Captain Oda spread a rough map across the table—hand-drawn, stained with age and what looked like old blood. His finger traced a line through several marked locations.
"Three months ago, Specter attacks were rare. Maybe one every few weeks, always low-level threats. Wild Ghosts, minor Yokai. Nuisances." He tapped a cluster of marks near what I assumed was our current location. "Then the frequency increased. Stronger Specters. Coordinated attacks. The Wind Blade tonight was the fifth High-Level threat this month alone."
"Someone's sending them," I said. Not a question.
"Yes. Though 'someone' might be the wrong word." His jaw tightened. "There are rumors of an Onmyoji—a master of spiritual arts—who's been gathering power in the northern provinces. They call him the Grand Master. Supposedly, he's found a way to control Specters, to weaponize them."
I leaned forward, studying the map. The marked attack sites formed a pattern, radiating outward from a central point deep in unmarked territory. "And the Shogunate? They're just letting this happen?"
"The Shogunate is... complicated." Captain Oda's expression soured. "The Daimyo lords are more interested in fighting each other than addressing the Specter threat. They see it as an opportunity—whoever controls the Specters controls the balance of power. Some are even trying to make deals with this Grand Master."
"That's insane."
"That's politics." He rolled up the map. "Which brings me to you, foreign scholar. A man who can consume Specters and steal their abilities. Do you understand what you represent? What every power-hungry lord in this realm would do to possess—or control—someone like you?"
The Ghost Stomach stirred uncomfortably. I did understand. I was a weapon, whether I wanted to be or not. A tool that could shift the balance of power simply by existing.
"The local Daimyo will hear about tonight," I said. "What then?"
"Lord Takeda is... ambitious. And cautious." Captain Oda stood, pacing to the window. Outside, the pre-dawn light was just beginning to gray the eastern sky. "When word reaches him about what you did tonight—and it will—he'll make a formal offer. Money, status, protection. Whatever it takes to secure your loyalty."
"And when I refuse?"
"Then he'll send assassins. Test you. If you survive that, he'll escalate—elite guards, maybe even Oni Hunters from the capital." He turned back to face me. "You're powerful, foreigner. But you're also alone, untrained in our ways, and you've just made yourself very visible. That's dangerous."
I felt my jaw tighten. He wasn't wrong. I'd exposed myself by consuming the Specter so publicly. Every soldier here had seen what I could do, and that information would spread like wildfire. I'd gone from mysterious foreigner to verified threat in the span of one fight.
"So what do you suggest, Captain? That I hide? Run?"
"I suggest you demonstrate that you're too dangerous to control." His eyes hardened. "And too valuable to kill carelessly."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you make it clear that anyone who tries to force your hand will regret it. Establish dominance. Show strength." He moved his hand to his sword hilt, and I felt the temperature in the room shift. "Show me, specifically, that your power is absolute. That even a trained soldier with decades of experience can't stand against you."
I stared at him. "You want me to fight you."
"I want you to overwhelm me. In front of my men. Demonstrate the gap between us so completely that no one—not Lord Takeda, not the Oni Hunters, not anyone—will mistake you for something that can be threatened or coerced." His grip tightened on the sword. "I want you to prove that you're an apex predator in a world of prey."
The Ghost Stomach purred, recognizing the challenge. But I hesitated. "Why? Why would you do that? It'll undermine your authority. Make you look weak."
"It'll make me look smart." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I'd rather be the man who recognized a superior force and allied with it than the man who challenged that force and died stupidly. My men will understand. And Lord Takeda will think twice before acting rashly."
He was offering me a demonstration of power wrapped in political theater. A way to establish myself as untouchable without actually having to kill anyone important. It was clever. Almost too clever.
"There's a catch," I said.
"Of course there is." Captain Oda drew his sword smoothly. "If you can't overwhelm me completely—if I land even a single blow—then the demonstration fails. You'll be seen as strong but beatable. And every ambitious fool in the realm will think they can succeed where I failed." He settled into a combat stance, blade held in perfect middle guard. "So don't hold back, foreign scholar. Because if you do, you'll doom us both."
The courtyard had filled with soldiers. Every man stationed at the checkpoint had assembled to watch—some on the walls, others forming a loose circle around the open space where Captain Oda and I stood facing each other. The sun was just cresting the horizon, painting everything in shades of red and gold.
"No weapons for you," the Captain said. It wasn't a question.
"I don't need them."
Murmurs rippled through the watching soldiers. I saw doubt on their faces, uncertainty. They'd seen me consume the Specter, yes, but that was against a monster. This was different. This was their Captain—a man they trusted, who'd led them through countless battles. A trained warrior with a blade against an unarmed foreigner.
The Captain raised his sword. "Begin when ready."
I didn't move. Just stood there, breathing slowly, letting my enhanced vision take in every detail. The Captain's stance was perfect—weight distributed evenly, blade positioned to defend or attack with minimal adjustment. His eyes tracked my center mass, watching for the telltale shift of weight that preceded most attacks.
He was fast. Experienced. Dangerous.
He was also human.
I activated [Night Vision] first, pushing it harder than normal despite the dawn light. The world sharpened into hyperfocus—I could see the individual fibers of the Captain's clothing, the microscopic tremor in his sword hand, the dilation of his pupils as he prepared to react.
Then I layered [Rapid Movement] on top.
The fusion clicked into place like a key turning in a lock. My perception accelerated to match my potential speed, the world seeming to slow down as my enhanced vision processed information at a rate that matched my supernatural movement capability.
I could see everything. The Captain's breathing pattern. The angle of his blade. The slight forward lean that indicated he was preparing to counter an incoming attack.
I moved.
[Rapid Movement] activated with [Night Vision] providing real-time feedback. The world blurred, but I could see through the blur—track my own displacement as I crossed the ten meters between us in a fraction of a heartbeat. My body moved on instinct, guided by the fusion of abilities, positioning perfectly.
I appeared behind the Captain.
My hand touched his shoulder—gentle, almost casual.
Captain Oda's sword was still raised in guard position, his body frozen mid-reaction. His brain hadn't yet processed that I'd moved, let alone where I'd gone. To him, I'd simply vanished from his front and materialized at his back instantaneously.
I moved again before he could turn.
Blur. Displacement. I was to his left now, my hand touching his sword arm just below the elbow—a killing strike if I'd wanted it to be, disabling the limb from a position he couldn't defend.
Another blur. To his right. My hand on his ribs, over his heart.
Another. In front of him, so close our noses almost touched. My hand on his throat.
Each displacement took less than a second. Four positions, four killing strikes, all delivered before the Captain could even begin to respond. The fused abilities made it possible—[Rapid Movement] for speed, [Night Vision] for precision. Together, they created something neither ability could achieve alone.
Perfect. Overwhelming. Absolute.
I stepped back, releasing the fusion. The world snapped back to normal speed. The Ghost Stomach cramped hard, demanding payment for the rapid-fire usage, but I kept my expression neutral. Couldn't show weakness now.
Captain Oda stood frozen, his sword still raised. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with shock. He hadn't moved at all—couldn't have, given the speed differential. From his perspective, I'd simply touched him in four lethal locations simultaneously.
The courtyard had gone absolutely silent.
"Four killing blows," I said quietly, loud enough for the watching soldiers to hear. "Throat, heart, liver, femoral artery. Any one of them would be fatal. And you didn't even see me move."
Captain Oda lowered his sword slowly. His hand was trembling—not from fear, but from the adrenaline dump of a body that had just registered its own death four times in rapid succession. He met my eyes, and I saw something shift in his expression.
Recognition. Acknowledgment. And beneath that, relief.
"Overwhelming," he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "That's... that's the word. Not fast. Not skilled. Overwhelming." He turned to address his men. "Do you see it? The gap between trained and transformed? This foreign scholar isn't just strong. He's beyond what any of us can challenge through conventional means."
Murmurs rippled through the soldiers. I saw the shift happening in real-time—fear being replaced by awed respect. They'd watched their Captain, a man they considered the pinnacle of martial ability, get systematically dismantled without even seeing the attacks coming.
"Lord Takeda will hear of this," Captain Oda continued. "As will every lord, every Oni Hunter, every power player in the realm. And they'll understand what I understood just now." He raised his sword in salute—not surrender, but acknowledgment. "That attempting to control or threaten this man is suicide."
He lowered the blade and turned back to me. "You've made your point, foreign scholar. Now the question is—what will you do with the freedom you've just earned?"
The Ghost Stomach cramped again, harder. I needed food soon, or I'd collapse. But I kept my expression neutral, kept my voice strong.
"I'm going to hunt Specters," I said. "Find this Grand Master. End the threat at its source." I met Captain Oda's eyes. "And anyone who gets in my way—lord, soldier, or monster—will learn the same lesson you just did."
The Captain smiled, grim but genuine. "Then you'll need supplies. Information. A place to recover between hunts." He sheathed his sword. "Consider this checkpoint your base of operations. My men won't interfere with you, and in return, you defend our walls when Specters attack."
"Alliance, not servitude," I said.
"Alliance," he agreed. "Though I suspect you'll find precious few willing to offer even that much, once word of your power spreads."
He was right. I'd just painted a target on my back visible from every corner of this realm. Every ambitious lord would see me as either a tool to acquire or a threat to eliminate. The Oni Hunters would classify me as a monster that needed purging. And the Grand Master—whoever he was—would eventually learn that something was consuming his Specter army and growing stronger from it.
I'd made myself visible. Made myself powerful. Made myself a player in whatever game was being played in this nightmare version of feudal Japan.
And the Ghost Stomach, pulsing with satisfaction in my gut, approved completely.
"Get me food," I told the Captain. "A lot of it. And then show me every piece of intelligence you have on Specter movements. If I'm going to hunt them, I need to know where to look."
Captain Oda nodded, already gesturing to his men. As soldiers rushed to obey, I felt the weight of dozens of eyes watching me. Measuring me. Remembering what they'd seen.
The demonstration had worked. I'd established dominance without killing anyone. Proven that I operated on a different level than normal humans.
But dominance came with a price. And as the hunger in my gut sharpened into something almost painful, I realized that price would be paid in Specter flesh and supernatural battles.
The Ghost Stomach demanded it. The world around me demanded it.
And somewhere deep inside, in a part of myself I was becoming less familiar with, I was starting to demand it too.