White light overflowed from its every pore; light burst from its eye sockets, the corners of its mouth, and even between its fingers.
The Hannya mask began to crack.
Cracks spread from the forehead to the chin, and pieces peeled off one by one.
The face beneath the mask—it was also the face of a dead man, pale, withered, and bearing the scars of sword wounds from when he died in battle.
It looked at Hikaru.
Hikaru also looked at it.
Two Ghost Samurai.
One with fifth transformation, one with Six Transformations.
One fighting for humans, one dying for demons.
"Damned... traitor..."
The Hannya Mask Oni Samurai's mouth seemed to twitch, as if it wanted to curse or berate, but it had no more chances.
Because the white light exploded directly.
Its body disintegrated under the burning of spiritual power, turning into ashes that scattered across the sky.
Those ashes were no ordinary remains.
They drifted lightly toward the sky, shimmering with a faint silver light under the moonlight.
Those were the traces of resentment after being purified.
Clean, pure, without a hint of remaining impurity—
Purification.
Purification in the truest sense.
Hikaru stood amidst the ashes, feeling the lingering temperature of spiritual power in the air.
Warmth.
A warmth completely opposite to the Demonic Qi within him.
[shikon no tama: naohi: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 2 (Sprouting)]
[It conveyed a message to you: 'Well done.']
It seemed that not every purification would yield feedback... it depended on the shikon jewel's mood and one's own 'performance'.
Hikaru thought silently to himself, yet he did not relax.
Because it wasn't over yet.
Because...
He gripped muramasa even tighter in his hand and continued to look up at the remaining demon horde.
The One-Horned Oni, the giant python, and the Three-Eyed Crow were all looking at him with terrified eyes.
One of their leaders, an Ghost Samurai who had attained Six Transformations, had died just like that.
Died at the hands of a fellow who seemed weaker than it.
One must know that although most Ghost Samurai were muddled, they were usually not weak or inferior among demons of the same level.
"Anyone else?"
Hikaru held the hilt, his voice calm.
The demon horde became restless.
The One-Horned Oni's expression was ugly to the extreme; it wanted to order an attack, but its throat felt blocked by something.
Fear.
This was fear.
Although this Ghost Samurai didn't look very strong, he seemed special enough; they also knew the abilities of the Ghost Samurai who had been slain, and as naturally humanoid demons, they were often more powerful and capable among those of the same level.
Plus that priestess inside... even if she was wary of the village behind her and didn't dare to fully unleash her power, needing to distract herself with maintaining a large-scale Barrier to protect the people, she still possessed an unfathomable depth of power.
This was clearly a case of one plus one being greater than two.
No way to win.
Can't fight.
Wisdom, unlike that of lesser demons, allowed this One-Horned Oni to make a judgment.
"Retreat..."
It squeezed out a word with difficulty: "Retreat!"
Although the remaining small demons didn't have much wisdom, instinct had long been driving them to flee, only held back by the high-level demons; now that the horde heard this, they felt as if they had been granted a great amnesty and retreated like a tide.
The giant python was the first to turn, its fifty-foot body disappearing into the grass at an incredible speed.
The Three-Eyed Crow flapped its wings and soared high, vanishing into the night sky in the blink of an eye.
The One-Horned Oni ran last, giving Hikaru a fierce glare before leaving.
"You brat, remember this!"
Then it also fled.
Hikaru stood in place, watching the backs of the scattering demon horde.
"...That's it?"
At this moment, he was actually a bit disappointed.
Although the shikon jewel's favorability wasn't fixed, he had been thinking about whether he could grind some more favorability for muramasa.
Maxing it out directly would be best!
[demon blade muramasa: Feeling regretful, it indicates that those who ran away looked very delicious.]
"Next time."
Hikaru patted the hilt.
Then he turned around and looked toward the shrine.
The Barrier was still there, the faint white light screen still enveloping the shrine and the surrounding villagers.
The figure on the stone steps was still there as well.
White robe and red hakama, black hair like a waterfall.
Kikyo was looking at him.
Her bow was still in her hand, but her quiver was empty.
Those arrows, half of them were used to support him.
During the battle just now, he had no time to look closely, but now that it was quiet, that figure fell completely into Hikaru's eyes like a painting.
Her black hair was draped over her shoulders, with a few strands blown to her chest by the night wind, resting on the collar of her white Kosode, making that patch of moon-white even more striking.
The tips of her hair fell right on the rise and fall of her chest, trembling slightly with her breath, like dark petals floating on a stream.
And her face—
Cold, fair, and exquisite beyond mortal realms.
It bore the fatigue left by maintaining the Barrier and continuously firing arrows for a long time.
But even though she was tired, she still stood straight.
That posture was not a deliberate elegance, but something ingrained in her blood—the almost instinctive uprightness of someone who had been protecting something since childhood.
Like a white blade plunged into the night.
Cold, yet making one unable to resist wanting to approach.
Hikaru looked at her, his mouth moving slightly under the oni mask.
This was Kikyo.
Three months ago, the girl he had seen countless times on the screen in another world was now standing thirty feet away.
Not 2D lines and colors.
She was a living, breathing person with warmth—even if that warmth was the temperature of spiritual power rather than body heat—with breath, fluttering hair, swaying clothes, and eyelashes casting fine shadows under the moonlight.
The real Kikyo.
More beautiful than any version he had imagined.
And more—heart-stirring—than any version he had imagined.
Ugh... damn impurity, influencing me again!
Hikaru silently made excuses for himself.
Their eyes met across the night.
Hikaru opened his mouth, wanting to say something more.
But before he could speak, a new prompt suddenly popped up on the System Panel.
[shikon no tama: naohi has conveyed a message to you.]
[The priestess is looking at you, she is hesitating.]
[You need to give her a reason to trust you.]
[Give me to her—that way, you will be safe—she will no longer harm you, and will even protect you.]
Hikaru looked down at the shikon jewel in his arms.
The faint purple bead lay quietly in his palm, its light soft and mysterious.