They were overwheld and all but defeated. From a distance, it was difficult to see the Miura soldiers, there was only a mass of Uesugi n attacking so invisible enemy.
Gengyo had not fought so hard in a long ti. His lungs ached and each breath ca painfully, but he kept moving. There were n all around, all of them looking for his head – he could take his pick of who died first. He stabbed through a man’s chest plate, puncturing his head. He then offered a side strike to another, slashing open his belly. A third got far too close, and Gengyo gave a knee to his jaw to stagger him. He slamd him in the throat with his handless arm and finished him ssily with several stabs to his stomach.
There were more to co, always more, but his movents were growing more and more crisp. He killed and killed until there was nothing left in front of him. He could not afford to waste even a shred of energy, for he truly did not have much left to give.
They began to fear him, those Uesugi n. He could see it in their eyes. Where they had once ran forth with no regard for their own lives, they now began to back away. Gengyo was alone. He could see no n of his own around him, but of the Uesugi n there were plenty. They had him encircled.
They tried to stab him in the back as he fought a man to his front, but he was far too quick to allow that to happen. When they had first tried, he had cut off a man’s hands without even needing to turn around, kicking away the enemy to his front with a hard kick to the chest.
And now, they would not even dare co forward. A demon, that was what he looked like, all covered in blood, his breath managing to mist in the warm air. They could fight n, but they would not fight a demon.
Gengyo stepped towards them, one side or the other, it did not matter. His legs ached and standing still threatened cramp. His mind was blank. There was no space for thought. A state of pure flow. The only thing in his heart was murder, a truer baptism for his rapier there was hardly any.
The n he walked towards took a step back in fear. As a rabbit learns to fear the fox, they had learned to fear Miura Tadakata. Every life that he took, he could feel his skill returning. The pieces had already been there, he had rely needed to master the fight once more, this ti without a hand. There was no better place to do that on a battlefield, where a single mistake could be perilous.
Techniques from an old temple ca to him like instinct – adapted to his new body. He moved faster than ought to have been possible. He cut through a hole in that encirclent of n, carving up armoured humans like pigs. More ca to fill the gap. He cut through them too. Their swords could no longer touch him. Their movents beca slow and repetitive. His mind had seen that pattern a thousand tis before. It grew older and older the more n he killed.
Slash, slash, slash. The bodies piled up around him. The n quivered. There were stories of legendary warriors that were undefeated in a hundred duels, but never before had they seen a man fight those hundred duels all in one sitting. By now, it was likely even past one hundred. Gengyo had long since crossed the point of no return. He could feel the warm waters of the underworld swimming beneath his feet. If he paused his fight for even a second, then he would drown.
"A monster... He’s a monster!" The n cried, backing away from him. Even the bravest could not bring themselves to face him. It was no longer a question of courage, but of impossibility. They could see no way to defeat him.
A man ca running at Gengyo from behind – the first man in a while. His spittle flew into the air when he opened his mouth wide in a battle cry. His comrades were taking a step back for every step Gengyo took forward. The young Daimyo did not even turn to face his opponent. He stabbed out behind him with the speed of a snake, his eyes lifeless, his movents contemptuous. He made it look easier than rising out of bed in the morning.
The encirclent was finally lifted, and there were allies in sight, n that were fighting almost as hard as Gengyo. Morohira had picked up a second sword, as he often fell to doing, and he terrorized their foes. There were a hundred n left with him, and each of them must have just stepped through a portal from hell, for a more devilish group of n it would be hard to find.
The reinforcents stopped coming. The Miura n were no longer fighters, but miners, digging away at the wall around them. They acknowledged the arrival of their Lord with fresh blood. Finally, they were united in a single battle line. A row of Spartans they were, pushing back their colossal enemy with each step they took forward.
The singers would call it comndable the resistance they put up – a more honourable way to die there was not. But then the villagers would rejoice in shock when they discovered that not only were their attempts valiant, they were effective. Shockingly, those few Miura n were beginning to win.
Kenshin felt a very human shiver creep down his spine. There was sothing so unnatural about it all. He had a feeling that none of this should ever have co to pass. It felt like a taboo to the Gods themselves. "This... What is this?" The Uesugi general breathed. "Who unleashed this monster onto the world?"
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