With all the great news, ignoring the corrosion of his mind by the Shinso blood and the deteriorating stats of his Bloodline Control. An unearthly, dark chuckle rumbled from deep within Tsukune's transformed chest. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated satisfaction that, filtered through his ghoul-like state, came out as chilling and malefic. To the three broken yokai, it was the sound of doom itself.
'Finally.' The thought cut through the residual blood-haze with crystalline clarity.
'A lead. After all the head-bashing, the dead ends, the constant frustrations… the System finally shows me a path on how to awaken my Sacred Gear.'
The surge of vindication was so profound it momentarily overrode the monstrous sensations clawing at his mind.
'Ahh, it feels so damn good, even if I didn't awaken it itself, just knowing that my hard work in growing in power and building up my body wasn't in vain.'
'It's so rewarding.'
'Yeepee' he thought with a savage, internal grin. (A/N His brain is fried)
Then, shifting his focus outwards, he surveyed the battlefield, the crimson glow in his eyes casting long, monstrous shadows. The Namahage, Gorou, was a groaning mound of muscle, one arm cradled awkwardly. The Tanuki, Bunta, lay curled on his side, wheezing, his fur matted with dirt and his own spiritual residue.
A pitiful state, indeed.
Tsukune tilted his head, running a dark-taloned finger along the curve of a protruding fang. The sharpness was exhilarating. In this form, with this raw, coursing power that brushed the edge of A-tier, there was no conceivable way he could lose to noobs like these.
The only enemy here was the transformation itself—the lure of power which would slowly send him into the beckoning abyss.
"Not much fight left, is there?" Tsukune's voice was a low, gravelly rasp, devoid of any pity as he stared down at Gorou and Bunta.
Their only responses were pained groans, the earlier bravado utterly crushed.
His attention then shifted to the remaining problem, the Hitodama, Kazemaru, who still flickered in the air, a panicky blue will-o'-the-wisp.
Tsukune had largely ignored him, focusing on the physical threats. But with a clearer mindscape, where his intrusive, blood-hungry thoughts momentarily beaten back by the cross's searing presence—a solution surfaced from his memory.
It was a passage from that ridiculous book in the library 'Basic Yokai Bestiary for Idiots.'
Hitodama (Human Soul Flame), as he recalled the passage of the books entry.
'A coalescence of spiritual energy and lingering emotion. Physical attacks are largely ineffective. Susceptible to… disruptions in its core cohesion.'
'It was worth a shot, anyway.'
"You," Tsukune said, his crimson eyes locking onto the dancing blue flame. "You've been quite the noisy spectator. Tell me… what was your name, again? Ahh, yeah. Kazemaru… are you ready to scream like a little girl?"
Before the spirit could retort or flee, Tsukune moved. It was still that blinding speed of a superior Yokai as he arrived before the Hitodama in a flash, his right clawed hand swiping through the flames.
Instead of striking with his claws in a swiping motion, his hand shot forward, plunging directly into the 'heart' of this amalgamation of yoki, spirit and flames, the core of the Hitodoma which sustained its existance.
The sensation was bizarre—a searing cold that fought against the unnatural heat of the flame.
His fingers didn't pass through; they gripped, closing around the unstable nucleus of spiritual energy while his own hand was covered in crimson yoki.
"GYAAAAAAGH—KZKZT—!"
A guttural, inhuman scream of pure agony tore from Kazemaru. The blue flame flared violently, then imploded with a sound like a shattered lightbulb. Tsukune squeezed, and the cohesion broke. The Hitodama form winked out of existence.
Where the flame had been, a pale, semi-transparent boy now collapsed to his knees on the forest floor, gasping. He retained some faint, wispy monster traits—pointed ears, glowing eyes—but he was forcefully locked in a more humanoid, and far more vulnerable, state.
He stared up at Tsukune, his expression one of utter, soul-deep terror. Also a big question has surfaced in both the spectating Kurumu and Kazemaru 'How?'
Well, kids, this is why back in the day, the best way of spending time was inside a library, reading all sorts of books, since the internet wasn't accessible in the Yokai Academy, and his phone was worse than a bricked Nokia.
'Pitiful idiots' Tsukune thought, the observation cold and clinical. Not knowing what's best for them to live long enough to tell the tale.
He looked again to see if they would try to force another resistance. Left at the groaning Namahage, then right at the whimpering Tanuki, seeing things finally settle down, a faint, disdainful arch rose on to his eyebrow.
With things confirmed, his full, crushing attention settled back on the newly materialized and trembling Kazemaru.
"It seems Fate played a cruel hand to you three idiotic ants."
Tsukune took a slow, deliberate step forward, the forest floor crunching underfoot. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of fear and the oppressive crimson yoki surrounding his body.
"You are in luck," he continued, a faint, horrifying tilt to his lips that could not be called a smile, "because I'm not stupid enough to leave myself exposed to hidden dangers."
He raised a clawed hand, examining the obsidian points as if seeing them for the first time.
"My instincts scream at me to kill you all. To squeeze every last drop of your strength into my hands. My fangs…" He ran his tongue over one elongated canine "…they give me a pain worse than neuralgia. They make me desire to quench this empty thirst with your blood."
Hearing these words, Gorou flinched, Bunta squeezed his eyes shut and Kazemaru began to sob silently, his wispy form trembling.
But contrary to expectation, Tsukune didn't deliver the final blow, instead, his left hand jerked to his chest, moving beneath his buttoned shirt, retrieving the same cross he had pulled out from his pockets that he chose to wear like a necklace.
A faint, sanctified golden light pulsed between his fingers, and the oppressive, chaotic crimson aura wreathing him flickered and dimmed, beaten back by the holy power. He brought the cross to his lips, pressing a quick, burning kiss to its surface.
The sizzle of flesh was audible, and a stark, cross-shaped brand appeared on his lower lip before his vampiric regeneration smoothed it away.
'I might not be the strongest practitioner of catholicism, but when Yahweh by the extension of the Heavenly System can still nullify some of the corrupting effects of this unsteady transformation of my body. I am willing to suffer pain.'
'Thanks, Kyoko-chan for your gift.' (A/N: For those who don't know, she is Tsukune's cousin)
The shift was immediate, his Yoki seemed to have calmed down, but that villainous aura of his didn't vanish, instead it gained a terrifying, controlled focus.
"So," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper as he stared at the semi-transparent form of Kazemaru. "You have a choice. One I suggest you consider very, very carefully."
He raised his branded left hand, fingers curled except for the index, which he pointed first at the downed Namahage, then at the Tanuki, and finally at the trembling Hitodama. "Submit. Here and now. Or…" The crimson light in his eyes flared.
"…I will send you to whatever afterlife awaits failed monsters like you. You will die here, forgotten by everyone you ever pretended to care for, and your essence will become nothing more than fuel for my growth."
Gorou, the Namahage, tried to muster a defiant grunt, but it turned into a pained cough. Bunta just whimpered, hiding his face. It was Kazemaru, whose spirit-form was most vulnerable to the sheer oppressive will radiating from Tsukune, who broke first.
"W-we submit!" the flame-yokai wailed, his form flickering wildly as he prostrated himself in mid-air, the ghostly visage in his fire contorted in terror. "Please! Spare us! We were blind! Stupid! We should have never doubted you, great one!"
The dam broke. A ragged chorus of "We submit!" and "Spare us!" rose from Gorou and Bunta, their voices stripped of all pride, raw with survival instinct.
"Wise," he said, the single word dripping with condescension. "Remember this moment. Remember the scent of your own fear. The next time you think to challenge me, you only have to remember one thing. I am only offering a single chance at redemption."
Their submission in defeat has brought Tsukune an increase into his stats, but because he was still in the Ghoul form, he couldn't appreciate the raise. Still, it could only be a humble increase, since these three were only D-tier Yokai.
[You have defeated a Hitodama, gaining a small part of its essence.]
[You have defeated a Namahage, gaining a small part of its essence.]
[You have defeated a Tanuki, gaining a small part of its essence.]
Looming over them, as they remained in a submissive position (not what you imagine), there was an awkward moment of silence where the idiot trio didn't know or dare to leave without Tsukune's permission. And from the later, having an idea in mind but being unsure if it was worth undertaking.
'I got these idiots to submit to me. Technically they are at my mercy at this point. Killing them after submission isn't a bro move, even though it might earn me double stat points if the System glitches.'
'So it is inefficient discarding them, which brings me to this dilemma.'
'Should I, or not, proceed with the initialization of Student Council President Project?'
'If it goes as expected, I would pull on many enemies and hostility from other Yokai's trying to run for this position, and this facilitates an Casus Belli for farming stat points on idiots trying to sabotage my campaign.'
'The motto would be… Ahem… 'Make Yokai Academy Great Again' and of course I will try to imitate the orange man when pulling my speech.'
The silence was broken not by him, but by a low, pained grumble.
"So… you're sparing us? Can… can we go? Ririko-sensei's homeroom… she skins latecomers alive. Literally." asked Gorou, the Namahage, shifted his weight, while keeping his head bowed, voicing out a very real, mundane concern.
Kazemaru's flickering form flared in panic. "YOU IDIOT! SHUT UP! Don't anger him!"
Tsukune's crimson eyes slid from Gorou to Kazemaru, then back. The tension crackled. Then, he let out a short, exhaled breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"Alright, alright," he said, the lethal edge softening into something like bored amusement. "You can go. But we're not done." He paused, letting the dread settle back into their bones.
"You three work for me now. Consider yourselves… freelance agents. Your first assignment is simple. Be my eyes and ears. You will report to me anything of interest that goes around the Academy."
"For starters, I will not expect much from you, just collect the rumors and whatever the gossip mill stirs up. Especially about anyone with ambitions for the Student Council and the senpais from 2nd and 3rd year."
He leaned forward slightly, the pale ghoul-face looming. "And sometimes, you'll spread rumors for me. Specific ones. To specific people. Are you up for the challenge?"
They nodded frantically, a synchronized display of terrified compliance.
But Gorou, typical for his yokai race in being as thickheaded as an Oni, couldn't help himself in his bluntness while muttering while on his knees. "And what… what do we get? For working?"
Kazemaru looked like he wanted to strangle his friend with immaterial hands.
Tsukune regarded him for a long moment. "What are you talking about? Payment? Isn't keeping your sorry life enough?" he stated flatly, allowing the implied threat to hang, watching Gorou flinch.
Then, he shrugged, a strangely human gesture on his monstrous frame. "But… you have a fair point. Even worms need fertilizers to survive."
"How about this. You will operate under my protection, and if you get bullied by any moron amongst the first years, you come to me. If you prove yourself useful… and when I become Student Council President, there might be roles for loyal subordinates."
"Positions with… influence. The kind that might make certain cute juniors look your way twice when you reach 2nd year."
It was a cheap, transparent bribe. But to three beaten, low-tier yokai whose social standing was likely somewhere between 'usefull idiots' or 'hopeless simps' and 'cafeteria furniture', it was a glimpse of a sunlit upland. Afterall, power, status, and recognition were a language they understood.
The last of their resistance melted. The butthurt pride in Gorou's eyes was replaced by a flicker of greedy schemes, as he visualized a scene where he managed to land a date with a junior while bragging about being a member of the Student Council.
Even Bunta peeked out from behind his arms with a hint of interest.
"We… we accept," Kazemaru said, speaking for all of them, his voice firmer now that there was a future, however precarious, on the table.
"Good. Now get out of my sight. I'll find you when I have a task." Tsukune waved a dismissive, clawed hand.
They didn't need to be told twice. Scrambling, limping, and flickering, the trio vanished into the deeper shadows of the forest, leaving behind only trampled foliage and the fading scent of their fear.
Silence returned, deeper now. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and Kurumu's soft, held breath.
And in this silence, there was a gigantic dilemma looming inside Tsukune's heart.
'Well, great, I managed to win a fight solo without Moka rescuing my ass.'
'Great for my ego, for sure. But what now?'
'... How do I revert back to my human form. It's not like I can just walk inside the classroom in this form. It will lead to me getting expelled. Which I'll rather not, since I just get to enjoy the process.'