BOOM!
The force of the incoming blow sent Rikuo skidding backward, his heels carving deep grooves into the earth. The air displacement from the Berserker's fists was like a physical blade; even a near-miss left jagged scratches across his skin.
"That blade of yours... it can drain the essence of any youkai it cuts, can't it?"
"But a tool is only as good as its user. How do you intend to strike me when you can't even touch me?"
The Berserker moved with a speed that defied his hulking frame. Rikuo was forced to maintain `[Kyouka Suigetsu]` at its absolute limit, his form flickering like a dying candle as he slipped through the gaps in the monster's onslaught.
He managed to put some distance between them, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He looked at the massive, muscular figure standing before him and frowned.
In a close-quarters struggle, he was at a severe disadvantage. Forget counterattacking; even dodging was becoming an exhausting ordeal. His previous injuries still hadn't fully healed, and his movements felt sluggish, lacking their usual supernatural fluidity.
"For someone who calls themselves a Nurarihyon, you're disappointingly weak."
The Berserker cracked his knuckles, the sound like dry branches snapping in the wind, as he closed the distance with a predatory stride.
"I don't know where you're from, or what kind of Nurarihyon you think you are... but I have no intention of losing to the likes of you," Rikuo said, taking a deep breath and steadying the damaged `[Nenekirimaru]`.
As the Third Head of the Nura Clan, his pride wouldn't allow him to be humiliated by this caricature of his lineage.
"Besides, you're a strange one. I sense the presence of a Servant, but there's the distinct trace of a Master--or something like it--clinging to you as well. Are you a parasite, or have you simply possessed this form?"
"Who are you, really?"
"Nurarihyon."
"What?"
"That is the name of the one I was... and the one I am now."
BOOM!
The mention of the name--his grandfather's name--sent a jolt of shock through Rikuo, causing him to freeze for a fraction of a second.
It was all the opening the Shikon-controlled Berserker needed. It surged forward, its massive, boulder-sized fist closing in on Rikuo's face with terminal velocity.
PLU-T!!
But at the exact moment of impact, the world seemed to splinter. Countless jagged, skeletal blades erupted from Rikuo's body, skewering the incoming fist and bringing it to a dead stop.
"?"
The Shikon Jewel stared at the phenomenon in genuine bewilderment. It was its first time witnessing this kind of transformation--a power that seemed to warp the very reality of the user's body.
Naraku had warned it, but experiencing it firsthand was far more perplexing than any verbal description.
"Gods..."
"I never thought I'd run into a ghost like you in a place like this."
The skeletal blades retracted back into Rikuo's aura, and a faint, sharp smile played across his lips. He was now fully engaged in `[Matoi]` (Fear Fusion), his power spiking as he drew on the collective strength of his clan.
'Nurarihyon.'
That was the name of the First Head of the Nura Clan. His grandfather.
The image of the eccentric, diminutive old man who spent his days avoiding responsibility flashed through Rikuo's mind. It was nearly impossible to reconcile that image with the towering, blood-mad engine of destruction standing before him.
"This changes things," Rikuo said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Now, losing is truly out of the question!"
He had always aimed to surpass his predecessors. Meeting a version of the "First Head" in battle--no matter how distorted--was the ultimate test of his resolve.
"Ho? So this is one of those... Reality Marbles?"
The Shikon Jewel looked around as the environment began to warp. The mundane road vanished, replaced by a shifting, spectral landscape of ancient streets and alien stars.
The era was wrong. The air was thick with a heavy, unfamiliar youkai energy.
"Berserker!" Rikuo shouted, his voice echoing through his domain. "I'm going to take you down!"
"Lord Muzan! I have the records you requested."
"..."
Muzan didn't need to speak; he could read the frantic thoughts of the Demon-Yokai kneeling before him as clearly as a book.
"A poisoned blade, then?"
"An `[Assassin]`..."
One by one, he checked off the Classes until he reached the only logical conclusion.
High agility and a weapon designed for instant, conceptual lethality. It was the hallmark of an Assassin. It explained perfectly why both Hakudoshi and Moryomaru--two of his most formidable assets--had fallen so easily.
'But there is always a limit.'
'If the blade cannot cut, it cannot kill.'
Muzan hadn't sent those low-level demons to die pointlessly. He had used them as sensor-probes to map the Servant's combat patterns and limitations. Now, the mystery was gone. He knew how she fought.
As long as he maintained a perfect defense, her "Cursed Poison" was nothing but a minor nuisance.
While he had no desire to test that theory on his own flesh, he was no longer operating in the dark.
"Lord Muzan, it's finished! It's finally finished!"
"Oh?"
Muzan turned toward the voice of Tokishu, the demon smith.
"The prototype is complete. The Shikon fragment was the perfect catalyst. It has gained a rudimentary... hunger. It has no will of its own, but its instinct for protection is absolute."
"In your hands, Lord Muzan, it will become the ultimate weapon and the ultimate shield!"
Tokishu was trembling with a manic pride, his eyes fixed on the pulsating, dark-veined object he had forged.
"Is that so?"
Muzan reached out and placed his hand on the item. He could feel the thrumming life-force within it--a rhythmic, meat-like pulse of pure, unrefined power.
"You've done well."
A rare, cold smile spread across Muzan's face.
With this... he would finally become a "True Yokai."
The weak, fragile body of a "Demon" would be a thing of the past. His arm transformed, morphing into a thick, root-like tendril that burrowed deep into the object's core.
"Will even I require time to integrate this?"
"No matter."
"Once this is complete, I will be truly reborn."
He was a creature of infinite patience. He had survived for a thousand years; he could afford to wait a day or two more for perfection.
The image of himself standing under the sun, a god among both men and monsters, was finally within his reach.
"Just you wait... I won't be the one running anymore!"
"Naraku... those miserable yokai... all of you..."
"I, Kibutsuji Muzan, am the one who sits at the pinnacle of existence!"
"Tch! Is there no end to these things?"
Kagura's brow was furrowed in frustration as she cut through another wave of attackers. To her surprise, she was actually being forced to exert herself.
"Yokai... blood... flesh!"
A long, segmented Demon-Yokai lunged at her, its body writhing with a sickening, oily energy. Kagura dodged, her fan whipping out a series of razor-sharp wind blades, but to her shock, the creature simply shrugged off the impact.
"The Dragon-Man scales..."
"They're absorbing my wind energy."
She realized that every one of the creatures surrounding them was now equipped with the same anti-yokai defense that Moryomaru had possessed.
WHOOSH-WHOOSH!!
"Ngh!"
"Agh!"
In a flash of red light and cold steel, the circle of Demon-Yokai was cut down. Their screams were short-lived as their bodies dissolved into ash before they even hit the ground.
"It seems I'm becoming quite the burden to you two," Kagura said, sheathing her fan and looking at Akame and Sesshomaru. They were standing in different corners of the clearing, their expressions equally impassive.
"The demons Naraku is throwing at us are becoming stronger," Jaken muttered, shivering as he looked at the piles of ash.
Initially, Kagura could clear an entire field of them with a single swing. Now, they had evolved to the point where even she was struggling to put them down.
"It's the work of Naraku's Servant," she said. "To be able to grant this many creatures that kind of power... he's no ordinary youkai."
It was clear that the "scared little mouse" they had chased through the mountains had undergone a terrifying metamorphosis. Kagura suspected Naraku had given him more than just a place to hide.
"It means we're getting close," Rin said. The atmosphere was becoming so thick with malevolent energy that even she was starting to feel the pressure.
'Almost there.'
'But still... no scent of Naraku.'
Sesshomaru gazed into the distance, sensing the vast ocean of Demon-Yokai waiting ahead of them. Naraku's "shield" was proving to be a noisy, persistent obstacle.
"Tch. No mistake about it. That's definitely the scent of a Shikon fragment."
"I'd know that stench anywhere!"
Koga, accompanied by Cu Chulainn, streaked across the countryside, eventually coming to a halt on a high ridge overlooking a wide, desolate plain.
"Yeah... and there's the unmistakable resonance of a Servant battle nearby," the Lancer added, his eyes scanning the horizon. "I wonder who's getting into it?"
He looked around, but the initial signs of the clash seemed to be fading into some kind of phased space. Then, his eyes caught a dark shape silhouetted against the clouds.
A body was falling past them, plummeting toward the earth at terminal velocity.
"Eh?"
BOOM!
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]