Assimilation

The instant the words left his mouth, Kashimo vanished from where he stood.

A moment later, his blade was already closing in on Shuten-dōji's face.

Too fast.

Shuten-dōji's pupils contracted slightly. For an instant, he hadn't even been able to see how his opponent had moved. But that stunned hesitation lasted less than half a breath.

One of his six arms was already reaching for his waist.

The wine jug.

He gripped its neck and swung it forward.

Gilded wine poured from the mouth of the jug, tracing an arc through the air and landing squarely on Kashimo's left arm before he could pull it back.

Ssssss-!

The sound of corrosion rang out, piercing and harsh. White smoke rose as flesh dissolved at a speed visible to the naked eye. Agony shot along his nerves straight into his brain, but Kashimo didn't even flinch.

He swung the blade in his right hand.

Cold steel flashed.

His left arm was severed cleanly at the shoulder and fell toward the golden river of wine below, along with the wine still eating away at it.

Kashimo stepped back, putting distance between them.

He looked down at the ground.

The severed arm was undergoing a grotesque transformation. Its flesh had dissolved completely, leaving only stark white bones. Now even those bones began to twist and writhe, as though some invisible force were reshaping them. Within a few breaths, a misshapen little demon struggled out of the bones, opened its mouth, and let out a piercing screech.

Kashimo curled his lip.

"Assimilation, right?"

He raised his head and looked at the six-armed Demon King.

"Your Cursed Technique."

Shuten-dōji looked down at him, spreading all six arms as though to embrace the heavens and earth. A smile stretched across his hideous demonic face.

"That's not all, youngster."

Kashimo clicked his tongue.

Hollow Wicker Basket didn't have much time left. The transparent membrane was trembling faintly, like a candle guttering in the wind.

I have to end this fast.

He wasted no more words. He pushed off, shattering the ground beneath his feet, and his pale blue figure charged at Shuten-dōji again. This time he was faster, so fast that he left only an afterimage in the air.

One punch smashed the newborn demon to pieces. It didn't even have time to scream before it burst into flying bone fragments.

Then-

The Soul-Devouring Blade slashed down.

The pitch-black blade sank deep into Shuten-dōji's abdomen, sending purplish-black blood gushing out.

But Kashimo saw it.

The instant the blade cut into his abdomen, Shuten-dōji's six arms had already begun forming hand signs. Though he had been reeling in pain just a moment earlier, he had already finished preparing his Cursed Technique.

His hideous mouth opened.

"Grief, anguish, death's innate birth-"

The incantation spilled between his fangs, each syllable like an echo from the depths of the underworld.

"Blood Assimilation."

The instant the final word fell, Kashimo's heart exploded.

That wasn't a metaphor.

It truly exploded.

A jet of blood tore through his chest, piercing him from front to back and bursting into a scarlet blossom in midair. He could even hear his heart rupturing, could feel the warm blood gushing out of his chest.

Too fast.

Too fast for even Reverse Cursed Technique to respond.

Kashimo staggered, but he didn't fall. Gritting his teeth, he threw everything he had into retreating and putting distance between them. Reverse Cursed Technique went into overdrive that instant, positive energy surging like a tide toward the hole in his chest. Flesh regrew, bones knitted together, and his heart began beating again.

A strange intoxication swept through every part of his body.

It wasn't drunkenness.

It was something far more insidious. As though countless tiny tendrils were growing out of his blood and spreading through his marrow, eating away at his body inch by inch.

Shuten-dōji stood where he was, the wound in his abdomen healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. He looked down at the blue-haired figure clutching his chest and gasping for breath, a smile stretching across his hideous demonic face.

"Youngster."

His voice rumbled like muffled thunder.

"You must pay the price for your arrogance."

All six arms spread at once, as though embracing the bloodstained sky.

"Before long, my Cursed Technique will assimilate you, reducing you to my pawn. And your friends..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping toward Fenghua and Kenjaku inside the distant barrier.

"I'll kill them as well."

Panting, Kashimo raised his head.

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted on his bloodstained face.

"Heh."

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, but its infuriatingly flippant tone hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Has anyone ever told you how disgusting your smile is?"

Shuten-dōji's smile froze for an instant.

Kashimo straightened and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Reverse Cursed Technique was still running, and the wound in his chest had healed completely. But the intoxication remained, and those strange tendrils were still burrowing into his marrow.

"Doesn't matter."

He tightened his grip on the Soul-Devouring Blade.

"I'll kill you before your Cursed Technique finishes assimilating me."

He paused.

"With a body like mine, assimilation takes a long time, doesn't it?"

Shuten-dōji looked down at him, a flicker of something unusual passing through his deathly pale eyes.

He suddenly smiled.

The smile was deeper and stranger than before.

"Is that so?"

He spoke.

"Then don't let me see that pretty face of yours looking desperate."

There was little trace of a smile on Kashimo's face.

He watched the six-armed colossus before him, watched the wound in his abdomen healing, watched his own reflection in those deathly pale eyes. His mind raced.

A full incantation and a complete set of hand signs.

Shuten-dōji hadn't held back with that last attack. A Cursed Technique of that level required time to prepare, but once unleashed, its destructive power would be maximized, and its effects would double.

Assimilation.

The intoxication was still burrowing into his marrow, and those invisible tendrils were still eating away at his body.

Given my constitution...

Kashimo quickly calculated it in his head.

Two incense sticks' worth of time.

Two at most.

Past that point, not even Reverse Cursed Technique could save him. Like that severed arm, he would be transformed from the inside out into Shuten-dōji's puppet.

He raised his head and glanced at the transparent membrane surrounding him.

Hollow Wicker Basket's protection was trembling faintly, like a candle guttering in the wind. A long time had passed since he entered the domain.

He tightened his grip on the Soul-Devouring Blade.

Before those two incense sticks burned out, I had to...

Kill Shuten-dōji.

Or...

Destroy this domain.