Ignoring the old man beside him, Mirai bent down and picked up the head that had rolled onto the ground.
This was his good father. How could he just leave him lying in the dirt?
BOOM!
Suddenly, a deafening explosion tore through the air, descending from the sky!
Naobito, who was watching closely, didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He unleashed his Projection Sorcery, retreating a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.
With a loud bang, the ground where Ogi's body had fallen erupted.
The Gedo Mazo, still looming over the estate, had stomped down one final time.
Naobito looked at the spot where his brother's body had been. There was nothing left but a fine red mist.
Naobito looked a little embarrassed. He had thought the boy was attacking him. Instead, Mirai had simply obliterated Ogi's corpse.
Looking at the blood mist hanging in the air, a hint of satisfaction appeared on Mirai's face.
"There," Mirai murmured. "Now Father won't have to lie in this filthy place anymore."
He turned his head toward Naobito, holding Ogi's severed head by the hair like a lantern.
"Old man. Inform the elders. There will be a Clan meeting tomorrow morning. I have an announcement to make."
Without waiting for a reply, Mirai turned and walked across the ravaged earth, heading back toward his small cabin.
The series of earth-shattering explosions—a special wake-up service from the boy—had already roused the entire estate.
Servants, too weak to fight, huddled in the open courtyards. Wives and daughters of the high-ranking sorcerers watched from the shadows, terrified.
Meanwhile, the Zenin Clan's two special armed forces had arrived at the perimeter.
The Hei (The Elite Unit).
Composed of sorcerers at Semi-Grade 1 or higher. The strongest combat force of the Clan.
The Kukuru (The Pacifying Unit).
The unit Ogi had commanded. An armed force composed of male family members who had no Cursed Technique. They trained their bodies day and night to become weapons.
The scars on Mirai's chest were proof of the "training" he had endured in the Kukuru unit since the age of five.
"Scram."
Mirai stopped and looked coldly at the two troops blocking his path.
The Captain of the Hei looked at Naobito, who was walking silently behind the boy. Seeing the Clan Head offer no objection, the Captain signaled his men to retreat immediately.
But Zenin Noburo, the Captain of the Kukuru unit, hesitated.
He was two seconds too slow. After all, his direct superior was Zenin Ogi. And Ogi's head was currently dangling from Mirai's hand.
"Ah—!!"
A sudden, agonizing scream froze the retreating troops. Cold sweat trickled down their foreheads.
Zenin Noburo, who had been blocking the path, suddenly collapsed.
Half of his body—including one arm and one leg—had vanished. Swallowed by a twisting distortion in space.
Blood splattered across the pavement. Fragments of intestines and unidentified organs pulsed on the ground.
Zenin Noburo lay in a growing pool of crimson, convulsing, his cries growing weaker with every second.
Mirai didn't even break stride. He had defeated a Captain-level figure with a single glance.
Without a Reverse Cursed Technique user nearby, those screams would be Noburo's last words.
Mirai stepped over the pool of blood, ignoring the dying man, and walked into the darkness.
...
As he turned the corner of the corridor leading to his quarters, Mirai paused.
Standing in the open space opposite his house were three figures.
A woman bowing respectfully, and two terrified little girls clinging to her legs.
The woman's robes were disheveled, her hair messy from the evacuation. The little girls—twins—looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.
Mirai looked at the twins, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He adjusted his grip on Ogi's head and continued walking.
Regardless of blood ties, these twins were the only ones besides his mother who had ever shown him kindness.
"E-Evil... Evil spirit..."
Seeing the boy's blood-soaked form and the severed head in his hand, Zenin Mai trembled. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the ground in terror.
Her older sister, Zenin Maki, stood her ground, though her teeth chattered violently. For a five-year-old girl, she was remarkably brave.
"Shut up, Mai!"
The woman, Zenin Ogi's wife, pulled her daughter up from the ground roughly.
"What are you calling a demon?!" she hissed, her voice trembling but stern. "That is your brother!"
"When you see your brother Mirai in the future, you must be as respectful to him as you are to the Clan Head!"
"Do you understand?!"
Technically, she was right. Mirai was the half-brother of the twins.
This woman had married Ogi five years ago—the same year Mirai's mother had been thrown into the pit. She had learned quickly how to survive in this corrupt, rotting family.
She had seen the battle. She knew the truth: Mirai had killed his father. And instead of being punished, he was walking freely with the Clan Head behind him.
In the Zenin Clan, power is law. Mirai was now the law.
...
"It's laughable, isn't it? You beast."
Back in his room, Mirai lifted Ogi's head and sighed softly.
"You committed so many sins."
He had heard the woman's shout outside.
How ironic.
The wife. The daughters. The son.
All of them saw Ogi's head. And not a single one of them felt sadness.
With his Mangekyō Sharingan, Mirai could see the flow of their emotions. The woman's expression was solemn and respectful on the surface. But deep in her eyes? There was relief.
The twins were only five, but they were already servants. They were beaten daily. Called "good-for-nothings" by their own father. To them, the monster wasn't the boy covered in blood; the monster was the man whose head he was holding.
Mirai walked to the small altar in the corner of his room. He placed Ogi's head on the floor.
The coldness on his face finally faded. His eyes softened as he looked at the wooden memorial tablet on the shelf.
Tsuki. (Moon).
There was no surname on the tablet. His mother had hated the name "Zenin."
Mirai wanted to reach out and touch the wood, but he stopped when he saw the blood coating his fingers. He pulled his hand back.
"Divine Dog."
With a soft murmur, a shadow rippled on the floor.
A smaller wolf head popped out of the darkness. It opened its jaws and swallowed Ogi's head in one gulp, then vanished silently back into the shadows.
"There," Mirai whispered to the tablet. "Now, both you and Father can rest in peace."
The body turned to mist.
The head eaten by a dog.
A fitting funeral for a beast.
Mirai walked to the bathroom. He washed the blood from his face and hands, watching the red water swirl down the drain.
He looked up at the mirror.
His black pupils bled into crimson once more. The intricate pattern spun slowly, fed by the Cursed Energy of the night and the intense emotions of his vengeance.
The Mangekyō Sharingan.
It awakened through tragedy. It evolved through hatred. And tonight, it had feasted well.
....
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