[Cleansing].
This was the name Abe no Seimei gave to his purge a thousand years ago, during the Heian period—a sweeping campaign to eliminate all yōkai who refused to bow to him, solidifying his claim as the King of the Night.
Because of this act, much of yōkai history was lost. Records that predated it were largely destroyed.
And now, with Seimei resurrected, the Mikado-in Clan had begun that purge anew. Yōkai factions across Japan were being decimated. At least a third of all yōkai groups or species had already been wiped out.
---
The Mikado-in's stronghold—Spiral Castle.
A lattice of floating islands rose in a spiral toward the heavens. At the very peak, in the highest structure, Abe no Seimei stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing solemnly at the ghostly image of the Fantasy Tree.
"…Too slow."
He had waited a millennium in Hell to perfect the forbidden art of resurrection. A man of patience—at least on the surface.
And yet, he now found himself seething. His patience was rapidly unraveling.
"To make the Fantasy Tree bloom as soon as possible, I sent my descendants to every region to slaughter yōkai and onmyōji, collecting their fear to nourish the tree… and still, it's too slow."
He needed the tree to flower. That was the only way to claim the power to rewrite the world.
Now, with his long-awaited dream just within reach, every second burned like fire beneath his skin. He wanted that tree to bloom now—and he didn't care what it took.
"My lord! Your humble servant has arrived the moment your summons reached me!"
Mikado-in Tenkai dropped to his knees behind Seimei, prostrating himself. Though the strange mask he wore hid his face, his voice trembled with awe—like a believer witnessing a miracle.
My lord has summoned me personally. He needs my power. That was surely what filled his thoughts.
"Look at it, Tenkai. That is the shape of our dream. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes, my lord! I can feel the divine mystery, the overflowing power… it is as if a god's scepter has been made manifest. And now that it is in your hands, you are surely the one chosen by the world—the true god who shall lead us to the new age!"
Tenkai poured forth his praise with unrestrained fervor. Perhaps no words could ever do Seimei justice in his eyes, but he gave it everything he had.
"But the pace is far too slow… far too slow, Tenkai. At this rate, how long must we wait before our perfect world is made real, carved irrevocably into existence by my hand?"
Seimei's voice deepened, his irritation bleeding through.
The room itself seemed to groan under the weight of his displeasure—and Tenkai's forehead slammed into the ground, crushed by the gravity of his lord's wrath.
Just a glance from Seimei felt like a mountain crashing onto his back. His bones creaked under the pressure, his whole body wracked with pain.
"F-Forgive us, my lord…"
He trembled, barely able to speak. Fear, dread—they consumed him entirely.
"We've all been working tirelessly for your vision… but… the resistance has been greater than expected. In particular, the yōkai led by Nurarihyon and the onmyōji of the Keikain Clan have been especially active."
With those words, the weight on his body grew even heavier.
"Nurarihyon… Keikain…"
Seimei's gaze darkened, and his voice dropped lower still, simmering with fury.
"They're ants. Ants so small, they wouldn't even feel it if I crushed them. Left alone, they would drown in the tide of revolution. And yet…"
"To think my own bloodline cannot deal with such vermin… Have I overestimated your worth?"
Tenkai didn't dare move. Couldn't.
He was once known as Sōjō Tenkai, the strongest barrier master of his generation. But now? One glance from Seimei, and he might as well have been an insect—helpless, insignificant.
He didn't respond. He couldn't. All he could do was lie there, waiting.
Waiting for either forgiveness… or death.
And then, suddenly, the crushing pressure vanished.
Tenkai gasped, greedily sucking in air. His lungs ached from the reprieve. Then—Seimei's voice came again.
"I don't care what your excuses are. The truth is simple: your method—killing yōkai to harvest fear—is too inefficient."
"I am displeased."
He turned his gaze to Tenkai, voice low, deliberate.
"Tenkai. The barrier protecting Spiral Castle—it was made by channeling the nation's ley lines, yes?"
"Yes, my lord. It is my greatest masterpiece…"
Tenkai nodded without thinking. And then froze, eyes wide with realization.
"My lord—you're not suggesting—"
"I intend to connect Japan's ley lines to the Fantasy Tree," Seimei said coldly. "We will force it to bloom using the planet's energy."
Emotionless words echoed through the chamber, devoid of any trace of humanity.
Tenkai sucked in a sharp breath.
"My lord… That method is too extreme. It would sink the entire country."
Japan, after all, was a nation of islands. If its ley lines were stripped dry, the land would collapse—subsumed by the ocean.
Tenkai's own barrier used the ley lines, yes—but in balance. He only took a fraction of their energy. Even as the strongest barrier master, he couldn't extract more without destabilizing the land.
But the Fantasy Tree could.
"If the Fantasy Tree blooms," Seimei said, "I will hold the power of creation. Preventing a nation's collapse will be trivial. Besides…"
"…I don't want this foul, corrupted country to exist in the new world. I'll build something better atop its ruins."
And Tenkai realized—he had no say in the matter.
The Mikado-in Clan existed solely to help Seimei realize his dream.
Once that dream was fulfilled—if they were no longer useful—they would be discarded.
That was the bitter truth.
And the moment the Fantasy Tree latched onto the ley lines, Spiral Castle's barrier collapsed. It could no longer be maintained.
And the floating castle—once hidden—became visible.
It wasn't far from the Nura Clan's main base. Naturally, Nura Rikuo and his people spotted it immediately.
Meanwhile, the Fantasy Tree began draining the ley lines like a starving beast, fueling its rapid growth.
That day, all of Tokyo bore witness to something that defied logic.
The sky tore open.
Within that hole—an endless sea of stars. The vast mystery of the cosmos laid bare for human eyes.
At the ruins of Aokijō, the roots of fantasy descended.
A tree once destined to rewrite mankind's truth—a divine tree that had once rooted itself in contradiction and myth—now stirred. It moved.
It took root in reality, and its branches reached toward the far ends of the cosmos.
Daylight vanished. The sky was veiled in darkness. Stars were dragged down by sprawling branches that blotted out the sun.
The Fantasy Tree had emerged—looming, vast, divine.
In the Nura Clan compound, yōkai from across Japan—gathered by Rikuo's call—fell into a commotion.
"That… what the hell is that thing?!"
In Rikuo's eyes, the tree was not twisted, nor grotesque. Quite the opposite—it radiated something sacred. He couldn't help but revere it.
"That's the Fantasy Tree," came a voice.
Gentle. Calm. Yet somehow clear above the din.
Rikuo froze. He knew that voice.
He turned—and saw a woman in a kimono.
"…Mom? No, wait—"
He frowned. She looked exactly like Nura Wakana… but this wasn't her.
"You're Limbo, aren't you?"
He remembered. The Hyaku Monogatari Clan had once infiltrated the Nura compound by impersonating Wakana. But someone had saved her. That someone had remained—at Wakana's own request—using her face as a disguise.
Thinking back, Rikuo's expression turned… complicated.
He still didn't know what his mother had been thinking.
Sure, the guy saved her. And yeah, he'd helped during the Hyaku Monogatari crisis. But walking around with his mom's face was pushing it.
Suppressing the awkward churn in his chest, Rikuo asked, "Do you know what that thing is?"
"Hmmmm… You could say I do. I've got quite the… personal history with it."
Their exchange drew attention.
Rikuo's voice lowered, serious. "I've got a bad feeling. That thing is definitely tied to Abe no Seimei's plan. Can you tell us what it is?"
"Sure. I don't mind."
She paused—then narrowed her eyes with playful mockery.
"But first… Rikuo, why won't you look at me?"
"…"
You're wearing my mom's face, how am I supposed to talk to you like a normal person?!
Also, why are you so damn good at imitating women's mannerisms?!
He'd seen Limbo both in disguise and out. The first time, he was androgynous, impossible to read. But later—broad-shouldered, towering two meters tall. Definitely, unmistakably a man.
Just as Rikuo raged internally—
Two soft hands cupped his cheeks and turned his face forward.
"When you talk to someone, face them. Look them in the eye. Or didn't anyone teach you basic manners?"
"Change your damn face first!!"
With Rikuo's protest ringing in the air, "Wakana" stepped lightly away, laughing sweetly.
"Ara~ can't help it. If I drop the disguise now, I'd probably get mobbed by every yōkai in here."
She wasn't wrong.
Back when they first met, Tsurara, Aotabō, and Tsuchigumo had all attacked Limbo. Tsuchigumo even lopped off his head.
He'd just… reattached it.
So, still in Wakana's form, she turned to the curious crowd and began explaining.
"That giant tree is called the Fantasy Tree—a colossal mechanism capable of rewriting mankind's history."
"Put simply, it erodes reality. It can reset a planet, overwrite it with a new mythos. When it blooms, whoever controls it becomes the sole god of the new world."
"They'll reshape the world as they please."
To get them to believe her was a tall order.
Sure, Seimei could convince the Mikado-in Clan—he had the charisma and divine presence to pull it off.
But these yōkai? Arrogant. Distrustful. Proud.
And honestly, Limbo's explanation did sound like fantasy. "Rewrite the world"? "Erode reality"? Maybe Chaldea could process it, but not this crowd.
So, she pivoted.
Changed tactics. Lowered expectations.
She just needed them to understand one thing:
"That thing is really, really bad."
And with that…
"I'm guessing Seimei's speeding things up. There's no way the Fantasy Tree grew this fast without help. He's using Japan's ley lines—draining them dry."
"You don't need me to tell you what kind of disaster that causes, right?"
"So, if you all want to stay alive…"
Limbo smiled, wide and far too cheerful for the gravity of the situation.
"Let's get ready to chop down a tree."
---
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