The Demonic Blade

The moon had reached its zenith, and the night had grown deep.

The city's neon glow masked the brilliance of the stars and moon. Even in the dead of night, this artificial kaleidoscope showed no sign of fading. Densely packed lights adorned the skyscrapers, and the city streets remained filled with countless vehicles, their lights trailing like colorful sparks as they sped along, resembling a shimmering river of light weaving through the landscape.

Yet beneath this dazzling surface, the city's darkness was churning. Within damp sewers, narrow alleys, and atop high rooftops, countless dark figures moved with swift precision. In a realm beyond human perception, strange forms wandered the streets, searching everywhere.

In places hidden from the common eye, the city's shadow side was in an uproar. Although the Nura Clan had weakened significantly in recent years and its rule was slowly crumbling, it remained the largest yokai organization in Tokyo and the nominal ruler of the Tokyo demon realm. The news of its heir's disappearance had sent shockwaves through the city's supernatural underworld.

Currently, the Nura Clan had fully mobilized, deploying every available resource to conduct a city-wide search. This move immediately caught the attention of various factions both inside and outside the clan. Within the Nura Clan, the opposition—those who objected to the First Head's grandson, a youth with only a quarter yokai blood, taking over—outwardly obeyed while secretly dragging their feet. Meanwhile, rival yokai gangs outside the clan searched for traces of the young lord, hoping to find an opportunity to tear a piece off the Nura Clan's territory.

In short, the disappearance of the Nura Young Lord had turned the Tokyo demon realm into a boiling cauldron of undercurrents. If he was not found soon, a major incident was inevitable.

Amidst the neon haze, atop a towering skyscraper, several figures gathered. Their appearances were entirely at odds with the modern metropolis.

A small, hunched yokai elder wearing a simple kariginu stood at the edge of the roof, his head misshapen and elongated, gazing into the distance as the night wind howled around him.

Beside him, a small, chibi-styled Karasu-tengu flapped its wings, circling anxiously. Near them stood three adult-sized Karasu-tengu dressed in ascetic robes and haori. These three—two men and one woman—possessed handsome human features and broad, black wings growing from their backs.

This elder was none other than the founder and current head of the Nura Clan, Nurarihyon. Next to him was the head family's manager, Karasu-tengu, and the three humanoid tengu were his children, cadres of the clan's younger generation known as the Three-Winged Crows.

Surrounding Nurarihyon and the tengu were several dog yokai of various shapes and sizes—some humanoid, some beastly, resembling Shiba Inus or Huskies. They were scattered across the rooftop, sniffing the air to catch a scent of the Nura Young Lord.

To find his grandson as quickly as possible, Nurarihyon had gathered all the dog yokai of the main house to track Rikuo's trail. He was personally waiting on-site for news, with the Three-Winged Crows on standby, ready to depart the moment a lead was found.

However, his presence wasn't just to receive information quickly.

"I must... confirm it for myself," Nurarihyon murmured with a grave expression, looking out over the vast night cityscape.

On the outskirts of Ome City, Tokyo, outside the abandoned Old Fukiage Tunnel.

Nura Rikuo, his yokai blood awakened, leapt into the air above the Great Evil Spirit's massive body. His long white hair fluttered in the wind as he gripped the black-gold, patterned tachi. With a focused gaze, he drew the blade and slashed downward. A cold flash of light fell, and the Great Evil Spirit lost an arm amidst a pained wail.

"What a sword..."

Standing on the ground and looking at the sharp blade reflecting the silver moonlight, Rikuo spoke in admiration. In terms of feel and sharpness alone, this tachi already surpassed his previous demon-slaying blade, Miroku-maru.

'Such an excellent blade must have been forged by a top-tier master...' Rikuo thought as he gazed at the chilling edge. However, a furious roar interrupted his thoughts.

"ROAR!!"

Rikuo turned to see the Great Evil Spirit, missing an arm, staggering back several steps before letting out a sky-shaking howl. The roar vibrated through the demon realm, kicking up a gust of yin wind that whipped Rikuo's clothes.

"Still got that much energy, huh..."

As Rikuo watched the roaring spirit, the thick arm that had been severed on the ground turned into a streak of ghostly light and flew back to the creature. It re-solidified at the stump, restoring the arm to its original state.

"Essentially, it's still just a spirit..." Rikuo muttered, his brow furrowing. Although the Great Evil Spirit dwelling in the Old Fukiage Tunnel was powerful enough to manifest a physical body, it was still a spiritual entity at its core. As long as it was a spirit, it could split and reform. Cutting off an arm didn't seem to be a serious injury.

Roaring, the Great Evil Spirit charged at Rikuo with its axe in both hands. The massive axe, stained with bits of flesh, swung wildly at him. Rikuo dodged with nimble movements, seizing an opening to strike again. With a flash of cold light, he opened a gash on the spirit's neck. However, the wound healed instantly, causing Rikuo to frown.

'Because it's a spirit... it has no vital points?'

Normally, a mundane weapon would pass through a spirit without causing harm. If a blade was imbued with spiritual power or demonic power, the spirit could be cut and damaged. A typical spirit would dissipate after such a strike, but if the entity was strong enough, it could reform. Ordinary attacks would only deplete its energy rather than being fatal. This was exactly what was happening with the Great Evil Spirit.

The spirit, relying on its resilient spiritual body, swung its giant axe relentlessly. Rikuo dodged gracefully and retaliated, leaving countless gashes on the spirit's massive form and even severing its limbs a few more times. Though the spirit repaired these injuries, the consumption was taking its toll. Its spiritual intensity was slowly dropping. If the battle continued like this, Rikuo would eventually wear it down until it dissipated.

Sensing the battle was turning against it, the Great Evil Spirit suddenly retreated two steps to create distance. It waved its massive hand toward the pitch-black tunnel. Immediately, the faces stuck to the tunnel walls began to twitch violently, struggling and screaming soundlessly.

A pale white soul-fire flew out of the tunnel toward the spirit, which caught it and prepared to shove it into its mouth.

'It wants to restore its strength by consuming the souls it imprisoned...'

Rikuo instantly realized its intent and lunged forward. With a swift slash, he once again severed the arm holding the soul-fire. The soul was liberated, and the Great Evil Spirit let out a furious, pained roar.

Following its roar, more clumps of soul-fire began to seep out from the countless faces in the tunnel. They were being forcibly stripped from the walls by the spirit, clearly intended to be summoned and devoured!

'This is bad... I can't manage that many souls at once...'

Rikuo's expression turned grim. He realized he had to finish the Great Evil Spirit immediately, or he wouldn't be able to stop it once all those souls arrived.

To save the souls, he had to defeat the spirit now, but its resilient body couldn't be brought down in a single blow.

What should he do? How could he save them all?

As Rikuo struggled with the dilemma, the familiar low voice he had heard before whispered in his ear again.

"Use your demonic power as sustenance... feed the Demonic Fang Blade..."

Rikuo froze for a moment, then looked at the blade gripped in his hands.

"Feed it... demonic power?"

Following the instruction, Rikuo held the sword with both hands and focused his mind. He channeled his internal demonic power and poured it into the weapon. Suddenly, a change occurred around him.

'Is this... wind?'

Wind—a wind constructed of demonic energy—began to swirl around Rikuo, tossing his robes and long hair. He could clearly feel his demonic power coiling around the blade, becoming increasingly violent.

'This... this isn't a mundane blade... it's a Demonic Blade! A true Demonic Blade!'

At that moment, Rikuo felt the blade in his hand tremble. It was as if a hungry beast that had slept for a century had suddenly woken up upon sensing food. It devoured every bit of demonic power he funneled into it, no matter how much he gave, like an insatiable bottomless pit!

Then, the blade seemed to find the flow too slow and began to actively pull demonic power from Rikuo's body. It was like a keeper being attacked by a starving beast because the food wasn't coming fast enough. The demonic wind around Rikuo intensified abruptly, and his power was drained away like rushing water. In an instant, nearly a third of his reserves were gone, sending a jolt of panic through him.

'Damn... it's going to suck me dry at this rate!'

In this moment of crisis, the low whisper returned.

"Control, strike, release... Do not let it consume you..."

'Release...?'

Rikuo looked at the Great Evil Spirit, which was still summoning souls. He gritted his teeth and raised the Demonic Blade, now wreathed in a storm of demonic energy, and swung it down through the air.

"Release!"

BOOM!!

With a thunderous roar that echoed through the night, a violent storm of demonic energy erupted from the Demonic Fang Blade. It formed a massive, expanding shockwave that tore through the ground as it surged toward the Great Evil Spirit. The spirit's massive body was instantly pulverized by the crashing wind, leaving not even a scrap behind. The shockwave continued forward, sweeping into the desolate forest. Any rocks or trees in its path were instantly shattered, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

Gradually, the roar faded, the dust settled, and the chaos ceased. After the earth-shaking strike, the sound of metal hitting the ground rang out.

Clang!

Rikuo's hands went limp, and the black-gold tachi fell to the earth. Rikuo himself collapsed onto his backside, panting heavily as he stared at the scene before him.

"Huff... huff... huff... This... this is... too much..."

What lay before Rikuo was a radial fissure in the earth that stretched for nearly a hundred meters from where he stood. Around the crack, trees were snapped or uprooted, and soil was overturned. As for the Great Evil Spirit that should have been in the center of that path, there wasn't a trace of it left.

For a moment, Rikuo remembered how he had compared this sword to his family's heirloom demon-slaying blade, dismissing it for lacking those special debuffs like heavy injury or energy depletion.

Thinking back now... with this much destructive power, capable of erasing a powerful opponent so completely that nothing remained, what was the point of those other functions?

"Huff... huff... Heh... Truly terrifying power. But... the price... is this horrific consumption of demonic power... and that uncontrollable hunger..." Rikuo said with a bitter smile, looking at the blade on the ground. Compared to the destruction, the memory of that insatiable hunger that nearly drained him dry left him with a lingering sense of dread.

So this was a true Demonic Blade—immensely powerful yet filled with malice. He suspected that anyone who had owned this sword in the past likely met a grim end.

On the other side, Miketsu, watching from a tree, slapped her forehead as she realized her mistake.

'Oops... I almost forgot. That sword got used to sucking my demonic power in the past. Every time I used it, I'd push its power to the maximum output in one go. Now it has a sort of instinctive habit. Even Menreiki has to control it carefully. If the input is too low, it gets unsatisfied and starts draining the user instead... and a normal yokai can't handle that kind of drain.'

She had almost accidentally killed Nurarihyon's grandson.