Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize

350  Momotaro Vs. Intruder

The dark figure remained silent, surveying the cell, taking note of the hopeful gazes from the Onmyoji and other prisoners. Yet, instead of focusing on their expressions, it scrutinized their bodies for any signs of torture or injury.

"It seems they haven't interrogated you yet," the figure remarked with its distorted voice. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"That's fortunate... Then, you shall all be liberated!" With those words, a glimmer of hope spread among the prisoners as the dark figure raised its hand.

A surge of magic began to gather within its grasp, casting a heavy weariness upon the prisoners. Their eyelids drooped under the weight of exhaustion.

"First, I need you all to sleep; my teleportation magic isn't strong enough to transport conscious individuals," the figure explained in its distorted voice.

With a compelling rationale and the dark figure's enchantment taking hold, the prisoners ceased to resist, succumbing to slumber one by one.

Maintaining the magic a while longer, the figure then ceased, checking the breath of several prisoners by placing its hand near their noses. It discovered that they had ceased breathing, having peacefully passed away in their sleep.

"I'm sorry... This is all I can do for all of you..." the dark figure murmured before exiting the prison.

However, upon stepping out, they were met with a ring of soldiers in imposing power armor. Their slumbering comrades had been roused by reinforcements.

In front of the soldiers stood a youthful man wielding a black katana. Despite the weapon in his hand, his smile was disarmingly friendly, reminiscent of a neighbor greeting a friend.

"I don't know who you are, but I suggest you surrender. I'd rather not engage in combat right now," Momotaro spoke calmly. "It's difficult to see in the darkness, which makes it challenging for me to hold back."

At Momotaro's words, all the soldiers in their hulking power armor aimed their guns at the dark figure, poised to shoot at any sign of aggression.

However, the dark figure remained still, simply observing its surroundings. Suddenly, it transformed into a wisp of smoke, dissipating into thin air, leaving the soldiers bewildered as they scanned the area in various vision modes with their helmet, unable to locate their target.

"Fan out and search," commanded the field commander, prompting the soldiers to spread out and systematically comb the area.

One soldier was ordered to check the prisoners, and without hesitation, he obeyed. However, moments later, he returned in a state of panic.

"Sir! The prisoners have all been killed!" he exclaimed.

"What!?" The field commander rushed into the prison and was met with the grim sight of the deceased high-value prisoners.

Momotaro's gaze sharpened as he focused on a distant direction, his instincts guiding him. Without hesitation, he bolted out of the prison area, sprinting toward the target.

Navigating swiftly through the foliage, he leaped from branch to branch of the trees, heading toward a mountain where a desolate shrine stood. Though not haunted or abandoned, the shrine remained unguarded at night due to its lack of valuables.

Moonlight clung to the newly fashioned stone steps, their surface gleaming under the watchful gaze of the moon. Each step of Momotaro's determined stride echoed against the cold stone, a counterpoint to the hushed whispers of the mountain air. The scent of pine needles and the metallic tang of anticipation filled his senses.

A hulking figure emerged from the shadows, its granite flesh catching the moon's glow. A stone golem, newly formed and devoid of time's etchings, lumbered into view, blocking the path upward. But Momotaro, the Young Sword Saint, met its arrival with unflinching resolve. His hand, honed by years of relentless practice, tightened around the hilt of his katana, its familiar weight a reassuring presence against the threat.

The golem roared, a tremor-inducing sound that rattled the very mountainside. Its massive fist swung down, aimed to crush Momotaro into oblivion. But the Sword Saint moved with an inhuman grace, a blur of black suit and silver steel. His katana sang through the air, leaving a clean, shimmering cut across the golem's arm before it could even touch him. Shards of stone rained down, a cut was easily made as if the stone was just a soft flesh.

Undeterred, the golem roared again, its fury mounting. It lashed out with its other fist, but Momotaro danced around its lumbering form, his movements a mesmerizing display of precision and fluidity.

Two blinding flashes of steel erupted from Momotaro's katana. The golem's arm and torso cleaved apart, tumbling into a heap of shattered rock. But in a heartbeat, magical energy pulsed from within the fragments, knitting them back together with unnatural speed. Momotaro, ever-observant, had anticipated this. Years of honed senses, forged in countless battles and near-death experiences, had prepared him for such anomalies.

He inhaled deeply, focusing his mind. The air crackled with anticipation as his blade blurred, unleashing a whirlwind of slashes. The golem, once a monolithic threat, now lay scattered in over a hundred pieces, its magical reassembly halted. The path upwards was clear.

With renewed urgency, Momotaro ascended the moonlit stairway, the shrine beckoning him closer. The faint magical signature he had detected intensified, drawing him towards its source. As he reached the summit, a dark figure materialized from wisps of dissipating smoke, solidifying into a human form.

Surprised by Momotaro's presence, the figure recoiled, its voice a distorted whisper that defied gender identification. "How did you find me?" it rasped, its tone laced with suspicion.

"Let's just say I have a knack for seeing what others miss, and I caught sight of you flying towards this place," Momotaro replied, his tone firm as he unsheathed his katana.

"Now, surrender and come back with me," he commanded, his demeanor growing colder as he readied himself for combat.

"I can't do that," the dark figure responded, conjuring an energy blade from its hand.

"Then you leave me no choice," Momotaro declared, assuming a defensive stance. "Don't hold it against me if things turn deadly; it's hard for me to hold back in this darkness," he warned before their blades clashed in a flurry of movement.

Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!

The metallic clash of blades and crackle of energy filled the moonlit shrine as they exchanged blows, the dark figure eventually unleashing a powerful blast that sent them both reeling.

Breathless and weary, the dark mist shrouding the figure dissipated, revealing a feminine form clad in black attire and a mask with a visor.

"You've given me no choice either," she stated, her eyes gleaming blue through the visor as she charged towards Momotaro, despite her apparent inferiority in skill.

"Interesting…" Momotaro remarked, intrigued by her audacity to initiate an attack in a duel against him.

Another flurry of blades rang out in a deadly dance of life and death, their movements swift and precise, slicing through the falling leaves, cleaving torii gates, and etching the stone floor with their fierce exchanges.

Their movements were fluid, and it seemed that they were evenly matched. Yet, initially, the woman in black appeared weaker than Momotaro in terms of skill. However, as the duel progressed, she seemed to grow accustomed to the rhythm and nuances of Momotaro's swordsmanship.

In fact, she began to demonstrate a better understanding of Momotaro's techniques, almost as if she had been teached by Momotaro himself.

"You! How is this possible?" Momotaro exclaimed, increasing his speed as he abandoned restraint, fully immersing himself in the exhilarating battle.

"Interesting indeed! HAHAHA! You're good!" he laughed, excitement replacing his earlier calm demeanor.

This infiltrator had surprised him, mirroring his own swordsmanship with uncanny precision—a style he had never taught anyone, designed for combat against supernatural foes like Oni and demons. Yet, here was his opponent, matching him move for move as if they shared his decades of experience.

Momotaro continued his relentless assault until his blade finally landed a superficial cut on his opponent's arm. The woman in black cloth quickly retreated, clutching her injured arm and healing it, visibly exhausted.

"It seems... I can learn your skill, but not your physical capabilities," she admitted through a voice distortion device, her voice strained.

Hearing her words, Momotaro smiled. "In all my years, you're the first to mirror my swordsmanship to this degree with mere observation. How about this: return with me, and I'll appeal to my lord to lighten your sentence, after you've served your time. I'll even take you on as my disciple," he offered, his smile genuine at the prospect of mentoring someone who could learn his swordsmanship with such ease.

"I can't do that…" The woman in black replied before leaping upward with all her might. Suddenly, her body transformed into water, cascading down like rain and seeping through the soil, leaving Momotaro baffled by her escape technique.

Though he could detect traces of her magic, Momotaro wasn't a mole and couldn't dig through the ground to pursue her.

"Ugh… I can already picture Odysseus-san's angry face," Momotaro muttered, clutching his head as he anticipated the headache that would come in the morning once Odysseus learned that he had let the intruder escape under his watch.