Chapter 59: A Fiend, Not a Yokai; The Asura's Dance of Bone and Blood
The creature was pinned to the ground, but it was far from dead. Hikaru could see the wounds on its bone-pierced face knitting themselves back together, flesh and skin crawling over the gashes with an unnatural vitality. Although the process was much slower than before, it was, without a doubt, healing.
This thing…
"It's not a yokai."
By now, the priestess Tsubaki had regained her composure. She took in the creature's full form, her sharp eyes analyzing every detail. Though she lacked the sheer power of the Dark Priestess that Hikaru remembered from fifty years in the future—a Tsubaki who was not yet a true match for Kikyo—she was still one of the most gifted priestesses of her era. The initial shock of encountering something so far beyond her understanding had faded, replaced by cold, professional assessment.
She could see it clearly now: there was no trace of Yao Qi on this fiend, none of the demonic energy that saturated every yokai in the land. Though its form was a grotesque parody of an Evil Ogre, it did not belong to the demon races.
No wonder my barrier was useless, she thought, a flicker of frustration in her eyes. No wonder my shikigami were torn apart so easily.
A priestess's paper shikigami were, in essence, just that—paper. They were only effective against yokai because they were imbued with a specialized spiritual power that acted as a potent anti-demon agent. The same principle applied to their sacred barriers.
And not every priestess could be like Kikyo, capable of weaponizing pure spiritual energy into a force of raw, indiscriminate destruction.
Against a non-demonic entity, a priestess's combat strength plummeted.
"Regardless of whether this thing is a yokai or not," Hikaru said, his voice a low growl, "it's troublesome."
The creature's regenerative ability was simply too potent; conventional attacks were utterly incapable of putting it down for good.
But if conventional attacks wouldn't work—
'Then I'll just have to be unconventional.'
Hikaru took a deep, centering breath, and the demonic power thrumming within his undead body began to boil. A cascade of power surged through him as he activated six of his transformations at once.
Sharp Body, Sharp Eye Transformation, Archer, Spear Waist, Bone Soul, Blood Transformation!
Six distinct streams of power erupted, twisting and intertwining within his frame. They collided, merged, and connected, building into a crescendo of violent energy. Hikaru felt as if his very body had become a volcano on the verge of a cataclysmic eruption. Scalding power flooded every meridian, a searing heat that was both agonizing and exhilarating.
A savage grin touched his lips. This heat didn't burn; it thrilled.
With a guttural roar, the monster below him struggled, its immense strength finally shattering its restraints. The bone spikes pinning its jaw began to crack and splinter under the sheer force of its thrashing. Its regenerative power was so extreme that it was actively dismantling the very weapons impaling it.
Sensing the dangerous shift in the battle, Tsubaki retreated several steps, her expression tense. In the distance, Kikyo lowered her bow, her sharp eyes recognizing that Hikaru was about to unleash his full power.
"Don't be in such a hurry," Hikaru purred, the corners of his mouth curling upward. His voice held no alarm, only a predator's jubilant excitement. "I'll send you on your way right now."
He raised his right hand.
His five fingers splayed open, and from each fingertip, a pristine white bone spike erupted, each one growing to a length of three feet. They were like five slender, deadly swords clutched in his grasp.
Then, he charged.
The monster, having just broken free, was coiling to launch a counterattack when Hikaru descended upon it.
Clang!
Five bone swords thrust out as one, sinking deep into the creature's shoulders, legs, and chest, pinning it to the earth at five new points.
"Awooh—!" it shrieked, a sound of pure agony.
But this was only the beginning.
Hikaru didn't pause, didn't even break rhythm. Five more bone swords sprouted from his left hand. He lunged again. This time, he targeted its abdomen, back, and neck. More and more spikes erupted from his own body—from his arms, his shoulders, his back—each one a razor-sharp blade.
Every blade found its home in the monster's flesh.
It was a storm of ivory death. It was a dance.
The inspiration came from a memory of another world, of Kaguya Kimimaro. But this was not the same. Kimimaro's Dance of the Seedling Fern was an elegant, lethal art form. Hikaru's Thousand-Link Dance was a brutal, visceral massacre.
There was no beauty here. There was only pure, unadulterated killing intent.
Only an unstoppable, methodical slaughter.
Tsubaki's expression had shifted from stunned disbelief to rapt fascination. Standing over a dozen yards away, she watched the figure wreathed in bone spikes as he danced under the moonlight. She watched as every sweep of his arms sent more spikes lancing out, every turn of his body sending sprays of flesh and blood into the night air.
The monster's screams grew weaker and weaker, its regenerative ability finally overwhelmed. It could no longer keep up with the sheer speed and volume of its injuries.
Too many wounds. Too many bone spikes.
Its body had been pierced by the white protrusions until it resembled a grotesque hedgehog. No, it was far more wretched than that. The bone spikes were still growing inside its body, curving, branching, and intertwining like a thousand white vines spreading through its innards, locking it down from within.
"Ugh... ugh..."
It could no longer even scream, only manage a rasping, gurgling sound like air being forced through a broken bellows. In this state, no matter how potent its recovery was, there was simply nothing left to regenerate.
So strong… so powerful.
A covetous gleam entered Tsubaki's eyes. If she could possess such a shikigami, then someone like Kikyo would be utterly beneath her notice. When it came to commanding shikigami, she was the professional. Kikyo only relied on her innate, brute-force spiritual power.
If she could have such a "puppet," Tsubaki was confident she could repel even the most powerful of yokai. She certainly wouldn't have been caught in such a dangerous, humiliating position as she had been moments ago.
And then, it was over.
Hikaru stopped his movements. He stood before the mangled creature, his body now clad in an complex armor woven from white bone and crimson plates. The bone patterns on his demonic mask glinted coldly in the moonlight.
"Not dead yet?" he asked, his voice calm.
The monster did not answer. It could no longer speak, but its eyes still darted wildly. In those crimson orbs, there was nothing but raw fear and seething resentment.
It didn't seem to understand. It was immortal. It possessed infinite regenerative power.
Why… why had it been beaten into this state?
Hikaru looked into those eyes, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight, knowing smile. "You're wondering why you can't beat me, right?"
He crouched down, bringing his face level with the monster's. "It's very simple."
"Because you're too weak."
He spoke with utter calmness, stating a simple fact. The creature before him wasn't actually that strong. Its only advantage was its non-demonic nature, which allowed it to ignore the purifying effects of anti-yokai powers and land a devastating surprise attack on Tsubaki. It had forced Hikaru to expend a bit of effort to suppress its immortality, but that was all. In terms of raw power, it was, at most, equivalent to a demon of the fifth transformation.
The monster's eyes blazed with impotent rage. But this time, it truly could not move. The bone spikes had pinned it completely to the ground, and the spurs growing within its body had locked down its mobility from the inside out. Compared to before, this was a far more thorough prison.
Pinned and pierced. Inside and out.
Hikaru stood up. "However…"
He looked at the wounds where his bone spikes had entered. Though they were bleeding, they were not healing. In the areas pierced by the spikes, the creature's regenerative ability seemed to be completely suppressed.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Did the spikes from his Bone Soul Transformation have some innate restraining effect on this thing's power? Or was it simply that the foreign objects remaining in the body were preventing the wounds from closing?
He decided to conduct an experiment.
He raised his hand and, with a sharp tug, pulled out the bone spike pinning the monster's shoulder.
Instantly, the flesh around the wound began to squirm and crawl, the hole slowly starting to close. Though the speed was sluggish, it was undeniably healing.
"Just as I thought."
Hikaru thrust the bone spike back into the exact same spot. The healing stopped at once.
"It seems as long as these remain in your body, you can't recover," he said, looking down at the impaled fiend. "Then let these bone spikes keep you company."
The monster could only glare.
Saying that, Hikaru squatted down again. This time, his gaze turned serious, all traces of amusement gone.
"Now, answer me one question."
The monster's eyes moved. It seemed to want to say something, but no sound came out. With a deliberate motion, Hikaru reached out and pulled the bone spike from its throat.
"Cough… cough cough…"
The creature coughed violently, spitting up blood as the wound on its throat slowly began to seal.
"Kill… kill you…" it finally rasped, its voice thick with hatred. "I'll kill all of you—"
"Are you sure you want to waste this chance to speak?" Hikaru interrupted coolly.
In his other hand, a new bone spike had already formed, its tip hovering inches from the monster's throat, ready to plunge back in at a moment's notice.
The monster's roar died in its throat. It stared at the pristine white spike, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine terror appeared in its eyes.
"Very good." Hikaru nodded with satisfaction. "Now, answer my question."
"What are you?"
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