"You want dead, do does that an I must die?"
Soma gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, leaning against the cold, narrow walls of the mountain passage. He kept his gaze lowered, his voice a low rasp.
"There's no such logic."
The only answer he received was Furukawa Hiroshi stepping forward with his blade drawn.
No one here intended to reason with a demon.
There was no reasoning with demons.
If there was any "logic" in this world, it was only one thing—
To sever a demon's neck with a Nichirin Sword and end its sinful existence.
That was the only truth the Demon Slayer Corps recognized.
Because the cave was too narrow for coordinated attacks, Furukawa Hiroshi—the leader of the group—took the lead.
His footsteps echoed clearly against the stone floor as he advanced.
Soma held his sword and slowly stepped backward, watching them.
"My existence isn't the sa as other demons," he said quietly.
No one answered him.
The silence of the swordsn was colder than steel.
Furukawa Hiroshi continued forward step by step, blade raised. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, locked onto the demon with unrelenting focus.
Suddenly, Soma let out a faint laugh.
From the mont he beca a demon, he had never placed any hope in the Demon Slayer Corps. This was rely a small test.
And the result…
Exactly what he expected.
Pointless.
"Do you know how your teammate died earlier?"
His voice dropped lower.
At the sa ti, his body lowered slightly. The sword in his hand tightened, his center of gravity sinking as his knees bent.
A perfect iaijutsu stance.
"He kept begging ," Soma said calmly, each word cutting deep. "He said he didn't want to die. He said he wanted to keep living."
His eyes lowered.
"But I still killed him."
"My blade went up through his chin… pierced through the bone… and out the top of his head."
"He died miserably."
"He said… it hurt."
"He said he missed his family."
"He missed his mother."
"And he missed all of you… his comrades."
Soma paused, as if recalling the mont.
Furukawa Hiroshi had been advancing calmly until now.
But his face began to twist.
Flas ignited within his eyes.
The calm composure shattered under the weight of fury, transforming into blazing rage.
"KILL!"
The roar tore from his chest like sothing ripping free from his lungs, as if he intended to pour every ounce of hatred into his blade.
"Fla Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!"
In that instant, Furukawa Hiroshi moved.
His Nichirin Sword swept downward like a falling teor, carrying scorching air with it as it descended toward the demon.
The blade hadn't even arrived yet, but the burning heat had already surged forward like fire itself.
Soma remained in his draw-stance. Facing this strike, he did not intend to dodge. He drew his own blade—a strike fueled by his own built-up montum—and slashed forward with grim resolve.
"Hiten Mitsurugi Style—Draw Slash."
The strike was blindingly fast, far exceeding the ability of the human eye to track.
The two figures collided violently in the narrow tunnel and instantly crossed paths. Two arcs of sword-light flashed across each other's necks in the exact sa heartbeat.
Both blades found their mark.
The sharp edges sliced through flesh, and warm blood began to coat the steel.
After the clash, their bodies separated almost instantly.
Soma's figure moved forward before dropping to one knee on the ground.
A cut marked his neck, blood slowly flowing from the wound.
At the sa ti—
Furukawa Hiroshi stood facing away from the demon.
He too fell to one knee.
A thin line appeared across his neck. But no blood flowed.
Both n had aid for the other's neck.
Neither had defended themselves.
Both had gambled everything on a single strike.
It was a contest of speed.
Whoever struck first would live.
Whoever was slower… would die.
"The Captain won!"
Seeing the demon kneeling close by, the remaining three swordsn couldn't help but shout in relief.
Blood poured from the demon's neck as he lost the strength to support himself.
His body tilted forward—
—and collapsed to the ground without another movent.
Another swordsman who had been tending to the fallen Ryota rushed over as well, excitent burning in his eyes.
"Captain …"
One of them called out cautiously, concern creeping into his voice.
Furukawa Hiroshi seed to hear the call behind him. He tried to turn his head—
—but with a wet shk, his head slid cleanly off his neck.
It dropped to the ground.
From the severed stump, a torrent of crimson blood erupted, spraying across the dim tunnel until the entire cave seed drowned in red.
For a brief second, the remaining swordsn froze.
Then grief and rage drowned out their reason.
Two of them rushed forward almost instinctively, running toward their fallen leader.
But as they passed the demon lying motionless on the ground—
The corpse suddenly moved.
Soma shot upright in an instant.
The Nichirin Sword that had never left his hand drove forward in a vicious thrust straight into one swordsman's back.
The blade pierced through him as easily as tofu, punching straight through the man's heart.
The other swordsman recoiled in shock—
—but Soma was already upon him.
His free hand shot out and seized the man by the throat.
The swordsman drove his blade into Soma's abdon in desperation—
But Soma didn't even flinch.
His fingers tightened.
Crack.
The sound of bone shattering echoed through the tunnel.
In the span of a heartbeat, two more n were dead.
Soma ripped the blade free from the first corpse and lunged toward the final swordsman who still held his weapon.
His sword ca crashing down from above.
The man had finally regained his senses and raised his blade to block, grief twisting his face.
"You damned demon—!"
Steel collided with steel, sparks bursting outward.
The mont the strike was stopped, Soma's feet hit the ground.
Without hesitation, he drove his leg forward.
His kick slamd brutally into the swordsman's lower abdon.
The sickening impact crushed the man's most vulnerable spot.
The swordsman's face twisted instantly in agony, his grip on the sword faltering.
Soma seized the opening.
His leg swept out again, smashing into the man's thigh.
Already crippled by the devastating blow to his most vulnerable spot, the swordsman lost his balance and collapsed toward the ground.
At the sa ti, Soma continued moving forward without slowing. His blade reversed in his hand, the edge flashing across the man's throat.
Shhk.
The sword sliced cleanly through the neck.
The man's tortured expression froze for an instant—then the pain vanished along with his life.
By now, Soma's entire body was soaked in blood.
His clothes clung tightly to him, heavy with thick crimson that dripped steadily to the ground.
It was impossible to tell which blood belonged to him and which belonged to the others.
The wound on his neck no longer sprayed blood, but it continued to seep slowly.
Two Nichirin swords were still lodged deep in his chest.
At the far end of the cave, the final surviving swordsman—the one who had earlier stayed behind to guard their fallen comrade and who had already lost his own blade—had witnessed everything.
Without a word, he turned and ran.
He sprinted toward the cave entrance—toward the sunlight pouring in from outside. Toward the place demons feared most.
Soma silently placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and gave chase.
Just as the man was about to cross the threshold and step into the light—
A blade descended.
The wind of the strike arrived first.
The sword followed imdiately after.
The blade plunged through the man's back, piercing straight through his heart.
His fleeing steps faltered instantly.
He stumbled forward and collapsed onto the ground.
His trembling hand stretched desperately toward the sunlight just outside the cave—only a few inches away.
But in the end, his fingers fell limply to the ground.
Soma stopped at the edge of the cave's shadow.
He slowly lowered his sword.
Thick blood dripped from the tip, splattering onto the stone and staining the ground dark red.
From the mont he crossed blades with Furukawa Hiroshi…
to pretending to be killed…
to suddenly rising and slaughtering two n…
to pressing the attack and killing another…
to the final strike that pierced the fleeing swordsman's heart—
All of it had happened in a matter of seconds.
He stood inside the cave, unable to step forward.
One hand pressed against his neck.
Blood still seeped from the wound, though it had begun to slowly knit itself together.
The slash had torn through the flesh of his throat and severed most of his windpipe.
More than half of his neck had nearly been cut apart.
If he were human, he would have died from that single strike long ago.
But demons were different.
As long as the neck was not completely severed, they would not die.
That was one of the most terrifying things about them.
Even so—
The pain of his neck nearly being cut apart.
The pain of swords piercing his chest.
The pain of losing an arm.
The pain of having his thigh severed.
How could it not hurt?
Yet Soma only stood there in silence, gripping his sword tightly.
In the darkness of the cave, he stared toward the sunlight outside—the place he feared.
Outside the cave, the swordsman who had remained behind was still staring toward the entrance.
He had just watched his final companion die before his eyes.
And there—
Standing in the darkness—
He saw them.
A pair of eyes.
Crimson.
Cold.
Watching him from the shadows.
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