"Modern society still feels more familiar."
Leaving the Love Estate, Lucien made his way toward the nearest city.
The streets resembled a Japanese city from the 1960s and 70s, bustling with people in traditional kimonos, while a few prominent figures strolled confidently in suits. Shops lined both sides of the street, with occasional cars and other vehicles passing through.
After wandering a few minutes without purchasing anything, Lucien found himself on a vibrant street where billboards advertised foot massages and hot springs, the subtle undertones hinting at indulgence.
With a casually obtained wallet in hand, he walked into a refined-looking establishment without hesitation. Having previously transmigrated to worlds like One Piece and Attack on Titan, he had rarely enjoyed such leisure. Now, in this near-modern setting, he allowed himself to relax.
Time passed quickly. By dusk, Lucien exited the establishment with a satisfied expression. The patrons inside had been unconventional, but he had thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
"Oh, night fell without me noticing," he murmured, glancing at the crimson clouds drifting across the horizon.
Disappearing in an instant, he reappeared across several shops, embarking on a quiet shopping spree.
As for money, a nearby bank caught his attention with its large, impossible-to-miss sign. Lucien paused briefly to inspect it, adding a touch of urban sightseeing to his evening.
When the sky was fully dark, Lucien rode a bicycle with a massive cart tied to the back, piled with packages of all sizes, occupying at least fifty to sixty square meters. A flashlight mounted on the handlebars illuminated the path ahead as he casually held a cigarette in one hand, pedaling leisurely toward the Love Estate.
As the city faded behind him, human presence gradually diminished. Only the stars and the moonlight guided his way, while the sounds of nocturnal creatures formed a natural symphony. Lucien felt both nostalgia and exhilaration as he rode through the night.
The service at the daytime establishment had left a strong impression, awakening a subtle, guilty pleasure in him. He made a mental note to return—everyone had their struggles, and Lucien could afford to help others, in his own way.
The mountains ahead grew steeper, the air chilling. A faint metallic scent of blood drifted into his nostrils. Under the combined glow of moonlight and flashlight, a figure emerged from the shadows. It radiated cruelty and menace.
"Hey! Hey! Show some respect traveling at this hour! Is it easy for me to roam the streets at night?" Lucien called casually, stopping his bicycle and propping one foot on the ground while flicking ash from his cigarette.
Unexpectedly, a human figure stepped fully into the light.
"Lower Moon Three, Yamai… the cannon fodder who didn't even last a minute? To think I'd meet him in the dead of night." Lucien's eyes glinted amethyst as he assessed the demon. Black hair framed his face, marked by three cross-shaped scars forming an equilateral triangle. The words "Lower Moon Three" seemed almost etched into his presence.
Kibutsuji Muzan, leader of the Twelve Kizuki, had organized his subordinates into Upper and Lower Moons. Yamai was Lower Moon Three—a demon who had once briefly contemplated resistance before ultimately succumbing to Muzan's wrath. Seeing him here was a rare stroke of fortune.
Yamai snarled, scenting Lucien's blood. "I can smell it… rich and delicious." His fangs gleamed as he licked his lips with cruel anticipation.
Lucien flicked the kickstand, dismounted, and with a casual exhale of smoke, produced a machete in his right hand. "Back in the day, I wielded this from West Street to East Street; anyone who saw me had to call me Brother Lucien…"
"Such nonsense," Yamai spat, flicking his hands. His nails gleamed like sickles. In an instant, he vanished in a burst from the ground, intending to make Lucien his prey.
Lightning crackled around Lucien as golden energy surged, a flash of movement blurring both combatants. Dirt and stone erupted into the air as they clashed, a storm sweeping across the road.
"What's going on?" Yamai murmured, suddenly airborne, only to find his own body lying in a pool of blood, his neck severed. Fear gripped him. How could this happen?
Yet the severed body stirred. Cells writhed, the head reattached seamlessly, and Yamai stood fully regenerated. Lucien observed quietly, smoking and studying.
Ordinary weapons could not harm this creature, yet its regenerative ability fascinated him. If he could combine demon and Titan regeneration after consuming Muzan, his body would become essentially immortal. The thought sent a thrill through him.
"Damn it, who exactly are you?" Yamai's voice trembled as he glared up at Lucien, head still in his grasp. He had been defeated twice without a proper chance to act, though the absence of a Nichirin Blade spared him from instant death.
Suddenly, Yamai lunged from behind, his claws flashing with cold light toward Lucien's neck.
Golden lightning flared, and in an instant Lucien appeared ten meters away. Calmly, he flicked his cigarette, impaling Yamai's eye. The demon screamed, a series of shrieks and curses echoing into the night.
________
Over 80 new chapters are waiting for you on my Patreon!
Use the code "ZPHYR07" to get 50% off your first month.
Visit: Patreon.com/Zphyr
If you enjoy my work, your support would mean so much.
Wishing you a wonderful Christmas filled with joy and warmth ❤️🌲