The night wind carried the stench of blood and burning, sweeping from the village at the foot of the mountain up into the trees.
Five figures shoved their way down the forest path. They stood less than three feet tall, with filthy, bluish-gray skin and fleshy tumors sprouting from their sparse, patchy hair. These were low-tier yokai common to the age, known as blue-skinned goblins. They often attached themselves to greater demons, surviving by pillaging human settlements.
The one in the front cradled a severed arm in his arms, fresh gore still clinging to the corner of his mouth. He wore a satisfied expression.
"The path ahead is blocked."
The lead goblin halted. A guttural growl, like a beast protecting its food, rumbled from his throat.
Right there, on their only path back to their nest, stood a man.
The man wore a set of tattered red armor, the rusted plates crudely restrung with coarse hemp rope. His helmet was long gone, revealing a shock of disheveled white hair. Beneath the white hair was a fierce red demon mask.
He wasn't breathing. His chest didn't rise or fall. A pale, deathly cold mist clung to his form.
A demon warrior.
In this age where humans and yokai coexisted, this was a unique kind of undead being.
Originally a human warrior of great skill, they would be consumed by obsession or burdened by too much bloodshed at death, preventing reincarnation. Their soul would then violently absorb the ambient yokai energy from the world, forcibly forging a new body. They retained their human combat skills but gained the physique of a monster.
Normally, demon warriors were silent killing machines.
But this one seemed a bit off in the head.
The blocking demon warrior hung his head low, his left thumb absently stroking the tsuba of the black katana at his waist, all while muttering incessantly to himself.
"I know you're a picky eater. That boar yokai last time had blood that was way too greasy, really grossed you out. Didn't I give you a full rust removal and polish afterwards?"
The goblins just stared blankly at each other.
The demon warrior wasn't even looking at them. He kept talking to the sword in his hand: "These tonight might just be small fry, but they're fresh. And blue-skinned goblins, their meat might be sour and bitter, but there's plenty of resentment in their marrow. You'd probably like that crisp texture."
"You want a higher-grade offering? Like the famous Shuten-dōji?"
The demon warrior sighed, tapping his fingers lightly on the hilt twice. "We need to be patient. You're not sharp enough yet to cut through the hide of a major demon. Once you've finished this meal, and our bond... I mean, our rapport improves, then we can challenge stronger ones. Be good, don't throw a tantrum."
The lead goblin felt insulted.
As the lowest beings in the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, they were used to being treated as cannon fodder by greater yokai. But being casually discussed as ingredients by some crazy guy talking to his sword? That was a new low.
"Kill him!"
The lead goblin shrieked, hurling away the severed arm and yanking a leg bone, caked with black blood, from his belt. Muscles in his hind legs coiled, and he launched himself like a projectile.
The other four goblins followed close behind, fanning out to the sides. It was their usual formation for hunting lone warriors.
Haruto stopped his one-sided conversation with his weapon.
"Looks like I didn't need to play therapist after all. Dinner just delivered itself."
He lifted his head. His pale face was expressionless, save for those eyes, jet-black sclera, blood-red pupils, locking onto the oncoming stench-filled wind.
Haruto looked at the translucent panel only he could see in his vision.
[Cursed Blade Muramasa (Fake): Status: Hungry. Current Mood: Irritated.]
"Such a high-maintenance one."
Haruto muttered, lowering his center of gravity.
Facing the leg bone swinging down at his head, he didn't retreat.
A demon warrior's body had no need for breathing, so there was no such thing as "regulating one's energy."
His left thumb suddenly shoved the tsuba a full inch forward.
"Clang——!"
A clear, sharp ring, like a dragon's cry, exploded in the air.
Iaido technique: Against the Wind.
A black arc of moonlight traced a counter-intuitive upward slash.
The lead goblin, still mid-air, only saw a flash of black. The hard leg bone in his hands, along with the tough hide he prided himself on, proved as fragile as wet paper against that black line.
The blade sank into muscle, sliding through the gaps in bone without a pause.
Two halves of a corpse, showering blood, hit the ground.
Haruto rotated his wrist. The blade didn't return to its sheath; instead, he swept it horizontally.
"Number one. How's the taste?"
He asked.
The sword called "Muramasa" in his hand vibrated slightly. The faintly patterned temper line on its blade flickered with an eerie purple light. The goblin blood staining the edge was instantly absorbed into the steel, vanishing completely.
[Cursed Blade Muramasa: Mood changed to 'Slightly Comforted'. Sharpness increased by 5%.]
The remaining four goblins saw their leader instantly eviscerated. Their forward momentum faltered, but fear immediately ignited their ferocity.
The two on the left opened their jaws wide and spat out two globs of green acid, while the two on the right dropped low and scurried forward, trying to attack Haruto's legs.
That was [Corrosive Poison Saliva], the blue-skinned goblins' only ranged attack. It could easily melt through ordinary iron armor.
Haruto didn't retreat. He advanced.
His straw sandals slammed into the ground, kicking up dirt, and his whole body blurred as he cut to the left.
[Phantom Step].
It was a skill he'd figured out himself.
Using a burst of demonic energy for an instant speed boost, it allowed for a near-teleportation lunge over short distances.
The two globs of acid splashed down on empty ground, sizzling loudly.
Haruto was already right in front of the two goblins that had spat the poison.
He didn't use any flashy sword techniques with Muramasa. Just the most straightforward strike: a kesa-giri, a diagonal slash from shoulder to opposite hip.
The blade fell.
The left goblin's head shot into the air.
Then, using the momentum of the slash, Haruto spun his body like a top. The blade traced a circle behind his back and precisely deflected a claw swiping at him from the rear.
"Clang!"
Metal rang out.
The attacking goblin's claw was shattered. It screeched in pain and tried to pull back, but found that black katana clinging to it like a stubborn curse.
Holding the sword in one hand, the tip trembling slightly, Haruto executed a thrust, a style he'd developed himself through combat.
Thud.
The tip pierced through the goblin's throat, pinning it to the old locust tree behind it.
"Still warm. Eat it while it's hot."
Haruto said to the blade, then yanked it free.
The body slid to the ground.
The last remaining blue-skinned goblin finally snapped. It dropped its weapon, spun around, and dove into the bushes, scrambling up the mountain on all fours.
"Don't let it get away. That's dessert."
Haruto formed a hand seal with his left hand, and a ball of demonic blue flame ignited at the tip of his pale fingers.
Sorcery: Demon Firefly.
It was just a basic spell for illumination and tracking, but channeled through a demon warrior's demonic energy, this flame shot out like a homing curse and instantly latched onto the fleeing goblin's back.
The fire exploded. The goblin shrieked and tumbled to the ground.
Haruto strolled over unhurriedly.
The goblin flipped onto its back, trembling violently as it watched the demon warrior approach, whimpering pleas for mercy.
Haruto raised his blade, examining the edge in the moonlight.
"You're saying you're still not full?"
He looked down at the yokai on the ground.
"Sorry, my kid here is still growing."
He brought the sword down.
The head rolled into the undergrowth.
The woods fell back into a dead silence, the only change being the blood smell growing thicker.
Haruto flicked the blade to remove any lingering bloodstains—not that there was much left; most of it had been absorbed by the sword itself.
He pulled up the system panel.
[Cursed Blade Muramasa has absorbed the lifeblood of five blue-skinned goblins.]
[Sharpness: 52 → 53]
[Affection: +5]
[Current Affection: 15 (Friendly)]
[Unlocked Bond Dialogue (1): It finds the taste of this low-grade blood mediocre, but appreciates the quantity. It hopes to try the blood of a human monks with magical power next time.]
Haruto stared at the panel, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Monks blood is way too hot, easy to chip your teeth on. Let's stick to the all-you-can-eat buffet for now."
He slowly slid the long blade back into its sheath.
Click.
The sound of the tsuba meeting the scabbard's mouth was especially sharp in the night.