Chapter 101: The Lingering Dead and the Scattered Monsters
The commander was dead.
Flesh and blood sprayed through the air as her headless corpse tumbled from its saddle, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. In an instant, it was swallowed by the swirling blood mist and wind-whipped sand, vanishing from sight.
This shocking, brutal end brought the murderous charge of the Echigo army to a dead, chilling halt.
The soldiers in the front ranks, who had been moments from crashing into the village, now stared blankly at the lone Oni Samurai standing in the clearing. Against the backdrop of the dying light, that crimson oni mask was the very image of a waking nightmare.
They were not afraid of death. As elites of the Uesugi Clan, their ranks were filled with men of the samurai class. The education they had received since childhood had instilled in them a fierce resolve, a readiness to sacrifice themselves for the cause of 'Righteousness'.
But this was different. This was not a battle against men. This was a confrontation with a monster that could single-handedly shatter a thousand-man formation, slay their general in a single strike, and emerge completely unscathed. Faced with such an entity, the primal, instinctive fear of the unknown overwhelmed their rigid military discipline.
They knew, better than anyone, how powerful their general had been. She was a warrior who had pushed the limits of the human body, a peerless fighter capable of slaying demons on the battlefield.
And now, she was dead.
Cut down from her horse.
Decapitated in a single, fluid motion.
"Re... Retreat!"
It was impossible to tell who screamed it first, but the word broke the spell of terror.
With their command structure shattered, the remaining army, now numbering less than a thousand, began to break. The cavalry in the rear wheeled their horses around in a panic. The infantry, their eyes locked warily on the motionless figure in the clearing, began a slow, stumbling retreat.
Hikaru did not give chase.
He simply stood there, a silent statue in the growing dusk, allowing the blood mist to slowly recede back into his body and the jagged Bone Spikes to retract beneath his skin. Annihilating these soldiers would have cost him an immense amount of demonic power and time, and for what? It was a meaningless endeavor.
What he wanted was deterrence.
With their general slain, the news of this defeat would spread like wildfire back to Echigo. That was more than enough.
As the sound of hooves and panicked shouts gradually faded into the distance, the battlefield returned to a semblance of peace. The air, thick with the coppery tang of blood and the scorched stench of fire, began to clear. The corpses littering the ground disappeared at a visible rate, not by hand, but by an unseen force. They were dragged down into the earth, pulled under by the very soil they lay on—a grim burial orchestrated by the power over the dead granted to Hikaru by the Nekomata's claw.
The sun finally sank below the horizon, and the first rays of moonlight painted the ravaged landscape in shades of silver and grey.
Hikaru turned.
His gaze fell upon a single soldier still lying on the ground near the village entrance—the Hojo Clan ashigaru who had fled all the way from the north to deliver his desperate message.
At that moment, the soldier was struggling to push himself up from the ground. He had witnessed Hikaru single-handedly repel the enemy, and though a deep-seated fear still lingered in his eyes, it was overshadowed by the raw, breathless excitement of having survived a catastrophe.
"We... we won," he rasped, his voice cracking. "They retreated!"
He managed to lean his back against a large rock by the road, the searing pain in his severed arm seemingly a distant, numb sensation. "Thank you, My Lord... Thank you for saving my life!"
He tried to shift his body to kneel and kowtow, but his limbs were stiff and refused to obey.
"I have to go," he muttered, more to himself than to Hikaru. "I have to get to Odawara Castle... I have to tell my Lord..."
With a surge of renewed purpose, he took a staggering step south. But after only that single step, he found his path blocked by the silent figure of the Oni Samurai.
"My Lord?" the soldier asked, freezing in place. He looked up at the impassive mask, a flicker of fear returning to his eyes. "Are... are you going to stop me?"
"I am not stopping you," Hikaru's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Beneath the mask, his eyes were chillingly indifferent, as if he were looking at a man already dead. "It is that you, yourself, can no longer go."
"Can't go?" The soldier glanced down at his legs in confusion. "I'm injured, yes, but I can still run. I have to deliver the news..."
"You won't deliver it," Hikaru interrupted, his tone unchanged.
"Look down again. More carefully."
Confused, the soldier subconsciously lowered his gaze.
In the light of the exceptionally bright moon, he finally saw it. He saw that his breastplate had been shattered, a gaping hole torn through the metal.
And beneath it, in the center of his chest, was a massive, empty cavity.
No blood flowed from the wound.
Because all his blood had long since run dry.
The wound had pierced clean through his heart. Through the hole in his torso, he could see the blades of grass swaying gently in the night breeze behind him.
The soldier's expression froze.
Confusion gave way to shock, which then collapsed into an unspeakable, soul-crushing panic and despair.
Memories, long suppressed, flooded his mind like a bursting dam. He saw the northern outpost, the great banner emblazoned with the character 'Bi' snapping in the wind. He saw the tide of enemy cavalry surging toward them. He saw the glint of a lead just before it pierced his chest, and the world dissolving as he fell into a pool of his own blood.
He remembered watching his comrades fall one by one, their screams silenced by cold steel. He remembered the outpost being set ablaze, the flames consuming everything he had fought to protect.
He had to run. He had to report the news.
That single, powerful obsession had propped him up, given him the strength to 'stand' and run all this way, allowing him to forget the pain, forget the exhaustion, forget... the simple fact that he was already dead.
But he was. He was already dead.
"I... I'm dead?" he whispered, his voice trembling. He raised his one intact hand and slowly, hesitantly, touched the hole in his chest.
There was no heartbeat. No life.
"So... I'm already dead."
He slumped to the ground, all strength leaving him. The light in his eyes, which had burned so brightly with duty and relief, began to fade as the obsession that had animated his corpse finally dissipated.
"My Lord..." he rasped, lifting his head one last time to look at Hikaru.
"I know you are a demon... but you protected this village. You saved them... If not for you, this place would have fallen to the enemy from Echigo..."
His voice was a faint whisper. "Can you... can you help me? Bring the news... to my lord..."
Hikaru simply looked at him. This ordinary ashigaru, a man whose name he would never know, had clung to his duty even in death, his spirit refusing to rest until his message was delivered. In these chaotic times, human life was cheaper than grass.
But even a single blade of grass has its own will to stand.
Yet, Hikaru did not respond. He neither agreed nor refused. He just watched.
He watched as the soldier, having finally accepted the truth of his own demise, grew still. His body stiffened, returning to the rigor of a true corpse. Finally, all that remained was a broken body lying quietly by the roadside, its purpose unfulfilled.
Hikaru observed this final, quiet moment in silence. As an Oni Samurai, he was no stranger to death. His calm was absolute.
He did not turn and leave immediately, however. He remained where he was.
Because there were still 'others' present.
A rustling sound came from the surrounding tall grass and from behind the nearby trees. It was a chaotic, weak, and timid sound, accompanied by an extremely faint trace of Yao Qi.
Hikaru turned his head.
Under the moonlight, several strange figures slowly poked their heads out from their hiding places.
There was a Hitotsume-kozō, a one-eyed boy-monk, clutching a tattered paper umbrella. A little girl with the distinct ears and tail of a fox. A Kappa that looked more like a lump of mud than a proud water spirit. And a giant rat with a mangled, broken leg.
They were a miserable sight. Their bodies were covered in burns and sword wounds, and their eyes were wide with a terror that went bone-deep.
Hikaru could tell at a glance what they were. He sensed they were the 'villagers' of the demon settlement that the Echigo army had burned to the ground. They were the survivors.
They possessed no great power, nor did they radiate any particular malice. They were simply small, weak creatures huddled together for warmth, trying to survive in the cracks of a chaotic world. But because they were 'non-human', and because their pursuers marched under a banner of 'Slaying Demons and Exorcising Evil', they had lost their homes and been hunted like vermin.
The Echigo army had pursued them all the way here. That was why they had come. And it was why their general, Kakizaki Kageie, had wrongly assumed Hikaru was the lord of the demons in this region.
These frightened creatures had come seeking his protection.
"Lo... Lord..."
A Tanuki, perhaps a bit braver than the rest, stepped out from behind a bush. It held a large lotus leaf over its head as if to shield itself, its legs trembling uncontrollably.
They had witnessed the entire battle. They had seen this man, this being who fought like a god or a ghost, an existence far more terrifying than any human army.
But now, with nowhere else to go, he was their only hope.
"We... we mean no harm..." the Tanuki stammered. "We just... want to live."
Hikaru's gaze swept over this ragtag group of the elderly, the weak, the sick, and the disabled.
Demons and monsters. Good and evil.
In this era, the boundaries between such things were so blurred, yet so brutally enforced. Humans killing demons was seen as a righteous, natural act. Demons killing humans was dismissed as a consequence of their savage nature.
But there were always those caught in the middle, beings who belonged to neither world and had no place to call their own.
Just like these small yokai.
And just like... his former self.
Hikaru looked at them, his expression unreadable behind the mask. There was no disgust in his eyes, nor was there pity. There was only a deep, unnerving calm.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]