Staring blankly at the mutilated corpses of this life's version of my parents, I feel something uncomfortable pulse in my chest. It isn't sadness. It isn't anger. It's something colder, more distant—something undeniably negative. Whatever it is, it settles deep, heavy, and wrong.
Waking up in the body of a four-year-old was already bad enough. Waking up in ancient Japan? Yeah… I would've preferred staying dead.
I lower my gaze to the thick puddle of blood beneath them and catch my reflection. A child stares back—sunken cheeks, malnourished, fragile. Short black hair clings to my face, damp and uneven. My eyes are flat. Empty. Not in a poetic way either—just… dead.
"Soo hungry~"
The voice sounds like something rotting and laughing at the same time. I slowly lift my head.
Seven feet tall. Blue skin stretched tight over a warped humanoid body. Six arms. Ten eyes. Every single one locked onto me.
So that's what killed them.
It moves without warning.
One moment it's across the room, the next it's in front of me. Fast enough that a normal person wouldn't even register it.
My body moves anyway.
Not fear. Not Experience. Instinct.
I duck just as one of its arms tears through the space my head occupied. The wall behind me explodes outward, wood splintering as the entire structure shudders from the force. That would've killed me instantly. Good to confirm.
My thoughts sharpen. That's a cursed spirit. The energy I'm feeling—that's cursed energy. I've only been here two months, but something always felt off. Now I know why.
Something erupts inside me, dark and violent, spilling from somewhere deep and wrapping around my body like a crude second skin. The cursed energy is rough, inefficient, but it's there.
I shift into a Wing Chun stance, lowering my center of gravity as best as this small body allows. Then I move.
Too fast for a child. Too precise. Too deliberate.
My palm slams into its chest. The impact lands solidly, forcing the spirit to stagger back a step. That alone tells me everything I need to know—I can hurt it.
No hesitation. I sweep its legs out from under it and its massive body crashes into the ground, cracking the floor beneath it. My breathing spikes almost immediately. Damn. This body is terrible. Doesn't matter.
I leap up and bring my full weight down onto its face, pouring cursed energy into the strike. Purple blood splatters as its already grotesque features cave in further. It screams, high-pitched and warped.
Good.
I raise my foot and bring it down again. And again. And again.
If I didn't go to the spring…
If I stayed…
They wouldn't have died.
My vision blurs as the thoughts loop, feeding the growing fury.
"Why—"
My foot slams down hard enough to shake the floor.
"—won't—"
Another impact. Louder.
"—you—"
The wood beneath it starts to splinter.
"—die already—"
The final stomp crashes down like a hammer, rattling the entire house. The spirit lets out a distorted screech as its body begins to break apart into black particles.
I stare down at it, breathing hard.
…No.
Not yet.
Something clicks in my mind—instinctive, foreign knowledge surfacing all at once. My hand moves before I consciously decide.
"Stop."
The disintegration halts.
The spirit freezes mid-fade, its many eyes twitching erratically as confusion and pain ripple through it. The air distorts around my hand as a vortex forms, dragging the spirit inward. Compressing it. Crushing it.
Its massive form condenses rapidly into something small.
A sphere rests in my palm. Black, veined with sickly yellow, pulsing faintly like it's alive.
"…Cursed Spirit Manipulation."
The words come out naturally. Like I've always known them.
I don't hesitate. I toss it into my mouth and swallow.
Immediate regret.
The taste hits like concentrated rot—like sewage, decay, and something that's been dead far too long. I drop to my knees, dry heaving.
"—I regret—" I gag, forcing it down. "I regret everything."
That was not worth it.
Eventually, I manage to keep it down, though my stomach clearly disagrees. Ignoring it, I push myself back to my feet and raise my hand. A pitch-black tear opens in the air beside me.
The spirit steps out.
Whole. Restored. And completely under my control.
It lowers all six arms and bows its head.
"…Go."
The command is simple. It obeys instantly, carefully lifting my parents' bodies.
At least it can do something right.
-
-
The dirt is still fresh by the time I finish. Two graves, side by side.
I stand there in silence, staring down at them as something tightens in my chest again. Memories surface—warm ones this time. My mother's voice, soft and steady as she told stories. My father's hands guiding mine, teaching simple things that felt important.
Gone. Just like that.
I exhale slowly and force it down. I don't have time to sit in this.
Behind me, the cursed spirit stands quietly, almost respectful. I glance at it, then narrow my eyes.
"Make yourself useful."
The command flows through our connection. Go. Find more.
It disappears into the forest without hesitation.
Turning inward, I start analyzing. Summoning costs cursed energy, but maintaining them doesn't. That's… interesting. They aren't like shikigami. They're independent once formed—stored and controlled, but self-sustaining.
That changes things.
A binding vow forms almost instantly in my mind. If I ever run out of cursed energy, I can still summon—but at a cost. Reduced output, or delayed recovery. Risky, but worth it.
My reserves… are massive. Even with how inefficient I was, I lasted that fight without collapsing completely. That's not normal.
"…Yuta level?" I mutter under my breath, recalling fragmented knowledge. Half the reserves of someone called the King of Curses. If my memory is
But there's a problem.
My body.
It's awful.
Too small. Too weak. Too malnourished. I can pour cursed energy out endlessly, but physically? I'm already hitting my limit.
That's a serious issue.
Unless…
I glance toward the forest, a faint smirk forming.
"…I cheat."
Food. Resources. Power.
There's a Sugiwara clan outpost nearby. Small, but stable. If there aren't any sorcerers stationed there, then this is easy.
Because cursed spirits?
Invisible.
And I'm not above stealing.
After a while, my vision shifts. Not physically—mentally. I'm seeing through the spirit's eyes, Bob i decided to name him.
Trees blur past as it moves quickly through the forest, guiding a group of lesser curses back toward me.
Then I see it.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Fly heads. Dozens of them. Weak, manageable.
And then, A massive worm.
At least ten meters long, its segmented body twisting unnaturally as it crushes everything in its path. Its mouth is a circular abyss lined with rotating teeth, opening and closing with a wet, grinding sound.
My eye twitches.
"…Bob."
The spirit straightens slightly, almost proud.
"You had one job."
It tilts its head.
"…Weak ones."
Silence.
The worm shifts, its massive form turning slowly in my direction.
Yeah. This is bad.
I take a slow breath, steadying myself as cursed energy begins to rise again—darker this time, more controlled.
Then I step forward, expression flattening completely.
"…Alright."
My stance lowers.
"Guess we're doing this the hard way."