"Teach these two a proper lesson."
Kikuchi Miura's voice was frostier than winter steel.
But the two cultists beside him hesitated.
"Um... Lord Miura, Hidan and Shiki are the Holy Sons of our cult. Wouldn't this be... inappropriate?"
Kikuchi's glacial gaze swept over them. "So you're disobeying my orders now?"
The moment those words landed, the two cultists stiffened.
True, Hidan and Shiki were terrifying—but Kikuchi had ruled the cult's underbelly for years. Crossing him meant fates worse than death.
At least, that's what they believed.
With no choice, the cultists gritted their teeth and turned to Hidan and Shiki. "Forgive us, Holy Sons."
Hidan licked his lips, their crimson hue deepening. Excitement threaded his voice.
He couldn't care less if they were coerced. If not for Shiki's presence, he'd have slaughtered the entire cult by now.
To Hidan, these so-called followers were heretics—unworthy of Lord Jashin's blessings. Their faith was weak.
And as Jashin's chosen envoy, it was his duty to purge the unfaithful!
"Let's go!"
The two cultists spurred each other on, drawing their blades and charging.
"Come on, come on!"
Hidan's grin widened as they approached. He whipped out his black spear, ready to play.
"Careful! He's immortal—no trading blows! Restrain him!"
They strategized aloud, a downside of shared intel.
Ordinary foes would've rushed in blindly. But every Jashin cultist knew: conventional attacks were useless against Hidan. Only subduing him worked.
Or—like Shiki—decapitating him.
Opting for attrition, the cultists flung a volley of shuriken from their cloaks.
Hidan didn't flinch. His legs exploded with force, propelling him forward like a crimson comet.
The shuriken tore through his coat, carving bloody gashes into his flesh.
Yet his speed never faltered.
If anything, the pain fueled him.
"This is all you've got?!" he roared, leaping high.
Three months under Shiki's "guidance" had honed Hidan into something new.
His descent was a black meteor—spear aimed straight for their hearts!
The cultists barely dodged, shock flashing across their faces.
"Since when was he this fast?!"
Back at headquarters, they'd only ever seen Hidan get decapitated by Shiki, fostering the illusion that he relied on immortality.
But his taijutsu was monstrous.
Even Kikuchi's eyebrows twitched in surprise.
Though often abroad, he kept tabs on the Chosen Ones. In his eyes, Hidan was just an unkillable nuisance—a distraction while he handled the real threat: Shiki.
Yet now, Hidan was... overperforming.
If both attacked, things could get messy.
Kikuchi's gaze slid to Shiki.
The latter met his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and smiled.
That damn bastard—acting all composed?!
Kikuchi seethed, but the battlefield was one-sided.
Hidan, undeterred by his missed strike, lunged again.
His strategy? No defense.
He left every weakness exposed, focusing solely on offense—thrusting his spear, seeking blood.
"We can't win like this!"
The cultists struggled under Hidan's frenzied assault.
Finally, mid-retreat, Hidan blitzed between them.
"Kehahaha! DIE!"
His spear crashed down, scraping sparks off a blocking blade.
Hidan leaned into the pressure—though deflected, the raw force staggered his target.
Seizing the opening, he stabbed straight for the heart.
The second cultist swung desperately, cleaving deep into Hidan's back.
Blood fountained—a fatal wound for any mortal.
Hidan just grinned wider, driving his spear through the first cultist's chest.
As the man crumpled, Hidan turned, his smile demonic, to the remaining foe.
The cultist flinched.
That instant cost him everything.
Hidan surged forward, wrapping him in a macabre embrace.
"Got you."
The cultist paled, struggling uselessly as Hidan whispered in his ear:
"Let's die together."
"Y-you madman—let go!"
Panic set in. But Hidan's grip was iron.
His laugh was a raspy, unhinged thing as he raised his spear—
—and impaled them both.
The blade punched through two bodies, binding them in a grotesque knot.
Two blood flowers bloomed.
The cultist went limp.
Hidan threw back his head and howled in ecstasy.
Hidden townsfolk watching from the shadows shivered, their blood turning to ice.
After a moment, Hidan yanked the spear free, letting the corpse slump.
"Tch. Not even worth offering to Lord Jashin."
Blood streaked his porcelain skin like crimson petals on snow—beautiful in its horror.
He leveled his spear at Kikuchi.
"Your turn."