Chapter 90: The Four-Timing Oni
It was another sleepless night, though for an undead being like him, sleep was a luxury, not a necessity.
The process of conquering his new Demon Artifacts was proving to be far more complex than Hikaru had initially imagined.
The Thunder Horn, the Dragon Scale, and the Nekomata Claws—while all three were of Demon Artifact quality, just like Yura of the Hair's comb, their fundamental natures were entirely different.
Yura was not merely a Demon Artifact but also a demon in her own right. She was a tsukumogami, an object imbued with self-awareness. Even without the system, Hikaru could communicate with her.
But these other items were not so accommodating.
First was the Thunder Horn.
The Thunder Beast it came from had been a Materialization-level demon, a master of Thunder Transformation. This horn was the very essence of all its thunderous power, condensed into a single point. After slaying the beast, Hikaru had been able to crudely mobilize the power within, summoning lightning to strike down Gakimaru, and later the Venomous Flood Dragon and the Nekomata.
But that was merely using it, not possessing it, and certainly not integrating it. It was like a man wielding a sword—he could swing it, but that didn't mean the blade belonged to him, much less that he could make it a part of his own body.
The power thrumming within the Thunder Horn was violent, primitive, and wild. It didn't reject Hikaru—after all, its original master was dead, leaving no reason to refuse a new wielder.
But it didn't accommodate him, either.
That raw power of thunder was like an untamed stallion. One could mount it, one could spur it into a gallop, but it could buck its new rider off at any given moment.
Hikaru had tried to achieve fusion by directly channeling his demonic power into the horn. The result was an immediate backlash of crackling electric arcs that left his entire arm numb and twitching for the better part of the day. This wasn't the horn actively resisting; it was simply the inherent nature of the power itself.
Thunder is never gentle, just as fire is never cold. That is its essence.
[Horn of the Thunder Beast: Favorability 4]
Four points. It was a long, arduous road to the thirty points needed to unlock its first talent. Hikaru had no choice but to take it slow.
Every day, he would set aside time to patiently permeate the Thunder Horn with his demonic power, 'breaking it in' against that violent, chaotic energy. This wasn't just about taming; it was about mutual adaptation. He had to let the thunder grow accustomed to his demonic power, and in turn, let his demonic power grow accustomed to the thunder.
After each session, he would talk to it, murmuring his thoughts and intentions. He was determined to make this short-tempered thing take on his own shape, to become so familiar with him that it could never leave. When dealing with hot-headed types, he found, persistent pestering was always effective.
The process was slow and tedious, but it was the only way forward.
Next was the scale of the Venomous Flood Dragon.
This thing was, in its own way, even harder to deal with than the Thunder Horn. The power of the Venomous Flood Dragon was inherently penetrative. That toxic energy wasn't explosive and violent like thunder; instead, it was insidious, introverted, and all-pervasive.
Hikaru discovered this the first time he tried to channel his demonic power into it. The dragon scale offered no reaction whatsoever. It docilely accepted his demonic power, just as it docilely allowed its toxic energy to flow up his arm. On the surface, it seemed to be cooperating perfectly.
But Hikaru quickly sensed that something was deeply wrong.
That toxicity wasn't just flowing into his arm; it was quietly infiltrating deeper—seeping into his meridians, his blood, and even threatening his demonic power core. It wasn't being absorbed by him; it was trying to assimilate him.
This was the essence of poison: infiltration, erosion, and assimilation. It required no conscious will to carry out its purpose.
Even though Hikaru was essentially a corpse animated with a spark of vitality, he had to immediately activate his Blood Transformation, forcibly expelling the creeping toxicity from his body. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to continue holding Kikyo while they 'slept' at night.
He changed his approach. Instead of letting the poison adapt to him, he would use his own demonic power to envelop, decompose, and absorb that toxicity piece by piece. This was even more troublesome than dealing with the Thunder Horn. Thunder was at least openly violent. This poison was a cunning, insidious infiltrator. A single slip-up, and he would suffer a severe backlash.
[Scale of the Venomous Flood Dragon: Favorability 2]
Its favorability was rising even more slowly than the horn's. Every attempt at fusion had to be executed with extreme caution to prevent the toxicity from taking control. Hikaru could only be more patient.
Finally, there were the Nekomata Claws, the strangest of the three. The Thunder Horn was violent, the Dragon Scale was cunning. And the Nekomata Claws? They were nothing. No resistance, no cooperation, no reaction whatsoever.
When Hikaru channeled his demonic power into the claws, the ability to control the dead would indeed flow out, but it did so passively. It was like turning on a faucet; water flows, but not because the faucet wants it to, but simply because you turned the handle.
The Nekomata Claws didn't even possess instinct. Not from the very beginning. As a type of yokai, the Nekomata's entire existence revolved around controlling corpses, manipulating the undead like a puppeteer. Puppets do not require instincts. Therefore, the Nekomata Claws did not need them either. It was just a tool. A pure, instinctless tool.
[Nekomata Claws: Favorability 1]
The favorability was a mere one point, but this wasn't because it rejected Hikaru. It was because it didn't even comprehend what favorability was.
The method to develop this artifact was completely different from the first two. It wasn't about taming, nor was it about breaking it in. It was about infusion.
Hikaru needed to continuously channel his demonic power into it, letting the withered claw gradually recognize his existence. He didn't need it to like him; he just needed it to get used to him. This process was equally slow, but at least it carried no risk of backlash.
Ultimately, Hikaru established a strict plan for himself. Every morning, he would spend one hour developing the Thunder Horn, feeling the rhythm of its power and letting his own demonic energy intersect with it. Then, he would spend half an hour on the Dragon Scale, using his blood mist to envelop the toxicity, decomposing and absorbing it little by little, never being greedy or rash. In the afternoon, he would dedicate another half an hour to the Nekomata Claws, channeling his demonic power into the artifact and letting the dead object gradually become branded with his aura.
A "master of time management," or "juggling three boats," as the saying went. Hikaru felt he was living up to the title.
Even so, at this rate, the Thunder Horn would still require at least a month to max out its favorability. The Dragon Scale would need two months. The Nekomata Claws, nearly three. Of course, this was just a theoretical estimate. The actual situation might be faster, or it might be slower.
'There's no rushing it,' Hikaru told himself.
Having transmigrated to this world just over half a year ago, he had already grown from an Oni Samurai who had just died once to the perfection of the Six Transformations. This speed was already astonishing. For a normal yokai to reach this level, it would take at least decades, if not centuries. What he needed to do now was proceed steadily and solidify his gains. To lay a firm foundation.
But Yura of the Hair had her own opinions on the matter.
"You... you really are a greedy one," the skull on the red comb grumbled, turning in Hikaru's arms. Its tone was laced with disdain. "Thunder Beast, Venomous Flood Dragon, Nekomata... what's the point of fiddling with these things all day long?"
"Is it not allowed?"
"Of course it's not!" Yura's voice rose, filled with annoyance. "Have you ever thought about my feelings?"
"What feelings of yours?"
"This young lady has helped you so much!" the skull declared indignantly. "And now you spend all day holding those new flames, leaving me completely aside!"
Hikaru was silent for a moment. He really wanted to point out that her favorability was actually rising too, but he thought better of it, lest the number suddenly drop—though that seemed unlikely.
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to come out!" Yura fumed. "How long have I been locked in here by you? I want to sunbathe! I want to comb my hair! I want to—"
"Enough," Hikaru interrupted her. "When the time is right, I will let you out to move around."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Hmph... well, it's not like I'm actually looking forward to it..." The skull turned away, ceasing its tirade. But its slight posture clearly betrayed a sense of excitement and anticipation.
[Yura of the Hair: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 4]
Hikaru looked at the notification and shook his head helplessly. This girl really was a tsundere.
His days fell into a rare, leisurely rhythm. During the day, he developed his cursed weapons. At night, he accompanied Kikyo to patrol the village barrier and attend to various other matters. The days were peaceful and comfortable.
Occasionally, villagers would bring him food, their faces a mixture of gratitude and awe. Occasionally, Kaede would run over to pester him with all sorts of questions, only to be dismissed by a single, quiet sentence from Kikyo.
After repelling Kidomaru, demons still attacked, but most were no longer after the Shikon Jewel. Even those that were, were only low-level, muddled little things. The high-level demons, or at least those with some intelligence, seemed to have realized that this village was not to be trifled with. If they wanted the Shikon Jewel, they had to be prepared to pay the price.
But Hikaru understood that this tranquility would not last long.
Kidomaru had only retreated temporarily.
The threat from Kyoto still loomed.
He was still not strong enough.
"Continue."
He gripped the Thunder Horn in his hand. Purple electric arcs danced between his fingers.
The 'cultivation' had to continue.
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