Black light bloomed above Akira's head—a star of death pulsing like a curse.
Standing atop the fallen corpse, Kisaragi Akira's pupils snapped tight, shock flickering through them. He never imagined assassins would burst out now, and from the sharp snap of their shunpo alone, he could tell—
these weren't ordinary reapers.These were elites.
But that immediately raised a new problem.
Did these clowns gather even one piece of accurate intel before coming here to assassinate me?
Who in the world told them that sending a handful of elite reapers would be enough?
Akira didn't move.He stood his ground, gaze sweeping across the assassins with a cold, predatory confidence.
A savage smile curled at the corner of his lips.
If you wanted to survive in a place like Rebelbone District, that monstrous wasteland where cruelty was the norm—
mercy alone was never going to save you.
Arisawa Soma, watching from the edge of the clearing, froze in disbelief.
The usually easygoing, unserious Akira suddenly underwent an overwhelming shift in aura—a tidal wave of killing intent erupting like molten magma from a volcanic fissure.
The cold pressure riding on top of that murderous heat flowed like icy needles, piercing the assassins' bodies and choking their breath mid-step.
This wasn't the same Akira he'd seen fighting Shijō Sōya.
This was like someone had torn away the harmless outer layer—unmasking the true creature underneath.
If one had to compare…
Right now, Akira looked terrifyingly similar to Unohana Rei, the woman they'd once seen in the emergency ward—the one whose presence alone could silence an entire division.
Soma exhaled slowly, letting the shock bleed out of his eyes as he focused on the battlefield.
Crimson blood sprayed skyward, scattering like a blooming flower.
Metal screeched against metal, and the assassins' pupils dilated in horror.
Akira's blade vibrated—then twisted into a cunning, unpredictable arc.When the overlapping streaks of steel collided, they wove a killing net that swallowed every escape route around him.
Deathblade Style — Clearing Clouds!
The descending slash felt like an invisible hand brushing aside their attacks.A brilliant flash of steel, coated in the chill of the grave, pierced straight into the bodies of the oncoming shadows.
The air shuddered violently.Steel punctured flesh.Several sharp, wet cracks echoed as more crimson flowers burst across the battlefield.
In a single exchange—several assassins collapsed like broken puppets, slamming into the blood-soaked ground.
Their eyes bulged wide, frozen with disbelief.
Even at the moment of death, they couldn't fathom it—
How could a mere academy student exhibit combat power far beyond a fully-ranked reaper officer?
Takemoto Shinya's hands trembled around his blade, struggling to keep the tip leveled at Akira.
He couldn't accept it.He refused to accept it.
This assassination mission was supposed to be a sure victory, a clean and quiet kill.
And yet—it collapsed in an instant.
So fast that even he couldn't react.
Who the hell fed us this garbage intel?!
What kind of "elite reaper" is supposed to match someone like this?!
Because of one stupid flaw in the intel, the entire mission had fallen apart.
After the first clash…he was the only one left alive.
"Rebels, huh?"
Akira lowered the tip of his blade.A bead of blood rolled down the shining edge and dripped into the thick pool beneath his feet.
Takemoto said nothing.
"I see. You don't feel like talking.""That's fine. I'm sure the Second Division can loosen that jaw for me."
Akira had no interest in interrogating anyone personally.He hadn't wronged anyone recently.
Unless…
Only two possibilities came to mind:
The deserter he'd killed at Zenteiji Temple—
And then, his thoughts abruptly stopped.
His brows lifted slightly in mild surprise.
"…the Kushinoki Clan?"
Takemoto's heart jolted.For a moment, he froze.
Then steel-like resolve flashed in his eyes.
He knew very well—right now, the boy could kill him effortlessly.
The only reason he was still alive was because Akira wanted intel.
And as a former soldier of the Thirteen Divisions, Takemoto understood the Second Division's interrogation methods better than anyone.
Even captains wouldn't withstand them.
The memory alone sent a cold tremor through his spine.
Akira approached, blade in hand.
"…Hmph. I will never yield!"
Takemoto roared the declaration and raised his sword sharply—
Then plunged it straight into his own abdomen.
Squelch—
The cut was swift.Clean.
He watched Akira's face stiffen with sudden urgency, and despite the burning agony in his gut, a twisted sense of satisfaction rose in Takemoto's chest.
He hadn't killed the target—
But he had preserved the intel.
This mission…wasn't a complete failure.
Akira reached him and sighed helplessly.
"Was that really necessary?""I was two minutes away from clocking out, and now you're forcing me into overtime."
Takemoto's mouth flooded with blood.He couldn't speak—even though he wanted to laugh.
As long as he denied the enemy what they wanted…
But then—
Wait.
Why…why was this kid taking off his shirt?!
Takemoto's eyes stretched wide, bewildered.
Akira rummaged around and somehow pulled out a full ceremonial exorcist outfit, then calmly began changing clothes in the middle of the gore-soaked battlefield.
Arisawa Soma pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Yep.That was still Akira.Still an unpredictable menace.
Wooden altar.Incense sticks.Ceremonial cup.Purification wand.
Once Akira finished setting up the ritual space, he noticed something—
Takemoto still wasn't dead.
"Huh. Looks like your seppuku technique needs practice.""Try to train more when you get the chance."
Before Takemoto could even process the insult—Akira flicked his wrist and ended the man's life with a clean slash.
"Death isn't an escape from reality.""Not when you're standing before the Shrinekeeper of Rebelbone."
The surface of the ritual cup trembled—circles of ripples spreading outward, bouncing against the cup's rim and folding back inward.
Finally, when the water stilled—
Faces appeared inside.
Terrified faces.Disbelieving faces.
Takemoto Shinya stared in dismay.
Why…why could he still see that brat even after dying?Had the kid died too?
Before he could sort out the confusion—
Akira dipped a finger into the cup.
Instantly—
unimaginable agony erupted from the core of Takemoto's soul.
It felt like being ripped into countless fragments and stitched back together again and again.
And in the midst of that unspeakable torment, Akira's voice echoed mercilessly:
"Let's start simple, shall we?""Tell me everything—and maybe I'll make it quick."
Takemoto didn't even get a chance to resist before—
His fellow assassins, already broken by the soul-rending torture, spilled every secret they had.
No one could withstand pain that shredded the very spirit.
Not even elite reapers.
As Akira extracted intel from the dead, a faint frown creased his brow.
Something didn't add up.
The warning from his danger instincts still hadn't faded.
That meant—
this wasn't over.
His heart tightened sharply.
Don't tell me…there's someone even stronger hiding nearby?