Chapter 45: Ryūjin no ken o kurae!

“Meow really can talk?!”

The catgirl covered her mouth, her already large eyes widening to an impossible size, pupils glimmering like two glass marbles reflecting the moonlight. Her fluffy ears perked up, trembling slightly as her tail swished back and forth in pure disbelief and excitement.

Before this, she couldn’t speak human words not because of shyness, but because the demon bone lodged in her throat hadn’t yet been refined. Without that refinement, any attempt to mimic human speech came out as fragmented “meow meow” sounds. Only in times of emotional outburst could she force out a faint cry—like when she once shouted “Onee-sama” with all her heart.

Under normal circumstances, such refinement would’ve taken years—five at least—of cultivation and spiritual adjustment. But now, her words were clear, melodic, and filled with life.

Kouya had done it casually. To him, it was merely a momentary whim, a simple flick of power to silence her endless “meow meow” chatter that had been ringing in his ears all day. To the catgirl, however, it was nothing short of a miracle.

“Hahaha! Meow’s so happy!” Rina’s delighted voice rang through the shrine garden, soft and lilting like chimes in the night breeze. Her cheeks flushed with joy, her eyes turning into crescents.

Then, realizing how she had doubted Kouya earlier, she looked up at him guiltily, her large eyes glistening as though about to cry. Slowly, she leaned in, brushing her soft cheek against the back of his hand, her furred ears drooping in shy apology. “Thank you, meow~” she whispered, her tone honey-sweet.

‘Hmph. That’s all? A single thank you? You were just glaring at me like I was the villain here. Fine, I’ll let it slide—for now.’ Kouya thought with faint amusement.

“But wait—how are you unharmed?” The faceless woman’s hollow voice broke the moment, filled with disbelief.

When she handed over the soup earlier, she had infused it with a colorless, tasteless poison crafted from the venom of ten ancient serpents. Even a powerful shikigami would be immobilized within seconds—frozen like a statue, their energy sealed.

“It’s impossible,” she hissed, her long black hair writhing faintly. “That poison doesn’t fail. How could a weak little catgirl still be standing?!”

The long-haired demon’s face twisted. Her finger pointed toward Rina as her voice grew hysterical. “You must have some freakish resistance, but it won’t save you. The venom just hasn’t reached your heart yet. You’ll collapse soon enough—you’ll— you’ll— you’ll…”

Rina blinked innocently and tilted her head. “It tasted good, meow! Do you have more?” she asked cheerfully.

“Pff—”

The demon’s expression froze, then contorted violently as if she might vomit blood. Her most prized, most lethal concoction—called Soul-Crushing Venom Soup—just got reviewed as tasty. To her, it was like a gourmet chef hearing someone praise the bowl instead of the dish.

“Damn you!!” she screamed. Her voice cracked like shattering glass, and a sudden frost filled the air.

A freezing chill rolled through the shrine courtyard, so sharp it could split bone. Her long hair began to stir violently, taking on a life of its own—tendrils twisting, elongating, transforming into a swarm of black serpents that hissed and lunged toward them.

“Hey, seriously? Straight to violence again?” Kouya muttered, almost sounding disappointed. “You demons really don’t like to talk things out, huh.”

“Die!”

Her hair struck like a storm, every strand slashing the air like a blade. The night filled with the hiss of movement and the stench of poison.

Kouya simply sighed and raised a single palm.

Boom!

The entire garden shook. A thunderous shockwave erupted, scattering petals, gravel, and spirit energy in every direction. The black serpents shattered midair like smoke under sunlight. The faceless woman screamed, her body lifted by the blast and thrown into the distance like a broken kite.

She barely managed one last shriek before her form disintegrated, black mist spewing from her mouth. Her remains dissolved into a streak of smoke that slithered toward the shrine’s rear courtyard.

“Let’s go save Onee-sama, meow!” Rina said quickly, tugging on Kouya’s sleeve, her little fangs flashing.

“Wait,” Kouya said, his voice calm and measured. “There’s still one more.”

“Meow?”

The air thickened.

A violent, dark pressure surged across the courtyard like an ocean wave. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

Then, from the shadowed path ahead, a giant figure emerged—nearly three meters tall, skin the color of molten iron, muscles rippling under the moonlight. Horns twisted upward from his forehead, and his mane of crimson hair burned like wildfire. Each heavy step he took left a cracked imprint on the stone.

The very sight of him made Rina’s heart seize. She froze, trembling like a small animal caught in the glare of a predator.

His eyes glowed a burning gold, radiating hunger and cruelty. The aura that leaked from his body was pure, distilled savagery.

Among shikigami, there were no absolute ranks—power was defined by nature, purpose, and essence. Some specialized in illusions, some in curses, others in stealth or healing. But the creature before them was none of those. He was destruction given form.

If Rina was a healer, he was a hunter.

There were no jokes. No words.

Only killing intent—thick, suffocating, and primal.

The red demon gave a guttural growl, baring fangs in a savage grin. He raised a thick finger and drew it across his own throat, mocking them.

Then his knees bent.

The earth exploded beneath him as he launched forward. The air shrieked; trees bent sideways from the pressure. His body became a blur of red light, roaring toward them like a meteor.

His fist howled through the air, bringing with it a gust so sharp it cut the petals falling from the sakura trees.

Kouya didn’t even flinch. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression calm as still water. He inhaled slowly, stepped forward, lowered his shoulder, and struck.

The motion seemed almost leisurely—graceful, even. But the air warped around his fist.

It hit.

A deep, resonant crack echoed through the shrine. The demon’s stomach imploded under the impact, his massive body folding in half. His face turned blue; air burst from his lungs like a dying bellows.

Yet he didn’t fall. Instead, pain twisted into rage. With a guttural roar, he drew the black blade from his waist, its surface etched with glowing runes, and swung it down in a killing arc.

Then he froze.

The blade stopped—trapped between two fingers.

Kouya stood there, holding it effortlessly, as though he’d just pinched a falling leaf. His face was utterly emotionless, only faint annoyance flickering in his eyes.

“Impossible!” the demon rasped, his voice a chorus of grinding metal. “You… you’re not human!”

He twisted, forcing the blade with all his monstrous strength—but it didn’t move. Then, with a soft metallic click, the blade vanished.

Kouya was now holding it casually in one hand.

The demon froze. He could still feel the spiritual link—yet no matter how he tried to call the blade back, it remained dead, unresponsive.

“Hmm. A mediocre sword,” Kouya said, examining it with mild interest. “Still, it’ll do.” His gaze lifted. “Now then… are you ready?”

The demon stumbled a step backward, his heart pounding. He couldn’t understand it—but every instinct screamed run. The pressure radiating from Kouya wasn’t that of a man. It was something far older, far darker.

“What… what are you going to do?” he stammered, voice trembling.

Kouya gave no answer. He simply lowered the sword, blade angled toward the ground, his posture shifting slightly—a stance like a beast about to lunge.

A terrifying aura burst forth. The air rippled. Dust lifted. Pebbles rose and began orbiting him in a slow, spiraling dance, glowing faintly under the moonlight.

It was as though the world itself was holding its breath.

The red demon’s instincts broke. With a strangled cry, he turned to flee, sprinting down the path. The oppressive force behind him grew heavier, pressing down on his back like a mountain.

And then, from behind, Kouya’s voice echoed through the night—low, eerie, and coldly amused.

“Ryūjin no ken o kurae!!!”

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