Rumble...
Just as everyone was hurtling toward the ground from high altitude, the hardened pavement below exploded.
Several thick, green vines shot directly into the air from the earth, flexibly catching each of the "Scavengers" and lowering them gently onto the ground.
"Safety landing, brothers."
Once Shin Kiyono—the man with the most terrifying smile—made the hand sign for "Release," the vines bound around their waists loosened and rapidly retracted underground, leaving behind only a bottomless pit in front of the group.
"Ken, you need to work on your courage."
Kiyono noticed Kenmyo Isayama's face didn't look great. Assuming the kid's heart couldn't handle the thrill of weightlessness from jumping without a parachute, he offered a mock.
"No, I've just been having a bit of PTSD lately," Kenmyo replied with an ambiguous phrase.
Only he knew that being suddenly yanked from his seat by Mr. Akutagawa and leaping down without protection wasn't nearly as psychologically scarring as being intercepted mid-air by Mr. Kiyono's vines. In the darkness, those twisting vines looked almost identical to tentacles. Kenmyo had nearly used his Psionic power to blow up the very vine meant to save him. Fortunately, he realized in time it was Kiyono's Innate Technique: [Growth]—using Cursed Energy to make plant seeds swell and grow to massive sizes instantly.
As comrades who had fought side-by-side, they understood each other's abilities. Akutagawa's split-second reaction to jump was born out of absolute trust in his teammate's skills.
"This is no time for chatting."
Akutagawa had thrown Kenmyo onto the nearest vine while in mid-air, using another vine as a buffer and foothold for himself. After several agile rolls along the roots, he hit the ground.
"The enemy is still here."
Thud.
"Right. Daring to make me look that pathetic..."
Ishihara, the most aggressive of the group, slammed his massive hammer onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and leaving a crater in the pavement. "If I don't kill this piece of trash, I won't be able to swallow this insult."
"A Special Grade?"
Kenmyo watched the presence gradually emerging from the shadows into the firelight. The roaring flames around it were distorted, turning into blood-colored fire-snakes that flickered by its side. The asphalt, unable to withstand the heat, began to melt, emitting a pungent, foul stench.
Unlike the Cherry Blossom Tree, which had been a mere phantom fragment, the distance between him and this terrifying Cursed Spirit was now close enough that they could see each other clearly.
The Flesh Hound in Kenmyo's shadow was barely the size of this lizard-like giant's knee.
It had six legs, was covered in black scales, and its back seemed to carry eight massive heads with humanoid faces. Steam rose from their gaping maws; it appeared those horrific attacks were launched from its back.
When Kenmyo locked eyes with those pupils—filled only with crimson and tyranny—an overwhelming wave of malice hit him. A sharp, needle-like pain pierced his head, and his hair stood on end. It felt as though a blade was gently stroking his heart, the stinging sensation combined with the dread of a fatal strike making it difficult to breathe.
"No, it's a Grade 1," Akutagawa said calmly beside him, offering no further explanation.
As the leader of the [Scavengers], he had to deploy his personnel immediately based on the situation. This was a Grade 1 Spirit attack—highly troublesome.
"Takahashi, Kinoshita, Hongo, Ken—you four are responsible for contacting the Sorcerers Association and the Tokyo Jujutsu High for backup. Move these civilians to safety and search for any survivors."
"Ishihara, Kiyono, Iwata, and I will engage the Grade 1. Our main goal is to stall for time and wait for reinforcements."
"Most importantly: Don't overdo it!"
Akutagawa directed his last words at the combat group. While the "Scavengers" were all former Grade 1 Sorcerers, their bodies had suffered irreversible damage from countless battles in their youth. They could no longer sustain high-intensity combat for long.
"Big Brother is talking to you, Ishihara," Kiyono teased with a grin, nudging Ishihara who had just let out a dissatisfied 'tch.' "Be careful. Your left leg prosthetic was just replaced the day before yesterday. Don't go breaking it in battle again."
"You slit-mouthed bastard, who asked for your reminder?!" Ishihara snapped back like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Half of Kiyono's face near his mouth had once been torn off by a Cursed Spirit. After healing, the scar made him resemble the "Slit-Mouthed Woman" from Japanese urban legends. Hence Ishihara's jibe—a nickname Kiyono despised.
"You want to go, you old cripple?"
The two were about to trade more insults when, a hundred meters ahead, a terrifyingly high concentration of Cursed Energy erupted again. They swallowed their words instantly.
The distance closed in a flash. A beam of interlaced black-and-white destructive light shot directly at Akutagawa's group. An explosion roared, and sparks of concentrated Cursed Energy splashed onto nearby parked cars, melting them into molten metal instantly.
The unknown Spirit, sensing the Cursed Energy reactions of the four "bipeds" vanish, showed a hint of triumph in its brutal red eyes.
But the next second, twelve blue-green vines—far thicker than those used to save the team—burst from the ground beneath the Spirit, binding it tightly. Their color, hardness, and tenacity proved that Kiyono's current technique was on an entirely different level. The Spirit's eight heads began frantically gnawing at the vines, but as soon as one was bitten off, a new one regrew instantly from the wound.
This placed a massive burden on the caster.
"Iwata!"
Hearing Kiyono's voice, the bald, muscular giant Iwata Akutake moved. Though blind, he could pinpoint the Spirit's location by sound alone. His white eyes narrowed as his suit jacket exploded, revealing a body covered in surgical stitches. He clenched his fists, which crackled with brilliant, lightning-like yellow Cursed Energy.
"I may be clumsy..."
Iwata slammed his fists into the ground. A massive force tore through the earth for a hundred meters, traveling from his feet to the Spirit.
"...But I will do my best!"
Boom!
A Cursed Energy surge far more terrifying than Kiyono's caused the earth around the bound Spirit to churn. Two massive hands made of soil and reinforced concrete, thirty meters high, emerged from the left and right, threatening to crush the Spirit flat between its palms. Under the violent pressure of Iwata's technique, the black scales shattered, and ink-black filth sprayed out from the Spirit's body.
"Now, it's my turn!"
A spirited voice rang through the night. A giant fireball appeared out of thin air, lighting up the sky. The searing heat dried the air instantly.
In mid-air, Ishihara leaped high, his face lit with excitement. He raised his roaring, flaming hammer and swung it down with all his might toward the Grade 1 Spirit's heads.
Explosive crimson-gold flames consumed everything.
"[Flame Burst]!"
The four of them worked in unison—a perfectly orchestrated ambush.