Chapter 8 – Ruins of Shuten-dōji (III)
He was falling.
No—plunging.
Lucian's body twisted through the void of white light, weightless and without end. He couldn't tell if he was going up, down, or just suspended in nothingness. But slowly, a sensation returned—wind against his skin, ground pulling at his feet—and then…
His boots slammed onto cracked stone.
His breath caught.
He stood in the center of a ruined battlefield.
Ash choked the air. Blackened bones littered the scorched earth, some large as wagons, others still smoking. Torn banners fluttered in a wind that carried the scent of burnt blood and ozone. The sky—if it could still be called that—was a swirling dome of crimson and gold, like it had been ripped apart in battle and stitched together with lightning.
Lucian took a cautious step forward.
"This is… his memory?"
The voice in his head answered:
Yes. This is the final battle. The moment when Shuten-dōji stood against the ten. Watch. Learn. Understand.
Suddenly, time lurched forward.
The ground trembled, and across the ruined plain, he appeared.
Shuten-dōji.
Alive. Whole. Glorious.
The real one.
He strode forward without armor—just dark, draping robes soaked in blood and pride. His skin was pale white, like porcelain left in moonlight too long. A curved horn jutted from his temple, obsidian-black and ancient. From his lips trailed a slow curl of smoke—he held a long, slender smoking pipe between two fingers, exhaling lazily through his nose as if the world wasn't ending around him.
The pipe glowed faintly with red embers, its stem carved with ancient characters. Lucian couldn't name the wood, but it looked older than the ruins around it.
A massive blade rested on Shuten's shoulder—jagged, rusted at the edge, steaming with residual heat like it had been pulled from a volcano. But what struck Lucian more than the weapon was his presence.
It wasn't rage. It wasn't bloodlust.
It was inevitability.
Lucian turned to look at the figures arrayed against him.
Ten.
Ten of the mightiest beings to ever walk the earth.
None of them looked human. Not completely. One shimmered like a star given flesh. Another towered like a mountain with skin of steel. There was a woman wreathed in golden chains, humming with divine power. A cloaked warrior whose sword pulsed with every heartbeat of the planet. A flame giant. A dragon-kin draped in robes of stardust.
Lucian didn't recognize any of them, but he felt their power.
And behind them… stood the remnants of humanity—legendary heroes, old kings, warriors, mages, and saints. The last line of defense.
The sky screamed as the battle began.
What followed wasn't a fight—it was annihilation given choreography.
Lucian watched, stunned, as Shuten moved like a demon made flesh. His sword split canyons with a swing. He roared, and three of the ten staggered. Spells rained down, mountains collapsed, the ground gave way under their power. Even as he bled, Shuten laughed—laughed—with the thrill of carnage, smoke still drifting from his pipe between attacks.
At one point, mid-swing, he even paused to exhale—long and deliberate—before hurling his blade into a mage whose chants bent gravity itself.
But slowly… the tide turned.
Lucian saw it.
Not in any one blow. Not in some dramatic reversal. But in exhaustion. In the relentless weight of ten peak beings grinding against one man's madness. A chain wrapped around his horn. A blade pierced his thigh. Light carved into his back. The dragon-kin shattered his ribs. The flame giant tore off his left arm.
And even then… Shuten wouldn't kneel.
He stood, bloody and broken, pipe clenched in his teeth, looking up at the ten… and smiled.
Then it all ended in a burst of white.
Lucian blinked—and the world was quiet again.
The battlefield turned grey. The sky dimmed. The memory froze in time.
He was alone.
He died standing.
He cursed the world with his final breath… but he never begged. Never apologized.
Lucian lowered his head.
He didn't admire the man. Didn't justify what Shuten had done. But there was something undeniably powerful about him—this relic of a purer, older time when mana flowed stronger, when the average man could break steel with his bare hands, and monsters walked under suns that no longer shone.
This wasn't the world Lucian had stepped into.
And yet, it was a part of its blood.
He looked at his hands.
"This isn't just about power," he murmured. "It's about carrying what came before."
The voice spoke again:
You begin to understand. That is why you were chosen. Few can bear the weight of what lies ahead. Fewer still would dare to try.
The ground beneath his feet cracked open again.
Light swallowed him whole.
—And when he opened his eyes—
Lucian was standing at the center of a great temple.
It looked newer. Restored. Clean white walls, golden accents, and a massive floating emblem shaped like a twisting dragon and a horned man clashing. At the far end was a pedestal.
On it rested… a crystal orb, filled with swirling red and violet light.
Lucian stepped toward it.
The air trembled.
Place your hand upon it. Speak your name.
Lucian hesitated only a second, then placed his hand against the orb.
"Lucian Vale."
The moment his voice echoed, mana surged. The orb cracked, splitting into three floating shards that circled him, then vanished—absorbed into his body like water into parched earth.
It hurt.
Power flooded in, foreign and raw. Not a skill or spell. Something deeper. Something Shuten had left behind: his instincts, his rage, his understanding of this world.
Lucian stumbled back, gasping.
His muscles screamed. His vision blurred for a second.
Then—silence.
The temple dimmed. Its purpose fulfilled.
You have inherited the Path of the Ravager. You are now the bearer of the memory of Shuten-dōji.
One step further. Walk wisely.
Lucian sat down against a pillar, exhaling hard.
"...Damn."
He looked up at the ceiling.
Not at the mural. Not at the magic.
Just the ceiling.
Then he laughed. Just once. A dry, exhausted laugh.
This world was crazy.
Meanwhile—outside the ruins…
Kaiser leaned against a crumbled boulder, chewing on a fruit he'd swiped from a tree somewhere. The wind had shifted. He narrowed his eyes.
"…It's done, huh."
A faint vibration hummed through the air. He felt it in his teeth.
The ruins were waking.
And for the first time in a long while, Kaiser felt a rare flicker of something beneath his ever-laidback face.
Not worry. Not concern.
Just a dangerous kind of curiosity.
To be continued...