4-77: The (Cruel) Way to Use That Hand (3/4)

4-77: The (Cruel) Way to Use That Hand (3/4)

Sure enough, Michizanes emotions reached a peak, and he wanted nothing more than to charge at the Mask.

But unfortunately for him, Tomoes jutsu had pinned him firmly into place.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

He flapped his arms and legs in frantic indignation, but he achieved nothing more than to put on a pathetic display that displeased the Mask.

You cant even put any effort, so dont bother flailing around, begging for power. That give me power of yours really brings up some bad memories. If you want it so badly, train yourself and use the ability and lineage(power) you were born with. Talk about greedy.

It reminded him of the disgusting fool(past).

But of course, hed never actually forgotten it, not even for a moment.

Regardless, looking at Michizane was like looking at a distorted mirror, and nothing could be more unbearable.

Not only are you useless, youre lazy too Youre so pathetic I cant even laugh anymore. When a clown is so pathetic that people cant laugh at him anymore, you know what he gets? Pity.

Perhaps it was because of that that the words the Mask spat amidst laughter were even more vicious than usual.

Thats it! Youre done! Youre done for! Im gonna rip your limbs and feed them to the monsters! Im gonna sacrifice your soul and kill you in a way so cruel humanitys never thought of it! Come on! Scream! Give me more power, you stinky useless sword!!

No matter how great the power and history it possessed, a demon sword that could not give him power was no different from a broken tool, and he slammed his fists on it repeatedly as though to try and get it to work.

The sword that has existed since the Yayoi period, which has feasted on the blood and malice of countless men, was now being abused by a selfish brat.

How humiliating.

It was one thing if Michizane accomplished that with his own ability, but the only reason he could do that was because of the pressure the sword had to endure from Tomoes jutsu and the Mask.

But Michizane couldnt even understand that and just yelled at it.

The Mask could even see that the will in the sword was starting to get mad.

Sigh Thats not an old TV, you know Oh, its so disgusting.

In the face of his hubris and ego, a dangerous light shone on the Masks eyes. It was truly a distorted mirror.

It did not reflect him properly but showed only what he didnt want to see.

Its something you do too.

A sense of discomfort he did not feel when looking at people he believed were good.

A fearfully cold thought that surfaced whenever he saw people like this man.

But when the Mask continued to talk without minding that nor caring, even Michizane had no choice but to realize that something was off.

He did not feel anything from his sword when hed thrust it out.

Not the sensation of hitting something with the tip nor the sensation of cutting something, only the strange sensation of the weight of the sword decreasing.

The effect of violence is indeed most immediate when limited to what is before oneself, but it is also then when the frailty of a single type of power is most exhibited.

It was curious if the Mask had noticed or understood that, but the Mask laughed as he continued to walk forward.

With Michizane unable to move, the sword naturally buried itself deeper into the black mist, further reducing its weight.

The humanoid black mist remained blurry despite their distance, but the distortion of the mask became clearer.

By this point, Michizane finally realized that he was dealing with something incomprehensible, and he found himself pulling his sword, but

Huh, w-why!?

There was nothing.

Not a trace of the part of the sword that had entered the black mist was left, yet the remaining body of the sword did not appear broken in any way.

That unnerved Michizane even more, but unfortunately for him, his body refused to move.

Smoke akin to steam rose from the indeterminate form left of his sword.

It was as though he was holding a candle, and it was all too easy to imagine what had happened to the end of the sword.

That sword that did not break no matter how many times it clashed with the Kamunagi, was upon one contact vaporized.

For it is not possible for any power to triumph against its own kind when it is lesser.

And by instinct, everyone here understood the answer.

Here was a demon that surpassed the demon in demon sword, a darkness before which that sword could be nothing but a toy.

An evil whose presence alone enlightened them.

Yes, just like this.

The arm clad in black raised up high like a death gods scythe, then it descended and devoured what was left of the demon sword until It was no more.

The vessel, the spirit, and even the very evil that lay within All of it was thoroughly destroyed.