Demon Sword Maiden

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Shimizu had once known little about the Supreme Gods; the first whispers of their existence reached her only after entering Yomi. Yet now, she possessed the power of a Supreme God—along with the fragments of broken, scattered memories.

Even so, she remained unable to wield most of the abilities unique to Supreme Gods.

Yet within those broken memories, Lily's gaze, so sharp it seemed to pierce through the fabric of reality, lit a flickering lamp in the boundless darkness of Shimizu's heart.

Shimizu began to remember. Countless ages ago, a girl was born within the shadows of the Hekiraku Realm.

In the present, Lord Shikikai foolishly attempted to rely on the Hekiraku Realm's familiar terrain to resist both Shimizu and Lily. She responded with nothing but a merciless laugh.

"Do you honestly believe you can claim ownership of the Hekiraku Realm's power?" Shimizu asked with mocking amusement.

"What?" Lord Shikikai stared in stunned disbelief. A torrent of overwhelming dark energy surged upward through layers of ancient bedrock, flooding the cavern and nearly swallowing the demonic flames burning within.

"Grrrah…!" Lord Shikikai's powerful body convulsed. His wounds refused to close, instead tearing wider and gushing blood as agony overtook him. The Hekiraku Realm's power scorched away his physical strength, compounding the damage already inflicted upon his body.

Writhing in pain and enveloped by dark energy, the Lord could find no explanation. Fearful now, he dared not absorb the Hekiraku Realm's power any longer.

"You wretched thing!" he bellowed, unleashing a blast of divine energy to purge every trace of the realm's power from his body. The effort drained him further. Gasping for breath, he muttered, "Why… how could this happen?" Every eye on his head and torso was wide open, red with rage and disbelief.

"Because all of this was destined to happen," Shimizu replied with cool indifference.

Lily's gaze stirred something long buried within her soul, unlocking the deepest and most broken of memories.

Back then, the world had been shrouded in unbroken darkness.

A procession of women made their way through a strange and gloomy world covered in thick, dark clouds. Among them were young girls, adults, and elderly women. Each carried an ancient lantern that lit their path, but none of them knew where they were going.

They lacked not only a destination but even the memory of who they were. Neither their identities nor their origins remained.

The Hekiraku Realm had not yet been formed. Their path stretched endlessly forward, while the world around them was fractured with dimensional rifts.

One frail girl's lantern suddenly went out. Perhaps the lanterns were manifestations of their souls, fueled by their life force. In those times, when a lantern was extinguished, it meant the end of that person's journey—and the end of their life.

A few women ahead turned back, searching for the girl's light, but saw only darkness. They hesitated for a moment, but then continued onward, leaving the girl behind in silence and loneliness.

Countless dark entities stirred within the rifts of the surrounding dimension. Most were without form, and all moved toward the girl, drawn by her vulnerability, seeking to devour her into the depths of darkness.

At that moment, a solitary moon emerged from a crack in the night sky, casting a cold and lonely light. It ruled the night in silence. The girl, without her lantern, could not resist the surrounding darkness. But she noticed something strange. The shadowy beings were drawn to the moonlight, as if it nourished them. They emerged and danced beneath it in movements that were strange, absurd, and deeply unsettling.

Though fear gripped her, the girl dared not cry out. The world around her was bitterly cold, and with her light gone, even warmth had abandoned her. She trembled and sought shelter behind a massive boulder that had fallen from the sky. The moonlight cast a shadow across the stone, and she chose to hide within that narrow sliver of darkness.

In that ancient time, all beings were formed directly by the world. Even the girl had been given innate abilities. As the demonic shadows circled around her, she instinctively absorbed the power of the moon's shadow while hiding beneath it. In that moment, she felt both the tragic cold of the world and the unbearable horror contained within the demons' haunting dance.

The biting cold, constant fear, and crushing loneliness endured for countless years, lingering without end.

One day, just as the cracks in space were about to be restored, a star that had hung beside the moon descended from the heavens and landed at the girl's feet.

The pale and weakened girl was entranced by the soft glow of the fallen star. She placed it into her extinguished lantern, and it ignited once more, becoming her new source of light.

As the cracks in space healed, the world was once again shrouded in complete darkness. The demons reverted to their wild and ravenous nature. Yet when the girl stood, no longer sheltered by the shadow of the moon, the light of the star in her lantern caused the demons to pause. They mistook her for an emissary of the night and chose to keep their distance.

The boulder near the girl began to emit a faint green glow, resonating quietly in the dark.

She coughed weakly, her breath ragged. The frozen, deathless world had inflicted her with an incurable illness that lingered for eternity. Her body remained frail and her heart deeply lonely. When she raised her head, the moon had vanished from the sky.

Still, within her heart, she longed to once more behold the god who ruled over the night.

Lifting her lantern, she walked alone through the vast, endless world, clinging to the hope of finding a path that would lead her back to the moon.

After journeying through countless ages and surviving endless encounters with demons, she learned how to hide, how to run, and slowly how to fight. Deception, misdirection, and even cruelty became tools of survival. Over time, she discovered that the powers surrounding her could be drawn into herself.

Drawn by instinct, she wandered toward the source of those mysterious powers. After what felt like another eternity, she found herself standing once again at the place where the boulder had first sheltered her.

The ancient boulder had split open, revealing a pitch-black, weighty lump of iron hidden within.

She felt a deep and innate affinity between the iron and the lunar shadow she had once hidden beneath. Slinging the iron onto her back, she continued her endless journey forward.

When demons attacked, she crushed them with the black iron. But her body remained fragile and her arms too weak to wield such weight effectively. Over time, she understood that this was not the ideal way to use it.

Yet, in all the vastness of the world, there was no place where this iron could be properly refined.

Still carrying her lantern, she pressed on, absorbing more and more of the world's power as she walked. Slowly, the once-chaotic world began to settle and stabilize. Her connection with the world grew deeper. She came to understand that this realm had given birth to many kinds of beings: women like herself, demons, and even wandering spirits.

And yet, she felt as though she alone was the world's favored child.

She remembered how, while hiding from the demons beneath the lunar shadow of the boulder, it had begun to glow faintly green once the sky above had healed. So she gave this world a name, a name born of memory and solitude.

Her strength continued to grow, yet her loneliness deepened. Few remained who could challenge her, but no amount of power brought her peace. Her yearning to find the moon only became more intense.

She lifted her lantern once more and resumed her wandering, but the women who once walked beside her were gone. Whether their lanterns had faded and they perished, or they had become something unrecognizable, she did not know.

As her power increased, she saw no reason to use her precious black iron against lesser foes. While passing through vast bamboo forests, she cut a stalk of bamboo, shaped it into a blade, and carried it at her waist as a simpler weapon.

Deep in the heart of the bamboo forests, she came upon a tribe made entirely of women. They feared her as an outsider, and she was met with suspicion and rejection.

Though the tribe's elders grudgingly accepted her presence, the other women kept their distance. Over time, some began to harass and bully her.

At first, she had no intention of fighting back. She believed she had finally found refuge among others like her. But the bullying escalated until her patience broke. When she retaliated, she used only her bamboo blade. Those who tormented her were badly injured, some slain with a single, effortless strike. Her strength was simply overwhelming.

The entire tribe rose against her in fear and judgment, yet even together, they could not defeat her.

In the end, the tribe humbled themselves, begging for her forgiveness. They began to worship her, a figure they both feared and revered. But the girl soon found their reverence dull and meaningless. She quietly left and moved deeper into the bamboo forest, choosing to live in solitude.

Not long after, demonic forces descended upon the tribe. Most of the women were slaughtered or taken, their bodies enslaved and spirits broken. The tribe stood on the brink of annihilation.

At that critical moment, the girl returned. With nothing more than her bamboo blade, she effortlessly wiped out every last demon. The tribe once more raised her to divine status, enshrining her as a living god. Many within the tribe began to admire her.

Most of her admirers were young and rebellious girls, those unwilling to follow the old traditions. They idolized her solitude, her quiet defiance, and her unmatched strength. Yet, not everyone revered her. Some resented her power and sought to uncover the source of her strength, hoping to claim it for themselves.

Many girls studied swordsmanship under her guidance, and their envy grew for the simple blade she wielded. They often asked her what kind of treasure it was, how such an ordinary weapon could cut down countless demons with ease.

With calm indifference, the girl answered, "This is Shizutake."

One day, a group of girls who had posed as her friends and loyal followers stole her bamboo blade. Believing it to be a rare treasure and the key to her strength, they took it in secret.

The betrayal left her disappointed once again, and whatever faith she still held in others crumbled. Her strength had already surpassed what anyone in the tribe could imagine, so she chose not to chase after those who had stolen her bamboo blade. Instead, she lifted her starlight lantern, stepped silently into the darkness, and ascended into the sky.

From that night onward, she never returned.

Some time later, the demons returned. In desperation, the tribe elders wielded the bamboo blade the girl had left behind to resist the invasion. But to their shock, they discovered it was nothing more than an ordinary piece of bamboo.

From that moment on, the Shizutake Tribe fell into decline and eventual exile.

Meanwhile, the girl who once wandered under the moon had broken through the limits of the Hekiraku Realm, stepping into the boundless expanse of infinite dimensions. Guided by the light of a single star, she continued her pursuit of the distant moon.

The moon remained the dream she chased, distant and eternal. By the time she departed from the Hekiraku Realm, she had already become the strongest existence it had ever known. Yet no one ever learned her name.

That was because the girl herself had never known her own name. Both her enemies and admirers, as well as aimless followers, would ask her for her name. She always gave the same answer: "I am Moon Shadow."

"What is happening? How can this be? This is impossible!" Lord Shikikai screamed, his voice cracked with panic. "Why isn't the power of the Hekiraku Realm obeying me? This has never happened in all these years! Why is it hurting me instead?"

"Because her true master has returned," came the quiet, unwavering reply. Shimizu's gaze was cold and resolute. Her long dark-blue hair drifted gently around her, as if it were tethered to the world itself.