We came in hot.
I cut my Sky Step as we cleared the tree line of the Kyoto Field Office, dropping the last fifty feet. We crashed through the decorative hedges of the inner courtyard, skidding to a halt on the gravel.
"Medic!" I roared, resting Tatsuma onto the ground.
The courtyard erupted. Exorcists swarmed us.
Bon was the first one there, his face a mask of terror as he saw his father gasping for air, his skin gray from the miasma and the trauma of having his familiar ripped out.
"Father!" Bon screamed, dropping to his knees.
"He's alive," I said, wiping sweat from my face. "But Todo stole his familiar, and the Impure King is awake. It's growing."
Just then, the main gates burst open. Juzo Shima arrived, carrying a shell-shocked Mamushi.
"He... he tricked me..." Mamushi was mumbling, tears streaming down her bloody face. "I just wanted to save... I just wanted..."
"Save it for the inquiry," Yaozo Shima said, stepping into the light. He looked at his son, then at Mamushi, and finally at the mountain looming in the distance, which was now pulsing with a sickly purple light.
"Uwabami!" Yaozo shouted. "Secure your daughter. All squads, prepare for a Level 5 containment breach!"
As I stood up, the cold edge of a steel weapon pressed against my jugular.
Who the hell?!...
"Give me one reason," a low, flat tone murmured behind my ear. "One reason why I shouldn't take your head off right now."
I froze as Shura stepped into my peripheral vision. Her eyes were dull, hard, and focused. She looked like an executioner clocking in for a shift.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I shrieked mentally.
Outwardly, I didn't flinch. I just tapped the flat of her blade with a finger.
"Because I'm the only one who can fix this," I said, feigning a calm confidence. "And might I say, you're looking incredible as always."
"You went and exposed your identity to multiple parties," Shura stated, her grip on the sword tightening. "You colluded with a suspect. And now there's a demon god growing in the backyard. From where I'm standing, you look like a traitor."
Yea, it does seem pretty bad doesn't it.
"I told the people who needed to know," I said, motioning toward the gasping Tatsuma and the Clan Heads. "This required old knowledge, not swordplay. I couldn't risk any leaks."
"Leaks?" Shura raised an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes. "You think I'm a leak?"
"I think you answer to the Vatican," I corrected calmly, keeping my gaze steady. "And I'm about to do something the Vatican would classify as an act of war."
Shura stared at me. For a long, tense moment, she weighed her duty to the Order against the reality of the rotting mountain behind us.
Finally, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and lowered the blade an inch.
"You got a plan?" she asked, her cynical scowl returning as she glared at the Impure King. "Because unless you have a miracle in your back pocket, we're all dead."
I looked at the Impure King. It was already spreading, consuming the forest. The miasma was beginning to drift over the walls.
Then, I turned back to the group. Bon, Konekomaru, and Shima looked terrified.
"Oh, I'm just gonna reach enlightenment."
"Hah?!" Bon yelled. "What the hell does that mean?! This isn't the time for jokes!"
"Ryuji."
It wasn't a scream. It was a wheeze, barely louder than a whisper, but it cut through the noise instantly.
Tatsuma Suguro struggled to his feet, supported by Yaozo. The old priest was dying, clutching his chest as he fought for every breath, but his eyes were fierce. He stared his son down.
"Quiet, please," Tatsuma rasped.
Bon's mouth snapped shut.
"Prepare the ritual," Tatsuma ordered, looking at the other heads. "Yaozo. Uwabami. We do it just as we discussed."
The Exwires, monks, and other exorcists were pushed back to the perimeter. The courtyard was cleared.
"Father, stop! You need a doctor!" Bon pleaded, fighting against the monks holding the line. "You're dying!"
"I am fulfilling my duty, Ryuji," Tatsuma wheezed, heavily lowering himself to the gravel.
Behind Bon, the rest of the Exwires were frozen in various states of shock, staring at the apocalyptic nightmare unfolding in the distance.
Renzo was pale, his eyes darting between the mountain-sized tumor of the Impure King and the sheathed sword in my hand. "Are we seriously betting our lives on Okumura just... sitting cross-legged?" he muttered, his voice trembling as he gripped his staff. "Because I'm not gonna lie, I'd really rather run."
"Where exactly would we run, idiot?" Izumo snapped. Her tone was harsh, but her hands were gripping the hem of her jacket so tightly her knuckles were white. She stared at me, her usual haughty mask completely shattered by the sheer scale of the situation.
Konekomaru pushed his glasses up his nose, his breath hitching. "The Three Wise Men of the Myōda... they're actually putting all their faith in the Son of Satan," he whispered, sounding like his entire worldview was short-circuiting. "It defies all logic."
Shiemi didn't say a word. She stood near the back, pressing her hands together over her chest. Her green eyes were wide, filled with a mix of terror for the rotting mountain and a desperate, silent prayer directed right at me.
Shura stood at the very edge of the clearing, her blade still drawn, eyes darting between me and the glowing mountain of rot. She didn't trust this, but she was out of options. If I made one wrong move, I knew she'd swing.
Tatsuma, Yaozo, and Uwabami—the Three Wise Men of the Myōda—took their positions in a wide triangle around me. I sat in the center, crossing my legs into the lotus position on the gravel.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. This was a gamble. I wasn't just trying to power up; I was about to rewrite my own conceptual existence.
I'm basically trying to force a Soul Resonance, like from Soul Eater, I laughed mentally. Synchronize the soul's wavelengths to force out 100% of the core's output. Truth be told, I'm not even sure if it'll work, but it feels like the right thing to do. And I guess crazier things have been done.
"Alright, begin," Tatsuma commanded, his voice weak but steady.
They began to chant. It wasn't the standard Vatican liturgy. It was older. Deep, resonant Sanskrit mantras that vibrated in the marrow of my bones, meant to stabilize the human vessel while the soul expanded.
Inhale. Expand. Exhale. Compress.
I felt the heat rising inside my core. Not the destructive heat of an explosion, but the focused, crushing gravity of a star being born.
The Kurikara, which I had placed across my lap, began to rattle in its sheath.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
Slowly, defying gravity, the sword floated up. It hovered in front of me, then rotated until it was vertical, the pommel facing the sky, the tip pointing at the earth.
A collective gasp rippled through the spectators. "He's not even touching it," Konekomaru squeaked, shrinking back. Shura's stance widened, her eyes locked onto the vibrating blade. Even Bon, who had been glaring daggers a moment ago, watched in stunned silence as the sealed demon blade bent entirely to my will.
"Sync," I whispered.
The world fell away instantly. The chanting faded. And the smell of rot vanished.
I was pulled backward, falling out of my physical body, sinking through layers of reality into my own inner domain.
I landed in an endless ocean of pure, white-blue fire.
I looked down at myself, but I didn't have hands. I didn't have a body. I was an ethereal sphere of pulsating, conceptual energy. I was just a transmigrated soul—pure consciousness and intent floating in a sea of absolute heat.
Suddenly, the ocean of fire parted.
Rising from the flames was a presence of incomprehensible majesty and terror. It looked like the original Rin Okumura, but older, feral, and draped in the aura of a God. It was wreathed in white-blue fire, its eyes glowing with predatory, ancient power. This was the raw, untamed essence of the Banshōman. The Flame God itself.
It looked down at my soul sphere. It didn't speak with words; it projected a voice that rattled the fabric of the mindscape.
WHAT DO YOU CLAIM, USURPER?
From the tone the God used, I could tell that he wasn't asking a question, but demanding an answer.
Seeing this, I matched his energy and didn't cower or hesitate. This wasn't a negotiation; it was the final hurdle to ultimate power. I could not show weakness of any kind.
I claim a resolution, I projected my intent forcefully, looking it dead in the eyes. I want to stop and purify the Impure King completely. No residue. No rot.
The God looked at me momentarily, then smirked, a terrifying baring of fangs.
CLAIMED.
Suddenly, the Flame God's right arm dissolved into swirling white-blue ash. The ash rushed toward my spherical soul, wrapping around it, materializing into a solid, human arm of pure energy attached to my core. I flexed the newly formed fingers. The heat in the inner world spiked.
I want to maximize the full power of the Blue Flames without losing control, I demanded, feeling the weight of the new limb. I want my vessel's natural limiters shattered, but my sanity intact. I want an adaptive physiology. Heat, cold, space, the depths—I want a body that survives anywhere.
The Flame God's left arm and both of its legs disintegrated into brilliant light. They flew towards me, fusing to my soul, forging legs and a second arm out of divine fire.
ACCEPTED. SPEAK YOUR FINAL COMMANDS.
The flames, I pushed, clenching my glowing fists. I don't just want them to destroy. I want them to heal. I want my fire to differentiate between 'threat' and 'ally.' I want to be able to burn an infection out of a body without killing the host. I am the Sovereign. I decide who lives and who burns.
The Flame God's torso shattered. The energy rushed into me, forging a chest, a heart, and a spine. I now stood before the void with a complete, blazing body of white-blue energy.
The God was now nothing but a glowing, intense core—a heart of absolute power floating before me.
One last thing, I thought, a grin forming on my newly manifested face. I want absolute immunity. Holy water, Exorcist blades, Vatican seals, angelic grace. I am the God of Fire. The tools of mortals, lesser angels, and demons will no longer bind me.
The floating heart pulsed violently. The void shook as a booming, echoing laugh filled the space. It was a laugh of pure, chaotic approval.
TAKE IT. TAKE IT ALL.
The heart shot forward, plunging directly into my chest.
The inner world exploded.
A sensation of absolute power—pure, unadulterated, god-like authority—surged through my consciousness. It felt like I was exploding and imploding at the exact same time.
I opened my eyes in the real world.
The first thing I heard was the sound of the gravel courtyard vaporizing.
Tatsuma, Yaozo, and Uwabami were thrown backward by the sheer force of the shockwave. Shura threw herself in front of the Exwires, driving her blade into the ground as a pillar of blinding, white-blue light erupted from my sitting form, piercing straight through the storm clouds above.
"Get down!" Shura roared over the deafening hum of raw power, grabbing Bon by the collar and shoving him into the dirt. Shiemi screamed, throwing her arms over Izumo as the sheer pressure of my aura threatened to crush the breath right out of their lungs. The Three Wise Men could only shield their faces, witnessing the birth of a deity in their own courtyard.
I levitated in the air and looked towards the mountain.
My ruby eyes glowed like supernovas.
A pulse of absolute, purifying heat exploded outward from the Kyoto Field Office. It didn't burn the trees or the Exorcists. When the wave of white-blue energy hit the encroaching, fleshy roots of the Impure King, they instantly turned to pristine white ash.
The shockwave of purification swept over the entire mountain in a fraction of a second.
The massive, skyscraper-sized tumor of the Impure King shrieked—a sound that shook the very tectonic plates—before it simply dissolved. The yellow, suffocating miasma was quickly incinerated, leaving the night air smelling of crisp ozone and blooming flora.
It was over in an instant.
The Exwires slowly lowered their arms, blinking away the afterimages of the blinding light. The horrific, apocalyptic nightmare that had been looming over Kyoto was now completely... gone.
"Impossible..." Yaozo whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the pristine, ash-covered mountain.
"He didn't just burn it," Bon breathed, his eyes wide and unblinking, the terror replaced by a profound, terrifying reverence. "He erased it."
The Kurikara continued to levitate in front of me as my body temperature began to rise. Then, my vision faded to black.
When I reopened my eyes, I was met with absolute silence.
I was lying on a futon in a small, isolated tatami room. The air was cool and still.
I tried to sit up. "Urgh…"
Bad idea. It feels like I've been suffering from years of sleep paralysis.
My body didn't feel light. It felt like I had been trampled by a stampede of elephants and then put through a spin cycle. My bones ached with a deep, marrow-level exhaustion that made even lifting my head feel like a Herculean task.
I looked down at my hands.
They were raw. My skin was a patchwork of angry pink tissue and peeling dead layers, like a severe sunburn in the final stages of healing. I could feel the itch—the maddening, deep itch of my high-speed regeneration working overtime to knit my flesh back together.
But beneath the itch, I felt different. Denser. I could feel my cells operating on a completely different frequency. The human cage had been broken, and rebuilt out of conceptual titanium.
I took a deep breath. The air didn't burn my lungs.
Well, that's good at least.
I forced myself up. My joints popped like gunshots in the quiet room. Using the wall for support, I shuffled toward the sliding door.
I pushed it open.
The air outside was crisp. It was early morning—dawn hadn't fully broken yet. The sky was a pale, bruised violet.
I stepped out onto the wooden veranda, my legs shaking slightly.
"You're up?!"
I turned as quickly as I could, nearly losing my balance.
Tatsuma Suguro was standing in the courtyard, holding a bamboo broom. He looked... different. The gray, dying pallor was completely gone. His posture was upright and strong. He looked ten years younger than he had just before the ritual.
He dropped the broom.
"Rin!"
He rushed over to the veranda, his eyes wide with disbelief and unadulterated joy. He looked me over, noting the raw skin and the fatigue, but his smile didn't falter.
"You... you're actually standing," Tatsuma breathed, as if witnessing a miracle. "After the energy you released... I wasn't sure if you would ever wake up."
"I feel like hell," I admitted, leaning heavily against a wooden pillar. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," Tatsuma said, shaking his head in amazement.
"Three days?!" My eyes almost popped out of my head.
"We put you in the isolation wing to let your body stabilize. The heat radiating off you was intense enough to warp the floorboards."
I looked out at the mountain. It was shadowed in the pre-dawn light, but it looked incredibly peaceful. In fact, the forest looked lush, restructured to the point where it felt entirely new.
"What about The Impure King? I stopped it right?" I asked. "I remember doing something, but everything feels like a blur."
Tatsuma let out a short, breathless laugh. He looked at me, his eyes shining with a mixture of reverence and absolute awe.
"Work?" Tatsuma said, stepping up onto the veranda to stand beside me. "Rin, you didn't just stop the King."
He gestured to the world beyond the wall, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"You accomplished something extraordinary."