The sky was a gray-violet expanse. There was no sun. Nor were there the moon and stars of the mortal world. Above stretched only an endless, boundless gloom, as though someone had painted the heavens over with a thick layer of heavy ink, then stirred in a faint violet light.
Mountains surrounded him on all sides. Layered. Jagged. Towering peaks rose from the gray-violet mist, their shapes eerie, like fangs. Like broken bones. Like the spines of colossal beasts snapped and driven into the earth. The air was saturated with an overwhelmingly dense yōki.
So dense it had nearly condensed into substance. Yet this yōki carried no aggression. No will. It merely existed, like a shipwreck that had sunk to the ocean floor centuries ago. Once glorious. Now nothing but a husk.
Shinji's feet landed upon the hard rock, and he knew, he had reached his destination. In an instant, he had arrived at the tomb of the one who had once been the greatest daiyōkai of the Western Lands, the Inu no Taishō, Tōga.
The cleft between life and death. He also understood, the mountains beneath his feet, the stones shaped like bones, truly were bones. They were the manifestation of the grudges of the demons slain by Tōga, coiled around his body, materialized in this space between the living and the dead.
Of course. None of that was what mattered. What mattered was… "That... is Tōga's corpse?"
Ahead. Surrounded by those jagged peaks. At the very center of the endless prostrate bones. Beneath that gloomy sky, towered a figure so colossal it defied all imagination. Its feet were planted among the mountain ranges. The bare bones of its feet alone were the size of small hills. Rising upward, its leg bones were pillars that held up the heavens. Traces of petrified, mottled flesh still clung at the knees.
Cracks etched by the erosion of ages covered the gray-white bone. Further up, the waist. Shattered armor plates wrapped around its midsection, though calling them armor was no longer accurate. They were more like city walls. Each individual plate spanned several meters.
Ancient demonic patterns were carved into their surfaces. The faint sheen lingering within those carvings proved how resplendent they had once been. Higher still, the chest. Ribs arched like bridge girders, each as thick as an ancient tree. The gaps between them were wide enough for an entire army to march through.
And upon those immense shoulder plates, which blotted out half the sky, perched countless unknown birds of the underworld. Their bodies would have been considered large yōkai in the mortal realm. Yet before this corpse, they seemed no larger than sparrows perched upon a castle gate.
Yet though it stood like a man, wearing armor, the skull at its very summit was not human. It was bestial. A colossal canine head. The snout was long and tapered. Fangs jutted outward. Even in skeletal form, the upper-jaw canines still stabbed toward the heavens like great swords.
Each one exceeded thirty meters in length. Two of those fangs, however, were broke, conspicuously so. Horn-like protrusions remained atop the skull. Hollow eye sockets stared forward, and within that bottomless darkness, violet light occasionally flickered. Its total height, spanned a thousand meters.
No guessing was needed. A single glance was enough for Shinji to know the identity of this corpse. Without question, it was the master of this cleft-grave. The Inu no Taishō. Tōga.
The former absolute hegemon of the Western Lands in the Kansai region. The father of Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru. This corpse existed here in the cleft of the underworld, clad in armor, like a statue of staggering immensity.
Even long dead, over a century of time had not brought it down. The yōki lingering within the corpse continued to seep from every crevice of every bone, diffusing throughout the entire space with a terrifying presence, becoming the very foundation of this underworld cleft.
Yes. That dark violet sky. That dark violet mist. All of it, was the residual yōki from within Tōga's corpse. It was no artificially constructed barrier. It was the manifestation of this corpse's very existence.
At this very moment, Shinji stood beside its toe. He tilted his head back and looked up. That sheer disparity of scale made him recall the first time he had faced the Tsuchigumo.
And this.... was even greater. Because though the Tsuchigumo's yōki was vast, its physical form was only twelve meters. The corpse before him spanned a thousand meters. A difference of dozens of times. And also because of that yōki. The residual yōki seeping from the depths of those bones, even after centuries of post-mortem venting, diffusion, and dilution, still far exceeded the maximum limit Shinji could perceive.
By the evolutionary system of demons he himself had summarized, the so-called Four Stages and Twenty-Four Transformations, Physical Transformation of six. Essence Transformation of six. Vapor Transformation of six. Shinji himself had now completed the twelve transformations of the Physical and Essence stages combined, the same level Kidōmaru had once occupied.
He had also sensed, and even confronted, the Vapor stage, the Phenomenon stage, above him. He had truly, personally experienced the vastness of the Tsuchigumo's Phenomenon.
But the yōki emanating from this corpse, Shinji closed his eyes and briefly attempted to measure the depth of that power using the full perception of his Five Viscera and Three Souls. But he gave up after only three seconds. He could not reach the bottom.
This yōki... even the mightiest demon he had ever encountered, the Tsuchigumo could not compare. Though the Tsuchigumo had only just awakened from slumber and seemed not to be in its complete state, the Tōga before him was, without a doubt, an existence surpassing even ordinary daiyōkai.
A being of the absolute highest tier. Shinji could not assign a precise number at present. But he could confirm one thing: even the residual yōki of a mere corpse was enough to suppress the majority of living daiyōkai. It was evident even from the size of the corpse alone.
One had to understand, daiyōkai were different from ordinary demons. As existences capable of forging a Phenomenal essence, they must have crossed the limit of the Essence Transformation and achieved a perfect state of quality.
When they lived, their demonic power was condensed within their shells. Every trace of power was under perfect, absolute control. After death, it was the opposite. With the binding will gone, the yōki vented outward from the shell. And during this process, the body would "swell" with the release of that yōki.
The more terrifying the yōki, the more violent the swelling. This applied to demons great and small alike. This was also why the corpses of demons continued to affect the surrounding world, the residual yōki, like slowly leaking venom, endlessly polluted heaven and earth.
Thus, purification was necessary. Thus demon slayers and miko, after slaying a demon, still had to cleanse the corpse. But a corpse of Tōga's caliber… There existed no force in this world capable of "purifying" it.
The entire cleft of the underworld was filled by this corpse. The mountains were its robes. The sky was the shadow cast by its yōki. It was dead. And yet, it remained the master of this space. No wonder it had chosen to place its tomb here, between life and death, within the cleft of the underworld.
If it were in the mortal realm, merely this diffuse aura alone, accumulating day after day, could give rise to countless high-level demons. Perhaps even nurture a new daiyōkai. It was not entirely impossible!
Shinji withdrew his gaze. His crimson demon eyes returned to calm. "As expected, a true colossus." He murmured. There was no fear in his voice. Only genuine awe. His goal was also crystal clear.
Based on the knowledge and impressions he carried as a "transmigrator", he remembered very well: Tessaiga, the blade Tōga had wielded in life, left as a memento to his son, the half-demon Inuyasha, was located within the abdominal cavity of Tōga's corpse.
A little "borrowing." As for Tōga's corpse itself, forget it. He couldn't "touch" the whole thing. And he certainly couldn't move it. The yōki was far too dense!
Shinji lifted his feet and walked toward the several-hundred-meter-tall corpse. His pace was neither fast nor slow. He passed through the gaps between the immense toe bones. He climbed the slopes of piled rubble. He scaled the shattered armor plates to the level of the knees.
Like an ant crawling across the body of a giant. The peculiar violet luminescence of the underworld seeped from the crevices of bone, illuminating the path ahead. The space within the armor was far larger than it appeared from the outside.
The yōki had distorted the spatial structure. The abdominal cavity beneath the armor plates had expanded into a hollow spanning over ten km in circumference. And at the center of that hollow, there was a raised platform of bone. Upon that platform, rested a single object. A blade.
Unremarkable to the extreme. The scabbard was tattered, wrapped in yellowed cloth strips. The hilt was so worn that the wood beneath was exposed. The blade was narrow. The edge seemed somewhat dull.
Compared to the terrifying corpse around it, capable of bearing the yōki of a Demon King, it looked more like a piece of junk abandoned by some destitute rōnin by the roadside.
But Shinji knew, this was Tessaiga. Forged from the fang of Tōga. The demon blade that should have been passed down to Inuyasha. In the original story, it possessed the Kaze no Kizu, the Wind Scar, capable of slaying a hundred demons in a single strike.
The Bakuryūha, the Backlash Wave, which reversed the enemy's demonic aura. The Red Tessaiga, which shattered barriers. And many other abilities. It also possessed the power to freely manipulate yōki, and the terrifying ability to absorb the demonic power of powerful demons.
It was a demon blade that could grow endlessly through battle. Though the conditions for absorption were harsh, often requiring the opponent to willingly bestow their demonic power, that did not diminish the essence of its astonishing growth potential.
This was Tessaiga. Alongside Tenseiga, the blade that saved lives, it was one of the two relics Tōga had left to his descendants. It was the blade of killing, the counterpart to the "Blade That Does Not Kill."
But at present, it truly looked like nothing more than a broken sword. Because it was slumbering. Waiting for the moment it would recognize its master. Though its appearance differed from his impression of the original story, in the original, Tessaiga had been thrust vertically into the ground, without a scabbard.
But that was likely because Sesshōmaru had already entered this place once before. Even if he couldn't draw it, he had surely made multiple attempts and searches. So the difference was within reason. Shinji didn't dwell on it too much. He simply walked toward the bone platform. Closer. One step closer. He stopped and looked down.
From afar, it was ugly. Up close, even uglier. Through the gap at the scabbard's mouth, the blade within showed signs of rust. Not even the pleasing green of oxidized copper, but that dark, murky brown of something soaked in steam for years. Toss it onto some roadside in the mortal realm, and even a scavenger would hesitate.
But it was Tessaiga! The demon blade forged by the Inu no Taishō from his own fang. One of the three blades of Heaven, Earth, and Man that surpassed even divine artifacts!
Yet the conditions for drawing such a blade were, in truth, very simple. According to the original story, one needed the blood of a human, or a heart that sought to protect humans.
Sesshōmaru had been unable to even touch it precisely because of this. He had no human blood. He held no human heart. Thus the barrier had directly repelled him. That proud eldest son of a Western daiyōkai, had been refused entry by this broken sword.
But Shinji, had both. Five Viscera forged. Three Souls delineated. Shura Returned to One. At this moment, he was wholly demon. And wholly human. He passed in terms of bloodline. He also possessed the desire to protect Kikyō. He also protected Kaede's Village, raising shrines and barriers for the faith of nearly one hundred thousand souls under his governance. These were all facts.
Shinji extended his right hand. Five fingers spread. Palm facing downward. He pressed toward the hilt of Tessaiga. The instant his fingertips touched the cloth strips, nothing happened. No barrier repelled him. No searing burn like what Sesshōmaru had faced. No rejection whatsoever. Only, the System panel flickered.
[Tessaiga: Quality Demon Artifact. Affection: 0. Current State: Dormant. Draw Condition: Requires human blood or the heart of one who protects humans.]
The heart of a human. Shinji looked at that line and the corner of his mouth twitched. This thing… he was, in truth, brimming with it! Amidst this, the sensation of his palm pressing against the hilt even carried a faint warmth.
Beneath the yellowed cloth strips, the wooden hilt held an ancient residual warmth, as though the body heat of someone who had gripped it for many years still lingered. Thus, he tightened his grip. And pulled.
Tessaiga separated from the bone platform. The sound of the blade sliding from the scabbard's mouth was exceedingly deep and low. It was not the sound of a blade being drawn, but rather, as though something that had slumbered for centuries had slowly stretched its limbs.
The rusty, narrow blade looked even more shabby beneath the gray-violet light of the underworld. But the instant it was fully drawn, it changed. Because it touched Shinji's yōki, and even more, because it responded to the "protective" desire within his heart.
Drawing the blade required human blood and a protective heart. Wielding it required demonic power. Simple and clear, yet harsh beyond measure. Fortunately, Shinji was perfectly suited.
With the infusion of yōki, starting from the blade's edge, a layer of pale golden light began to spread along the cutting edge toward the hilt. The rust was devoured. Upon the blackened blade, silver-white patterns surfaced, the texture of a dog's fang, carved deep within the blade all along, suppressed by the seal for centuries.
The blade expanded. Within three breaths, the narrow edge swelled to several times its original size. Its shape shifted from that of an ordinary tachi into a great, crescent-fang-like blade. The cutting edge was broad as a fan. Its sharpness was such that it split the very air it touched.
The gray-violet mist was cleaved into two diverging currents on either side of the blade. The loose cloth strips upon the hilt tightened, and white, downy fibers sprouted from their surface. The fur of a dog-demon. The entire blade radiated a soft, golden light. Yōki overflowed from its cutting edge, yet carried no aggression. It was warm, like a campfire on a winter night. The Blade of Protection.
The System panel flickered.
[Tessaiga: Quality Demon Artifact. Affection: 1]
Affection: 1. It had skipped the stages of awakening and rejection entirely, entering directly into a cultivable state. Unexpectedly smooth. So smooth that, for a single instant, he suspected this blade was perhaps far too agreeable.
But he immediately rejected that thought. Tessaiga was not agreeable. He had simply fulfilled all its conditions. After all, this was, in the end, a relic Tōga had left for Inuyasha.
Even though Inuyasha no longer needed it, and could no longer use it, Tessaiga was, at its core, a demon blade. A human could draw it. But it required demonic power to activate its true form. It was no longer suited to Inuyasha.
Amidst this, Shinji held the transformed Tessaiga and silently felt the power emanating from the blade. Steady. Profound. He also instinctively made comparisons.
This sensation was entirely different from Onikiri's violent fury. And utterly different from Yomi-giri's cold, solemn killing intent. This blade was like a shield.
A shield with its edge facing outward. Its essence lay not in slaughter, but in granting its wielder sufficient strength to protect everything behind them. "A fine blade," he remarked. It was certainly a fine blade. Even across the entire era, there were few demon blades superior to this one!
Shinji then sheathed the blade. In the instant Tessaiga returned to its scabbard, it shrank back into that worn, tattered appearance. The fang retreated. The light faded. It once again became scrap metal that even a wild dog by the roadside would disdain.
There was a strange sense of a divine object concealing its own brilliance. But this no longer mattered. The blade had acknowledged him. Affection: 1 was proof enough. Tessaiga did not reject him. And it approved of his protective heart.
He hung Tessaiga at his right hip. Originally, only Yomi-giri hung on the right. Now, there was one more. The belt grew tight. Onikiri on the left. Yomi-giri and Tessaiga on the right. Banryū upon his back. Four blades.
Counting Raikiri, which was about to complete its metamorphosis into a full divine artifact, and Suijin-kiri, which was still being forged, Shinji felt he might need to find a treasure with internal storage capabilities. Or perhaps, open up an internal world within his own body?
But he did not turn to leave. Though his goal of obtaining Tessaiga had been achieved, his purpose in coming here was, in truth, not limited to one. He had another objective. Shinji lifted his head. His gaze pierced through the gaps in the abdominal ribcage upward.
Tōga's chest arched overhead like a vast dome. His ribs were arrayed like the arches of a bridge, each as thick as an ancient tree. Further up was the cervical spine. And above that, the interior of that colossal canine skull. Within those hollow eye sockets, violet light still flickered, now bright, now dim.
Shinji inhaled. The Shura-Lungs cycled. Yōki flowed. Then he raised his right hand. Palm facing upward. And then, the Soul-Chasing BowArm Transformation! Soul-Summoning activated.
Dark crimson yōki surged from his palm, transforming into dozens of exceedingly fine threads that climbed upward. The instant those threads touched the inner walls of Tōga's corpse, the entire space trembled. The residual yōki churned like a deep pool disturbed. The gray-violet mist roiled violently, converging from all directions toward the center of the abdominal cavity.
A low, resonant hum emanated from the depths of the bones, like an ancient, thousand-year-old bell lightly tapped by a fingertip. The threads of Soul-Summoning were unaffected. They continued to climb. Through the chest cavity. Through the cervical spine. Reaching the interior of the canine skull.
Shinji closed his eyes. He was searching. Within the depths of this corpse, so vast it defied imagination, for something that might or might not exist. The power of Soul-Summoning pierced through the entire skeleton.
The threads of yōki searched and called through every crevice of every bone. Within the hollow eye sockets of the canine skull, the violet light suddenly flared for an instant. And then, from the utmost depths. From the very core of the skeleton. From a certain point that even yōki could not touch, something was responding to him.
Exceedingly faint. Exceedingly distant. But undeniably present. The threads of Soul-Summoning were lightly tugged by the other party. Like someone sinking in the deep sea, grasping the rope that had been lowered.
Yes, this was also his objective. He intended to find what very likely existed within this corpse… the soul of the Inu no Taishō, Tōga! And then.... awaken him!