After the black-smoke-like monstrosities had been cleaned up, the pungent stench of blood finally no longer lingered in the air.
But—not a single person was calm.
Though none of the group had died or been forced to withdraw, the situation at hand...
"We absolutely cannot stand by and watch them die. Even if we can only save one person—we have to try."
Amid the silent, deathly atmosphere, Fujimaru Ritsuka clenched his fists, anger contained within his voice.
The Heroic Spirit Swordmasters—what did those disgusting creatures consider human lives to be?
"Let's go to the back mountain and find them right now!"
The blood moon in the sky had yet to set, meaning the Heroic Spirit Swordmasters had not gone far—or rather, they had deliberately chosen not to leave.
"...Don't be rash."
Sakumura reached out and grabbed Miyamoto Musashi by the shoulder.
"There's barely any scent left in the air. Since the blood moon hasn't set, that means they deliberately left this mess for us."
"If we chase after them immediately, we'll only be playing into their hands. For the sake of the people in the village, we can't pursue them."
Senji Muramasa took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and slowly, heavily exhaled through his nose.
It was clear he was extremely anxious, but he was forcing himself to calm down.
"Those two said they were on the back mountain, right?"
"Then that's where we're going. We can't let them hold the villagers' lives in their hands."
"Time waits for no one. Hurry and get ready!"
With that, Muramasa walked into the house.
The others filed in behind Senji Muramasa to discuss what they should do next.
Only Sakumura and Musashi remained outside.
"Musashi, this will be a fight to the death."
Sakumura's expression was grave.
"I know. So...