Chapter 26: Commission Completed

“Perfect timing!!”

  Taking advantage of the Kappa’s moment of shock, the shrine maiden’s eyes narrowed sharply. The air trembled faintly as the sacred energy within her body surged. Light blossomed across her red-and-white robes, streaming along embroidered edges where intricate Onmyoji sealing arrays pulsed like living veins of light. The sacred cloth seemed to breathe, resonating with her heartbeat.

  Moments later, faint blue radiance began pooling in her palms. Threads of spiritual energy twined together, forming a condensed sphere of shimmering power. Her slender fingers trembled from the intensity, but her gaze was steady, cold as a blade. The sphere elongated, transforming into a spear glowing with ethereal light, its body engraved with runic patterns that glowed brighter with every breath she took.

  With a piercing cry, she thrust her arm forward and hurled it into the night.

  Whoosh!

  The spear didn’t just cut through the air—it screamed through it. A spiral distortion tore at the misty night, leaving rippling rings that crackled like thunder in the rain. Each circle of compressed air exploded outward with a faint pop, bending light and sound alike.

  As she threw, a violent vacuum seemed to pull everything toward the weapon. The gusts that followed struck faces and robes, tearing loose petals and leaves that scattered like snow. Breathing became difficult; even the air seemed afraid of the power unleashed.

  The sequence of movements looked impossibly complex, yet flowed together like a river descending a mountain—fluid, divine, and unstoppable.

  The Sealing Spear!

  A technique of legend, passed down through generations of priestesses at Chiba Shrine. The arrays woven into her robes were not mere decoration—they were the very heart of the spell, awakened only in dire crisis. Once used, the robe’s markings would fade for half a month, needing rest before their power could return. But when invoked, it carried divine might enough to seal monsters beyond mortal comprehension.

  As she released the spear, Chiba Ruri’s long hair burst free from its ribbon, fanning out in the rain. Her pale skin glistened with sweat, and her lips parted in faint gasps. The technique had drained her terribly; her knees trembled, her breathing ragged. Yet she stood proud, defiant, her crimson eyes reflecting the light of the holy weapon.

  No one around could look away. The brilliance of that strike swallowed the night.

  The Kappa had only just begun to recover when the spear arrived. The sound that followed was neither scream nor crash—just a deep, wet thud. The spear drove straight through his chest. His body stiffened, mouth gaping, eyes wide and glassy with disbelief.

  He looked down at the wound, trembling. Then, before anyone could move, the flesh around the impact began to twist. The spear’s tip dissolved into countless green filaments, like roots burrowing through soil. They pierced deeper into his flesh, spreading vines and wooden veins across his skin. His movement froze as bark crept up his neck and face. His limbs stiffened, his eyes dulled.

  Within moments, the monster was gone—replaced by a grotesque wooden effigy, sealed forever.

  The shrine maiden lowered her arm, chest rising and falling. Relief softened her expression, a small smile flickering across her lips.

  Then, with a deafening boom, that smile shattered.

  The ground trembled. The lake beneath the Kappa’s feet erupted like an exploding geyser. Water surged upward in violent columns, swirling into spirals sharp enough to cut stone. The sealing vines that held his body snapped like twine.

  She had underestimated him.

  “Bastard! My painstakingly gathered faith power! You’ll pay with your life!”

  The Kappa’s roar split the air. The force of it knocked droplets from the rain itself. It was like thunder erupting from the throat of a god.

  “ROAR!!”

  He tilted his head back, mouth gaping wide, and unleashed a wave of sound. The invisible shockwave expanded violently, shattering branches and flattening grass. It spread across the battlefield like an unseen tidal wave, rippling through the rain-soaked night.

  The blast’s reach spanned nearly a hundred square meters. The rain turned into a haze of mist under its fury, the ground quaking beneath its force. Hearts raced wildly as the pressure struck them—breath became fire in their chests. The very air was thick with hate, rage, and vengeance.

  “Not good!”

  The shrine maiden’s eyes widened. Her instincts screamed. The chill of death climbed her spine like ice-cold water. Under the suffocating aura, nearby trees and flowers withered in seconds, their colors bleeding into a macabre crimson.

  Rumble.

  The Kappa’s hands moved in a blur, forming ancient water seals before clapping together in a cup shape before his mouth.

  “Huff… Ha!!”

  He inhaled deeply, chest swelling unnaturally. Then he exhaled—a torrent of vapor roaring forth. The air filled with the sound of rivers clashing, water churning. Mist thickened until vision blurred; humidity wrapped the night like a damp shroud.

  Behind him, the waterfall stirred. The torrent twisted, taking form. Drops merged into scales, mist into claws. A serpentine head reared up, glowing with blue light—a dragon of pure water, nearly ten meters long, roaring as it lunged toward Chiba Ruri.

  “Rumble!!”

  “Meow!!”

  The catgirl screamed, eyes wide, sprinting forward in desperation. Her boots splashed through puddles, her tail whipping behind her. But the distance was too great. She would never reach in time.

  Ruri could no longer fight back. Her body was trembling, empty of strength, her spiritual core nearly depleted. Even her vision flickered at the edges. She could only stare at the oncoming dragon, helpless but strangely serene.

  ‘So this is how it ends?’

  Death didn’t frighten her. She had faced its shadow too many times. Her parents, her grandfather—they had all gone before her. Since childhood, she had carried the shrine’s legacy alone, fighting to keep it alive despite her frail body.

  ‘At least my sister will be all right… She’s strong now. I saved enough to keep her safe. She’ll manage…’

  Her eyes closed slowly, lashes trembling. A faint smile touched her lips, almost peaceful.

  Then—movement. A flicker of shadow. Someone stepped between her and the dragon.

  When she opened her eyes, a boy stood there. He wasn’t tall, nor imposing, his posture lazy and calm. But as he faced the monster, his presence transformed—solid as a mountain, immovable as stone. The weight of him filled the air, steady and unyielding.

  Time itself seemed to stop.

  Kouya raised his right hand slowly, fingers parting. Starlight gathered between them—tiny, drifting motes like fragments of the cosmos.

  Then—

  Boom!!

  He clenched his hand.

  The night exploded.

  An invisible force crushed the air, rippling reality itself. The water dragon convulsed mid-lunge, its glowing form fracturing into droplets that burst apart like shattered glass. The waves crashed harmlessly at their feet.

  Kouya lowered his arm, expression unreadable.

  He hadn’t planned to intervene. Power like his was never meant to be seen—it only bred fear. He had come seeking quiet days, not worship, not awe.

  But this was the shrine maiden’s commission. And if he didn’t help… he wouldn’t get paid.

  “…”

  Silence followed. Even the rain seemed hesitant to fall.

  The old Kappa blinked once, eyes wide with primal terror, then spun around and fled into the darkness.

  Kouya sighed, lifted a finger, and flicked it.

  A clear hum split the night. Lightning cracked forth—thin, sharp, and deadly. A white line slashed through the rain, followed by the faint twang of a string snapping.

  A splash of crimson spread across the lake’s surface, then vanished into ripples.

  “All done. Commission complete. Pay up.”

  “…”

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