That's right—although Ibaraki-Dōji was feeling thoroughly stifled and frustrated right now, that didn't diminish his admiration for Ren Kuroda in the slightest.
Whether it was temperament, strength, talent, or intelligence, in Ibaraki-Dōji's eyes, Ren had already reached a level that was nearly peerless.
In terms of mindset alone, Ren's calm, unhurried fighting style—his ability to remain composed from beginning to end—said everything that needed to be said.
As for raw power, the fact that Ren could contend head-on with him, an SS-rank Demon King, and even push him into his current predicament, required no further explanation.
Talent, however, was what Ibaraki-Dōji found the most absurd of all. In his view, Ren's very existence was an anomaly. Calling him a "genius" was an understatement that verged on insult.
Based on everything he had seen so far, Ibaraki-Dōji was almost completely certain of one thing: Ren was Shuten-Dōji's offspring.
But how long had it even been since Shuten-Dōji's resurrection, followed by his quiet departure from the oni clans? Not even a hundred years had passed!
Even taking a massive step back—assuming Shuten-Dōji had found a partner almost immediately after leaving the oni and fathered Ren soon after—
That would still mean the Ren standing before him now was less than a century old.
For humans, a hundred years might be a lifetime. But for yōkai with extraordinarily long lifespans, that was barely more than infancy.
And yet, at under a hundred years of age, Ren possessed SS-class demonic power, and had already awakened multiple forms of Fear—abilities considered the strongest among the oni.
He had even manifested certain Fear abilities that didn't belong to the oni race at all, yet each one was terrifyingly powerful in its own right.
Ibaraki-Dōji suspected that those abilities came from Ren's mother—and that Ren's mother herself must have been a powerful great yōkai of some kind.
In other words, Ren was a supergenius born from the near-perfect inheritance of his parents' exceptional bloodlines.
Under Half-Oni Transformation, Ren's body temporarily underwent complete yōkai assimilation. In this state, even Ibaraki-Dōji could no longer tell that he was a half-demon—he appeared to be a pure yōkai through and through.
Naturally, Ibaraki-Dōji also assumed Ren's birth mother was an immensely powerful yōkai as well.
All in all, from every possible angle, Ibaraki-Dōji found Ren deeply admirable.
He even believed that if Ren were willing to resolve the lingering grudges between Shuten-Dōji and the oni clans, then the son of his dearest friend could lead the oni to an even greater pinnacle.
After all, Shuten-Dōji had charisma and overwhelming strength, but his personality and intellect were… well, undeniable weak points.
Ren, on the other hand, was different. Not only did he possess formidable power, but his temperament was steady and composed—and his intellect was sharp enough to toy with the exorcist families of the Tokyo region as if they were dancing in the palm of his hand.
Perhaps Ren was still slightly inferior to Shuten-Dōji in sheer strength for now. But judging by the talent he had already displayed, it might only take a few more years before he surpassed his father entirely.
"Looks like reasoning won't work," Ibaraki-Dōji said with a low sigh. "If I want you to calm down and properly explain what happened with Shuten, I'll have to beat you into submission first.
"Rashō Demon Domain · Yōki Lockdown!"
Admiring the younger generation was one thing, but being pressed this hard as an elder left Ibaraki-Dōji feeling deeply undignified.
Because he still couldn't sense where Ren was hiding, Ibaraki-Dōji chose to blanket the area with a wide-range attack, sealing everything indiscriminately.
An arm wreathed in chilling demonic aura plunged into the ground as if piercing empty space itself. The earth trembled violently, and from four directions, enormous gates engraved with grotesque oni faces rose up from beneath the ground.
As the demon of Rashōmon, Ibaraki-Dōji summoning the legendary Rashōmon gates was hardly surprising.
What shocked Ren, however, was that the moment the four Rashōmon gates emerged, he felt the entire area become completely sealed by Ibaraki-Dōji's overwhelming demonic power.
The massive gates seemed to resonate with one another. With their energies linked, they formed a perfect enclosure, locking down the entire space without a single gap.
Ren attempted to cleave one of the Rashōmon gates with a slash—but no matter which world it came from, "Rashōmon" seemed to share one universal trait.
It was thick. And absurdly tough.
Even with Ren's full-power strike, the blade only carved a deep groove into the surface.
Breaking through wasn't impossible—it would just take time. And Ren had no illusions that Ibaraki-Dōji would grant him even a moment of it.
"That Fear you used earlier to hide your presence and demonic power is impressive," Ibaraki-Dōji said calmly. "Probably inherited from your mother, right?
"I can't sense your aura or yōki—but this entire area is now saturated with my demonic energy. Which means wherever my yōki can't reach… that's where you are."
The instant his words fell, Ibaraki-Dōji's figure vanished into motion.
Almost immediately, Ren saw it—a massive arm exuding sinister energy burst through the surrounding grayish fog, rapidly expanding in his field of vision as it lunged toward him.
At that split second, dodging was no longer an option.
Staring at the razor-sharp claws tearing toward his chest, Ren clenched his teeth—and instead of retreating, he charged forward, swinging his blade head-on.
If injury was unavoidable, then he would ensure the greatest possible gain in exchange.
If the enemy wounded him a thousand times over, then he would tear at least eight hundred back in return.
Seeing Ren's fierce expression—advancing rather than retreating—Ibaraki-Dōji froze for a brief moment.
Based on Ren's earlier fighting style, he had assumed Ren was the cautious, calculated type. He hadn't expected such decisive ruthlessness in the face of mortal danger.
So when the blade came slashing toward his own waist, would Ibaraki-Dōji retreat?
Of course not.
Leaving aside the fact that he wasn't some lecher like Shuten-Dōji—his kidneys were hardly precious—and even in a mutual exchange of injuries, Ren would inevitably suffer far more damage than he would.
Determined to reclaim his dignity as an "elder" and resolved to teach Ren a proper lesson, Ibaraki-Dōji chose not to evade at all. Instead, he met Ren head-on, trading injury for injury.
Two arcs of blood sprayed into the air.
As both were wounded, they instinctively leapt backward at the same time, putting distance between themselves.
Glancing at the blade wound on his waist, blood still flowing freely, Ibaraki-Dōji remained perfectly calm. The injury looked gruesome, but his kidney was thankfully intact.
With his kidney preserved, Ibaraki-Dōji turned an appreciative gaze toward Ren.
He clearly approved of Ren's decision to decisively trade injuries in that moment—it truly had been the most advantageous choice under the circumstances.
It was obvious that Ren not only possessed power and talent, but also extensive combat experience. This only deepened Ibaraki-Dōji's admiration for the younger fighter.
However, compared to Ibaraki-Dōji's injuries, Ren's condition was nothing short of horrifying.
The clothing on Ren's chest had been completely shredded, revealing several claw marks so deep that bone was visible. Blood continued to pour from the wounds.
At the jagged edges, faint glimpses of internal organs could be seen—and worse still, dense demonic energy clung to the wounds, relentlessly eroding Ren's body.
Such injuries were among the most severe Ren had ever suffered, second only to the wounds inflicted by the Kusanagi Sword during that previous great battle.
Ibaraki-Dōji's demon arm condensed nearly half of his demonic power and had absorbed the souls of countless defeated foes. Though called an "arm," it was effectively a weapon fused to his very being.
In terms of grade, it likely wasn't inferior to the Kusanagi Sword, one of the Three Sacred Treasures.
Ren was far stronger now than he had been during the Tokyo incident—but Ibaraki-Dōji's demon arm wasn't an ownerless relic like the Kusanagi. It belonged to a master just as terrifying.
"Now you can listen to me properly, right?" Ibaraki-Dōji said evenly. "If you keep forcing yourself, you really will die.
"You have oni blood, so the demonic energy affecting you should be limited—but without your concealment ability, and with injuries this severe, continuing to fight would leave you with no chance of victory."
"With your level of strength, I can't afford to hold back. To avoid accidentally killing you later, how about we end this here?
"Don't underestimate yourself, though. With the talent you've shown, it won't be long before you surpass me—and even your father. For a gifted brat like you, losing once in a while might actually be a good thing."
Looking at the state of Ren's chest, Ibaraki-Dōji saw no reason to continue the battle.
Although activating the yōki-sealing domain had consumed a significant amount of his demonic power, Ren's injuries made victory impossible—and Ibaraki-Dōji had no desire to kill his best friend's son. To him, this fight should end now.
"It's still a bit early for you to speak like a victor," Ren replied calmly.
"True, I didn't gain the upper hand in that exchange. My injuries look far worse than yours. But your demonic power… it's almost gone, isn't it?"
"…That's true. I do have less yōki than you right now," Ibaraki-Dōji admitted. "But in your current condition, do you really—"
He was about to tell Ren to stop forcing himself. The fact that Ren could still stand with wounds like these was already astonishing.
But then—
Ibaraki-Dōji's confident expression froze solid. The words lodged in his throat.
Because as he looked again at Ren, he realized—
The terrifying wounds on Ren's chest were healing. Rapidly.
In the brief span of their conversation, the gushing blood had already stopped.
The jagged claw marks writhed as if alive, sprouting new flesh, knitting together, scabbing over—
Self-repair at a speed that defied belief.