Shuten-dōji was not expecting to be attacked like this—not tonight, not during the night of celebration. Just hours ago, everything had been perfect, aligning precisely with centuries of meticulous planning and countless sacrifices.
The air was thick with tension and anticipation, a palpable hum of power and destiny, a vibrant energy that promised the dawn of a new era. The grand, audacious plan to resurrect their beloved queen, Hagoromo Gitsune, was nearing completion, very, very close to its glorious culmination.
He, along with his loyal gang, had just obtained the final, crucial piece, one of her sealed tails, retrieved from a heavily guarded Shinto shrine deep within the mountains, a feat that had required immense cunning and brute force.
This acquisition had made the chances of their ultimate victory, their queen's triumphant return, ever closer, almost a certainty, filling his heart with a dark, triumphant pride.
You see, when their queen, Hagoromo Gitsune, had been defeated centuries ago by the combined might of human Onmyoji and treacherous yokai factions, her immense power, which had divided into her nine tails when she fought, was sealed away.
These tails were then removed from her weakened form and meticulously sealed away, guarded by those who killed her. She had prophesied that one day she would return, regain her tails, reclaim her full power, and kill all the traitors who had turned against her, turning the humans into cattle for her people, establishing a new, glorious era of yokai supremacy where their kind would rule unchallenged.
The tails themselves had proven utterly indestructible, immune to even divine attacks. It was said that even when the Shinto goddess Amaterasu herself had intervened and tried to erase them from existence, they would simply vanish, only to reappear elsewhere, always drawn to chaos and discord like their master, sowing seeds of conflict wherever they landed.
So, they were gathered and sealed away, hidden by the very beings who feared Hagoromo Gitsune's return and the chaos she embodied. But time, persistence, and a burning, undying hatred for humanity and their yokai enemies had won.
Shuten-dōji and his loyal followers, bolstered by their unholy alliance with the Khaos Brigade—a diverse, powerful group of beings united by their desire to overthrow the established order and plunge the world into chaos—had finally tracked down and retrieved every last one, a monumental achievement.
Shuten-dōji, a proud and ancient oni, fundamentally disliked working with other races. To him, the yokai were the only ones that mattered, the true beings, the rightful rulers of this world, destined to dominate.
He viewed devils, fallen angels, and especially humans, as lesser creatures, mere tools or prey, fit only for subservience or consumption. Yet, even he, with all his pride, could not deny the ruthless efficiency of this Khaos Brigade, this disparate group made of several powerful and cunning beings from different mythologies.
And now that his group had finally gotten the last tail, they had begun their celebration, a raucous, blood-soaked revelry, a cacophony of roars and cheers, for this was the moment when the queen would return.
Once all the tails were brought together by the other yokai gangs who served the queen, they would feast on the humans openly again, no longer hiding in the shadows, no longer fearing retribution. They would bring chaos and fear to the world, just as yokai are meant to do, meant to be, fulfilling their ancient, predatory nature.
The bonfires blazed, casting long, dancing shadows, and the drums pounded a primal rhythm, shaking the very ground.
So it was utterly unexpected, an impossible affront, a sacrilege to their triumph, when a sharp, primal instinct screamed through Shuten-dōji's spine. A lifetime of battle, centuries of surviving countless wars, battles, and ambushes, had honed his senses to an almost supernatural degree, making him a master of survival, and they did not lie. Something was coming. Fast. Deadly. Wrong.
He barked a command, a guttural roar that cut through the celebratory din like a knife, and his five generals—powerful, ancient yokai themselves, each a formidable warrior, loyal to the death—scattered, their instincts mirroring his own, their forms blurring into the shadows. The ground beneath them trembled violently as a sphere of crushing black energy exploded into existence at the very heart of their base, where the main bonfire had been, turning the festive flames into a vortex of destruction.
Without hesitation, Shuten-dōji slammed his massive feet into the ground, used his magic to blow the ground in front of him, blasting himself backward with immense force, a desperate, powerful leap, just as the orb expanded. A pull like the maw of the void sucked in everything—yokai, stone, air, light, hope, their very existence.
He felt it tugging at his very essence, trying to pull him into oblivion, a force unlike any he had ever encountered. It was that sharp second of thinking, that instinctive, brutal self-preservation, that saved his life as the black orb expanded, folding and crushing everyone caught in its terrifying radius.
Even as he was launched backward, tumbling through the air, he felt its immense pull, the force destroying everything close and far away from it, bringing down the entire place in a cacophony of screams and grinding stone, a symphony of annihilation.
After a few agonizing seconds, no more than ten, it faded like it was never there, leaving behind only a perfectly circular crater of pulverized earth, devoid of any life or structure, a clean, terrifying scar on the landscape.
After a few seconds of stunned, disbelieving silence, Shuten-dōji removed the rubble that had fallen on him after the blast, his massive body aching, bruised, but intact. He looked around, his single, malevolent eye scanning the devastation, his vision filled with ruin.
His forces, once numbering in the hundreds, a proud army, were cut to less than fifty, the majority simply erased, pulverized into non-existence. Two of his generals were gone, nothing but a faint magical residue left behind, seemingly not making it out of the blast, their power snuffed out instantly.
Another clung to life, half his right side gone, a grotesque, bleeding wound, but somehow still alive, barely clinging to the precipice of death. And he himself, while he managed to escape the direct impact of the dark orb, did sustain injuries from his desperate escape, bruises and minor lacerations from the collapsing rock and the sheer force of the pull.
He let out a furious roar, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage and disbelief, his voice echoing like a beast denied its prey, its rightful glory, its very existence challenged.
He would find the person who did this. He would break their bones, devour their screams, rip out their entrails, and string them across the sky as a warning to all who dared defy him. He would make them watch as he killed and devoured their friends, their family, their lovers, and their children, savoring every moment of their despair.
He would make them pay for this audacity, this unforgivable insult to his power and his queen. He would paint Kyoto with their blood, a crimson testament to his wrath. He would crush this insolence, this affront to his reign. He was Shuten-dōji, terror of the mountains, the valley Beast, devourer of priestesses. He would not be made a fool of, not by a mere human.
Then he heard it. Soft footsteps. Too soft. Impossibly soft, barely registering on his hyper-attuned senses.
His head snapped toward his right as he heard something approaching, a subtle disturbance in the air. He couldn't sense it until it got very close, impossibly close, almost within striking distance. How was that possible? If there was one thing he was proud of besides his immense strength, it was his senses, his unparalleled ability to detect and track any living or spiritual being.
He could sense enemies so far away that it was what had allowed him to survive and gain the strength that he had now, ambushes hardly worked on him, and he could count the number of people in all of Japan that could get past his senses on one hand. Yet this… this presence was completely suppressed, a void in his perception, a chilling idea.
He narrowed his eye, his single, malevolent orb glowing with suspicion, as the figure came into view. A man wearing a pure white mask with crimson strips running down each side. It had no visible mouth or eye holes, yet he felt an unseen gaze upon him.
With how close he was, Shuten-dōji could immediately tell that this person was not a yokai or even a devil or anything like that.
A... A human. His blood began to boil, a primal rage surging through him, at the sheer audacity of this weak, pathetic species. Was this human responsible for this? This creature of a weak species that had a lifespan as fleeting as an insect's, that hardly had any strength compared to a yokai.
These creatures that should be nothing more than food to him, a source of amusement, a plaything. His fury grew, boiling over, as he addressed that human, roaring at him, his voice shaking the very air, "You! Who the hell are you?! Are you the one who did this?! Do you know what you have done?!"
The masked figure tilted his head slightly, eyes unseen behind the mask, as if contemplating the devastation, assessing his handiwork. He then said, his voice calm, utterly devoid of fear, completely unaffected by Shuten-dōji's overwhelming aura, "I was hoping to have gotten more of you.... guess I'll have to improve the technique, refine it further."
His tone was dismissive, as if the annihilation of Shuten-dōji's base and dozens of his followers was a mere practice run.
That seemed to make Shuten-dōji even more angry, his rage reaching a fever pitch, a volcanic eruption of hatred, as that confirmed what he already guessed, this was the person responsible for the damage, for the annihilation of his forces, for the destruction of his centuries of effort. He roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated hatred, ready to charge forward, his massive kanabo appearing in his hand, ready to crush the insolent human.
Kenji glanced around, his Perception mapping every enemy, every angle, every potential threat. He could already see the remaining surviving yokai surrounding him, their forms coalescing from the rubble, their eyes burning with anger, monstrous and ready to rip him apart, a vengeful mob.
He looked around, a plan already forming. Most of them were Low-Class and Mid-Class, they were around fifty or so in total, but he didn't even count them as a significant threat, mere distractions.
That black hole attack he had launched had given him a lot of EXP, and he had even leveled up six times, bringing him tantalizingly close to breaking through to High-Class himself, his power surging.
These guys weren't really a threat, just fodder, easily dispatched. He focused back on the leader, Shuten-dōji. He had already used Observation on him. He was powerful, no joke, a true force to be reckoned with. Peak High-Class. A real threat. But not invincible. Kenji knew he had a chance, a very good one.
No more waiting. No holding back.
Before Shuten-dōji could give an order or unleash his own attack, before his rage could fully manifest, Kenji immediately struck. He unleashed it. A full-force gravity field surged outward from him, focusing an immense, crushing pressure on the surrounding yokai. Increasing the gravity around him to the maximum he could take, and in an instant, most of the Low-Class yokai turned to paste, their bodies imploding under the impossible weight, their forms collapsing inward. Bones snapped. Flesh crushed. Screams were cut short, silenced by the sheer, overwhelming force.
The few remaining staggered, pinned beneath invisible weights, their limbs buckling, their eyes wide with terror. The soil fractured beneath them, cracking like dry earth. The very air distorted from the pressure, groaning under the immense strain, a testament to his raw power.
Kenji shifted the field's balance, releasing the pressure, and then launched himself like a bullet.
Shuten-dōji saw him coming. Impressive speed, indeed. Especially for a human, a creature he considered weak and slow. But he was a High-Class yokai, not some dreg, and he reacted with surprising speed.
Before Kenji even realized what was happening, his danger sense immediately gave out a warning, and he forced his body to twist, bringing out his sword to block a massive kanabo that descended with bone-shattering force.
He succeeded, but the strength behind it, the raw, unadulterated power of Shuten-dōji, sent him flying backward with immense force, skidding across the broken ground. He grunted, landing hard, but rebounded instantly, his Gamer's Body helping shrug off the impact. He imbued his sword with wind magic and sent arcs of wind flying out, razor-sharp blades of air, cutting down nearby yokai like wheat, before they could even react, clearing a path.
He righted himself and charged back into the fray.
But his path was blocked again.
A giant ox yokai stood in his way, its massive, muscled form radiating raw power, its eyes burning with fury. One of the remaining generals.
Kenji used Observation. High-Class.
Armed with a greatsword of stone, its edge jagged and imposing, looking like a mountain itself.
Kenji charged, a blur of motion, undeterred. The moment he got close, he sent a focused gravity blast at the ox. It seemed he was prepared and brought up his large weapon, a massive slab of stone like a great sword, to block.
It took the hit, pushing him back, but he dug his hooves into the ground, holding his position, a testament to his immense strength. As Kenji charged to take him out, he ducked as a chained blade flew over his head, a surprise attack from another general, a serpentine yokai.
He nearly tripped and had to roll over before jumping back to create distance, narrowly avoiding being ensnared.
Okay. Maybe this was not going to be as easy as he had expected. This wasn't just a mop-up operation. He watched as the yokai surrounded him in a precise half-moon formation, cutting off his escape.
Shuten-dōji at the center, radiating murderous intent, his single eye blazing with hatred. The other two generals, the massive ox and the cunning chain-wielder, positioned to his left and right, acting as formidable bodyguards, with the last able general by the ox side, A massive oni wielding an axe and then the other surviving yokai, all around them, their numbers still significant, their fury palpable, ready to overwhelm him. This was going to be tough. A true boss battle.
Kenji exhaled, a cold mist in the night air, his breath steady despite the odds.
"So this is how it's going to be?" he murmured, his voice low, a dangerous calm settling over him, a chilling acceptance of the challenge.
He tightened his grip on his sword, his stance shifting, ready for anything. Magic surged around him, a visible aura of power. Runes ignited on his enchanted clothing, glowing faintly, humming with power. Wind, gravity, and enchantment wove into his form, amplifying his every move. Heat pulsed from his skin, a subtle shimmer of raw energy. His aura flared like a rising storm, a challenge to the furious yokai, daring them to approach.
"Fine."
His voice was cold. Calm. Deadly.
"Come and die then."
And the mountain shook as the second battle began.
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