The valley of the ancient world lay shrouded in twilight, Tsukumo Village below a cluster of silent huts, their thatched roofs dim under a sky choked with darkness. The air thrummed with malice, the ground trembling, the river churning as a horde of demonic forms descended. Jin stood on the hilltop, Muramasa unsheathed, its blade gleaming against the encroaching shadow. The demons—twisted, shadowy creatures with glowing eyes and jagged limbs—swarmed like locusts, their screeches piercing the air, wings of tattered darkness flapping as they dove. Jin's hakama flowed, his stance resolute, the weight of the hidden quest fueling his fire. This was it—the system's challenge. His grip tightened, and he sprang into action.