stood up. At the position where Gairōta had slammed into it, spiderweb-like fractures had formed.
However, those cracks were already mending, and the armor post-regeneration became significantly harder.
"Next up, it's my turn."
Gairōta grinned, laughing in an incredibly menacing manner, fully intending to take Kidomaru's place and smash the Shikigami before him into absolute pieces.
This sight reminded Yumesaki of Kaido, given that Gairōta's weapon and his own were remarkably similar.
Thus, with a single thought, Yumesaki summoned Kaido forth.
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