Chapter 31: Dragonbone and Crimson Lotus

"Haruta really seems to have a thing for torturing his victims, doesn't he?" White Zetsu's raspy voice came from behind, filled with an eerie amusement.

"Hey, when are you planning to send Haruta away?" he asked, sounding almost casual.

"What's the rush?" Mirai replied with a hint of surprise on his face. "What, feeling sorry for the cursed spirits and want to avenge them?"

"Pfft, please!" White Zetsu scoffed, hands resting behind his head as he swaggered forward with a confident stride. "Sure, we're all from the same kind, but those low-level creatures? They're nothing compared to someone like me."

At this, Naobito, who was trailing behind the two, twitched the corner of his mouth. A fourth-tier spirit talking like that... Is this guy serious?

White Zetsu licked his long, crimson tongue, eyes glinting with interest. "Don't you find that brat's technique fascinating? A miracle-based technique—sounds pretty cool, huh?"

His eyes lit up as he turned towards Mirai, "Forget about 9527. Hand over Haruta to me, will you?"

After a brief moment of silence, Mirai nodded.

White Zetsu's face lit up with joy, but Mirai's voice turned stern as he added, "You can take Haruta, but not right now. The Zen'in clan's sorcerers are busy with their own tasks. If you don't want to spend the whole time here slicing up cursed spirits, you'll have to wait."

"Ughhh," White Zetsu groaned, clearly annoyed. "You've already dragged that old man down here. Just have him take over my job!"

Naobito stood silently. "..."

Mirai's response was calm and measured. "He's got other duties to attend to."

As the conversation between White Zetsu and Mirai continued, Naobito's expression grew heavier. What did they mean by "fascinating technique"? Did this guy... desire to possess others' techniques?

Having seen White Zetsu rise from a corpse with his own eyes, a terrifying realization crept into Naobito's mind: White Zetsu's ability to take over bodies might not be limited to mere resurrection.

...

They continued down a long, dark tunnel. The growls of cursed spirits faded into the distance, replaced by the sharp clinking sound of metal against metal. Ahead, two dim lamps flickered, casting light over a motionless figure standing beneath them.

The three of them moved forward cautiously, only to realize upon closer inspection that the figure was nothing more than an eerily lifelike mannequin. Behind it stood a crooked clothesline, adding to the oddity of the scene.

The doors on both sides of the hallway were slightly ajar, with the mannequin and clothesline leaning against the left door. The metallic sounds echoed from within that room.

Without hesitation, Mirai pushed open the left door, and the once dim scene was instantly illuminated.

"Haruta! How many times do I have to tell you—don't interrupt me while I'm working, or I swear I'll turn you into a coat rack!"

A bald-headed sorcerer, his upper body bare except for a gray apron, stood with his back to them. He was hammering away at the forge, sparks flying with every hit.

Mirai barely glanced at the tools on the forge as he spoke softly, "Ryuza, is the cursed tool I asked for ready?"

At the sound of that voice, the man at the forge froze in place before turning around in a panic.

"Zen'in clan head! It's almost done. Just give me seven more days, and I swear it'll be finished."

As Ryuza turned, Naobito finally got a good look at the man's face. His eyes were smeared with thick black paint that connected down to his nose, and the gray apron was printed with two crossed bones. The thick black markings only made the fear in Ryuza's eyes more pronounced. [T/N: Can you all guess who is this person? I can't seem to recall someone matching this description.]

Naobito wasn't fazed. From the look in Ryuza's eyes, he estimated the poor guy had been dragged into the Zen'in clan's work about two years ago. In ten years, sorcerers working under the Zen'in clan would be nothing but hollow shells, trembling at the mere mention of their masters.

Mirai's crimson eyes scanned the room as he spoke. "I'll return in seven days. If it's not finished, or if the quality doesn't meet expectations, you know what will happen."

"Of course! No problem!" Ryuza's confidence returned as he boasted about his craft. "If I can't finish it, I'll turn myself into a coat rack!"

White Zetsu smirked as his gaze landed on a partially completed uniform hanging near the forge. "Hey, Iron Man," he called out, a nickname he had given the bald blacksmith. "What about those cursed tools I asked you to make?"

Iron Man grinned with pride. "They've been ready for a while." He turned and retrieved two customized cursed tools from the back of the forge.

The first was a meter-long, sharp-edged cleaver, gleaming with a cold, deadly light.

Proudly holding it up, Ryuza explained, "This is Dragonbone. It's razor-sharp, and it stores the force of each strike. At the wielder's command, the stored energy can be unleashed from the back of the blade, significantly boosting the next attack's power."

He placed the cleaver on the table and pulled out a pink revolver, caressing its surface with a mix of pride and reluctance. "This here is Crimson Lotus. It requires preloaded cursed energy, and when fired, the cursed energy transforms into lotus-shaped bullets that explode on impact. I've modified the barrel, so the blast radius is wider and more destructive. The gun can hold the cursed energy of at least five first-grade sorcerers."

Ryuza introduced both items without mentioning the revolver's gaudy color, his face showing a hint of disdain as if he still couldn't believe he had been forced to make it pink.

"Not bad!" White Zetsu beamed, pleased with the craftsmanship.

He snatched up the pink revolver, admiring it from every angle. This color was his idea, of course—he had insisted on it. After all, nothing said "style" like a pink gun for a girl.

Watching from behind, Naobito felt a pang of envy. It was clear these cursed tools were meant for Maki and Mai, the Zen'in sisters. He wasn't envious of who would own the tools, but rather... he just wished Mirai treated all the Zen'in sorcerers with such care.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Naobito silently cursed the Zen'in elder who had died over a decade ago.

…

With a wide grin, White Zetsu suddenly stretched his mouth open to an absurd size and performed a bizarre trick—swallowing the cleaver whole. He raised the meter-long blade and shoved it straight into his mouth until only the hilt was visible. Only then did he casually wipe away the blood at the corners of his mouth, winking at the others.

The three of them stood speechless, watching with furrowed brows as White Zetsu's wide-open mouth revealed the cursed spirit sitting lodged in his throat.

Mirai sighed, shaking his head. "I just gave that body to him, and now he's already sliced up the corners of his mouth. His face is pale enough as it is. With his grin like that, he looks like some kind of clown."

White Zetsu chuckled, pulling the pink revolver from his pocket and tossing it to Mirai, "Here, you handle the enchantment."

Mirai didn't bother catching it—pink wasn't his style. Instead, he gestured toward a nearby withered branch, which swiftly absorbed the cursed energy surging around him. In less than a second, the Crimson Lotus, capable of holding the energy of five first-grade sorcerers, was fully charged.

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