All five ghost men came at me at once, one by one. I dodged each of them, but every time one passed me, it felt like a chill ran through every fibre of my muscles. Before I knew it, I was feeling cold. That could only mean the popular myth about ghosts being cold was true to some extent.
I clenched the hilt of my blade and kicked forward, clashing it with one of the ghosts, and proceeded to behead it in a clean cleave.
Now the pain was finding the exact kid controlling the particular ghost I had just killed. Finding the kid would prove difficult. Should I just focus on killing the boys instead?
As I pondered, two ghosts came at me from the front, and the others from behind. I sidestepped, avoiding the clash, and they chased me without hesitation.
I ran to one of the kids, raised my blade—and before I could bring it down to behead the kid, his notes and melody changed. In the next minute, he was gone, and standing before me was one of the ghosts.
Had they traded places? I don't know. But one thing's for sure: if I don't avoid the attack coming at me, I'm as good as gone.
Rather than dodging, I steadied my blade. Our weapons clashed, sending a surge of wind across the clearing. I wasn't interested in the contest of strength, so I allowed the sheer force of the ghost's strike to send me flying across the open field.
I tumbled mid-air and landed on a branch, thinking about what I had just witnessed.
"So now they can switch positions, eh?"
The battle tides just changed a little. That doesn't mean I'm one to quit—not like I have the choice. Now it's do or die.
I crouched and kicked off the branch. The branch, as well as the rest of the tree, shattered into pieces as I sped forward, beheading two ghost men with twin arc slashes.
The moment I touched the ground, I leapt forward and ended the last two ghost men.
Huff.
I let out a long sigh. That's when it reoccurred to me—the first ghost I had slain hadn't respawned yet… or should I say, hadn't been summoned yet.
"Nothing comes without a sacrifice, sweet."
Having gained the ability to swap places, it seemed the new boys traded off the countdown needed to summon the ghost men. Meaning I had enough time to end them.
I casually walked toward the boy in front of me, my senses still sharp as ever, darting my eyes from one boy to another, waiting for any of them to make a move.
But none of them moved. Not even slightly. It felt suspicious—no, in fact, overly suspicious. As I drew my blade back to make an arc toward the boy's neck, he suddenly began playing his flute again.
At first, I thought he was summoning another ghost man and wanted to end him before he finished. But something felt strange. Not only had the song changed—this time, it felt really… different.
I held back. And after a few seconds, when the melody ended, all five boys disappeared into a puff of smoke. Just like before, laying on the ground in front of me was another circular piece—this time for the number Five. And I realized something.
The shakuhachi comes in three keys. First was key 'One', playing a high note. Second was 'Five', a mid-tone. And the last—the final key the shakuhachi played—was 'Ten', a deep, bass tone.
Just then, I felt something coming from my side—speeding out of the bushes. My senses screamed danger. Instinct and reflex took over.
I raised my blade and blocked an attack I didn't see coming. In the next moment, I was floating in the sky.
How I got up that high? I had no idea. Only one possibility—the sheer force behind the attack I had blocked.
My wrist and arm throbbed slightly. No pain, thanks to my passive skill. But I knew without it, I'd be screaming.
Still… enough about the attack. The view from above?
The dark forest stretched far beyond what the eyes could see. It was night, but the moonlight's glow bathed everything in a blue hue. It was oddly beautiful.
I allowed myself a split-second to enjoy the view before the fall began. Gravity kicked in.
I dove back into the forest, slamming through branches. I bounced between trees before landing gracefully—on both legs and one hand.
"Surprises here and there."
I stood and peered into the bushes from where the strike had come. I had flown a long way.
The attack I'd blocked had felt like wind but I swear in that moment, I saw a swordsman. A samurai, to be precise. Different from the men in white.
As if reading my mind, the young lad slowly stepped out from the bush—from the same direction we were a minute ago.
But something was off about him. Familiar. He wore a kimono, its color greyed like a ghost. He had long, dark hair tied in a ponytail. His face was hazed—I couldn't make out his features. Both arms had fabric tied around them, and in his right hand, he held a katana.
"I swear on Hachiro's life I've seen this dude somewhere before."
As I stared, trying to place where I'd seen him, he vanished and reappeared behind me. Blade raised.
I stepped back and blocked the attack instead of dodging. I wanted a closer look. That's when I realized...
His strength and speed were admirable. I'll give him that. But he was just a copy.
I tightened my grip, pushed him back until he lost balance. I spun in place, delivering a semi-arc swing aimed at his neck. He used his imbalance to dodge and jumped back, putting distance between us.
It was the fabric on his arms that first made me suspicious. But now—the blade, the hair, the stance, the movements—I realized the truth.
The damn flute boy made me fight my fucking clone.
"You're really crazy for pulling this off."
I turned to the flute boy, still standing motionless in the corner.
"Well, my clone… let me show you how it's done."
I took a step back.
"I never thought I'd use her technique, but you leave me no choice, disrespecting her glorious move like that."
I slid my blade back into its sheath and leaned my upper body forward. Focusing strength in my legs, I shot forward with blitz speed—delivering a powerful kick to the clone's chest, sending it flying into the forest.
I ran alongside it as it flew, drew my blade, and leapt into the air above it. Pointed my blade down—and struck.
He blocked it with the side of his blade. As I pressed harder he vanished into smoke. Reappeared behind me.
"That's cheating, you know."
I touched down, immediately evading the attack, and jumped onto a tree branch. This was proving to be a handful. But that made sense—it was my clone after all.
We clashed multiple times. Our movements almost identical. Fighting him was like fighting my own shadow.
But there was one difference—his techniques remained dormant. Mine didn't. As the duel went on, I got better, faster and stronger. While He didn't.
The gap widened and I got bored finding the urge to end it.
Dancing across the field, I created afterimages that threw him off. I slashed off his hand—it turned to smoke. I twisted mid-spin and brought my blade down.
Beheaded him.
I killed my clone.
That meant only one thing to me, there was progress.
A sign I was getting better. Stronger. Faster. And that soon, I'd finish my mission and return to my goddess.
I walked up to the flute boy. He wore a blank look. The flute hung loosely near his lips—like he had no fight left.
"This time, can you do me a favor… and die for good?"
I slashed sideways laying him to rest.
The ground shook again, like before—but milder. The trees seemed to shift. Even the ground felt like it changed. And then..
Right in front of me, Yoriichi, sitting cross-legged, eyes closed.
Beside me, Michikatsu, gasping for breath like he'd just run a marathon. No armor. Clothes soaked in sweat and blood.
The fact that Only the three of us were together showed that We were the only survivors of the demon.
And yet… I still had questions.
A/N: Gimme some stones plsss