"I knew it. I knew I hadn't misjudged you back then. You really pulled it off, kid. We couldn't even get in touch with you for a while—and then, without making a sound, you went and accomplished all of this."
In Tokyo's Shibuya Ward, at the temporary frontline operations base of the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division, several familiar faces were gathered together. The moment Kamishiro Isshin spotted Ren Kuroda, his expression lit up with unmistakable relief and pride. He reached out and gave Ren a hearty pat on the shoulder, clearly delighted.
The monk Hakuba didn't say a word, but he stood off to the side with a gentle smile, his eyes never leaving Ren.
As for the ever-icy Yamato Kuuka, she was still hugging her cursed blade Onikiri, her expression as impassive as a glacier. On the surface, she seemed completely indifferent to Ren's arrival.
Yet the occasional sideways glance she shot in his direction betrayed her true feelings—she cared far more than she let on.
The place they were standing in now—Shibuya—wasn't just a major district of Tokyo. It was a frontline battlefield.
Although the S+-rank great yokai Tengu had been wounded by a divine artifact earlier, that didn't mean the yokai were willing to bow their heads and submit to humanity.
The age of upheaval had arrived.
For yokai who had begun to awaken once more, humans—who had long stood arrogantly at the top of the world—were no longer masters to be obeyed.
In fact, their thinking mirrored that of humanity's own leaders.
Rather than prioritizing backward, sparsely populated towns, the true strategic targets were the prosperous metropolitan centers.
After all, no matter how the world changed, cities held the greatest concentration of resources and talent—things that would always remain indispensable.
And yokai thought the exact same way.
Those rundown towns from before? How many people did they really have? Only starving, low-level yokai desperate for scraps would bother scavenging there.
Yokai with real strength—or those commanding their own factions—naturally set their sights on humanity's most flourishing districts.
Humans lived their best lives there.
So why shouldn't yokai live there too?
More than that, conquering humanity's most prosperous areas was a way to prove one's strength to other yokai.
The more developed the city, the fiercer the human resistance.
To seize such a place and claim it as one's territory was undeniable proof of both power and status.
The era of yokai had arrived.
And in the coming golden age, anyone who wanted to rise to the top needed both reputation and resources.
Seizing humanity's most prosperous districts demonstrated one's strength within yokai society—naturally attracting followers eager to pledge allegiance. That was the power of reputation.
As for resources?
In a place as densely populated as a major city, did anyone really need to ask how many humans lived there?
With enough blood and flesh to consume, strength would skyrocket.
Followers gained. Power gained.
Becoming a dominant great yokai someday would be nothing more than a matter of course.
After completing his so-called rescue operations, Ren Kuroda had originally planned to go home and lie low for a while—waiting until his accumulated prestige was enough to push his yokai power up to A-rank before resurfacing.
After all, with S+-rank monsters already appearing, even with his current A−-rank yokai power, and even after activating everything he had—including Half-Oni Transformation—his combat strength only barely reached S−.
The gap between S− and S+ wasn't just a difference in degree.
It was a chasm.
No—a natural disaster of a gap.
If his base yokai power could reach A-rank, then going all out might allow him to reach S-rank, at which point he'd at least have a chance to escape when facing an S+-rank great yokai.
But at only S−?
The difference was simply too vast.
Ren wanted to keep a low profile.
Unfortunately, someone else didn't want him to.
Because of the shocking combat strength Ren had displayed during the rescue operations—and because those operations had now concluded—the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division swiftly issued him orders to support the frontline.
And the person sent to deliver those orders?
The walking iceberg herself—Yamato Kuuka.
Technically, Kamishiro Isshin was supposed to come himself.
But Kuuka had volunteered without hesitation, and so the task fell to her instead.
When she saw that Ren was safe and sound, she'd let out a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding.
Then she saw the rest.
Ren sprawled lazily across the couch like a dead fish, casually playing video games with his younger sister.
Meanwhile, Spider Princess stood nearby holding drinks, occasionally feeding the siblings with a straw as if this were some kind of vacation resort.
Kuuka snapped.
She'd been genuinely worried that Ren, handling rescue missions alone, might run into serious danger.
Now it was clear she'd worried for nothing.
His life looked far too comfortable.
While they were bleeding and fighting on the frontlines, this guy was lounging on a sofa, gaming with his sister—with a beautiful attendant serving him!
Without a word, Kuuka grabbed Ren and dragged him straight to Shibuya.
The happiest person to see Ren was undoubtedly Kamishiro Isshin.
After all, if not for his eye for talent, Ren would never have joined the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division in the first place.
From the beginning, Kamishiro had believed Ren to be a young man with a strong sense of justice—and Ren's actions throughout Tokyo had proven that belief entirely correct.
"You pulled off all those rescue missions flawlessly," Kamishiro said with a grin. "The reward points alone must be massive. And you really brought honor to the Division. Every time I see the looks on those Onmyoryo ritual officers' faces now, it feels damn good."
"Those guys act like they're all that—like they own the place—but when real trouble hit, the ritual officers sent for rescue actually abandoned the survivors and ran. In the end, you had to clean up their mess."
"They're always bragging about their ancient lineages and orthodox traditions, but when it mattered most, they weren't half as reliable as those freelance exorcists from the Exorcist Association."
As one of the most prosperous districts in the country, Shibuya was naturally a prime target for yokai.
Currently, the area was being defended jointly by the three major exorcist organizations: the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division, the Onmyoryo, and the Exorcist Association.
The Exorcist Association functioned much like a mercenary guild, so this time their leadership hadn't skimped—spending enormous resources to hire large numbers of experienced freelance exorcists.
As for the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division and the Onmyoryo?
They were old rivals.
Ever since arriving on the frontline, they'd been locked in a silent contest.
Thanks to their bloodlines and inherited traditions, the Onmyoryo had always looked down on the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division as nothing but a bunch of grassroots nobodies.
And reality hadn't been kind.
The yokai assaulting Shibuya had already launched two major attacks against the defensive line.
Although all three organizations managed to repel the enemy, the cost was severe.
Because the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division's logistics units were largely composed of armed but otherwise ordinary humans, their casualties were the heaviest.
After them came the Exorcist Association.
The Onmyoryo, with the fewest losses, emerged comparatively unscathed.
Naturally, the Onmyoryo took this as an opportunity to mock the Division—calling them useless dead weight.
Kamishiro Isshin and his comrades burned with anger, yet they had no real way to refute the accusations.
Compared to the Onmyoryo, where every member was a formally trained exorcist, or the battle-hardened veterans of the Exorcist Association, the Division's overall combat strength truly was weaker.
Their non-core logistics personnel were equipped with demon-slaying "Sacred Spirit Bullets", mass-produced rounds soaked in holy water.
Against D-rank or E-rank yokai, those bullets were effective enough.
But the yokai attacking Shibuya?
Even the weakest among them were D+-rank.
Against creatures like that, those bullets were nearly useless.
Compared to exorcists with their own defensive methods, ordinary humans on this battlefield were little more than cannon fodder.
Over the past few days on the frontline, Kamishiro had endured not only the pain of losing comrades, but also the relentless ridicule from the Onmyoryo.
The bitterness of it was impossible to describe.
Just as Kamishiro reached his breaking point—ready to ignore any punishment from higher command and teach those people a lesson—news of Ren Kuroda reached the frontline.
The high-and-mighty Onmyoryo ritual officers had fled in the face of an unbeatable yokai, abandoning survivors without hesitation.
Meanwhile, the Non-Natural Countermeasures Division's rising star, Ren Kuroda, had become famous throughout Tokyo as "The Redeemer."
The timing of that slap in the face couldn't have been better.
For the prideful Onmyoryo, it was more effective than getting beaten bloody.
Watching their smug ritual officers eat humble pie made Kamishiro feel like he'd downed an ice-cold cola in the middle of summer.
If he'd gone looking for trouble earlier, he could've beaten any one of them in a one-on-one—but they had numbers on their side.
Now?
He didn't even need to lift a finger.
From far away, Ren had already delivered a loud, resounding smack straight across their faces.
These days, whenever the Onmyoryo personnel in Shibuya saw Kamishiro Isshin, they went out of their way to avoid him—terrified he might bring it up.
"Alright, Kamishiro-senpai," Kuuka cut in, clearly losing patience as he showed no signs of stopping. "Get to the point already. The Onmyoryo's arrogance isn't anything new."
"Just explain our current situation to him."
Kamishiro nodded, his expression turning serious.
"Right. Let's talk business. I heard that back at the shelter, you killed a B-rank yokai with just three slashes."
"So tell me honestly—if you were to face a yokai as strong as A+-rank, would you have any chance? Or at least… could you hold it back?"
As he asked the question, Kamishiro himself lacked confidence—even feeling it might be an unreasonable demand.
The difference between a B-rank yokai and an A+-rank yokai wasn't just one tier.
It was worlds apart.
Ren could kill a B-rank yokai in three strikes.
But in front of an A+-rank monster, even a B-rank wouldn't survive a single exchange.
..
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