A shrieking roar tore through the forest, the silver blade carving through the air like a death knell—it was as if the boy's fate had already been sealed.
Shirou, hands completely numb, could no longer lift his sword fast enough. He could only watch, helpless, as that chipped, jagged blade swung down toward the boy's head.
"[Trace—On]!"
A small chunk of iron materialized mid-air—right in the path of the oni's blade.
It was no larger than a smartphone, but manifesting even that much had drained most of Shirou's remaining prana.
He could no longer sustain his [Reinforcement] magic. The green tracery glowing along his sword began to visibly dissipate.
Shirou didn't know why projecting such a tiny piece of metal had cost him so much magical energy.
But there was no time to dwell on it now.
That iron shard wasn't enough to stop the slash—
—but it was enough to deflect it.
The demon's pupils constricted the moment the object appeared, but at this point, it was far too late to pull back its attack.
Blood Demon Art? Or some new Breathing Style?
A flood of possibilities flashed through its mind.
CLANG!
With a thunderous clang, the oni's blade struck the projected shard and veered downward.
Shlick!
The sound of flesh splitting echoed through the still forest, painting the air with the scent of blood.
The boy's back was cleaved open, blood gushing like a spring. Shirou could even see—
The boy didn't react. No twitch. No scream.
It was like life had already left his body.
"Looks like I didn't even need to intervene."
The demon withdrew with ease, one hand clutching its own face as it burst into hysterical laughter. Victory felt all but certain.
With no one left who could threaten its life, the battle was essentially over.
"Damn it!"
Shirou's hand trembled on the hilt of his sword, shaking with rage.
But he had no prana left. Not even enough for basic reinforcement.
Technically, he could keep using [Reinforcement] by burning his life force—but that wasn't some game stat.
Overdrawing from his life wouldn't just weaken him—it would cripple him, leaving him even more vulnerable than before.
"His weapon... can't take much more."
Shirou's eyes locked onto the demon's katana—deeply chipped, its edge jagged and worn.
Katanas were fragile to begin with. Even Nichirin Blades broke with enough strain. And this wasn't a Nichirin Blade—just an ordinary sword.
The only reason it hadn't snapped already was because the demon had always been the one attacking.
If it had been on the defensive, that blade would've shattered long ago.
Conversely, if not for Shirou's [Reinforcement], his sword wouldn't have lasted this long either.
"I'll cut you down—here and now!"
Clutching his dual blades, Shirou charged straight at the demon.
He was just an ordinary Japanese high school student. He didn't have the speed to move with sonic booms or vanish from sight.
"Then let me grant you death! Keh-heh-heh!"
The demon sneered and blurred into motion, weaving through the forest like a shadow, dancing atop leaves and branches.
It wanted to wear Shirou down—to exhaust his stamina like a spider patiently draining its prey.
But Shirou had no intention of playing its game. He chose to abandon defense altogether.
Against a demon, that was suicide.
Demons could regenerate. Humans couldn't.
Trading wounds with such a creature wasn't just reckless—it was foolish.
The demon could heal in seconds. A human might take weeks to recover from the same injuries.
As Shirou searched for its position, he suddenly felt a chilling surge—
—A killing intent, like cold steel piercing his crown.
With a harsh metallic crash, the demon came down from above, striking like lightning. Their weapons met midair in a burst of sparks, metal clashing violently in the dark woods.
That was the advantage of dual wielding: he could block with one blade and counter with the other.
And Shirou chose the second option.
Even if he couldn't fully absorb the impact, his sword had still caught the slash. The blade's spine had kept his head from being cleaved in two.
"Cut—!"
Roaring, Shirou twisted and slashed at the oni's body.
Even if it wouldn't die, regenerating from that would still be a hassle. The demon, caught midair with nowhere to dodge, had no choice but to draw its blade back to block.
Which was exactly what Shirou wanted.
CLANG!
With a sharp crack, the demon's sword snapped at the tip—its edge flying into the air.
Shirou saw it. That blade's finished.
He struck again with renewed vigor, his sword biting deep into the demon's shoulder.
At the same time, his other blade—raised above his head—slashed sideways toward its waist.
If he could just disable it before it regenerated—
—he had a chance to win.
But the demon had already landed.
It chuckled, lightly.
As if mocking Shirou's desperation.
BAM!
A powerful impact rang out as the demon drove its fist into Shirou, sending him flying.
"A true swordsman always knows the state of their weapon."
The demon scoffed, tossing aside its broken sword. Just before Shirou's blade could sever its torso, it had opted for a punch instead—sending Shirou sprawling.
"It's over."
A smile curled on the demon's lips.
To it, killing a human was no different than slaughtering livestock.
Just a flick of the wrist, and it would be done.
But then—
A voice. Crisp and clear, cutting through the chaos.
"[Wind Breathing—Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree]!"
Three blades of wind surged outward in an instant, radiating from the boy's body as he stood back up.
"What?! You were supposed to be dead!"
The demon froze in shock. It had never anticipated this.
These wind blades—sharper than even a forged Nichirin Blade.
The demon had no time to react. It had no defense left.
Its only weapon—the one thing that might have saved it—had already been broken by Shirou.
Shlick! Shlick! Shlick!
The wind blades tore through its body without resistance.
"AAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Blood exploded in a geyser, bursting like a watermelon in front of the boy.