"Hurry up and finish this fight—if the Maou find us, the game won't be fun anymore."
Compared to the leisurely Kuroka, the Monkey King's expression was tense. It wasn't just Yoru's strength that concerned him—it was also the location.
No one could tell when the Maou might sense the battle and come investigate.
It wasn't that he doubted Kuroka's barrier, but rather that he couldn't gauge just how large the gap was between her barrier and one cast by a Maou.
Arthur, watching his two companions approach, could only suffer in silence. Even if he wanted to warn them, he couldn't.
He was being completely overpowered by Yoru's strength, and the frost clinging to Yoru's sword had already invaded his body like a parasite that refused to let go.
Just like the intel had stated—his ice powers were terrifying beyond measure.
Perhaps sensing Arthur's plight, Yoru's lips curled into a faint smile. He raised his greatsword and brought it down without giving Arthur the slightest chance to react, forcing him to stagger backward.
The Monkey King caught his comrade, but the moment his hands made contact, his expression changed.
A thin layer of frost instantly covered his palms, spreading up his arms. Arthur's body was as cold as solid ice.
"Damn… what a sinister power!"
The Monkey King cursed in surprise, while Kuroka had already rushed forward.
Sinister? Perhaps—but what could be more "sinister" than senjutsu?
Her assault had no discernible pattern—reckless and chaotic, almost as if she were throwing her life away.
Yoru showed no mercy. With a clean, downward slash, he cleaved her in two.
But a smug smile spread across Kuroka's face before her bisected form dispersed into smoke.
"Nice strike… but useless. Anyone who knows illusions can make a clone."
Her voice echoed from every direction in the forest. Mist thickened, and countless identical cat-eared figures in black kimono emerged—illusionary clones, a basic senjutsu technique.
"…If you can't read the flow of ki, you can't handle illusions from a high-level practitioner," Koneko muttered painfully, forcing herself to lift her head.
Because Yoru had frozen all the surrounding poison gas, she had regained consciousness. It seemed Kuroka's toxin was only potent enough to paralyze her, not kill.
"Don't talk, Koneko. Relax—this level of illusion can't stop me."
"Tch, I really hate guys who talk big, nya. Just hurry up and fall for me!"
Her voice came from all around. Normally, it would be impossible to pinpoint her real location. Senjutsu illusions were different from devil magic—they didn't rely on mana signatures, making them harder to sense.
But Kuroka had overlooked one thing—Yoru never relied on magical signatures to locate his opponent.
No matter how perfect the illusion, some things could never be hidden:
The faint change in moisture caused by her body heat.
The tiny fluctuations in the air from her breathing.
The subtle movement of the blood in her veins.
Illusions weren't real. They couldn't change the moisture in the air.
In a way, Yoru was indeed reading the "flow of ki," though not quite in the sense Kuroka and Koneko imagined.
Hidden in the shadows, Kuroka smirked as she watched Yoru trapped in her web of illusions. In her mind, the checkmate was set.
All that was left was to land the killing blow—with her senjutsu.
A strange energy gathered in her palm, utterly different from magic, yet undeniably powerful.
But just as it reached its peak, a phantom-like shadow appeared before her.
Impossible—?!
Kuroka's eyes went wide in shock. Not long ago, Yoru had been surrounded by her illusions… yet now he had completely broken free and found her true body.
"This can't be!"
Her denial only made the energy in her palm spiral out of control.
Crap…
By the time she tried to suppress the unstable technique, it was already too late. And then, to her astonishment, Yoru reached out and placed his hand directly over hers.
In an instant, the unstable technique froze—literally. The swirling energy in her palm solidified into an ice sphere radiating bone-chilling cold.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
Throwing the frozen sphere at him like it was cursed, Kuroka leapt back, desperate to create distance.
But when she finally felt she'd put enough space between them and turned around—Yoru was already there, wearing a faintly amused smile.
"Arthur, Monkey King—what are you doing?! Help me!"
Kuroka spun around and kept fleeing through the forest, shouting for her comrades.
"Don't bother. They can't help you."
The calm voice from behind froze her in place. For the first time, she realized the vast difference in their strength—this entire fight had been nothing but a game to him.
"How?! Vali's report said you'd only just reached Maou-class strength! How can you be this strong?!"
"Ah, well… a little accident happened."
Yoru shrugged innocently, narrowing his eyes as he regarded Kuroka with a mischievous glint.
In truth, if Nezha's power hadn't suddenly manifested, Yoru's original strength might not have been enough to handle all three of them at once.
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