Several blades of wind, formed from purple mist compressed to its utmost limit, shot straight at the side of Yaha's neck and his shoulders.
They were fast and laden with lethal poison.
Yaha didn't dodge. His steps forward didn't even falter.
The wind blades sliced several long tears into his black uniform jacket.
The fabric curled back, exposing the skin beneath.
That skin remained completely unharmed, without even the faintest red mark.
The deadly poisonous mist carried by the wind blades struck his flesh with a faint corrosive hiss, only to collapse an instant later as though it had crashed into an invisible barrier.
In the shadows of the abandoned bell tower, the malicious gaze watching him visibly froze for a moment.
"Another fool here to die."
A distorted voice sounded from every direction at once, trying to conceal its true location with echoes.
"Stay in this poisonous mist a little longer, and not even a scrap of bone will remain. Dissolve into bloody sludge."
Yaha stopped.
The surrounding purple mist was so dense it had turned almost black. A single breath would have dissolved an ordinary person's lung tissue on the spot.
The poisonous gas poured freely down his airways into his chest.
Yaha's breathing remained steady.
Reverse Cursed Technique circulated silently within him, its faint warmth instantly breaking down every trace of poison that entered his blood.
It couldn't cause even the slightest sting.
He raised a hand to cover his mouth and gave a casual yawn.
His drowsiness hadn't quite faded yet.
Beneath his half-lowered eyelids, a dark red glow quietly seeped from the depths of his pitch-black eyes.
Black curse markings spread from beneath his collar, climbing his neck onto his pale cheeks.
Yaha slipped his hand back into his trouser pocket. His gaze pierced the thick poisonous mist and fixed squarely on the shadows of the bell tower ahead.
"Crawling around in the mist, and you call yourself one of the Twelve Kizuki?"
His voice was quiet, yet held the cold contempt of someone looking at trash by his feet.
The bell tower fell utterly silent.
Yaha pulled out his right hand.
He brought his index and middle fingers together, opening his knuckles slightly.
The black Nichirin Blade at his waist still rested quietly in its sheath.
He merely pointed his fingers toward the bell tower and casually traced an extremely short downward arc.
Cursed Technique: Dismantle.
No trajectory appeared in the air. Not even the wind stirred.
An instant later, the teeth-grating crack of breaking timber erupted overhead.
The entire wooden bell tower, dozens of meters tall, shifted out of alignment in midair without warning, along with the thick purple mist churning around it.
A cut as smooth as a mirror ran all the way from the tower's upper-right corner to its lower-left.
With its support gone, the upper half of the structure slowly slid down along the smooth cut.
A thunderous crash echoed through the basin as timber shattered and roof tiles flew apart.
The bell tower, which had stood in the poisonous mist for who knew how long, became a heap of rubble in an instant.
The purple mist briefly vanished from the area that had been sliced through.
Moonlight poured down through the cut.
A figure tumbled miserably out of the wreckage and slammed into an open patch of ground over ten meters away.
Its left arm had been severed at the shoulder.
No blood spurted from the wound. There was only a smooth cross-section of flesh.
The eye inscribed with "Lower Five" brimmed with undisguised horror.
Lower Rank One clamped a hand over its severed arm, staring unblinkingly at the boy standing a short distance away.
It tried to activate its demon blood.
Buds of flesh writhed frantically at the wound, trying to regrow the limb.
But the newly formed cells had barely emerged before they began to hiss with corrosion.
The budding flesh rapidly blackened and died, giving off an acrid burnt stench.
Yaha took two steps forward over the chopped-up timber littering the ground.
His military boots struck the boards with dull thuds.
"That's all you've got?"
Yaha tilted his head, the black curse markings on his face looking eerie and dangerous in the moonlight.
"I thought the Twelve Kizuki might give me a little entertainment. Turns out you're just a useless coward hiding in the back and spewing poison."
Ragged breaths forced their way out of Lower Rank One's throat.
It knelt on the ground, its shoulders convulsing and trembling uncontrollably.
"Has that blind fool Muzan run out of bodies to fill the ranks? Even trash like you gets a number carved into it."
At that name, Lower Rank Five's pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints.
As though something had violently provoked it, a beastlike growl rose from its throat.
It straightened, its remaining right hand roughly grabbing its outer kimono.
It tore the fabric apart, exposing the body hidden beneath.
Its chest bulged grotesquely outward. Beneath its purple-black skin, muscle tissue swelled and twisted in ways that defied reason.
Thick blood vessels protruded like tree roots.
Amid a series of cracks from shifting bones, its body doubled in height within mere seconds.
The blackened, necrotic wound where its arm had been severed was forcibly squeezed shut by the expanding muscles.
"I'll shatter your bones inch by inch and tear your flesh off piece by piece!"
It opened its fang-filled maw, its voice as rasping as a saw cutting wood.
The ground cracked beneath its feet, spiderweb fractures spreading in every direction.
Its massive body launched like a cannonball, charging straight at Yaha.
The gale it stirred up instantly shredded the remaining poisonous mist around it.
Its remaining right hand clenched into an enormous fist and slammed toward Yaha's face with enough force to smash rock.
Yaha stood where he was without even lifting his eyelids.
His right hand remained in his pocket.
He raised his left hand with utter nonchalance, spreading his fingers to meet the enormous fist.
A dull boom erupted across the clearing.
A shock wave swept outward from the two of them, ripping every stone paving slab from the ground.
Yaha's feet hadn't shifted even half an inch.
That pale, slender-looking hand steadily caught the monster's devastating blow.
"Too slow."
Yaha curled his lip, his tone dripping with disdain.
"And pathetically weak."
The five fingers of his left hand slowly tightened.
The sharp crack of shattering bone was especially piercing in the silent night.
Lower Rank One let out an agonized scream as its thick finger bones were crushed by sheer force and twisted into unnatural angles.
Yaha raised his right foot and casually kicked forward.
The sole of his military boot struck Lower Rank Five squarely in the abdomen.
Its massive body flew backward, plowing a deep furrow through the ground.
Only after smashing through two surviving stone pillars did it finally stop, opening its mouth to vomit a great mouthful of purple-black blood.
Yaha lowered his foot and brushed nonexistent dust from his trouser leg.
Right on cue, a system notification chimed in his mind, announcing an increase in his roleplay level.
He ignored it and simply walked forward over the rubble.
His pace remained unhurried.
There was still no sign that he intended to draw the Black Blade at his waist.
"If you've got any other tricks, hurry up and use them."
Yaha looked down at the struggling heap of mangled flesh.
"Otherwise, a second from now, even the mouth you'd beg for mercy with will be minced meat."
Before you continue