Bofuri (The Strongest Shield Of Tensura)

Chapter Seventy Four

Rimuru wasn’t the only one who had witnessed the devastating attack that burned through an entire section of the orc army.

Benimaru’s gaze locked onto the towering wall of purple flames in the distance, his eyes narrowing. “Those flames...” he murmured, a flicker of challenge crossing his face. “I wonder...”

Raising his hand, he conjured a pulsating sphere of dark flames, the energy twisting hungrily around his palm. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it toward another large group of orcs.

The orcs barely had time to react before the sphere expanded, trapping them within a translucent barrier. Then, in an instant, the sphere ignited with black flames, consuming everything inside. Their agonized screams were cut short as they were reduced to nothing but ash.

Benimaru smirked, then it happened.

It was a, blink and you'll miss it, moment.

A thin, glowing molten line streaked across the battlefield at an unimaginable speed. It passed straight through his flaming sphere, before continuing onward, searing a deep trench into the earth and vanishing into the distant forest.

The sphere of black flames split cleanly in two, as another massive wall of purple flames manifested in the battlefield once again. A shockwave followed, buffeting the battlefield and forcing Benimaru to take an instinctive step back.

His breath hitched. "What...?" His voice barely rose above a whisper. 'It burned through my flames.'

Before he could fully process what had just happened, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Young... Master?”

The unfamiliar voice made him turn sharply.

Standing before him was a towering figure, an ogre? No... a Kijin... No... something beyond that. An Oni.

Benimaru’s brows furrowed in disbelief. "How?" His mind raced. How does someone like this exist? What's going on here?

The Oni seemed equally shaken, his expression a mixture of overwhelming relief and disbelief. His lavender eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You're... you're alive,” he choked out. “Young master... you survived.”

Benimaru’s breath caught.

His eyes locked onto the man’s face, a face he knew.

Slowly, realization dawned. His stunned silence stretched for several moments before he finally whispered:

“...It’s you... The exile.”

"Uncle?" Shion’s voice carried through the battlefield as she approached, her massive blade resting in her hand.

The Oni turned at the sound, his crimson eyes widening in surprise. "Little one," he whispered.

Without hesitation, Shion rushed forward and embraced him. He let out a warm laugh, returning the hug. "You're not so little anymore."

Benimaru, still gripping his katana, took a cautious step forward. "Shion, get away from him," he ordered, his voice firm.

The Oni smiled as he and Shion separated. "Shion? You possess a name now."@@@@

Grinning, Shion rested her sword on her shoulder. "Yeah. Lord Rimuru granted me a name."

The Oni chuckled. "I see. That's amazing." His gaze shifted upward, toward the figure hovering in the sky with bat-like wings. "I assume that fellow up there is the Lord Rimuru you speak of?"

Shion nodded proudly. "Indeed. He's amazing. He gave us all names."

"All?"

The Oni’s words trailed off as he suddenly shifted his stance. His katana flashed in a reverse grip, the blade drawn behind him, without so much as a wasted movement.

CLANG!

A sudden clash of steel rang out as Hakurou appeared beside Benimaru, slowly sheathing his blade with a soft, clack.

Hakurou smirked. "It’s good to see you’ve at least kept up with your training, young one."

The Oni let out a hearty laugh. "It’s good to see you again, old man. And please, I was granted the name Shifu."

Hakurou chuckled. "Likewise, Shifu. It is good to see you again. And as an Oni, no less. Remarkable."

His sharp gaze shifted to Benimaru. "Well, young master?"

Benimaru tightened his grip on his katana, his mind a storm of emotions. His gaze flickered between Shifu and the battlefield, but before he could speak, Shion stepped beside him.

"Come on, Benimaru," she urged, her voice sharper than before.

His jaw clenched. "You remember what he did, don’t you?" His tone was sharp, barely restrained. "You, of all people, should understand."

Shion didn’t back down. Her violet eyes, filled with pain, met his. "I know, okay? But I don’t care. Not anymore." She exhaled, shaking her head. "We’re all that’s left, Benimaru. There’s nothing left."

Silence hung between them. The distant sounds of battle, the clash of steel, the cries of orcs and hobgoblins, felt muted in the moment.

Finally, Benimaru let out a slow sigh. "Fine." He turned his gaze back to Shifu, his expression unreadable. "But once this is over, we’ll settle this."

Shifu merely smiled. "Understandable, young mas-Benimaru."

He turned toward Hakurou, who met his gaze with a casual shrug. "Lord Rimuru graced me with the name Hakurou."

Benimaru paused as a message from Rimuru reached him through their link. His expression shifted, and he looked to the others.

Gelmud’s patience snapped. "I don’t have time for your nonsense, Kijin! Just die!"

He thrust his hands forward, gathering magicules into a bubbling, pink sphere.

"{Death March Dance}!"

The sphere suddenly fragmented into dozens of smaller orbs, each crackling with raw power. In an instant, they shot toward Shifu, streaking through the air like meteors.

Shifu didn’t move. The attacks struck him head-on, triggering a chain of explosions that shrouded him in a cloud of smoke and dust.

Gasps echoed across the battlefield as the smoke cleared, revealing Shifu standing unscathed, mere inches from Gelmud.

Hakurou chuckled, the only one who had truly seen what had happened.

Shifu had never stopped walking forward. Yet, inexplicably, Gelmud had begun attacking the spot where Shifu had been, completely ignoring the fact that he was now standing right in front of him.

This was the one of the many terrors of {Haze Style}, warping an opponent’s perception, forcing them to ignore what 'is' in favor of what 'was'.

Gelmud’s breath hitched as his mind caught up with reality. "W-What...?" he stammered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Shifu simply reached out, placing a firm hand on Gelmud’s trembling shoulder.

"You'll rule over all of Jura, right?" Shifu’s voice was cold, his grip tightening on Gelmud’s shoulder like a vice. "Go on. Say that again."

Gelmud trembled violently, his mouth opening and closing as he stuttered incoherently. "Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa..."

Shifu leaned in, his face now mere inches from Gelmud’s mask. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

"I said..."

Smash!

Gelmud’s mask shattered as Shifu yanked him down, driving his knee straight into the Majin’s face.

"Try to say that shit again!"

"Gah!" Gelmud cried out as blood and spittle flew from his mouth. He staggered backward, his legs giving out beneath him as he collapsed onto the ground. His nose was broken, several of his teeth shattered. His hat and what remained of his bird mask lay scattered beside him.

Gelmud flailed on the floor, groaning in pain.

High above, Rimuru watched with mild curiosity. He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So that's what he looks like."

<>Answer. He appears to be a member of the race known as Deadman.<>

Rimuru hummed. "Huh. Neat."

On the ground, Gelmud flailed, his screams filled with rage and desperation. "Damn you! You're finished, you hear me? Finished! I'm gonna make you regret this!"

Rimuru slowly descended, hovering a few feet above the battlefield. His golden eyes locked onto Gelmud. "You mentioned 'he' earlier. Who were you talking about? Who's the real mastermind?"

Shifu narrowed his eyes, his tone carrying a silent threat. "I suggest you answer."

Gelmud flinched, his bravado faltering. "Eh? Wha! No! Leave me alone!" He scrambled to his feet, staggering toward the Orc Lord. "H-Hey, Orc Lord, do something! Anything!"

The massive being simply stared at him for a moment, expression unreadable.

"...I am so very hungry."

Gelmud's frustration boiled over. "Who cares! Just help me, Orc Lord! I mean... Geld!"

At that name, the Orc Lord’s blank, pupil-less eyes widened. A memory flickered to the surface of his mind.

• A barren desert. A lone Orc, battered and weak, laid prone before a shadowed figure.

"I shall name you... Geld," the masked Majin declared, his grin hidden behind his bird-like mask.

The Orc, his body glowing faintly, rasped, "Geld, huh..."

"One day," Gelmud continued, "you will take possession of the Great Forest of Jura and become the Orc Disaster."

The memory faded, but its weight lingered.

The Orc Lord narrowed his eyes as Gelmud continued to yell. "Just hurry up and evolve into a Demon Lord already, you idiot!"

Then, a thunderous step.

Rimuru’s instincts hummed with a quiet warning. Benimaru, Shion, and Soei gripped their weapons, bracing themselves.

Gelmud, oblivious, sneered. "Oh, look! The mountain of lard finally decided to move! Hahaha!" He turned back to Rimuru and the others, his confidence returning. "Oh, you’re in for it now! You’ll regret messing with me!"

Behind him, the Orc Lord raised his massive butcher blade.

Shifu’s eyes widened in realization.

Gelmud, assured of his victory, threw his arms out dramatically. "Get them, Geld! Make them rue the day they interfered with my pla..."

SLICE.

The battlefield fell silent as Gelmud’s head flew through the air, his final words dying on his lips.