Kashimo was gone before the echoes of his words faded.
An instant later, his blade was inches from Shuten Doji's face. The ogre's pupils constricted. For a fraction of a second, the giant couldn't even register the movent. But the hesitation lasted less than a second.
One of its six arms reached for the gourd at its waist. It gripped the neck and swung.
A stream of shimring, golden sake erupted from the vessel, arching through the air to catch Kashimo's left arm before he could pull back. The sound of corrosion was a high, piercing hiss. White steam rose as flesh dissolved in seconds. The agony was sharp enough to shatter most minds, but Kashimo didn't so much as flinch.
He swung the katana in his right hand. A flash of cold steel followed.
His left arm fell from the shoulder, severed cleanly at the root. It tumbled into the golden river of wine below along with the corrosive liquid. Kashimo retreated, putting distance between them.
He looked down at the ground. The severed limb was undergoing a grotesque transformation. The flesh had vanished, leaving only bone that was now twisting and writhing, reshaped by an unseen force. Within seconds, a gnarled, screeching imp crawled out from the remains of his own skeleton.
Kashimo spat on the ground. "Assimilation," he noted, looking up at the six-ard king. "That's your technique."
Shuten Doji looked down at him, arms wide as if to embrace the world. A smile pulled at its demonic face. "More than that, little one."
Kashimo clicked his tongue. His Hollow Wicker Basket was failing. The translucent film around him was shivering like a candle in a storm. He needed to end this quickly.
He pushed off the ground, the earth shattering behind him as he blurred into a streak of white and blue. He was faster this ti, moving so quickly he left an afterimage in the heavy air. He crushed the newly born imp with a single fist, turning it into a spray of bone before it could scream.
Then, the Soul Split Katana fell.
The black blade sank deep into Shuten Doji's abdon. Purple blood sprayed from the wound.
But Kashimo saw it. Even as the blade bit into its gut, the ogre's six hands were already weaving signs. Despite the pain, the technique was ready. The giant's mouth opened.
"Sorrow, agony, the innate death."
The chant drifted from between its fangs, each syllable sounding like an echo from the depths of the underworld.
"Bloodkin."
The mont the last word left its lips, Kashimo's heart exploded.
It wasn't a taphor. A pillar of crimson burst through his torso, tearing from front to back in a violent spray of gore. He could hear the wet snap of his own organs, feel the sudden, hollow rush of heat as his life poured out into the air.
He stumbled, but he didn't fall. Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to retreat, putting every inch of space he could between himself and the monster. His reverse technique flooded his chest, positive energy rushing to the void where his heart had been. Muscle knit, bone fused, and the rhythm of his pulse returned.
But a strange, heavy lethality began to creep through his limbs.
It wasn't simple exhaustion. It felt as if thousands of microscopic filants were growing through his veins and marrow, an invisible rot eating him from the inside out.
Shuten Doji stood still, the wound in its stomach already closing. It watched the pale-haired man gasping for breath, that jagged smile returning to its face.
"Little one," the ogre's voice was a low rumble of thunder. "You will pay for your arrogance. Soon, my technique will claim you. You will beco a pawn in my collection, and your friends will follow."
The giant glanced toward the barrier where Fuka and Kenjaku stood. "I will kill them all together."
Kashimo wiped the blood from his mouth, his lips curling into a sharp, mocking grin.
"Heh." His voice was raspy, but the tone was as irritating as ever. "Has anyone told you that your smile is disgusting?"
The giant's grin faltered.
Kashimo straightened his back. The hole in his chest was gone, the skin smooth once more. But the internal rot was still there, burrowing deeper into his bones.
"It doesn't matter," Kashimo said, tightening his grip on the black sword. "I'll kill you before your technique finishes the job. My body is built different. I'd imagine I'm a slow one to turn."
Shuten Doji looked down at him, its pale eyes flickering with sothing like intrigue. It laughed, a deep, unsettling sound.
"Is that so? Then try not to let see a look of despair on that pretty face."
Kashimo wasn't smiling anymore. He watched the massive creature, noting the way its wounds healed and the way its pupils tracked his every movent. His mind was running through the numbers.
That last strike had been a full chant with perfect signs. Shuten Doji hadn't held back. A technique of that caliber took ti to prepare, but once released, the effects were doubled.
The rot was still moving.
Based on the rate of the spread, he had thirty minutes. Maybe less. If he didn't end this by then, even his reverse technique wouldn't be able to save him. He would be hollowed out, reshaped into another puppet for the Ogre King.
He looked at the shimring film of his Hollow Wicker Basket. It was flickering, nearly spent.
He had thirty minutes to kill Shuten Doji. Or he had to find a way to tear this domain apart from the inside.
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A/n: 100 power stones = 1 bonus chapter. Don't forget to vote with your power stones!!
For early access to 15 chapters ahead: p@tre~~/Demonic_Fiction (Link is in the synopsis and my profile).
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