The Thunder God’s Weapon

The battlefield was still smoldering from the aftermath of the lightning strike. The once imposing figure of Azamuku lay in a charred heap, steam rising from his burned flesh. The intense power of the lightning had left a gaping crater in the ground, its force unmistakable. But at the far end of the forest, something else was stirring.

Mikazuchi, a seasoned demon hunter, stood among the trees, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the distant column of smoke. He had sensed the storm gathering, felt the unmistakable charge of lightning chakra, and knew immediately what had just transpired. The weapon that had summoned such a cataclysmic strike was none other than Oṣè, the mythical axe of the Yoruba god of thunder, war, and fire. Mikazuchi clenched his fists in anger, a vein throbbing in his temple.

Oṣè wasn't just any weapon. It was the divine instrument of Shango, a god whose very essence was intertwined with the elements of lightning and fire. The axe was said to hold the power to channel and unleash these forces, but wielding it required not just strength, but a deep understanding and mastery of lightning chakra—something Mikazuchi had spent years honing. But there was only one problem: Mikazuchi had not brought Oṣè with him to the island.

The realization hit him like a bolt of his own lightning. There was only one person who could have managed to summon the axe in his absence: Kenji. Mikazuchi's teeth ground together in frustration, a mix of anger and reluctant admiration bubbling up inside him. Kenji, the sneaky bastard, had somehow managed to summon Oṣè without any training or the ability to use lightning chakra. It was both reckless and impressive, but Mikazuchi couldn't ignore the fact that Kenji's actions had depleted the charge he'd been saving for a long time.

With a scowl, Mikazuchi pulled out a small Bluetooth earbud and placed it in his ear. "Kenji," he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he connected the call, "you sneaky bastard."

On the other end, Kenji's voice crackled through the connection, calm as ever. "Mikazuchi, you saw that? Pretty impressive, right?"

"Impressive?" Mikazuchi spat, his frustration boiling over. "Do you have any idea how long it took to build up that charge? You could have blown yourself to pieces, let alone the rest of the hunters! What the hell were you thinking?"

Kenji's laughter echoed in his ear, only serving to irritate Mikazuchi further. "Relax, Mikazuchi. It worked, didn't it? Azamuku got fried."

Mikazuchi shook his head, his free hand extending towards the direction of Oṣè. "That's not the point. You're messing with forces you don't understand. The only reason you're still alive is pure luck." He tightened his grip, feeling the familiar pull of the weapon as it responded to his command. The axe, embedded deep within the charred ground, shuddered before ripping free, hurtling through the air towards its true master.

As Oṣè flew across the battlefield, Mikazuchi's sharp eyes caught movement from the corner of his vision. He turned, just in time to see Azamuku's body twitch. The demon, battered and broken, began to stir. Mikazuchi's breath caught in his throat. Azamuku should have been dead, but it seemed the demon was far from finished.

Azamuku, now barely a shadow of his former self, slowly pulled himself up, his body still crackling with residual energy from the lightning strike. His eyes, once filled with malice and power, were now dim, his movements sluggish. But there was still a spark of life left in him—enough to escape.

"Kenji," Mikazuchi hissed, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Azamuku's still alive."

"What?" Kenji's tone shifted, the humor gone. "But the lightning—"

"Wasn't enough," Mikazuchi interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he watched Azamuku begin to weave a spell with what little energy he had left. "He's casting something."

Before Kenji could respond, Azamuku's lips began to move, though no sound escaped them. The demon's hands traced intricate patterns in the air, his movements slow but deliberate. Mikazuchi recognized the signs of a desperate escape spell, a last-ditch effort to flee before his life was snuffed out completely.

Mikazuchi cursed under his breath. He wasn't close enough to stop it. As much as he wanted to rush forward and finish the job, he knew it was too late. Oṣè reached his hand, the cool metal of the axe's handle fitting perfectly into his grip. But as he prepared to move, a sudden flash of light surrounded Azamuku, and in the blink of an eye, the demon vanished, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and the faint scent of burnt ozone.

"Azamuku escaped," Mikazuchi growled, gripping Oṣè tightly as he stared at the spot where the demon had stood. "He's weak, but he's still out there."

"Damn it," Kenji muttered on the other end, frustration clear in his voice. "We'll have to find him before he recovers."

Mikazuchi didn't respond immediately, his mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. Oṣè, the weapon of the gods, had been used in a reckless gamble that had paid off—barely. And now, a dangerous demon was on the loose, weakened but alive. It was a mess, and Mikazuchi knew they would need to clean it up, fast.

"Kenji," Mikazuchi finally said, his voice calm but firm, "we're not done here. You're going to explain exactly how you pulled this off, and then we're going to hunt Azamuku down. No more games."

Kenji's voice came through the earbud, a hint of resignation in his tone. "Understood. Let's finish this."

As Mikazuchi lowered the earbud, he took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of Oṣè in his hand. The weapon thrummed with energy, a reminder of the power it held and the responsibility that came with it. He turned his gaze back to the scorched forest, determination hardening his resolve.

Azamuku might have escaped, but Mikazuchi would make sure he didn't get far. The hunt was far from over.