Chapter Hundred Forty-Six

Master of Mists

 

 

The elaborate decorum and splendor of Morokata's mansion didn't evoke any awe in Nekohiko now. He hardly noticed where they went and how beautiful were their surroundings. If anything, they annoyed him because it was harder to see what mattered most in these halls of gold, jewels, and shimmering dew drops. The tall arches had misty-veiled curtains hanging from them, further obstructing the view.

The place was like a maze. Danger could creep very near to them without their knowing.

"Stop, this is a trap," Nekohiko told Abihiko who had strung Nekohiko's arm around his shoulders for the ease of carrying him.

He was rushing, desperation loud in his features and motions as Abihiko cast his gaze here, there -- searching each shadow for the sign of menace.

"He wants you to hurry and make mistakes," Nekohiko repeated.

He thought about it clearly, yes. But Aomi's screams in the background chilled him through, as well. He wasn't immune to emotional blackmail. His heart also ached at the thought of what caused the little girl to shriek so ear-splittingly.

And they were close to her now. She had to be just beyond the corner. Or the next one.

Had to.

The screams couldn't have come from all the places at once.

Abihiko was the first to realize. He halted, his brow creased with resentment.

"He is toying with us. It is another of his illusions, isn't it?"

From behind them, Okinaga's steady footsteps came as the man surveyed the perimeter, also looking pale with shock at the screams that echoed all through the golden halls. Kotone and Haehime were the only ones who seemed unfazed by the distraction, though the two Priestesses also looked wary.

"The air here tastes... wrong," Haehime mused, her eyes lifting to the softly-glowing ceiling. "This place is really marshy, isn't it? Like a swamp. In the middle of the busy city."

"Mn-mn." Kotone also came closer, her expression cautious. "The only thing missing is the mists and fogs the marshes are known for. Which is odd. Morokata is famous for his powers over the mists. Why isn't he using them yet?"

Indeed, why.

A tingling chill rushed up Nekohiko's spine moments before he sensed the attack. He and Abihiko both swung around, facing whoever sent the whooshing hit their way -- but they didn't have to.

This wasn't so much an attack as it was a gust of perfumed wind that slashed through the hall as though in a greeting. All the beautiful curtains rippled and swayed, Kotone and Haehime's long hair and robes flapping in the gusts. In the breeze that smelled of flowers, gentle pink petals swirled like snow.

A charming picture, surely. Nekohiko remembered that House Hisome's greetings had always been theatrical. Both with Takarashi's greetings as well as with Morokata's. How else would the guests know the owner paid them his attention?

"Welcome, welcome... So many illustrious visitors coming to see us here tonight?" Morokata's sweet voice chimed from the side corridor.

He walked through the doors, one hand elegantly held behind his back, one -- busy breezing himself with a small round paper fan. On his face -- a hospitable smile, his tone as melodious as ever.

Gone were the bitterness and the vague displeasure he'd held while abusing Aomi. A mere hour ago, he'd been so distraught by Hibiki's fate. Now, that had been taken under control.

Nekohiko still wondered how well Morokata could suppress his negative emotions about all his plans and his most beloved ally being wrecked like this. He might be a good actor, but what would he be in the face of some of the most powerful Binders, coming to ruin him together?

So far, he maintained his attitude perfectly.

"Forgive me, masters and mistresses, for not inviting you to a feast in these humble halls. But you didn't notify me you would come, and thus, I am caught so unprepared, ah."

"Forgive us for barging in," Okinaga said with a stiff nod. "But there is a spell array carved on the body of my Ward, and it seems to belong to House Hisome. Also... Young Mistress Aomi's whereabouts are suspicious. All our spells point here. Do not mistake our visitation as anything other than to take her back and return to her family."

"Why so ceremonious, my Lord Hira?" Morokata tilted his chin, performing genuine concern. He even stopped fanning himself for one damn second. He spread his arm to the shimmering halls of his home. "Please, stay. I am a good host. Dear Abiko and his husband are as welcome here as Aomi and Kataji are. One big family. Visiting. After all, both Aomi and Kataji seem to enjoy it here. Why not the rest of you, mmm?"

Nekohiko and Abihiko kept their distance, watching him gravely. Abihiko's gaze also scanned the corners, expecting several ambushes while Morokata was distracting them front and center. This didn't escape Morokata's attention.

"Looking for someone specific? I am right here, Dear Abiko. Most people never look at anything but me, anyway, ha-ha! Your eyes may want to rest a bit on something appealing for once, your husband's new... quite questionable face."

This was the first time Nekohiko and Abihiko meet him upfront after Hibiki's death. Nekohiko had no idea how Morokata managed to not snarl at them in fury, hiding it all behind his well-trained smiles, but he felt it:

The murderous intent wafting off Morokata like a freezing wind high in the snow-ridden mountains. Even his obvious insults could not compare to the deadly hatred directed at them.

Pure undiluted resentment.

Nekohiko trailed his eyes down the despicable face to the clothes Morokata was wearing now. He had shed off his "Kataji" mask and with it -- the Hira garments he had worn to pass off as Kataji. Yet he hadn't changed into his Hisome colors either.

He wore white. A full-white outfit, but not pure-white like snow or the clouds of the morning sky. The white he had chosen to dress in tonight had a sickened feel to it. Pale, spectral, cadaverous...

A white very reminiscent of the House Utsuro signature color.

House Utsuro, Nekohiko remembered. The last of Morokata's would-be allies and people Morokata could manipulate to his advantage. Where was Sakai now? Was he here?

Nekohiko glanced about the place, wary of the hidden presences. Especially of the Lord of Utsuro. They had not yet met Sakai on the battlefield. Nobody had.

Ever.

The Utsuro Lords had never needed to fight, period. Nekohiko didn't even want to think what it would entail if Sakai did.

"Where is my sister?" Abihiko cut through Morokata's bullshit. He raised his voice, calling into the echoing shadows of the halls. "Aomi! AOMI, we are here!"

Morokata cringed as though hurt by the volume of Abihiko's voice.

"Why yell? Ask, and I will guide her to you, my Dear Guest."

With a flourish, he gestured behind himself -- to the small group of people emerging from the shadows of the corridor. Nothing menacing in their walk or regard -- just servants, coming to usher someone else out into the grand hall. Nekohiko tensed up as all the Hisome maids and server boys escorted Kataji and Aomi here. Both of them.

Neither of the two Abi children looked like they didn't belong here or didn't like being here.

Both seemed fine.

But how much of their appearance was a stage play for the sake of the audience?

Kataji led Aomi forward -- the girl made up, her clothes and hair straightened from over the mess they'd been after Morokata had abused her in Okinaga's mansion. Not a trace of his treatment was left on her now. The girl looked as impeccable as before, and even her face wore no marks of tears that had flowed so freely down her cheeks earlier.

...And that only made it feel more abhorrent than ever.

Aomi? Forgetting her abuser and captor this easily? Something wasn't right about the girl.

Nekohiko knew what, without guessing.

Kataji.

It was Kataji who held Aomi's elbow tightly in his hand. The young man's face had a frightened, agitated look on it as he peered at his brother in the center of the room. Was Kataji remembering the awful scene that had passed between him and Abihiko a day ago in the Emerald Palace? Was he vengeful and petty about it now?

Was he blaming Abihiko and Nekohiko for his own misery and wanted to get back at them?

Probably.

But what did Aomi have to do with that?

Abihiko's bitterness overflowed within seconds of him seeing his brother and sister behind Morokata as though they were both siding with him.

"Good. They're here and they're alive and healthy? Perfect. Now come over, Aomi, Kata. We are going home," he ordered, a fatherly beckoning of his hand directed at Kataji. Implying no rejection or even hesitation.

Kataji's eyes flashed. His temper flared up, too.

The two brothers weren't as different as one might think.

"Like hell we will," Kataji hissed, forgetting all of the manners he was supposed to exhibit. "With you and your scarecrow doll boyfriend?!"

Judging by Morokata's disappointed glance toward the young man, Kataji was a weak link in Morokata's performance of the "welcoming show". The way the young man lost his temper was, indeed, very fast. Morokata didn't even get to gloat or carry on his stage play for long, and already, Kataji ruined it.

Morokata sighed in dejection.

"Kata, you have sided with this scum and hurt your own sister. Just to spite me?" Abihiko asked bitterly. "How low have you fallen. If you have an issue with me -- deal with me! Not with Aomi! Especially not when it is done through someone who molests her to teach me a lesson!"

The anger in his voice clashed in echoes in the giant room. Nekohiko rang with righteous anger, too, although he couldn't speak up without ruining Abihiko's point. Once again, this was a family matter, and he was not welcome to speak.

But it seemed Abihiko's vitriol could do nothing to Kataji whatsoever. Just like Morokata who made huge eyes at the allegation, Kataji let out a confused chuckle.

He gave Aomi beside him a baffled glance, then Morokata.

"Why would I ever molest such a charming young lady? Tsk." Morokata fanned himself as though chasing away a particularly foul smell in the air. "How low of you, to assume that."

"He would never do that," Kataji agreed. The smugness in his tone when he addressed Abihiko while hugging Aomi by the shoulder felt like more of a slap to the face. "Dear Morokata is not such a person."

"You have no clue what kind of person he is," Abihikos said quietly.

Kataji quirked an eyebrow. "And you do? Ha-ha. Aomi was fine. It was all just a slightly morbid joke, to teach her a lesson on how not to meddle in adult people's business. That's all. She likes sneaking around and scheming as though she knows what she's doing. It was time someone taught her what the real adult's world is like and what snakes and scums actually dwell in it."

And while saying all this, Kataji couldn't help but make a pointed glare toward Nekohiko.

Nekohiko was too stunned to even react.

Snakes and scum? Kataji meant him? Seriously?

"Just a joke. She wasn't harmed or anything. She's fine," Kataji repeated, patting Aomi on the back.

The girl seemed dazed, looking straight before her, her eyes blank with an unreadable emotion. If anything, the way both Morokata and Kataji sided her, not letting out of their grasp... it was painful, to imagine she could say anything she wanted in such a disposition.

Nekohiko was not alone thinking that.

"Why are you speaking for her?" Abihiko snapped. "Aomi, talk to us. Say something. Anything." His voice softened, just for her sake. "Are you all right? You look ashen."

...

Slowly, Aomi raised her eyes and fixed them on Abihiko. Then on Nekohiko and all those behind them. Okinaga, Kotone, Haehime -- people who hadn't dared to say a word in the entirety of this frustrating conversation.

But rather than speak, Aomi only nodded silently. And then, she tried to smile. Yet she couldn't.

However much she wanted to act as she had probably been told to act, she just couldn't do it.

Her mouth opened in a desperate scream. Something to Abihiko, like "it's a trap, Eldest Brother!" -- but nothing she could actually scream.

Because, with horror, Nekohiko realized that even though she was dying to speak up, she couldn't voice out anything that she said.

Her voice was gone.

"They took away her voice," he whispered, snapping his fingers around Abihiko's wrist. "The screams we've heard before weren't hers. They used her voice to lure us in--"

"Give her back," Abihiko growled at Morokata. He made a rushing move forward -- to grab Aomi out of Kataji's hands and to harm whoever would stand in his way.

But Morokata was faster.

He blocked Abihiko's path, hiding Aomi and Kataji behind his back like a protective mother. Thinly, he smiled. "It seems our little guesting lady isn't fulfilling her promises. I guess she doesn't care about me showing mercy to either of you, then. Her loss. Unlike her, I never go back on my promises."

Even without voice, Aomi's hands, lashing out at Morokata in the rudest gestures Nekohiko had ever seen -- were quite loud with what she meant to tell him.

Fuck you.

Where had she learned gestures like these?

It was both shameful for a young lady like her to flip them, but also... so, so satisfying to see.

Morokata could only give a blank stare in response.

"We do not give a shit about your mercy!" Abihiko roared, already launching a destructive Utsuro spell at Morokata's face.

Words would always fail them. Words were Morokata's strongest point. Theirs -- was action.

Too bad Abihiko's action had chosen the method that was so easy to dispel by someone very specific. Abihiko was aiming to kill on the spot, which was why he had chosen the most potent spell he had in his arsenal -- his Utsuro bloodline's own spell.

But Abihiko, while natural in Utsuro magic, was simply not trained so well in the method. His spells had a weakness, though not against anyone in the Empire, probably. Abihiko would trample anyone else with his use of Utsuro.

Except for one person. The actual current Lord of Utsuro who commanded all and every one of Utsuro spells and knew exactly how to dispel any of them in a flash.

...

Sakai.

 

 

---

***

 

When had he come here? Nekohiko lurched in shock when Abihiko's Splitting spell that flew at Morokata was diverted off its course. The powerful slicing wave slashed through the silver columns and arches of the hall instead. A thunderous noise erupted in the room as half of the hall's ceiling and walls canted, off-center, large chunks of wood and stone and silver crashing to the floor in the flurry of shimmering dust.

Morokata hardly moved, observing the wreckage in the room with a disinterested scowl. Kataji and Aomi behind him cowered, though, unable to stand such a destructive display of magic.

Perhaps, only Kataji. Nekohiko knew Aomi adored the Binding powers and destruction they brought. No way was the girl so horrified she would cringe away from this. Something else must have scared her--

And then, he saw what.

The uncertainty of where exactly Sakai was in the room also dissipated. The tall, gaunt Utsuro Lord stood right behind the little girl, his long hand wrapped tightly around her torso, pushing her close to his body while his other hand clasped her chin, jerking it up as though to show just how little he cared about her comfort or her life.

She was like a lifeless doll in his arms and he wanted Nekohiko and Abihiko to see that.

...

Nekohiko saw, but... he couldn't think of anything about it.

He had never known the Lord of Utsuro would have any devotions or allyships with anyone. That was simply... not how Lords of Utsuro were! They had never been faithful to anyone, or friendly with anyone. Or... serving anyone.

Lords of Utsuro were called the Lords of Nothing. Because that was what they could have in this world. Nothing.

Why would Sakai side with Morokata, of all people? Why would he choose him and serve him and help him...? This made no sense.

"Lord Sakai," Nekohiko spoke for the very first time. His raspy voice trembled with the barely-suppressed dismay. "What is the meaning of this? Release the Abi girl. She belongs to the Abi family. You have no right to hold her like this."

To threaten her life. To act as though she was his and Morokata's most precious object of blackmail against Abihiko's actions.

Sakai had always been such a calm and apathetic person. He had never spoken that much and had never bothered to show any emotion other than boredom or indifference to anyone around him.

Now, too. Even though he held a young girl in his arms, clearly threatening her life with his Splitting power the moment Abihiko or Nekohiko did something he disliked, he still said nothing.

And showed nothing.

His face was as unmoved as always. Only his eyes watched Abihiko with the sort of a dark amusement to what Abihiko would possibly do next.

It was Morokata who took all the talking on himself.

He flicked some imaginary dust off his shoulder after the last cloud of stone grit and wood matter from the collapsed wall dissolved in the air. He cleared his throat.

"How uncouth. Throwing spells instead of talking. Our Dear Aomi will have to learn the consequences of her breaking her promise to me, while you, my Dear Abiko, will have to learn the consequences of interrupting me while I talk."

"Kata! Are you blind?! They are literally threatening her as we speak!" Abihiko cried to Kataji.

It surprised Nekohiko, honestly.

Abihiko was so devoted to making Kataji see the truth? To convincing Kataji he should not side with those people...

How odd. Kataji was nearly useless to Abihiko or Nekohiko in this fight. He was not a fighter, and definitely not a Binder. What purpose would convincing him do?

It was as if Abihiko hadn't actually meant what he'd said an hour ago. That he would never forgive Kataji for what he'd done to Aomi. Because, even now, all Abihiko cared for was saving his little siblings.

Both of them.

He did not want to fight against Kataji in this battle even when the fight was imminent. Till the last moment, he was committed to sparing Kataji the fate of being grouped with Morokata or Sakai when the fight began.

"I won't harm your brother," Nekohiko whispered to Abihiko. "I promise."

Just to assure Abihiko that no matter what, Nekohiko would do his best not to hurt Kataji, too. Even though Kataji clearly deserved it.

Kataji's expression stirred. Something akin to sincere panic flickered in his eyes when he looked at Aomi squeezed tightly in Sakai's arms.

He loved his sister, too. Nothing he could ignore, however much he trusted these people.

"Morokata..." Kataji began, concerned. "I asked you not to traumatize her. What is going on--"

"Shh." Morokata flicked his sleeve at Kataji and winked at him enigmatically. "Never worry, my friend. Do not you trust me?"

"Of course I do. But..."

"Hiding behind my relatives and behind other Lords?" Abihiko nodded toward the silent Hisome maids and servers who were fanned in a half-circle around Morokata, too. "Behind your lackeys? Are you that afraid to fight your enemies face-to-face? Unlike your good-for-nothing lapdog Hibiki? At least he had enough guts to fight us alone."

...

Morokata's eyes brimmed with cold even though his face showed no movement from his usual refined cheerfulness. But Abihiko got him.

He got him where it hurt. However hard it was to believe in, Morokata did care about Hibiki. Enough that the mere mention of his name made Morokata drop his eyelashes as he breathed in and out, gathering his thoughts.

Then languidly, he stepped forward -- to where Abihiko and Nekohiko stood in the center of the room. He stretched his right arm to the side in such an elegant, idle gesture. From his fingers, his paper fan floated to the floor, stepped on mercilessly by his ornamental boot. But his hand was not empty now that he had no fan in it.

Out of the humid, shadowy air of the room, a dark outline of an object was materializing.

Kagayaki¹輝き (Kagayaki) = "sparkles"., Nekohiko could bet.

The Legendary Weapon of House Hisome. Another type of a fan, albeit not made from paper. This one was metal. Covered with patina, haggard and ugly... A war weapon, not a fancy tool for a pleasant tea-room conversation.

So far, it was closed. Merely a hideous stack of metallic plates, not an actual fan.

"Your Majesty Morokata," Okinaga spoke, belatedly trying to dissuade the situation. "Let us not descend to this level."

Morokata never strayed his gaze off Abihiko. His words, too -- as though nobody else was even in the room.

"I do not need anyone to fight on my behalf, you can safely trust me on that," he replied to Abihiko's previous taunt.

"Trust you? Seriously?"

Abihiko let out a mirthless laugh, shielding Nekohiko with his back. His fingers twitched on Nekohiko's, sending a signal. Because, after all -- Nekohiko was the one who would fight Morokata, not Abihiko.

Nekohiko better be ready with whatever martial arts maneuver Abihiko would do -- so that Nekohiko's lame body would not be under Morokata's direct hit when Nekohiko cast his spell.

I am ready, Nekohiko whispered in his mind, knowing full-well Abihiko would understand even without them exchanging words.

"Well, that's your choice to trust me or not." Morokata snickered. "We all make our choices. You made yours to stay in this room, with me, fighting me. The door is always open, Dear Abiko. You can still leave at any moment--"

"Fuck you," Abihiko cut.

Yes.

Perfect.

Nekohiko's blood boiled with tension so high, he was nearly snapping. Behind him, he sensed the auras of Haehime and Kotone, also poised to attack at any moment. Only Lord Okinaga was hesitating, clearly not sure if he should fight two of the other Great Lords when Abihiko's life was not in imminent danger.

He probably believed they could still talk it out in some way...

Nekohiko assembled the spell formation for the insane burst of Nagare and Hira energy -- enough to overpower whoever would want to dispel it. Not that he had to worry about anyone blocking a spell of his. With his immense power levels...

Who would even dare?

Morokata would not have a single chance.

Abihiko swerved to the side, deftly shifting Nekohiko to keep out of Morokata's immediate range.

But their attempts were moot, all the same. Because while Morokata was much weaker than either of them in both fighting and magical prowess... he had never intended to fight them, per se.

Nobody else on his side needed to fight for him, either.

As though by a command, the servants and maids behind him snapped some small cloth bags, throwing the contents of those bags out in the air. Something... powdery and dark...

Like ashes or soil?

Nekohiko's breath caught in his throat, all of his nerves tingling with the awful premonition of something awful happening--

But he couldn't tell what it was -- the contents of those bags. And why Morokata's face twisted in such a blissful grimace of joy when the fine black powder rose in a cloud above his head like an omen of dread.

...

It was as though he'd just won something?

Seriously, why was he so happy about it? What had been the thing in the bags?

Nekohiko's spell left his fingers with a zap of energy, so powerful it was. A flash of lightning and fire, shining incandescently in the room for a single brief moment.

Abihiko dawdled just a second -- caught off-guard by Morokata's maneuver with the powder from the bags. He was better at it than Nekohiko, though. He dashed backward, to keep the two of them as far as possible from the mysterious cloud of black that slowly settled down and onto Morokata's clothes and hair.

But it was already too late. Because the moment Nekohiko's spell zoomed at Morokata--

--the black powder in the air around him reacted to it.

To the spell. To the aura of the Binder who had cast it.

...

And Nekohiko immediately understood what had made Morokata so happy and why this was an almost automatic victory for him.

"It's the Corrupted Spirit Tree wood chip!" Nekohiko screamed, too late to stop the magical reaction from happening.

He saw it too late.

Even just a needle from the bark of the Corrupted Spirit Tree had hurt Nekohiko and cost him his second leg after Hibiki had stabbed him with it. And now, with the amount of finely-ground powder of the woodchip bearing the same Corrupted energy in it...

The entire space around Morokata flared up -- the reaction of the Corrupted auras so strong when it came in contact with Nekohiko's magic that the whole room shook top to bottom. A blinding flash, and the magic gathered in its center burst, the Nagare lightning inside it splitting into several strands of chain lightnings.

Like a fiery ball of fire, the spell was amplified, and Nekohiko's magic...

It came back to him.

"NO!" Abihiko pushed him out of the way with a powerful blast of his own powers. "NEKO!"

Nekohiko rolled off, flopping to his knees and hands on the floor as he dashed into Kotone, tripping her. The Priestess made an instinctive lurch to defend Nekohiko, too -- so powerful the reaction of the black powder to Nekohiko's magic had been. Even Kotone was in shock.

His pulse pounded his ears, his arms and legs shaking from the insane amounts of energy surging through him. He hadn't been touched by the exploding magic directly, but...

But it had been such a close one!

When Hibiki had stabbed him with the needle of the Corrupted wood -- Nekohiko had become infected with the Corruption. It had spread so fast, Abihiko had needed to Split his entire leg to get rid of it!

If any of this wooden powder touched Nekohiko now...

What would they have to Split away from him to keep his body free of the Corruption?!

Gods--

Abihiko's pale face stared back at Nekohiko, the same horrified question so obvious in his eyes.

The Corrupted tree bark, powdered... Nekohiko couldn't even cast his spells in its vicinity because the Corrupted wood would always react to his magic -- and would try to infect and Corrupt him in response!

In this fight, Nekohiko was essentially... useless?

He couldn't cast if the Corrupted wood powder was anywhere near him?

"Spirits, what foul aura is that?!" Kotone gasped, also watching Morokata in the center of the room as the fire from Nekohiko's spell died out, revealing only Morokata.

Standing there as though he had just won some grand battle. Once and for all.

"That's the Cat Emperor's aura, only twisted into its Demonic stage," Haehime mused out loud. "If it touches him, he will... just go full-Demonic Cat Emperor, I guess?"

...

Okinaga's face was hard to describe, so deadened it became.

"Abihiko--" Okinaga began, reaching out to his Ward Son as though to shield him.

"I am still here, you moron. Or do you think I cannot fight on my own?" Abihiko laughed at Morokata who hadn't moved an inch, only observing the stricken gathering of anyone who opposed him.

But oddly enough, Abihiko's words didn't worry him that much, either.

"Are you sure about that?" Morokata said playfully. He raised his War Fan in a graceful flourish as though preparing to dance with it as his prop. With a loud crack, the fan's metal plates snapped open -- in an enormous weapon with deadly-sharp edges. Fully ready for battle. "You did not forget what title I bear, did you?"

One swift swoosh of his fan -- and all the powder that had settled on him and the floor rose up.

No more a cloud of dry wooden particles. And no more visible.

The particles of the dark, Corrupted dust quickly dissipated into the air -- becoming so sparse, nobody would be able to even see them. Because this was no longer a cloud or a bunch of powder thrown into the air.

No.

Morokata had infused the very air with it. It became a fog, a mist -- of spread-out Corrupted particles any of which could infect Nekohiko upon touch. And take away his will and his cognition and even his ability to not hurt those he cared about, around him.

Morokata was the Lord of the Mists.

How could anyone have forgotten that? The mists were pervasive and hard to stop. The imminent way they crept through the space, affecting everything in their path with their viscous, thick film...

How could one stop the very air they breathed?

Abihiko and Okinaga already began casting in response? Not anything offensive or attacking. Instead, both were desperate to try and cast some shields -- of fire and of stone to put between Nekohiko and Morokata's encroaching mists...

But by doing that instead of preparing for an attack, they both exposed themselves to anyone who could harm them.

They were too busy trying to protect Nekohiko from the mists -- and became vulnerable to any attack Morokata might pull on them in the process.

Exactly as Morokata had planned.

"You thought I could no longer control you, surely," he said to Nekohiko without gracing him with his glance. As though speaking to a doll he didn't care about. "I cannot. But you are still a puppet. Your own powers are the strings, and you are forever tied to them."

...

Run, Nekohiko screamed at himself in his own head.

The room will turn into a death trap for you and anyone inside it!

Once he became a Calamity -- he would not be able to stop himself from doing... hell knew what. He would fight anyone and anything, like a crazed Calamity everyone had once labeled him as.

But his legs were frozen to the ground, his body too weak to move because of the horrible trap this ended up being. If Nekohiko ran, then he would leave Abihiko here with only Okinaga and the two Priestesses against the two Great Lords? Against destructive Sakai and manipulative Morokata?

They had counted on Nekohiko helping them fight. Not abandoning them in the middle of the battle!

"Like I promised. I won't have to fight you all, don't worry," Morokata said with a wink as the area quickly grew more humid and fetid with the scent of the spreading Corruption changing the very air. He trailed his eyes to Nekohiko, with just a quick, mocking bow. "He will fight you for me. Once he turns into the Calamity, good luck fighting him."

...

Nekohiko's heart sunk in his chest as he took his first steps back. Back and away -- to run as fast as possible.

Not from Morokata, even.

From himself. And what he knew he could do if he fell right into Morokata's hands.