The girl stopped before an abandoned, decaying mansion. The gates hung ajar, and the courtyard was choked with withered weeds. She crossed the broken vestibule and stood motionless before the master bedroom.
Out of the deathly silence, a figure sauntered out from the shadows.
It was a tall, lean male demon with skin the color of bone. His fingernails were black as ink, long and needle-sharp. He wore flamboyant, flowing robes, his long hair cascading over his shoulders. His face was undeniably handsome, in a predatory way.
The demon, Mue (Dream Calamity), looked at the girl and offered a suave, chilling smile. He raised a hand and tapped her sleeve. A faint crimson glow, like a waking firefly, drifted out from her pocket.
It was a common seashell, now pulsing with a sinister, bloody light.
"See? You like it," Mue said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Since you accepted it, you belong to me."
He tucked the shell away, stepped forward, and bared his fangs at the girl's ivory neck.
VROOOOM—!
A piercing whistle of displaced air exploded! A streak of lustrous white steel tore through the darkness, aiming straight for Mue's head.
The greed on the demon's face froze into pure shock. He jerked backward, narrowly avoiding a decapitation that would have ended him then and there.
"Tch. Fast reflexes for a talker."
Ryousuke appeared in front of the girl, his white blade held in a protective guard. Mue, his meal interrupted, glared at Ryousuke—specifically at the strange, glowing Nichirin Sword.
"Heh. Thunder Breathing—" Mue tilted his head, his tone oozing derision. "Crude. Utterly uncivilized! To pair such a violent, brainless style with a boor like you... it is a desecration of that beautiful blade!"
Ryousuke didn't waste a single word on him. For a self-important creep like this, the only proper response was to turn him into mincemeat.
Ryousuke's eyes sharpened. Static roared around his body, the air vibrating with the pressure of a coming storm.
"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"
The blade moved like a streak of lightning, striking for the demon's throat!
Mue, despite his mockery, knew the speed of Thunder Breathing. He didn't dare take it head-on. He blurred away, chanting a series of short, discordant syllables. As he sang, the shells scattered throughout the courtyard vibrated. They rose into the air, humming with a bloody light.
Zip! Zip! Zip!
Hundreds of shells launched at Ryousuke like shrapnel.
"Thunder Breathing, Second Form: Rice Spirit!"
Slash!
Five interlocking arcs of lightning-edged steel intercepted the swarm. Ryousuke shattered dozens of them, but the sheer volume was too high—several shells bypassed his guard, slicing into his arms and shoulder.
"See? A boor is just a boor," Mue sneered. "All you know is how to swing a stick."
"What the hell are you yapping about? Seki-nai!"
Ignoring his wounds, Ryousuke lunged. Clang! Claws met steel, the force of the collision sending both of them skidding back. Mue looked at his bleeding hands and hissed in rage. "You peasant! You uncultured brat!"
Ryousuke scoffed. Having survived the toxic lobbies of 21st-century online gaming, Mue's "elegant" insults felt about as threatening as a kitten's meow. In fact, they were almost cute in their stupidity.
Ryousuke sheathed his sword and dropped into a deep, wide sprint stance. Steam erupted from his mouth as he forced his lungs to their limit.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash—Triple Fold!"
BOOM!
He became a bolt of golden lightning. Mue tried to block, but the first strike blew his guard open. Before he could even gasp, the second and third strikes followed like thunderclaps. Mue was sent flying, his chest a mess of deep, cauterized gashes.
Ryousuke moved in for the kill, but his vision suddenly blurred.
Mue stood up, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "My Blood Demon Art, Nightmare Conch, isn't just about throwing toys."
He flicked his finger. The blood from Ryousuke's wounds began to vaporize into a red mist, coiling around him.
"Its true essence is peering into the human heart. It amplifies the most primal, burning desires of the soul! Lust, greed, power, gluttony... whatever you crave, it will swallow you whole!"
As the final syllable fell, Ryousuke felt a wave of chaotic consciousness slam into him. The world twisted and shattered. He felt like he was falling into a void, losing control of his limbs.
"Now then, crude Slayer," Mue laughed. "Let's see what filthy, disgusting rot hides beneath your skin!"
He reached into Ryousuke's mind, ready to play with his victim's deepest shames before shattering his soul.
[Kill him! Cut him into eight pieces! Mince him into meat!]
"Wait, what?" Mue's mental projection blinked. O_0?
Mue pulled back, confused. I must have done that wrong, he thought. He dove back in.
[KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!]
[Chop him up! Shred him! Grind him to dust! Put him in the sun! SCATTER HIS ASHES!]
A surge of pure, concentrated killing intent exploded outward. In Ryousuke's subconscious, a loop was playing: Mue being decapitated, Mue being dismembered, Mue being dragged into the sunlight and turned to ash—over and over and over.
Mue shrieked. It wasn't a song anymore; it was a cry of pure terror.
There was no lust. No greed. No fear of death. No "desires." There was only a singular, monolithic obsession: Ending Mue.
The demon's pride crumbled. His "elegant" psyche met the mental equivalent of a freight train. He stumbled back, his face contorted in a mask of horror.
"You're a maniac! You're a total, complete lunatic!!" he screamed, his sophistication replaced by hysteria. "Is there nothing else in your head but killing me?! You monster! You freak!"
His mental world had been traumatized. His Blood Demon Art was a joke to this boy. Ryousuke's mind was terrifyingly barren, yet horrifyingly pure.
"If all you want is to kill me, then DIE!" Mue roared, his hair flying wild as he lunged with everything he had, claws aimed for Ryousuke's eyes.
The scent of death gripped Ryousuke's throat.
BOOM!
Suddenly, a brilliant, searing pillar of flame lit up the night, descending from the sky like a falling star.
"Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!"