The binding array's pressure hit like a physical weight, crushing down on my shoulders, trying to force me to my knees. Spiritual energy wrapped around my limbs, attempting to lock them in place.
I activated [Rapid Movement].
The ability strained against the binding—like pushing through thick mud instead of air. The array was suppressing my supernatural powers, making them sluggish, difficult to control. But not impossible. I managed to blur sideways just as Kasumi's sword carved through the space where I'd been standing.
The enchanted arrow struck a tree behind me, and the entire trunk exploded in a spray of splinters and spiritual backlash. Not a wounding shot—a killing shot. They weren't trying to capture me anymore.
They were trying to end this immediately.
Kasumi adjusted her trajectory without hesitation, her blade coming around in a horizontal slash aimed at my throat. I ducked under it, feeling the wind of its passage, and tried to activate [Shadow Dominance] to create distance.
The shadows responded sluggishly. Master Yamada's binding array was specifically designed to suppress Specter abilities, and everything I'd gained from consumption fell into that category. I managed to generate a few tendrils of darkness, but they were weak, easily dispersed by the spiritual pressure bearing down on me.
Takeshi loosed another arrow. I saw it coming—[Night Vision] still worked at full capacity since it was purely sensory enhancement—but my body couldn't move fast enough. The arrow grazed my shoulder, cutting through fabric and flesh, leaving a burning line of pain.
Kasumi pressed her advantage, her sword work flawless. Each strike forced me back, kept me defensive, prevented me from gathering my abilities for a counter-attack. She was good—decades of training evident in every movement. And she was adapting, reading my patterns, adjusting her timing to account for my enhanced speed.
"He's stronger than reported," Takeshi called out, already nocking another arrow. "Full suppression, Master!"
Master Yamada's hands moved in complex patterns. The binding array intensified, its spiritual pressure doubling. My knees buckled slightly, and I felt my abilities being crushed down even further. [Rapid Movement] became almost unusable. [Shadow Dominance] barely responded at all.
They were shutting me down. Systematically eliminating my advantages through superior preparation and coordination.
Kasumi's sword came in low, aiming for my legs. I jumped backward, but the binding array's pressure threw off my balance. I landed awkwardly, stumbling, and Takeshi's arrow caught me in the thigh.
Pain exploded through my leg. Not just physical pain—the arrow was enchanted with something that burned like liquid fire in my veins. Purification magic, probably. Designed to destroy Specter essence from the inside.
I went down on one knee, gasping.
"Cease movement," Kasumi commanded, her sword point at my throat. "This is your last warning. Surrender now, or we complete the purification."
The Ghost Stomach raged against the suppression, against the binding, against the burning pain of purification magic in my bloodstream. It wanted to fight, wanted to consume these threats, but I couldn't access enough power to break through their coordinated assault.
They were too good. Too prepared. Too professional.
I'd been arrogant. Assumed my abilities made me superior. But raw power meant nothing against opponents who knew exactly how to counter it.
"Your answer?" Kasumi pressed the sword point slightly harder against my throat. Not cutting yet, but close.
Behind her, Master Yamada maintained his binding array, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort. Takeshi had another arrow drawn, aimed at my head this time. One word from Kasumi, and I'd die.
The Ghost Stomach screamed defiance. But defiance without power was just noise.
"I—" I started.
Then I felt it. A shift in the binding array's pressure. Not much—just a fraction of reduction, barely noticeable. But enough.
Master Yamada's concentration was focused on maintaining the suppression. Which meant his attention was divided. And divided attention created openings.
I'd been thinking like the Ghost Stomach—all power, no strategy. But I was still human enough to be clever. To use tactics instead of just overwhelming force.
"I surrender," I said, letting my voice sound defeated. Letting my body language convey submission.
Kasumi's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded to Master Yamada. "Prepare the binding collar. We'll—"
I activated [Night Vision] to maximum, deliberately overloading my visual processing. The world exploded into hyperfocus—every detail, every movement, every micro-expression on their faces. And I saw what I needed: the exact moment Master Yamada shifted his hands to begin a new binding pattern, the split second when his suppression array would be unstable during the transition.
I struck.
Not with [Rapid Movement]—that was still too suppressed. Not with [Shadow Dominance]—that barely functioned under the array's pressure. Instead, I used pure human speed and modern combat training, throwing myself sideways in a roll that Kasumi couldn't predict because it wasn't supernatural.
Her sword cut empty air. Takeshi's arrow missed by centimeters. And for just a fraction of a second, I was outside the binding array's maximum suppression zone.
I activated every ability at once.
[Rapid Movement] to blur across the clearing. [Shadow Dominance] to create a wall of darkness between me and Takeshi's line of sight. [Night Vision] to track all three opponents simultaneously through the chaos.
The fused activation burned through my remaining energy like wildfire, but it worked. I crossed twenty meters in a heartbeat and slammed into Master Yamada before he could stabilize his array.
My hand closed around his throat—not to kill, just to threaten. The binding array shattered, its spiritual pressure collapsing as the caster's concentration broke.
Instant relief. My abilities flooded back at full power, the suppression gone.
"Stop!" I shouted, holding Master Yamada as a shield between me and the other two Ghost Slayers. "Stop, or I crush his windpipe!"
Kasumi froze mid-strike, her sword raised. Takeshi's arrow remained nocked but not drawn. Both of them stared at me with expressions of shock and grudging respect.
"You were faking," Kasumi said. "The submission. You were waiting for an opening."
"I was adapting," I corrected. "Learning. You're right—I'm not trained like you are. But I learn fast." I tightened my grip slightly on Master Yamada's throat, feeling his pulse hammering against my palm. "Now we're going to negotiate properly. Without the binding array. Without the immediate death threats."
"We don't negotiate with Specters," Takeshi said coldly.
"Good thing I'm not a Specter, then." I met his eyes. "I'm human. Changed, yes. Transformed by something I didn't ask for. But still human. Still thinking. Still choosing my actions instead of just following instinct."
"The collateral damage at Lord Takeda's compound suggests otherwise," Kasumi said.
"That was a mistake. One I regret." And I did regret it, I realized. The Ghost Stomach's influence had made me dismiss civilian casualties as irrelevant, but standing here with a human life in my hands, I could feel the weight of those seventeen deaths. "I was thinking like a predator instead of a person. You were right about that."
"And now?" Kasumi asked. "What are you thinking now?"
"That I don't want to kill Master Yamada. That I don't want to fight you at all." I loosened my grip slightly. "But I also won't surrender myself to be experimented on or controlled. So we need a third option."
"There is no third option," Takeshi said. "You're either contained or terminated. Those are the only outcomes the Shogunate accepts for Specter-class threats."
"Then change the classification," I said. "Don't classify me as a Specter. Classify me as... something new. A hybrid. A counter-Specter force. Someone who can fight the things you hunt using their own powers against them."
Master Yamada made a choking sound—whether from my grip or from attempting to speak, I wasn't sure. I loosened my hold further, letting him breathe.
"The... boy has... a point," he gasped out. "Never seen... a Specter negotiate... or show regret... for collateral."
Kasumi lowered her sword slightly. "You're suggesting we ally with you? Let you operate freely while you continue consuming Specters and growing stronger?"
"I'm suggesting we recognize mutual interest," I countered. "You want to eliminate Specter threats. So do I—they keep trying to kill me. You have training and coordination I lack. I have abilities you can't replicate. Together, we could be far more effective than working at cross purposes."
"Or you could be lying," Takeshi said. "Playing for time. Waiting for another opening to eliminate all three of us and consume our life force or whatever it is you do."
He wasn't entirely wrong. The Ghost Stomach was screaming at me to do exactly that—kill all three, consume their essence if possible, eliminate the threat permanently. But I was fighting that instinct, holding onto the human parts of myself that understood cooperation and strategy beyond simple predation.
"If I wanted you dead, Master Yamada would already be gone," I said quietly. "I could crush his throat right now. Use his body to block your attacks long enough to close distance and kill you both. I'm choosing not to because—" I paused, finding the words, "—because I don't want to be what you think I am. What I'm afraid I'm becoming."
Silence stretched across the clearing. The three Ghost Slayers exchanged glances, some unspoken communication passing between them.
Finally, Kasumi sheathed her sword. "Release Master Yamada. We'll discuss terms."
"You're actually considering this?" Takeshi sounded incredulous.
"I'm considering that he had multiple opportunities to kill us and chose not to," Kasumi replied. "That suggests either weakness—which I don't believe after seeing him fight—or genuine restraint. And restraint implies he can be reasoned with."
I released Master Yamada carefully, stepping back with my hands raised. The old man gasped and rubbed his throat, but his eyes held calculation rather than anger.
"Interesting specimen," he wheezed. "Very interesting. The Specter essence hasn't fully corrupted the human consciousness. Rare. Perhaps unique."
"So we test him," Kasumi said. "Give him an opportunity to prove his claims about cooperation." She turned to me. "There's a High-Tier Specter operating fifteen kilometers west of here. A Grudge Spirit that's been killing travelers on the mountain pass. We've been tracking it for weeks but haven't been able to pin it down. Help us eliminate it. Show us you can work with human allies instead of against them."
"And if I succeed?"
"Then we report to the Shogunate that you're a potential asset rather than a threat. Request your classification be changed from 'elimination target' to 'provisional operative.' No guarantees—the Shogunate makes the final decision—but it's better than being hunted."
The Ghost Stomach pulsed with interest. A Grudge Spirit. High-Tier. Powerful prey to consume and grow stronger from. The system wanted this mission.
But for different reasons than Kasumi intended.
"And if I refuse?" I asked.
"Then we resume our previous positions. You as the threat, us as the hunters. And next time, we'll bring a full team. Six Ghost Slayers instead of three." Kasumi's eyes hardened. "You surprised us tonight. Impressed us, even. But don't mistake professional respect for mercy. The Shogunate has warriors far more skilled than our team. Refuse cooperation, and they'll come for you with overwhelming force."
A threat and an opportunity, wrapped together. Exactly the kind of political maneuvering I'd been trying to avoid.
But Captain Oda had been right. Operating alone made me vulnerable. Having even tentative allies—even ones who'd been trying to kill me minutes ago—was better than facing the entire Shogunate apparatus as an enemy.
"I'll do it," I said. "Help you hunt the Grudge Spirit. Prove I can cooperate." I met Kasumi's eyes. "But I have conditions. I work alongside you, not under you. I'm not your subordinate or your weapon. Partner or nothing."
"Acceptable," Kasumi said after a moment's consideration. "Though partnership implies trust, and we're not there yet. Consider this a trial period. Prove yourself, and we'll see about longer-term arrangements."
She extended her hand. I took it, feeling the calluses from years of sword work, the strength in her grip.
An alliance. Fragile, tentative, built on mutual wariness rather than trust. But an alliance nonetheless.
The Ghost Stomach purred with satisfaction. More prey to hunt. More power to consume. And now, guides who knew where the strongest Specters lurked.
It didn't care about political implications or long-term cooperation. It just wanted to feed.
And I was running out of reasons to deny it.