The Takemikazuchi Familia was a small Familia from the Far East, consisting of only six core members.
Among them, the more well-known were Kashima Ouka, Chigusa, and Yamato Mikoto, the latter of whom would later transfer to the Hestia Familia. The remaining three members, two men and one woman were relatively obscure.
That, however, wasn't the important part.
The important part was,
"Lord Takemikazuchi, I hope you can spare some time to guide the children of our Familia," Shaka said sincerely. "To be frank, they're all complete novices who still don't understand much."
Although the Takemikazuchi Familia was poor and every one of its members was only Level 1, their god was anything but ordinary. Takemikazuchi was a terrifying existence, one who could casually send a Level 5 adventurer flying in a direct confrontation.
With Takemikazuchi present, Astraea's safety was far more secure now.
At the very least, it was more reassuring than relying solely on Lulune.
"Is that all?" Takemikazuchi asked with interest. "Such a simple request?"
"Yes." Shaka met his gaze earnestly. "And if possible, I'd also like you to help protect Lady Astraea."
"We're newcomers here, so please take care of us, Shaka-san," Yamato Mikoto said, bowing deeply.
The agreement was quickly settled. They decided to depart at 1 p.m.
Shaka took a short nap to recover his mental strength. After waking, he borrowed a set of armor and a short combat axe from Cecil, packed the potions he had purchased earlier, and brought along two homemade bombs.
He chose the short axe for a simple reason: its size and balance were close to that of a tennis racket, making it far easier for him to adapt to.
In truth, Shaka preferred fighting barehanded. He wasn't particularly skilled with weapons, but when it came to fists, he at least had some experience in free fighting. If things went south, throwing a few wild punches was still better than flailing helplessly.
Before he left, Astraea stopped him.
"Take this with you."
Shaka looked down.
"Isn't this… the former Familia commander's emblem?"
In Astraea's hand was a pendant formed from a sword and wing insignia, bound together with a cord, the very relic Shaka had once attempted to use to summon a Heroic Spirit.
"It's a talisman," Astraea said softly.
She bent down and placed the pendant around Shaka's neck. A faint, refreshing fragrance brushed past him, carrying with it the vitality and warmth of the goddess.
"As the successor to leadership, I believe you're qualified to bear it."
You're already convinced I'll win, aren't you?
Cecil would cry if she heard that.
Shaka straightened, his expression solemn.
"Then I'm heading out."
-------------
When Shaka arrived at the inn where Takemikazuchi was staying, he was quickly introduced to the rest of the Familia.
Just as in the original story, Kashima Ouka was tall and powerfully built, with the bearing of a frontline warrior.
"My preferred weapons are the shield and axe," Ouka said firmly. "I'll handle the front line."
Next to her, a socially awkward girl spoke up quietly.
"I'm Chigusa. I serve as a defender, and I specialize in archery."
The samurai girl stepped forward.
"Yamato no Mikoto. My preferred weapon is the sword. I'm a mid-rank combatant, possess enemy-detection skills, and will follow orders during battle."
"Asuka, defender."
"Dai, vanguard."
"Shibata, frontliner."
Finally, Shaka introduced himself.
"Shaka, Astraea Familia. I've only been an adventurer for about a week. My position is… barely center-back. I trust my fists more than weapons."
After hearing this, Ouka frowned slightly.
"I've heard you defeated an enhanced Minotaur alone. Since we'll be working together, we need to understand your combat capabilities."
"They were just surface-level monsters," Shaka replied calmly.
Then he added,
"I have some talent in combat. As for my ability values, please assume A-rank or above. In terms of practical combat strength… think of me as someone with refined technique, similar to Lord Takemikazuchi."
Mikoto's eyes immediately lit up.
"Then, could you spar with me?"
"Alright," Shaka said without hesitation. "That's the most direct way."
They moved to a deserted alley.
Mikoto gripped her katana and took a fighting stance.
"Be careful."
"Come at me."
With a sharp whoosh, Mikoto drew her blade and charged forward.
Shaka stood upright, unflinching.
This was his first time fighting a human opponent, but strangely enough, it felt familiar. In fact, this was his home ground.
A basketball court was also a battlefield. Compared to beasts, humans were harder to deal with. You had to read movements, dodge bodies, control distance, and react instantly.
"Compared to that," Shaka said lightly, "your blade is slow."
He shifted his body just enough for the thrust to graze past his chest, then slid along the arc of the slash.
In the instant Mikoto swung horizontally, Shaka surged forward, perfectly controlling the distance.
Before anyone could react, he was right in front of her, barely three centimeters away. He could even feel her breath.
As Mikoto's pupils contracted, Shaka drove an elbow toward her chest.
The distance was too close. The sword was useless.
Mikoto pushed off with her back leg to retreat, but Shaka didn't commit fully. Instead, he feinted. The moment she reacted, he leapt and delivered a downward whip kick.
The relentless sequence shattered her rhythm.
Panicking, Mikoto dropped her katana and crossed her arms to block.
Bang.
The impact sent her stumbling backward. When she looked up again, her own katana was already resting on Shaka's shoulder.
If Shaka had followed through, a thrust to the heart would have ended it instantly.
"How… how did you do that?!" Mikoto asked, stunned.
She was a disciple of Takemikazuchi. Even accounting for Shaka's higher ability values, this shouldn't have been so one-sided.
Shaka smiled faintly.
"It was just a simple feint. You were careless, Miss Yamato."
That was the truth.
With perfect distance control and total bodily awareness under Zone, Shaka had created a fatal opening with nothing more than a feint.
Basketball had refined his close-range evasion and spatial awareness.
Tennis had sharpened his ability to read trajectories and counter projectiles.
After receiving Falna, Shaka's overall capabilities had improved to the point where he could judge the path and landing point of moving objects, even with his eyes closed.
For example—
A shot that vanished.
As Shaka liked to say:
"Labor and management have awakened the power of perception."
Mikoto bit her lip, unwilling to concede.
"Again!"
This time, she charged in unarmed, determined to test fist and footwork.
Shaka didn't give up his advantage. Relying on agility alone, he evaded her attacks.
He treated her punches like steals on the court, redirecting, sidestepping, maintaining safe distance.
Dodging alone wasn't enough, but attacking recklessly would only expose weaknesses.
Shaka's thoughts raced, an image flashing through his mind.
He swayed, clenched his fists, and feinted with alternating steps.
Mikoto focused entirely on his movement.
"Left, no, right!"
But just as she committed
Shaka shifted again.
"Still left."
"Kneel."
A cold voice echoed.
As Mikoto lunged in, her lower body suddenly gave out. She lost balance and fell backward.
"Too hasty, Mikoto."
Shaka stood over her and flicked her forehead lightly.
"What… happened?" Mikoto asked, staring up at him, cold sweat soaking her face.
"Ah, sorry," Shaka muttered, rubbing his face. "I got a little too immersed."
To replicate a former opponent, he had unconsciously entered a near-inhuman state.
The Emperor Eye.
Akashi Seijuro's technique.
By combining absolute neural reflexes with dynamic vision, one could read breathing, heartbeat, muscle tension, and intent, then force the opponent into making the opposite of their intended action.
This technique only worked when one possessed overwhelming superiority in perception and physical control.
To Ouka and the others, it looked as though Shaka merely swayed slightly and Mikoto collapsed on her own.
A complete, merciless domination of technique.
"Are you alright?"
Shaka extended his hand.
Mikoto stared at the pale, slender fingers in front of her for a long time, unable to speak.