The night was pitch black—meant to be quiet and foreboding.
Yet the crows circling and crying overhead, the constant rustling of leaves in the wind, and the moonlight that kept flickering as it was swallowed by drifting clouds gave the entire forest an air of unsettled noise.
As if something was going to happen tonight.
Shirou's hand had already shifted to his waist, fingers lightly resting near the hilt of his blade—ready for anything.
His [Reinforcement Magecraft] was rudimentary at best. Even though he trained every day, it was little more than treading water.
He still couldn't reinforce living beings, which meant he couldn't enhance his eyes to improve night vision.
That said, the darkness didn't affect him too much.
Maybe thanks to his natural aptitude for archery, Shirou's vision was sharper than most. Even at night, he could clearly perceive his surroundings.
It was that sharpness that had allowed him to notice something was off when he fought that demon—that something had distorted his sense of sight.
And it was also why he didn't fear traveling at night.
Even without magecraft-enhanced eyes, he could still pick out details most people would miss.
If only I'd gotten there sooner…
As he walked along the narrow path, Shirou was still brooding over the people who'd died in that inn.
He hadn't even known them, but lives were lives. He couldn't just watch that kind of massacre unfold without doing something.
So many of them had died like helpless fish on a cutting board, unable to resist as they were slaughtered.
Shirou couldn't begin to imagine how many more had already fallen to that demon's claws.
He felt angry. Frustrated.
He'd survived—not through strength, but through coincidence. Luck. Timing.
If all the demons in this world were that powerful, then he might not stand a chance against them.
But if it happened again—if he came across that kind of slaughter again—then even if he had no hope, even if it meant his life… Shirou would fight.
Clang!
The sharp sound of metal clashing echoed through the quiet forest, jolting birds from their trees.
Shirou had hoped he could reach the town the old man mentioned without incident.
But deep down, he knew—night belonged to demons and monsters.
If nothing did happen, the story would simply end with: Shirou reached the town at sunrise without issue.
But life was rarely that kind.
There's fighting up ahead.
He didn't hesitate. He wasn't the kind to pretend nothing was happening and keep walking.
---
They're strong…!
Blades clashed with such force that shockwaves rippled through the trees. The impact nearly tore the katana from the young boy's hands.
"Come on! Keep going!"
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Somewhere deep in the forest, steel against steel rang like a storm. Sparks flew with each collision, scattering like fireworks in the dark.
A boy in black, with a large 白 "Destroy" written across his back, fought desperately with a pale-skinned figure that resembled a human—but clearly wasn't.
Because anything that looked human but didn't act human… was a demon.
This one wielded a katana like the boy did, darting around him with unrelenting speed—like rapid-fire bullets, attacking from all angles.
Its arms twisted unnaturally, clearly damaged—but it didn't care.
For a demon, a twisted limb meant nothing. It would heal in the span of a breath.
No doubt it twisted itself further just to attack more effectively.
The boy could only barely keep up. He had to grit his teeth and focus completely—because if his sword faltered even for a second…
He would be split in two.
And he wasn't interested in finding out whether his body could withstand a sword strike.
Even demons with no special powers couldn't survive a slash from a nichirin katana. A normal human? No chance.
The demon could survive being cut in half. The boy couldn't.
"Now!"
[Wind Breathing: Second Form – Claws-Purifying Wind]
Four claw-shaped blades of wind erupted from the ground in front of the boy, slashing toward the demons neck just as it raised its sword.
The air itself howled as the blades cut through it. This was a strike sharp enough to slice clean through steel.
"Hmph."
The demon didn't flinch.
Shlk!
Flesh tore in the darkness.
Two severed arms spun into the air.
But the demon just grinned. It was already standing upright again, its sword having just carved across the boy's arm.
"Aaahhhhhh!!!"
The scream tore through the forest. Blood gushed without mercy.
"I hate running into your Demon Slayer Corps. You're just as weak as regular humans—but harder to kill. Total waste of time."
The severed arms hit the ground—one holding a sword, the other limp.
"These damn swords…"
This one didn't have a [Blood Demon Art]. He'd only received a small portion of that person's blood.
And when struck by blades infused with the power of sunlight… regeneration slowed.
"Damn it!"
The boy clutched his wound and stumbled back, cursing.
With one arm gone and no weapon, he couldn't fight anymore.
Without his blade, he was barely stronger than an average human.
To a demon, he was just a slightly more troublesome snack.
"It's over."
The demon didn't hesitate. It slammed a foot against the ground and vanished—reappearing in front of the boy like a blur.
Clang!
A silver blade deflected the katana that had been aimed straight at the boy's heart.
---
"Finally—huff—made it in time."
In a place this quiet, sound carried far. Add the natural echo of the mountains, and Shirou had barely been able to figure out which direction the fight was coming from.
His eyesight had helped—enough to find the exact spot even in this darkness.
But his hearing wasn't superhuman. He could only estimate.
The clash of swords, the cries of pain, the distorted acoustics of the trees—all of it made tracking difficult.
If not for the boy's scream… Shirou might not have found the fight in time.
And if he'd been even a few seconds slower, that demons blade would've already pierced the boy's chest.