Shinji had always been aware of one thing.
The humans of this world were not weak.
The turbid energy of heaven and earth sank and condensed into demons. Demons and monsters filled the mountains and fields. For thousands of years, they had risen and fallen. By ordinary logic, humans beings with no demonic aura, no power of transformation, should have been pushed to the bottom of the food chain.
But the opposite was true.
Cities were in their hands. The land was in their hands. Order, even the fractured order of the chaotic Warring States period was still in their hands.
Since crossing over, he had seen too much evidence of this.
Kikyō went without saying. With her bow at full draw, a purifying arrow could blow away a materialization-level high-tier demon, or even one on the verge of becoming a great demon. Kidōmaru, with his twelve transformations, relying on speed to evade, if actually hit by her arrow, would almost certainly be killed in one shot.
She was, without a doubt, the strongest shrine maiden of the Warring States era, possessing spiritual power sufficient to contend with great demons.
Beyond that.
Bankotsu of the Shichinintai, with his giant sword Banryū, roamed the battlefield. Though merely mortal, his raw strength was equal to a Sixth Transformation demon.
The various monks, onmyōji, and exorcists scattered across the land, though varied in skill, could still pose a sufficient threat to ordinary demons when gathered together.
All of this was within his expectations.
It was not uncommon for human monks to contend with demons, nor for mortal warriors to slay them with their bare hands.
Otherwise, humanity would have long since gone extinct.
But....
The descent of gods and buddhas.
That was beyond his expectations.
Uesugi Kenshin claimed to be an incarnation of Bishamonten. The female general Kakizaki Kageie, under her command, wielded a tachi that could weaken and suppress all that was extraordinary.
Takeda Shingen claimed to be the reincarnation of Fudō Myōō. The female general Yamagata Masakage, under her command, wielded a stone hammer that could bind all 'non-human' things.
Both contained within them a special power that his system could detect as a 'claim target.'
Not demonic aura. Not spiritual power.
They called it 'divine artifact power.'
If all this was true
If there truly were precedents of gods and buddhas descending into the mortal realm
Then how could great demons who had lived for hundreds of years continue to roam freely? That would be hard to explain.
Fortunately.
From the exchange just now, the situation was not that dire.
Kakizaki Kageie's tachi could indeed suppress all that was extraordinary, but Shinji had still sliced her down with one stroke.
Yamagata Masakage's stone hammer could indeed pin its target, but the binding of 'immovability' was still forcibly broken by his Lightning-Muscle Sharp Body.
If that had been the true divine artifact of Bishamonten in her hands, if that had been the personal manifestation of Fudō Myōō's weapon, he probably wouldn't even have been able to form the thought of resistance.
But these female generals were clearly not the gods or divine artifacts themselves.
They were incarnations.
Fragments.
Shards of the power of divine artifacts, dwelling within human bodies.
Strong. But with limits.
Knowing that was enough.
…
The bone forest still stood.
White bone spurs jutted from the plain, splitting the battlefield in two.
Dusk deepened. Only a faint gold remained on the horizon, falling upon the scorched grass and scattered fragments of iron armor.
To the north.
The Hōjō army, having lost their commander, did not scatter.
A few remaining generals and the Hōjō family retainers quickly took command. The formation orderly withdrew and fell back. Spearmen in front, archers covering the rear, cavalry spreading out on both flanks to guard the sides.
Calm.
Orderly.
The Hōjō's military discipline was indeed solid.
Even with their commander carried off under the arm of a red-armored woman, the soldiers maintained their formation.
The banners bearing the three-scales crest gradually faded into the dusk, finally disappearing beyond the ridge of the northern hills.
They were going to retrieve their lord.
The Takeda Red Guard had already vanished.
Not a trace of the Fūrinkazan banner remained.
The Imagawa line had also mostly withdrawn. Stabbed in the rear, though the Takeda cavalry had gone, the rear-guard had suffered significant losses, and morale had taken a hit.
But Imagawa Yoshimoto herself did not retreat.
She dismounted again at the edge of the bone forest, her movements slightly more brusque than before.
Perhaps the raid by the Takeda Red Guard had shaken off some of her accustomed ease, replaced by a more practical urgency.
But the smile on her face remained.
And on the entire battlefield, the only two who could speak were left.
"They're gone," Imagawa Yoshimoto said, watching the distant banners to the north. Her voice still carried traces of the laughter from earlier.
"Ujiyasu carried off under someone's arm… ah, that scene… I really should have brought a painter—"
She wanted to laugh again, but restrained herself.
Because Shinji was looking at her.
Beneath the crimson demon mask, his gaze was on her.
But not at her face.
Nor at the hints of her figure beneath the layered twelve-layered kimono, though her slender waist and the curves wrapped in sumptuous fabric were indeed hard to ignore.
From head to toe, then from toe to head.
Not appreciation.
Not hostility.
Only… 'assessment.'
Imagawa Yoshimoto noticed his gaze.
Her smile stiffened.
A daimyō being examined like this, whether by human or demon, was not a pleasant experience.
Especially when, after that gaze swept over her, the expression it revealed was not awe, not desire, but....
Disappointment.
Deep disappointment.
Imagawa Yoshimoto's lip twitched.
She wasn't stupid.
She had clearly seen the power of the red-haired female general's stone hammer when the Takeda Red Guard charged.
She was also well aware of the news of the Uesugi army marching south multiple times to exorcise demons.
Now Shinji was looking at her like that....
"Stop looking." The hem of her twelve-layered kimono trailed in the evening breeze. Her brown hair blew across her face. She pushed it aside, revealing eyes that were no longer smiling.
"I don't have those monsters that Kai and Echigo have."
Shinji withdrew his gaze.
Indeed, she didn't.
Imagawa Yoshimoto had no trace of anything supernatural.
No spiritual power, no demonic aura, no so-called 'divine artifact power' around her.
She was a completely ordinary human.
An ordinary daimyō with nothing but strategy and ambition.
So she couldn't stop the Takeda's monster night attacks.
So if Uesugi's exorcist army pressed upon her borders, she would likely have to detour around.
So she had no choice but to mobilize two thousand soldiers, march deep into enemy territory, just to recruit a demon to her cause.
Because in this Warring States era, where 'gods and buddhas descended as incarnations'…
A daimyō without a female general transformed by a 'divine artifact' under their command, facing an opponent with such power, was simply powerless.
No matter how many soldiers, no matter how deep their strategy, they could not bridge this chasm.
So…
You don't have a divine artifact.
No wonder you'll lose to Oda Nobunaga.
Shinji thought to himself.
Though that would be later. Though the history of this world was already beyond recognition, if that being who called themselves the 'Demon King of the Sixth Heaven' also possessed some supernatural power like the Takeda and Uesugi....
Then Imagawa Yoshimoto's defeat at Okehazama would not be merely a matter of numerical disparity or tactical error.
It would be the fundamental gap between 'having' and 'not having.'
Of course, he wouldn't say these things aloud.
Because the Suruga lord's expression at this moment was already unpleasant enough.
With Hōjō Ujiyasu now carried off by the Takeda, he had no need to alienate another daimyō.
Though he wasn't afraid of her either.
After all, she had no power to constrain him… Wait. No power to constrain?
Shinji's mind stirred.
Compared to the Hōjō, who were allied with the Takeda… the Imagawa side seemed more suitable?
"So." Imagawa Yoshimoto spoke again, lowering her voice.
She looked up at the crimson demon mask.
Her small, slender form stood in the twilight, the hem of her twelve-layered kimono trailing over the scorched grass, the gold butterfly in her hair glinting in the last light.
No more languor in her eyes.
Only seriousness.
"This is why I need you."
"The Takeda have Fudō Myōō. The Uesugi have Bishamonten."
"And I, Imagawa—"
She paused a beat, then took a breath, forcing down her frustration, though her voice still carried a hint of gritted teeth: "Have nothing."
It was blunt.
So blunt that it was surprising.
A daimyō, admitting before an outsider that she had nothing.
That took courage, and also a clear-eyed understanding.
"But I have cities. I have armies. I have provisions. I have the three richest provinces of the Tōkaidō in the Kantō region."
Imagawa Yoshimoto stepped forward.
Her small form only reached Shinji's chest. She tilted her face up to look at him, and the intensity in her eyes seemed no less than that of the Takeda general who had swung her hammer moments ago.
"What I lack is a blade. A blade that can cut through 'gods.'"
Her slender finger raised, pointing at him.
Steady, without a single tremor.
"And you are that blade. A 'god' who can oppose gods."
Shinji looked at her.
A brief silence.
The comb in his robe vibrated, as if wanting to comment. He pressed it back down with demonic aura.
"I want more specific terms, benefits," he said.
Quite directly. Quite rudely.
But Imagawa Yoshimoto smiled.
This was what she had been waiting for.