“You filthy pests…will be exterminated,” Rijin said ominously, his voice hoarse.
“Stop!” I screamed, but no one heard me.
My voice was drowned out by the howling wind that sounded like a knife ripping through silk. Or like a woman’s shriek, but an octave higher. In that instant, I thought I saw countless winged, scythe-wielding demonesses rising out of the ground and swooping down on the queerats.
Regardless of whether that vision was real or not, the queerats fell in rapid succession.
I realized it was a wind scythe.1 An intense whirlwind with a vacuum in the center that acted like innumerable knives, tearing the victim to pieces. In order to create a wind scythe with your cantus you needed to accurately imagine the movement of the air, something that by nature was invisible and formless, so it was an extremely difficult technique that few could master.
In the blink of an eye, the queerats were decimated.
My head was swimming. I could see the spray of blood and smell its disgusting stench even though in reality I was too far away to do either.
“Alright. He did it…look…there! It’s getting away!”
Next to me, Satoru was yelling excitedly, like this massacre was some sort of game.
“Are you stupid? What are you so happy about?” I said sharply.
Satoru looked blankly at me. “But…they’re our enemies, aren’t they?”
“They’re not our real enemies.”
“Then who is?”
Before I could answer, it was over. The genocide in the name of Buddha, carried out by the priest who had sworn to serve him. There was not a single silhouette left standing on the hill.
“Okay…let us continue on” Rijin commanded. But his voice was strained.
Satoru and I glanced at each other.