The final hammer strike rang out, embedding thirteen mysterious drops into the stone platform. Patterns flared to life across its surface, glowing bright then fading, pulsing endlessly.
"It's done…" Shirou rasped, his strength failing him. He collapsed forward, his hands catching the platform's edge.
A strange thud sounded as his arm met the stone.
"Huh?" He glanced down, bleary-eyed only to see his right arm coated in a thick layer of metal dust, like rust had claimed it whole.
'Erosion? No… assimilation?' Only now did he notice the numbness. It had spread from his arm to his shoulder, creeping toward his chest. If he didn't act soon, his heart might stop.
Sleep tugged at him, heavy and inviting.
'No… if I close my eyes, I won't wake up. Not yet. Rihan… I need to get the sword to Rihan. For Yuri…'
"You've finished it? Well done, Master Shirou," came a voice.
The white-robed figures bowed low, their movements stiff with respect. Two of them stepped forward, gripping the platform's sides to lift it.
"Wait!" Shirou pressed a trembling hand against the stone. "It's not ready… the last step isn't complete!"
'What's happening? Where is he? This isn't what we planned!'
"....." The figures exchanged looks, then erupted into mocking laughter.
Under Shirou's stunned gaze, one spoke, his tone dripping with pity. "Waiting for Lord Rihan, are you?"
Shirou's breath caught. "You—"
"Too bad. He's not coming."
The figure smirked. "He's dead. Executed by Lady Jiu."
"You must've thought he'd save you," he went on. "But dead men keep no promises. Whatever deal you had? It's dust."
A hand shot out, seizing Shirou's throat and hoisting him up. "Move. Lord Yellow Spring is waiting."
Shirou's face flushed red, lHIS egs kicking uselessly. Demon strength dwarfed his own. He could only watch as two figures began hauling the platform away.
'Damn it! The sword… Yuri!'
In his flailing, his fingers brushed something solid and in his rage he swung without thought, smashing a forging hammer into the demon's skull.
The impact boomed like iron striking iron.
"Argh!" The demon flung Shirou down, clutching his face. His skin could shrug off fire, but the hammer had caught his eye socket. The heat seared the flesh, blinding him.
"You wretch!"
He raised his staff to crush Shirou's head, but another demon grabbed him. "Stop! Lord Yellow Spring wants him alive! It's just an eye; it'll heal in days. You two, quit staring and take the platform!"
The pair snapped to action, hurrying off. The blinded demon steadied himself. 'Right. Just an eye. No big loss.'
Shirou lay still, playing dead. Then, in a burst of motion he rose up and darted between the demons.
'The platform!'
He stretched out his arm to reach—
Crack!
Two staff locked around his neck, yanking him down. His weakened body buckled, knees hitting the ground.
"Know your place, human!" the blinded one roared.
'Just a human…'
Yeah, that's me. A human.
No power, no luck. Just an ordinary guy with nothing to show for it…
Even my pride as a swordsmith….I've tossed that aside too.
But even so, there's something I'll protect!
I might die here. But before I do, I'll see her smile again, no matter what!
Gears churned in his mind. His heart thundered, blood blazing hot.
"My…"
If his body couldn't win, he'd use weapons.
Normal blades wouldn't scratch demons. He needed something legendary, like the swords he'd destroyed.
"My backbone…"
Sharp. Strong. No frills; just a plain, solid sword would do.
It must be strong enough to cut through a demon's hide and shatter their bones.
A blade to give him strength, made for his hand…
"Twisted Frenzy!"
The words tore from him, unbidden. Lightning crackled from his metal-coated arm.
Two cold slashes flashed, breaking the staff. Blood sprayed.
"What—"
The demons gaped at their severed arms.
"Move," Shirou growled.
With a skill he didn't know he had, he struck their knees, dropping them. The moment the dropped, a cold light flashed in Shirou's eye and he beheaded both of them in a single strike.
After beheading the two, he stared at his sword, still gripped tight. 'This power… mine?'
He couldn't believe it. How could he, a human, barely stronger than average, had cut down demons like nothing. He couldn't believe it.
'Doesn't matter how I got it. My goal's the same.'
He steadied himself and stepped forward.
"Oh? Blood… those two are dead. You did that?" Ibaraki-douji appeared, eyeing him with faint surprise. "Not bad for a human, kid."
Shirou met her stare, cold and unwavering. He knew this golden-haired girl wasn't what she seemed. She was a great demon from the Heian era, the only one to slip past Minamoto no Raikou's four heavenly kings.
"Hm? I…" Ibaraki froze, her body tensing.
'Am I scared?' A shiver of fear crept up her spine.
'What's this? He's stronger, sure, but enough to scare me? I didn't even flinch facing that woman… A trick? No…my instincts don't lie. Something's wrong with him.'
As she hesitated, the two Rashomon gate guardians stirred.
"Human?"
"No…if he can kill demons, he's no human!"
"Right!"
Their ghostly heads swelled, sprouting limbs. Soon, two hulking ogres—one blue, one red loomed over Shirou.
"We'll eat you!" they snarled together.
'These aren't like the others,' Shirou thought, sensing their power far outstripped the white-robed demons.
This sword wouldn't do. He needed more.
He pictured the weapons Yellow Spring's demons had gathered; magic swords, demon blades he'd shattered himself. Their shapes, their make, their essence; he knew them all.
Shirou was a swordsmith. His one skill: forging blades.
If one wasn't enough, he'd make more. Stronger ones.
Wild swords, daggers, naginatas, tantos, Tang blades, nameless longswords…
Under Ibaraki and the ogres' shocked stares, countless weapons erupted from his metallic right arm.
"Inner Forge · Blade Manifestation!"
…
Blood coated his tongue, sharp and metallic. The taste jolted his mind, repulsive yet strangely alive.
But he had no time to linger on it as his brain raced, sketching "blueprints" without pause. Steel clashed as swords took shape; blades lost to the world, reborn from within him.
They were copies, but with the originals gone, smashed by his own hands, these were the real thing now.
A strange power flooded his limbs, warm and deep, like sinking into safety. Oddly, in this fight for his life, he felt calm.
Each swing honed his skill. His forging grew smoother and his swordplay sharper. The blades carried echoes of their past wielders; years of battle flowing into him. Knowing their structure let him craft them; gripping their hilts let him fight like their masters.
It broke all reason; an ability beyond limits, a cheat.
He couldn't stop. Heat surged through his veins, his bones burning.
Only fighting eased the restlessness.
Swords rose like markers, stabbing through enemies, ripping their tough hides, shredding their power. Once they struck, they didn't let go. They were ferocious and unstoppable.
When he blinked, the ogres were down, lifeless, pierced by a forest of blades.
"Impressive… are you even human?"
Ibaraki's voice, high and young, snapped him back.
"That wild yet steady way you fight, mad yet controlled… it's like her. That woman I can't stand."
She clicked her tongue. "She hunted us demons like a starved dog, but always with a clear head and kept using traps and plans to the end. That's 'berserk' for you. Guess she wasn't the only one."
"Humans surprise me," she added.
A crude, long-handled blade appeared in her grip; her prized weapon. Forged in hellfire for a hundred days, it looked plain, unremarkable. But its edge rivaled the legends.
"Still, humans are weak. You have no armor, no claws and no healing ability. Make all the weapons you want but your body's still soft."
"Haha" She laughed suddenly. "Listen to me, talking like I'm nervous, pumping myself up."
"No point dragging this out. I just want to fight you!"
Her childlike look hid it, but she was a demon bred for battle.
Shirou faced her, serious and still. He knew the gap between them. This new power didn't change facts: she outmatched him.
Leader of Oeyama Mountain's ghosts, equal to Shuten-douji, a veteran of the Heian era.Her experience alone crushed him. Like she said, he was mortal. Always at a disadvantage.
Shirou held dual blades; one long, one short and met her bone blade. Sparks flew as they traded blows, relentless and unforgiving.
Every strike could kill. One slip, and he'd be done.
"I know you: Ibaraki-douji."
A fierce clash shoved them apart. Her raw strength won, and Shirou barely held his stance.
She grinned, wild and fierce, then charged, her blade cutting the air with a shrill cry.
"Projection!"
Four matching wild swords launched like arrows.
"Child's play!" Ibaraki swatted them aside, unbothered. They'd fell lesser demons, but to her, they were nothing.
Still, her rush slowed.
Shirou lifted his rusted arm. "They say Ibaraki-douji alone escaped Minamoto no Raikou's four kings and that she is a survivor of the Heian days."
"And that Watanabe no Tsuna took your arm at Fifth Avenue with a pair of 'swift blades.'"
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of doubt rising. She knocked away more swords and sprang forward.
"When I used two blades earlier, you reacted differently," Shirou said, voice level. "You're the real one."
"So what?" she bellowed, slashing down at him.
"Here!" Shirou's gaze hardened, mana flaring in his arm; brighter than ever.
A curved tachi formed in his hand. As her bone blade dropped, he ducked and swung, slicing through her crimson ghost hand.
"This is—!" Ibaraki gasped.
"Onikiri," Shirou said, spinning. Another blade appeared in his left hand, carving across her chest.
"And Kumokiri!"
The twin demon-slaying swords; Onikiri, the one that took her arm long ago.
"Guess Lord Yellow Spring didn't mention them," Shirou said. "Not that he'd bother."
"Using these might be unfair," he admitted, pointing both at her. "But I'll get past you; whatever it takes, even my humanity."
Ibaraki heaved, blood streaking her face, yet she smiled. "It indeed is that sword… brings back memories."
"But now that it's here, I won't back off!"
"Take this. It's a special move for that sword!"
"Run free, Jungle Fire—"
"Rashomon Great Grudge Arise!"
Her severed hand shot upward, swelling into a massive flaming palm like a giant's grasp reaching for Shirou.
Shirou's expression tightened, but he stood ready.
"True Onikirimaru!"
A blinding flash swallowed everything.
.....
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