The village of Kaminari was silent—but it wasn't peace.
The silence was drenched in fear.
Doors and windows were locked tight. Mothers clutched their children. Fathers gripped makeshift weapons, knowing they were useless. The village square was a graveyard of shattered wood, torn lanterns, and crimson stains.
And in the heart of the devastation…
Over two hundred and fifty demons, gathered like vultures, laughed and feasted.
They mocked the quiet.
They mocked the corpses.
They mocked humanity.
Until one voice cut through the air like a sword through fog.
"What is the weight of a human life to you?"
It echoed. Not loud—but heavy. A voice that carried pain, truth, and death.
The demons turned.
He stood alone.
A black conical hat shadowed his face. His dark violet Haori, lined with golden dragons, flared in the breeze. Behind him, the air twisted like a storm waiting to erupt.
The moment they saw him, the laughter stopped.
Panic settled into their monstrous eyes.
"T-that's… him…"
"The one from Osaka…"
"The Greater Eclipse—"
Sahiru didn't move.
His violet eyes scanned the horde, not with hatred, but with apathy. These weren't foes.
They were filth.
He gripped his blade.
"You'll never understand the pain you've caused."
"So I'll show you."
He took a single step forward.
The air cracked.
Facade Breathing, Eighth Form: Phantom Mirage
A vortex of scarlet and white light exploded from his blade as Sahiru vanished into a streak of afterimages. To the demons, it was like fighting a ghost. He was everywhere—and nowhere.
Blades severed heads.
Bodies turned to ash.
Screams echoed through the night.
Fifty demons were gone within minutes.
And Sahiru never blinked. Never breathed. Never hesitated.
He was a phantom.
He was wrath.
He was the reaper who mourned no more.