Sū ěr remembered the brat's name was... Shin?
Unlike most Oni with majestic horns, it was Shin cluster of withered, crooked horns that made him memorable. Why was he with Daigo?
Sū ěr instinctively looked around for Hoderi. He didn't believe Shin appearing by Daigo's side and becoming his friend, only to show up before Sū ěr, was a simple coincidence.
Even if the city wasn't as dense as a modern metropolis, finding him in this mixed crowd of humans and youkai wouldn't be that easy by chance.
"No, Lord! It's different this time!" Daigo's desperation grew when he saw Sū ěr indifference. He clutched his hair and shouted, "It's lots of youkai! Lots of them are being killed!"
"Lots of youkai?"
Finally sensing the gravity, Sū ěr thought of a possibility. He turned serious. After quickly locking his door, he took Daigo and the boy named Shin to the usual execution grounds.
In any era or race, the desire to witness a spectacle is primal. Whenever a law-breaking youkai was brought to the block, a massive crowd would gather. Even gods weren't immune. Humans, however, usually made up the bulk of the crowd, filling every corner.
The wave of fervor grew especially high when the ones kneeling were youkai who had previously been arrogant and overbearing.
Before the heads fell, they would shout and hurl insults. When they fell, they would roar with laughter. In this moment, status and race didn't matter—human, youkai, and god were one.
The most exciting part was when a youkai would revert to their true form at the last second. The cheers would reach a fever pitch until the beast was slain. But today was different.
It was too quiet.
No cheers, no insults, no sound of metal on stone. The eerie silence puzzled Sū ěr as he approached, but he soon got his answer.
It was as Daigo said: there were far too many youkai waiting to be slaughtered. Slaughter was the only word Sū ěr could find. "Execution" didn't cover it.
Because some youkai were naturally massive, the execution ground was already wide, but it had been expanded. If Sū ěr wasn't mistaken, they had demolished a ring of nearby houses. Now, it was packed with humans and youkai, while the gods stood on the highest vantage point.
Surrounded and looked down upon were youkai, one after another, kneeling or prostrate. Large, small, tall, short. The only thing they shared was a yellow paper strip over their mouths—the reason they couldn't make a sound even now.
The sheer number had silenced the crowd. They only had to imagine the scene to tremble. There were so many. When these youkai died and reverted to their true forms, would the blood flood the ground like a rainstorm?
Watching one or two youkai die was a spectacle; watching this many was a torture. Some cowards tried to leave before it started, but they found the way blocked—tall, dark-skinned Oni with single horns were guarding the perimeter. Their malicious glares made legs turn to jelly.
Only then did they realize that, unlike other days, they hadn't come here because they caught the scent of a spectacle. They had been notified by youkai who had come to their doors and waited for them to leave for the grounds before moving to the next house... Why hadn't they noticed?
They broke into a cold sweat.
And when did these guys get here?
By now, every resident of Izumo knew these strong warriors: the Oni.
Despite being youkai, they insisted on being called "Oni." Wild, violent, prone to rage, lovers of wine, and immensely strong—this was the image of the Oni.
Even the dullest youkai could tell something was happening, or had already happened... right before their eyes.
"Why leave? Turn back and watch... the show is about to begin~"
Sū ěr glanced at the Oni nearby who was grinning with sharp teeth. He was the one "advising" the humans who had collapsed in fear at the edge.
He was right. Seeing that the crowd was sufficient, a god in fine robes flew into the air and began reading Okuninushi's mandate. Sū ěr finally saw the legendary god who had faced Susanoo and married his daughter.
He looked much younger than Sū ěr expected, though his hair was the grey-white of an old man. His skin, however, was tight, with almost no wrinkles. He showed no signs of aging. He sat at the highest point, looking down at everything.
And today's events were happening under his decree.
The god in the air continued to read the crimes of the youkai below. These bound, gagged creatures could only rub against the ground, the only sound they could make in their final moments.
He really has the guts, doesn't he? Sū ěr thought.
[Why wouldn't he? He's destroyed Yamato, removing a foreign threat while gaining massive prestige. Now the Oni are on his side. Of course he'll take the chance to purge the domestic unstable elements.]
Think was quite used to this. Even in a world where the threat of war never vanished, internal struggles among the Elves had never ceased.