Anime Crossover: Eating Evil in a Daily World — Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Miko’s New Ability and the Police Encirclement

Miko didn’t need Hyakume to warn her.

Even through the thick, reinforced steel of the vault door, she could feel the suffocating waves of Reiryoku bleeding into the corridor. The air itself was saturated with dense, floating golden particles, glowing so brightly they blurred her vision. She had never stood in the presence of such overwhelming spiritual density. Even the towering, unapproachable Mountain God at the shrine felt utterly insignificant compared to the sheer weight of whatever lay dormant behind this metal barrier.

However…

Miko stared at the dual keyholes embedded in the heavy steel, her brows knitting together. “Is this a mechanical lock?”

Yozora offered a slight nod. He took two steps forward, crouching down to inspect the twin mechanisms. “Yeah. It’s a heavy-duty security lock that requires two keys to be turned simultaneously. Zero electronic components. Purely mechanical.”

Both electronic and mechanical systems had their distinct advantages, but the museum director had clearly made a deliberate choice. He was a careful old-school traditionalist, likely believing that a vault housing ancient, priceless relics should remain entirely severed from modern technology.

“Can you open it?” Miko asked, shifting her weight. “Don’t you know how to pick locks?”

Yozora turned his head, flashing a dry, wry smile. “I’m an exorcist, not a master thief. I can pick a standard residential anti-theft door just fine. But for a vault-grade mechanical lock of this caliber? I could try, but it would take me at least four or five hours.”

A flicker of genuine anxiety pierced Miko’s golden eyes. “We don’t have that kind of time. What if… we retreat and come back next time?”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Yozora’s voice remained perfectly flat, devoid of a single trace of panic. “We tripped the outer perimeter alarm. Onimaru Kunitsuna will be relocated the second the sun comes up. This is a legendary national treasure passed down through Japanese history. If it vanishes, the Mayor of Kyoto himself wouldn’t be able to keep his head attached to his neck.”

“Then what do we do?”

Miko watched the seconds bleed away in her mind. The invisible clock was ticking, and their window of opportunity was rapidly slamming shut.

Yozora stayed silent for a few beats, his eyes tracing the metal frame. “Have Hyakume focus. See if her vision can penetrate the outer steel casing to map the internal structure of the tumblers. If she can see it, tell me what it looks like.”

“She can do that…?” Miko blinked, momentarily at a loss.

She instinctively turned to ask the towering entity behind her, but Yozora’s past lessons echoed in her mind: She is Hyakume, and Hyakume is her. Having consumed enough evil spirits to manifest thirteen eyes, her Soul Manifestation possessed more than enough raw power. But raw power was a blunt instrument. The true challenge lay in shaping that internal energy into a tangible, specialized Reiryoku.

Miko suddenly recalled the late-night analysis Rio had shared after awakening as a Psychic.

A Soul Manifestation was a direct reflection of the user’s inner self. Whether it was Hyakume or Rio’s own Hone-Onna, their initial forms and abilities were anchored to their psychological state at the exact moment of awakening. But Rio had proposed a secondary theory: the evolution didn’t stop at birth. As long as the entity devoured enough evil spirits to fuel its growth, the Psychic’s own imagination and willpower could actively unlock entirely new abilities.

It was time to put Rio’s theory to the test.

Miko exhaled a long, shaky breath, anchoring her entire consciousness onto the twin keyholes.

In that fraction of a second, the world plunged into absolute silence. The flow of time seemed to freeze. The dense golden particles suspended in the air slowly dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the cold steel of the lock in her isolated field of vision.

Behind her, Hyakume slowly closed her left eye, hiding the terrifying gaze of the Slaughter Demon. Within her empty, pitch-black right socket, a new eye bloomed—identical to Miko’s own, shimmering with a faint, ethereal golden light.

“Open your eyes…” Miko whispered, biting down on her lower lip. “Hyakume!”

At her command, the golden right eye fully materialized, casting a brilliant, piercing glow across the dim corridor.

“I see it,” Hyakume said. Her voice retained its signature cold, airy cadence, but her gaze had completely stripped away the vault’s outer casing, revealing the complex, interlocking brass pins and springs hidden within.

Miko let out a heavy sigh of relief, but a glaring logistical flaw immediately crashed into her thoughts.

Hyakume could see the lock, yes. But verbal communication had severe limits. Miko didn’t know the first thing about lock-picking, which meant Hyakume—as an extension of her own soul—lacked the technical vocabulary to describe the mechanism properly. How was Yozora supposed to crack a master-class vault based on the vague descriptions of an amateur?

A completely absurd idea hijacked Miko’s brain.

She looked up at the towering spirit. “The vision from all your eyes is interconnected, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then can you pop one out and stick it onto Yozora? That way he can just see the internal structure himself.”

Hyakume slowly turned her head, staring at Miko as if she had just suggested eating dirt. “I am your Soul Manifestation. Even if I were to physically merge with a human, you are the only compatible host., he doesn’t have any vacant sockets on his body. Where exactly do you expect me to put it? Up his nose?”

Miko opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn’t even argue. Arguing with Hyakume was literally arguing with her own subconscious, which meant she had just roasted herself for having a stupid idea.

“However…” Hyakume’s tone shifted, her golden eye narrowing. “If I were to attach my eye to another spiritual body, establishing a shared visual link would be entirely possible.”

Miko’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

Both human and spirit turned their heads in perfect synchronization, staring directly at the boy standing beside them.

“Ghost Hand,” they said in unison.

“Oh. Took you long enough,” Yozora said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Come out.”

At his casual command, the Pale Ghost Hand materialized in the dead air, its grotesque, elongated fingers twitching.

“Shrink down.”

Hearing the order, the Pale Ghost Hand immediately raised its middle finger. It wasn’t an obscene gesture—it simply used the longest digit as a makeshift head, bending it forward twice in an eager nod before rapidly compressing itself down to the size of a standard human arm.

Miko watched the display, her voice flat. “You knew it could do that?”

“Obviously,” Yozora replied, not bothering to look back. “This is its actual, original size. I just keep it massively inflated during combat because it’s the most efficient volume for crushing evil spirits without sacrificing agility.”

Miko let out an exasperated sigh. It was exactly as she suspected. Yozora had known from the very beginning that Hyakume had the capacity for clairvoyance and visual-sharing. He just refused to spoon-feed her the answer. Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. He wasn’t just using her as a radar; he was actively forcing her to stretch her imagination to survive in his unhinged world.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Hyakume reached down, casually digging a glowing eye out of her own wrist, and slapped it directly onto the back of the Pale Ghost Hand.

The severed limb shuddered. Experiencing the sensation of sight for the very first time, the Ghost Hand seemed to vibrate with sheer ecstasy, doing a bizarre, floating little jig in the air.

“Cut the crap and pick the lock,” Yozora snapped.

The Ghost Hand instantly froze. Its fingers drooped downward like the ears of a scolded puppy. The middle finger tapped a quick apology before the pale palm floated forward, pressing flush against the cold steel.

Two streams of viscous, pitch-black mist extruded from the fingertips, solidifying into dense, needle-like probes that slithered directly into the left and right keyholes.

Miko watched, entirely mesmerized. She had assumed Yozora would summon two separate hands to physically hold lockpicks made of compressed energy. Using the mist itself as a fluid, shape-shifting skeleton key? Her imagination really was too rigid.

Then again, no sane person could ever compare to Yozora. This was the same lunatic who had actively tried to eat a terrifying ghost the moment his Yin-Yang Eyes awakened—and actually succeeded.

Meanwhile, tearing through the neon-lit streets of Kyoto.

“Drive faster!”

Yagami Soichiro gripped the passenger-side handle of the police cruiser, his knuckles turning white. His square jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. A heavy, suffocating dread pooled in his stomach.

The Kyoto Municipal Museum had been brazenly breached.

In his decades of criminal investigation, Soichiro had never encountered a suspect this arrogant. Coveting a national treasure like Onimaru Kunitsuna was one thing, but to simply walk into a fortress without an extraction plan? The Metropolitan Police Department had already cordoned off every surrounding block. It was a flawless, inescapable net.

Yet, the ominous premonition clawing at his chest refused to fade.

The security footage had confirmed his worst fear: one of the intruders wore the exact same attire as the phantom he had encountered at the Kyoto Municipal Kindergarten. If this truly was the criminal code-named “Mask,” and he had brought a partner…

Soichiro’s mind flashed back to the towering, unnaturally pale woman in the white dress, her terrifying aura freezing the blood in his veins. His bushy eyebrows furrowed deeply behind his square-framed glasses.

Making a grim decision, Soichiro unclipped his radio.

“Riot Squad, full deployment. Lethal force authorized.” He paused, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “Led by… Akoya Seishu.”

Static crackled. “Understood, Chief Yagami.”

Soichiro let his head fall back against the headrest, watching the blurred city lights streak past the window. He hated this.

Akoya Seishu was the undisputed apex predator of the Japanese police force. Standing at 191 centimeters and weighing a dense 114 kilograms, the man was a walking, breathing tank. Combining his monstrous physical specs with an unrestricted, lethal variant of standard police combat techniques, Akoya was an executioner hiding behind a badge.

Rumors constantly swirled that Akoya hunted down suspects in his spare time, dispensing brutal vigilante justice that left criminals crippled or dead. But the higher-ups protected him, burying the evidence because they needed his sheer violence. Soichiro despised him. To him, Akoya’s twisted brand of justice was vastly more dangerous than anything “Mask” had done. At least Mask had only killed armed, unstable kidnappers to protect innocent children. Akoya viewed a petty thief and a serial killer through the exact same bloody lens.

If this didn’t involve a legendary artifact, Soichiro would never have unleashed a monster like Akoya.

Back inside the museum vault corridor.

“Time’s up.”

Rio’s calculated seven-minute window had officially slammed shut. Miko’s palms grew slick with cold sweat. The police could breach the main hall at any second.

“You stay here.”

Yozora reached out, gently taking Miko’s hand before patting the top of her head, his touch lingering just long enough to send a warm flush across her cheeks.

She didn’t pull away, though she muttered a soft complaint. “Honestly, treating me like a kid…” She looked up, her golden eyes catching his. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry.” Yozora offered a relaxed, dangerous smile. He turned his back, waving a hand lazily as he strolled toward the end of the corridor. “Ordinary cops aren’t even on my radar.”

Watching his retreating figure disappear into the shadows, Miko shook her head, a helpless smile tugging at her lips. “He really is completely shameless.”

The moment Yozora stepped out of the corridor and into the sprawling expanse of the main exhibition hall, the heavy thud of tactical boots echoed through the building. The sharp, metallic clatter of assault rifles being racked filled the air.

Riot Squad, huh…

Yozora wasn’t surprised. He was wearing the exact same outfit as last time. If Soichiro had sent in standard beat cops with revolvers and soft vests, it would have been an insult to his intelligence.

Seconds later, the heavy oak doors of the main hall burst open.

Dozens of heavily armored SWAT officers flooded the room from three different entrances, their riot shields locking into a phalanx. Laser sights cut through the dim lighting, painting Yozora’s chest with a dozen red dots.

“Don’t move! Put your hands where we can see them!”

Facing the overwhelming wall of tactical gear and loaded weapons, Yozora merely tilted his head, his voice carrying effortlessly across the vast room. “Is your Chief Yagami hiding outside this time?”

“I am right here.”

The wall of shields parted. Yagami Soichiro stepped forward, a heavy Kevlar vest strapped over his dress shirt.

A man of his rank had absolutely no business being on the front lines of a breach, but Soichiro couldn’t shake the dread. He needed to see this with his own eyes. He needed to know if the terrifying woman from the kindergarten was just a hypnotic hallucination, or if the world was truly hiding monsters in the dark.

Soichiro’s eyes immediately darted toward the reinforced glass display case in the center of the room. Seeing the blade still resting securely on its velvet pedestal, a visible wave of relief washed over his rigid posture.

Yozora caught the micro-expression instantly. Interesting.

Soichiro genuinely didn’t know the sword in the case was a cheap replica. If the museum director was faking this level of security for a decoy, he was a phenomenal actor. But why go through the trouble?

“It really is you,” Soichiro said, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative gravel as he locked eyes with the masked boy. “Second time we’ve crossed paths. You’ve caused quite the mess tonight.”

The absolute stillness of the suspect confirmed it. No ordinary human could stare down a dozen loaded assault rifles without their heart rate spiking.

“Chief Yagami. A pleasure,” Yozora replied, his tone as casual as if they were ordering coffee. “I told you back at the kindergarten that I could slaughter your men without taking a single step. This time…”

Soichiro braced himself. He had brought the elite. They were armed to the teeth. There was no way this arrogant kid could walk out of here alive.

“…I only need five seconds to kill every single person in this room.”