The Crimson Guard did not wait for orders, nor did they need to. On the battlefield, something even greater than strict command and discipline was an army that could, without direct orders from its commander, most faithfully grasp his will.
This was the true meaning of commanding troops as if they were one's own limbs! Shingen's feet had not even fully stopped when Yamagata Masakage raised her right arm.
Iron hooves shattered the grass and soil. Three hundred-some Crimson Guard riders converged from a fan-shaped formation into a conical assault formation, with Yamagata Masakage as the spearhead, charging straight toward the center of the open field.
This was the Takeda Crimson Guard, a force of three hundred heavy cavalry, capable of matching the three hundred fully-armored infantry brought by this generation's Uesugi Kenshin! If the Uesugi forces of Echigo were the strongest infantry of the Warring States, then the Takeda Crimson Guard was the strongest cavalry of this era. Without question. They needed no horns. No signal flags. The moment their lord dismounted, that was the order to charge.
And their formation was utterly different from the Uesugi army's crescent wheel. The crescent wheel was a rotating grinder. The Crimson Guard was a single, decisive hammer blow.
The impact of three hundred riders in a conical formation crashing into the open field was hardly less than the wall of faith-light from the three hundred infantry moments before. The difference was, this force was not merely faith. It was martial might. Killing intent surged. Momentum towered into the heavens! Hundreds of warhorses screamed in unison. The dust kicked up by their hooves blotted out half the sky.
Yamagata Masakage's vermillion light armor was the most conspicuous within that veil of dust. The stone hammer in her hand was raised high, the power of the Fudō Myōō divine-artifact fragment condensed upon its face. A golden Sanskrit pattern flashed once.
The other two warrior maidens followed close behind, one on the left, one on the right. A thrown spear and a tachi struck out simultaneously. The curtain of light, the hammer blow, the hurled spear, three attacks arrived at nearly the same instant.
To this, Shinji also did not draw his blade. He did not even move. But unlike the previous externalized Five Elements yōki, Extreme Will condensed upon the surface of his body of its own accord, forming a membrane invisible to the naked eye.
That was his Will. Kyokui. Extreme Will. To overflow with Will around his entire form, creating an impenetrable barrier. By now, Shinji's comprehension of his own "Sword Will" had reached a level that could only be called sublime.
Yamagata Masakage's stone hammer smashed against that membrane. The golden Sanskrit pattern detonated. The shockwave spread outward to both sides, but the one who swung was sent reeling backward, while the one who was struck remained utterly motionless.
The hurled spear deflected the instant it touched the membrane, grazing past his shoulder and embedding itself into the ground twenty paces behind him. The curtain of light shattered outright, along with the three front-row warhorses that had released it, their hooves skidding and slipping.
The spearhead of the conical formation had broken. The Crimson Guard cavalry behind could not change direction in time. They crashed into the decelerating horses ahead, the entire conical formation collapsed into a tangled mess of iron armor and horseflesh before Shinji.
From full charge to complete standstill, in less than an instant. Shinji still stood where he was. Not even his footprints had shifted.
Shingen, thirty paces away, watched this scene and tapped her iron fan against her own shoulder. "As expected." She was not discouraged. Her deep crimson eyes, instead, blazed even brighter. "Then let's go together, Nagao Kagetora." Shingen called Kenshin by her true name.
As a fellow god-buddha incarnation, Takeda Shingen could tell at a single glance how different this second-generation Kenshin was from the last. More mortal than divine. And so, compared to her dharma name, she preferred to address her by her human name.
The second-generation Kenshin's violet eyes swept over. The two of them exchanged a glance for less than half a second. No excess tacit understanding was needed. The Tiger of Kai and the previous Dragon of Echigo had fought for over a decade. They were enemies, yet also friends. They understood each other's power better than anyone.
Kenshin, who had long been fully prepared, only to be interrupted by Takeda Shingen's sudden arrival, stepped forward once more, raising her blade to the level of her brow.
The faith-power of the three hundred Uesugi soldiers had already been fully channeled into her body. Golden Sanskrit characters swirled around her. The bells of Bishamonten resonated ceaselessly through the air.
Shingen moved at the same instant. She tucked her iron fan back at her waist and freed both hands, she needed no weapon. The Crimson Guard cavalry, reforming from their chaos, fell back like a receding tide to either flank. Then they closed in once more, forming a circular formation centered on Shingen.
It was almost identical to Kenshin's crescent wheel, yet utterly different. The crescent wheel rotated men. The Takeda circular formation rotated qi. The killing intent of three hundred Crimson Guard riders flowed along the circular path, converging at the very center. Converging upon Shingen. Military momentum entwined. A second layer.
Shingen's body began to glow, a deep crimson light. The dark red momentum rose from beneath her feet, visibly seeping through the gaps in her armor, as though something within her was burning.
The power of Fudō Myōō was catalyzed to its absolute limit by the killing intent of three hundred Crimson Guard riders. Behind her, the spectral silhouette of a newborn Golden Lion Guardian Spirit, the one that had re-condensed within Mount Hakurei, surfaced.
Though it was a size smaller than the original, even so, the appearance of a Guardian Spirit made the very air catch in the throat. Even though it was invisible to ordinary human eyes, that sensation could be felt even by common folk.
Uesugi Kenshin was the same. She, too, naturally possessed a Guardian Spirit. Whether the previous generation or this one, both had been born bearing the Mandate of Heaven. Both commanded the destiny and momentum of multiple provinces.
Hers was, unmistakably, a dragon. A silver-white, winding qi-dragon of momentum! Dragon and Lion. The Dragon of Echigo. And the Tiger of Kai. Gold and deep crimson, pressing toward the center simultaneously.
The combined aura of these two forces, was beginning to approach the very limits beneath a daiyōkai! Equivalent to a Twelfth Transformation demon.
The villagers on the distant hills began to retreat. Some stumbled. Some collapsed to the ground outright. Momiji and Botan simultaneously threw up barriers to protect the civilians, sweat beading on their foreheads.
Naoe Kanetsugu swept little Kaede down from her shoulders and shielded her behind her. Kikyō's longbow already had an arrow nocked. She did not fire. But the arrowhead was aimed at the center of the open field. Her reiryoku trembled faintly upon the bowstring. Ready to intervene at any moment. Even if this was only a sparring match, she would not permit anyone to harm her beloved.
Amidst this, Kenshin moved first. The golden blade slashed down from above, carrying the weight of three hundred soldiers' faith. The air was compressed. The ground fissured before the blade's edge even arrived.
Shingen followed immediately after. Her fist, wrapped in the deep crimson flames of Fudō Myōō, swept in from the side. Where the fist passed, grass and trees withered and charred! One from above. One from the side. One blade. One fist. Gold and deep crimson converged upon Shinji's position. And then,
BOOM.
A thunderous roar. Dust surged into the sky. The shockwave spread in every direction, overturning the nearest dozens of Crimson Guard cavalry, man and horse alike. The rear ranks of the Uesugi army were pushed staggering backward by the blast wave.
But within the veil of dust, Kenshin's blade had stopped. The cutting edge was still five mm from its target. It could descend no further. Shingen's fist had also frozen in place. Her knuckles pressed against a surface of such absurd hardness that the deep crimson flames rebounded and scorched her own wrist.
The dust cleared. Shinji still stood where he was. Only his attitude had changed. And he had, unmistakably, drawn his blade. Not one blade. But three! It was still a single man facing an army. But the difference between a dispersed force, and a force condensed into the body of a single individual, was immense. Utterly disparate.
Against a scattered legion of hundreds, even if every single one of them was fully armored, each a supreme elite capable of fighting ten, even dozens of ordinary soldiers, even if human momentum suppressed the supernatural, Shinji could still crush them with ease. But when all that power was condensed into one person, the meaning was entirely different.
"Since you're serious...." he said. His voice was flat. But what followed those words was the sky and earth themselves changing color. Still the Ninth. The Shura Form. Unfurling without restraint.
The skeletal frame extended from his spine. White bones rapidly grew and wove together outside his body. Thunder leaped and filled the gaps between the bones. Six meters. Seven meters. Eight meters. It did not stop. Until thirty meters. Sixty meters!
The Bone Thunder Shura rose from the center of the open field. Its height exceeded every surrounding tree. Exceeded the ridgeline of the hills. A Sixty meters tall colossus of white bone and thunder. And upon it, four arms encircled. The projected and amplified Onikiri. Yomi-giri. Banryū. Gripped in its hands.
Between the empty-handed bone fingers, thunder crackled and snapped. One blade was missing, Raikiri had not been summoned. Nor was it needed. The Five Viscera cycled simultaneously within his chest. The Three Souls resonated in their respective positions. Heart-Fire. Kidney-Water. Lung-Metal. Liver-Wood. Spleen-Earth. The Five Elements cycle spun at full speed.
The density of his yōki skyrocketed to a suffocating degree in a single instant. This, was the Shura Form after the Twelfth Transformation's Return to One. No longer the barely-constructed, six-meter exoskeleton from the Ninth Transformation.
This was the true, Body of the Great Asura. Though it was still far from his full strength, without a doubt, Shinji was now serious.
Kenshin tilted her head back. Her deep indigo hair was whipped wildly by the shockwave released by the Shura Form. The ends of her white forehead-band snapped violently against her shoulders in the wind. Her violet pupils reflected that sixty meters tall colossus of white bone and thunder. Her breathing stopped entirely. She was stunned. Utterly stunned.
The Shura Form gazed down upon the earth. Four arms encircled. Three blades drawn simultaneously, dark crimson, ghostly violet, and pale white light interwove overhead, as though another sun had fallen from the heavens.
And at the very core of that colossal form, a gray silhouette. white, flowing hair billowing within the lightning. Crimson demon eyes gazing down from on high. Her knees buckled again.
This time.... it was not because of the seed.
'So cool.' Those were the only two words left in Kenshin's entire mind. Then her face burst into flame. She hastily lowered her head, pretending to inspect her blade for cracks. But the face reflected upon the blade's surface, was as red as a boiled shrimp.
Shingen also tilted her head back. Her deep crimson hair was blown wild by the shockwave, veiling half her face. But what burned within the exposed deep crimson eye.... was exactly the same as Kenshin's. "This.... " Shingen exhaled a long breath. She, too, could not help but sigh. "It's truly a magnificent sight."
Above the open field, the four arms of the Shura Form slowly spread wide. The light of the three blades, dark crimson, silver-white, pale white. interwove beneath the afternoon sun.
They cast a colossal shadow that covered the entire field. Beneath that shadow, over six hundred souls, the three hundred Uesugi infantry and the three hundred-some Takeda cavalry, all lifted their heads simultaneously.
They all saw the same image. A sixty meter Shura, gazing down upon the earth. Like the dharma form of a buddha. And even more, like the demonic form of a Ma.
Afterward, the sky split for the second time. A thousand soldiers parted like a receding tide. Shinji, by the strength of a single man, had subdued the armies of the two mightiest provinces in the Kantō, nay, in all the realm.