A pillar of white light, far more concentrated and radiant than before, suddenly erupted from Miroku's body. It pierced through the thinning protective shield and accurately enveloped Moryo's convulsing, chaotic form.
Within the pillar, countless ancient golden runes swirled, radiating a sacred and formidable sealing power.
Almost at the exact moment Miroku struck—
"Adamantine Sealing Chains!"
Menma shouted low, raising his right hand.
The space behind him warped. Nine massive chakra chains, glowing with a piercing gold-and-red light, shot forth like nine divine dragons tearing through the void. They carried a majestic power capable of piercing all illusions and suppressing all evil.
Puchi! Puchi! Puchi! Puchi!
The chains accurately impaled the connection points between the eight serpent heads and the core of the chakra body, as well as the very source of Moryo's power.
Moryo's form, composed of pure dark chakra, let out a shriek that resonated on a soulful level under the weight of the Adamantine Sealing power.
The dark purple chakra boiled and dissipated violently, as if meeting its ultimate nemesis. The nine gold-red chains acted as the sturdiest of shackles, wrapping tightly and constricting the massive, struggling mass of energy, forcibly compressing and binding it.
"Seal!" Miroku exhausted her last drop of spiritual energy, slamming her palms together in a final seal.
The brilliant white pillar and the gold-red chains intertwined, forming a massive, rotating sealing array.
At the center of the formation, Moryo's eight hideous heads let out a final, unwilling hiss filled with endless hatred. Its colossal body was dragged and crushed, eventually turning into a distorted streak of purple-black light before being swallowed whole by the core of the seal.
With a flash of light, the array shrank rapidly. Finally, it manifested as a palm-sized, purple-black ceramic jar covered in profound runes. It hit the blood-stained stone floor in front of the shrine with a heavy clatter.
The cacophony of the battlefield instantly plunged into a deathly silence.
Only the wind moaned as it swept through the blood-soaked shrine.
The scene was a mess of dessicated corpses, shattered ice crystals, scorched earth, and the quiet sealing jar lying on the stone—each a silent witness to the carnage that had just concluded.
Miroku could no longer hold herself up. Her body went limp, and she collapsed behind the temple doors. Behind her, Shion held her tightly, weeping loudly.
Uchiha Hikari slowly deactivated her Mangekyo Sharingan. The crimson faded, returning to a deep, pond-like black. She watched Kimimaro and Haku, seemingly grading their performance in this mission.
Kimimaro silently retracted the bone blades into his body. His pale face showed no emotion, save for his slightly hurried breathing.
Haku directly knelt on the ground, gasping for air. His forehead was drenched in cold sweat; maintaining the ice labyrinth and the subsequent attacks had nearly drained his chakra reserves.
Menma slowly retracted the Adamantine Sealing Chains, the golden light dissolving into the air.
He turned around. The white three-eyed fox mask faced the main hall. His empty eye sockets swept over the collapsed Miroku and the sobbing Shion, finally resting on the purple-black jar at his feet.
The Shura field before the main hall remained thick with the stench of blood, rot, and burnt flesh. It did not dissipate with the end of the fight; instead, the evening breeze stirred the air, making it more pungent and viscous.
Ashisuke, who had been watching anxiously from the periphery, scrambled across the wreckage the moment the battle ended. He practically crawled toward the closed doors of the main hall.
"Lady Miroku! Miss Shion!" he cried out, his voice trembling as he pushed open the heavy doors.
Inside, Miroku sat paralyzed on the cold floor. Her face was as white as paper, dried blood clinging to the corners of her mouth, and the front of her white priestess robes was stained crimson.
She held the sobbing Shion close. The little girl's violet eyes were filled with terror, her small body shaking like a leaf in her mother's arms.
"My Lady… how are you?" Ashisuke hurried forward, carefully supporting Miroku's weakened frame.
Miroku stood with his help, but her gaze bypassed him, landing on the open space outside—a patch of land stained by both moonlight and blood.
There, the dark red figure stood silently. The white fox mask turned toward the hall, its empty sockets seeming to pierce through the shadows of the doorway.
"You…" Miroku's voice was weak yet clear, carrying a hint of a plea.
"You may call me Shura," Menma's voice rang out as he stepped silently into the hall.
The interior was filled with the faint scent of blood and the muffled sobs of the young girl.
Menma stood casually in the shadows near the door. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, illuminating only half of his dark red robes and the chin of his cold mask.
He did not speak. He simply watched as Miroku, supported by Ashisuke, sat down somewhat unsteadily by the low table in the center of the hall.
Ashisuke carefully placed the purple-black jar, covered in mysterious runes, onto the table.
The jar felt warm to the touch, as if the evil imprisoned within was still writhing in defiance.
Miroku pulled the jar close to her chest, cradling it like a sleeping infant, yet guarding it like a danger that could explode at any second.
Shion huddled by her side, her small hands gripping her mother's sleeve. Her violet eyes, still brimming with tears, couldn't help but peek curiously at the mysterious, masked man standing a few steps away.
Outside the temple, under the cold moonlight.
Uchiha Hikari stood with her back to the main doors, silent and vigilant.
Her high-collared, deep blue clan outfit fluttered slightly in the night wind as she scanned every shadow around the shrine that might hide a threat.
Nearby, Kaguya Kimimaro leaned against a broken stone pillar, his eyes closed as he meditated. His face remained expressionless, though his chest rose and fell with his breath.
Haku sat on a relatively clean stone step, hugging his knees and breathing in small gulps. His face was still quite pale.
Evidently, the fight had been taxing for the two of them. After all, they had faced six enemies with the strength of Jonin.
However, Yomi and his men had only reached that level by borrowing Moryo's wicked chakra. There was still a gap between them and a Jonin who had reached that rank through their own cultivation.
The three of them stood like silent boundary stones, separating the conversation inside from the blood and danger outside, quietly waiting for the reinforcements from the Land of Stars to arrive.
Inside the hall, the air was stagnant and heavy. Only Shion's occasional hiccups and the faint crackle of burning candles broke the silence.
"What exactly is it?" Menma's voice finally shattered the stillness, like a stone dropped into a deep pool.
His gaze fell upon the jar on the table, which radiated an ominous aura.
Miroku's fingers tightened around the jar, her knuckles turning white.
She took a deep breath. The movement aggravated her internal injuries, causing her brow to furrow in pain. Ashisuke moved to help, but she stopped him with a single look.
"It is called Moryo," Miroku said softly, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
"The world believes it to be an ancient demon, a calamity descended from another realm." She shook her head slowly, her eyes downcast as she stared at the runes on the jar, as if staring into a nightmare that had haunted her people for generations.
"But… it does not actually come from the outside."
She looked up. Her violet eyes, capable of seeing the future, were now filled with sorrow. She looked directly into the unfathomable depths beneath the mask.
"It is the evil of the 'human heart.' It is the dark thoughts bred from generations of war, oppression, fear, and greed. Like a turgid river, these thoughts flowed and gathered across this land… and eventually, they drew upon violent natural energy, shaping it into this terrifying physical form."
Miroku's voice echoed through the empty hall with the weight of destiny. "Restricting Moryo is the mission of our Priestess lineage."
She gently stroked the warm ceramic.
"We are the vessels; we are the dams. We use our pure Priestess power and our very lives to contain, guide, and seal this filth and hatred that grows from the human heart and is magnified by natural energy."
"We… are essentially the other side of this darkness. We are the shackles that coexist with it, yet must bind it."
She paused for a moment, seemingly recalling Moryo's earlier words.
A bitter smile touched her pale lips. "That is why Moryo said… we were originally one. As long as the darkness in the human heart does not cease, Moryo's source will never run dry. Sealing it once is merely temporary—a plug in a leaking dam."
"As long as there is suffering, injustice, endless desire, and resentment in this world… it will eventually return."
"The fate of the Priestess clan is to pass this down through generations, using our lives to fill this bottomless abyss dug by human hearts."
Shion listened, her small face a mask of confusion and fear. She gripped Miroku's arm and asked timidly, "Mother… why do bad things come out of our hearts?"
Miroku did not answer her daughter's innocent question. She simply held her tighter, her gaze returning to Menma with a look of near-desperate inquiry. "Lord Shura, the Land of Stars you established claims it will end war and oppression. Perhaps this is the only chance to sever this endless cycle of darkness? If the hearts of men can find peace, Moryo will finally lose the source of its power."
Menma remained silent.
The shifting shadows of the flickering candlelight hid whatever expression lay beneath his white mask.
He made no promises. He gave no answer to her query. His gaze stayed fixed on the jar that imprisoned a world of hatred.
He was now certain: the power the Priestess used was natural energy, while the malice of humanity had birthed a monster like Moryo. Even a seal was only a temporary fix.
Just like in the original records, Moryo would break free ten years later. If not Yomi, then some other puppet would arise to do the deed.
The only sound in the hall was the restless dancing of the candle flames and the wailing of the night wind outside.
"She has a power within her even denser than yours. Why have you sealed it?" Menma looked at little Shion. Through his Mind's Eye of the Kagura, he could sense a massive energy within her, suppressed by the bell brooch on her chest.
Miroku was slightly startled. She looked down at her daughter, hugging her as if to draw out the last bit of warmth she could offer.
"I only… want her to be an ordinary girl. To grow up safely and peacefully."
As a mother, how could Miroku not know the power within Shion?
But the destiny of the Priestess lineage filled her with guilt toward her daughter. Moments ago, she had been prepared to pay for the seal with her own life.