The moment Hikaru charged into the demon horde, he regretted it.
Not because he regretted attacking, but because he regretted not counting the numbers first.
Three or four hundred?
Damn it, there must be at least five hundred!
Gray-green figures filled the sky and the fields, instantly engulfing him; the various shrieks, roars, and howls threatened to shatter his eardrums.
A foul-smelling Demonic Qi washed over him, so thick it was almost palpable, making even him, an Ghost Samurai who didn't need to breathe, feel a wave of nausea.
A bird-headed demon lunged at him first, its sharp claws aiming straight for his face with astonishing speed.
Hikaru dodged to the side, and the muramasa in his hand sliced horizontally in one fluid motion.
The blade swept across the bird-headed demon's neck without any resistance.
With a soft thud, the bird head flew off, spinning in mid-air as blood sprayed in an arc.
The headless body charged forward two more steps before collapsing with a crash.
[demon blade muramasa: Favorability + 1]
No time to check the panel.
Three Snake-bodied Demons surged from the left; their lower bodies were intertwined snake tails, while their upper bodies were scaled, humanoid torsos, and they were lunging at him with gaping, bloodthirsty maws.
Two Blue-skinned Oni on the right raised bone clubs to strike down, the clubs still stained with the flesh and blood of some unknown victim.
Hikaru tapped his foot on the ground and leaped high into the air, dodging the coils of the Snake-bodied Demons.
The blade traced an arc in the air.
Kasagiri.
The heads of both Blue-skinned Oni fell to the ground simultaneously, landing in the grass with a dull thud.
Before he even landed, Demonic Qi closed in from behind.
Hikaru twisted his body in mid-air; this movement was nearly impossible for a living person to perform, but the body of an Ghost Samurai was not bound by common logic.
He twisted his waist and abdomen, thrusting the tip of his blade backward.
A sneaking Centipede Spirit was pierced through the throat; its multi-legged body struggled and twitched on the blade, emitting a piercing shriek.
Hikaru flicked his blade, sending the Centipede Spirit flying and knocking over a few small-fry demons that had been following behind.
— Four.
He counted silently, tapping his toe against a demon corpse to gain leverage, and charged once more toward the old man.
The blade pattern of the muramasa had already begun to turn a deep, purplish red from the blood it had been coated in.
It was excited, extremely excited.
Every time he killed, blood was devoured by the blade, and with every feeding, its sharpness increased by just a little bit.
This feeling was like feeding a hungry beast; with every bite, it became more ferocious.
Hikaru, however, did not linger in the fight; his goal was clear—save the old man first, then consider everything else.
"Move!"
He slashed through three small demons blocking his path; with a flash of the blade, three arms flew into the sky, and screams erupted one after another.
Finally, he reached the old man.
Observing him up close, the old man's condition was even worse than he had imagined.
He was an old man over seventy, wearing gray-white robes, with gray hair and a face covered in wrinkles and bloodstains.
His left arm was ruined, the entire limb severed by some sharp weapon, leaving only a small stump below the shoulder that had been hastily bandaged with cloth strips; blood had already soaked through the bandages and was dripping down constantly.
His right hand was holding a hand seal commonly used by human mages, while his left hand—the remaining one—used the two-thirds of his arm that remained to clutch a cloth bundle, protecting it tightly against his chest.
The old man clearly hadn't expected reinforcements.
And even less did he expect the reinforcement to be an Ghost Samurai.
His cloudy eyes were filled with vigilance, and his remaining spiritual power instantly surged to the surface of his body, forming a faint membrane of light.
Although the light membrane was weak, it was still a threat to Hikaru, causing his skin to feel a slight burning pain.
This was the 'Barrier' commonly used by human mages to protect themselves with spiritual power, which Hikaru had seen from afar before.
"Don't get excited, old man!"
Hikaru shouted while parrying the demons lunging from all sides.
"I'm here to save you!"
"You are a demon!"
The old man's voice was hoarse, filled with intense vigilance and distrust.
"How could a demon save a person?"
"I know I'm a demon!"
Hikaru slashed and killed a scorpion spirit that had lunged close; the scorpion spirit was the size of a human head, and the stinger on its tail had nearly pierced his eye.
He said without even turning his head:
"But I'm a demon with principles, and besides, I used to be a human! Believe it or not, that's up to you. If you don't believe me, then I'm leaving!"
He came to scavenge and save someone on the side.
If he couldn't save the person, he couldn't be blamed.
Hikaru had a bit of a moral bottom line, but he was just an 'ordinary person,' not a saint; he only did what was within his power and would never risk his own life for it.
"..."
The old man was silent for a moment.
He looked at the demon horde gathering around them, those gray-green figures nearly obscuring the sky.
Then he looked at his own nearly exhausted spiritual power.
Finally, he looked down at the cloth bundle in his arms.
Then he sighed.
"Fine."
He retracted the light membrane: "I have no choice, do I!"
"That's right."
Hikaru grabbed the old man's arm, and demonic power surged beneath his feet.
"Hold on tight, it's going to be a bit bumpy."
The next moment, he carried the old man and charged out of the demon horde's encirclement.
The burst speed of [Ghost Step] was pushed to its limit at this moment.
Two figures moved like ghosts through the dense mass of demons, their speed so fast that the naked eye could barely track them, leaving behind nothing but severed limbs and corpses, and deafening screams.
Hikaru didn't bother with the injured demons on the ground; he only focused on charging forward.
Utilizing the short-distance teleportation of [Ghost Step], he constantly changed directions in the forest, shaking off the pursuers behind him.
When he encountered straggling small demons, he killed them in passing, one slash per demon, clean and efficient.
When he encountered large groups, he detoured to avoid them; there was no need to clash head-on.
It could only be said that while the sheer number of demons looked terrifying, they were, after all, only demons; they couldn't understand how to deploy formations like humans, so there were actually many gaps within the horde that allowed Hikaru to maneuver freely.
The old man seemed to have passed out, his entire body hanging on Hikaru's back, with only his remaining arm still clutching the cloth bundle in his arms tightly, as if that object were more important than his own life—Hikaru was genuinely very curious about this treasure.
Two quarters of an hour later.
In a hidden cave.
Hikaru placed the old man on the ground and leaned against the cave wall to catch his breath.
Although an Ghost Samurai didn't need to breathe, the intense battle and high-intensity output of demonic power had still consumed a large amount of his stamina.
He felt his body becoming somewhat stiff, a sign of insufficient demonic power.
This was rare for him.
"Cough... cough cough..."
The old man woke up.
He coughed violently, each cough bringing up a large amount of blood.
Hikaru looked at him without speaking.
He could tell that this old man wouldn't last much longer.
The injuries were too severe, the blood loss too great, spiritual power exhausted, and he was advanced in years.
With these four fatal factors combined, even a deity couldn't save him.
It seemed he had saved him for nothing?
That wasn't quite right either.
At least the weapon favorability gained was real.
"Why... did you... save me?"
The old man's voice was so weak it sounded like it came from another world.
"Drawing my blade to help when I see injustice; is that reason enough?"
Hikaru said.
The old man glanced at him, his cloudy eyes lifting slightly, something flashing across them.
It seemed to be surprise.
It also seemed to be relief.
And even more, it was a determination born of helplessness.
"I am... the head of the Demon Slayer clan... from the mountains... ten miles away..."
He spoke with difficulty, each word seemingly using up all his remaining strength: "Those demons were hunting me down... for this..."
He trembled, using his remaining hand to pass the cloth bundle in his arms to Hikaru.
"This object... must never... fall into the hands of demons..."
Hearing these words, Hikaru was slightly taken aback; he hadn't expected the old man to be acting like he was giving his final instructions, but after thinking for a moment, he felt relieved.
Although he was a demon, he was, after all, a demon who could communicate normally.
This old man truly had no other choice.
Hikaru took the cloth bundle.
The bundle was very light, only the size of a fist, wrapped in coarse linen.
He opened the bundle, and inside was a bead.
It was the size of a thumb, pale purple, round and translucent, emitting a soft light.
The light was peculiar; it wasn't as glaring as spiritual power, nor as cold and sinister as Demonic Qi, but carried a feeling that was hard to describe.
It was a bit...
Hikaru stared at the bead, and the system panel popped up automatically.
[Qualified target for capture detected.] [shikon jewel] [Quality: Artifact] [Current Status: Dormant] [Affinity: Cannot be unlocked, prerequisites must be met.]
Hikaru stared at the text on the panel. Then he looked at the bead in his hand. Then he looked back at the panel.
"..." His expression froze.
"Wait." His voice trembled slightly, filled with disbelief: "What on earth is this thing?!"
The old man didn't seem to hear what he was saying, nor did he answer Hikaru's question; he simply continued to struggle to deliver his final words.
"Please take this item... to the village... a few mountains away..."
"Give it to a... priestess named Kikyo..."
"She is... the only one who can suppress the shikon jewel..."
"I'm counting... on you..."
Hikaru was no longer listening. Only one thought kept echoing in his mind.
shikon jewel. The shikon jewel from Inuyasha.
The shikon jewel that could grant any wish. The shikon jewel that caused demons' power to skyrocket. The shikon jewel that drove every faction in the entire series into a frenzy.
The old man's voice grew lower and lower, his breathing faint.
"My... grandchild... is still waiting in the village..."
"Tell them... grandfather..."
"I'm so sorry..."
The voice came to an abrupt halt. The old man's head slumped, and he stopped breathing. Silence filled the cave.
Only Hikaru remained, looking down at the shikon jewel in his hand. A pale purple light pulsed in his palm, soft and mysterious.
"The world of Inuyasha..." he muttered. Fate is truly (damn) mysterious!