Two days had passed.
No demon screams. No blood.
Only wind whispering through the broken forest, carrying with it the scent of ash and morning dew.
For two days after the battle against the Hundred-Handed Demon, the survivors had become shadows among the trees.
They hid in hollowed roots and under overturned trunks, under a canopy still peppered with gleaming ash. Mist rolled low like a living thing, weaving between scorched stumps and ragged ferns. Sunlight tried to pierce that grey world and mostly failed, making everything look soft around the edges — a world under bandages.
Haruto woke every few hours to check the others' breathing. Each time, the same sight met him: chests rising and falling, eyes sinking into sleep because they could finally let go. He traced the curve of a bandage with a finger as if that would seal the wound tighter. His own arms ached, a new, quiet kind of tired that sat in bones rather than skin.
When he moved, the world moved carefully around him, like it knew to be gentle. Raiden was the one who refused to lie still on the first morning. He washed his wounds with cold stream water, hands shaking slightly as he flexed his fingers to make sure the lightning steadied. The tremor was less fear than muscle remembering battle.
Yuki wrapped a cloth around a small cut on Airi's arm and watched the blood soak in with an even calm on her face. Airi hummed — a small, brave sound that tried to make light of things, though it came out thin. Kaede sat cross-legged, binding a deeper wound on his leg, lips pressed firmly, every motion slow and methodical. No one moved faster than their breath.
The great clearing that had once been a battlefield now resembled a grave.
Burned trunks still smoked faintly. The soil was black, soft beneath the foot, and scattered with fragments of the demon's remains — as if the monster's hatred had seeped into the earth itself.
Haruto crouched near the base of a fallen cedar, adjusting the rough bandage around his arm. The wound was shallow — a graze from one of the demon's claws — but the ache beneath it pulsed like memory. Every time he inhaled, he felt the weight of exhaustion drag against his ribs.
Raiden sat on a nearby rock, boots off, one foot wrapped in white cloth streaked with red. He was chewing on a piece of dried herb Airi had prepared, grimacing at the bitterness.
"Ugh… if this is medicine, I'd rather die a hero than live with this taste."
Airi, seated by the tiny fire pit, didn't look up from the herbs she was grinding. "Then swallow quickly. Heroes who whine don't heal faster."
Raiden smirked through the pain. "I'll keep that in mind, Doctor flower."
Airi chuckled softly, tending Yuki's shoulder. "You talk too much for someone who almost got eaten."
Raiden pointed at her, mock offense in his tone. "Oh come on. You are saying this to me — didn't you almost faint after that last fight?"
"I didn't faint."
"You fell into Yuki's lap."
Yuki shot him a cold look, the kind that could freeze a demon mid-step. "Raiden," she said flatly.
He raised both hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright, I'll shut up. The Ice Queen speaks."
Despite the teasing, there was a quiet peace among them — a rhythm born of shared blood and battle.
They had fought as strangers, but in surviving, they'd become something closer than comrades — pieces of the same blade.
The ten other candidates — once scattered, afraid — now worked tirelessly. They gathered berries, filled water gourds from nearby streams, and reinforced traps around their temporary camp. Their faces still bore fear, but beneath it glimmered respect for the main five — especially when they looked at Haruto and Raiden.
They had sworn to stand watch while the main five rested, and for the next two nights they patrolled in pairs — quiet shadows who listened harder than they walked. At first Haruto had objected. "Let us keep watch," he said, hand on his katana even as he sat. The boys and girls had answered like a single voice: "You need to rest. You killed— you saved us. Let us do this."
That answer was the moment Haruto realized how the roles had shifted overnight. Renga's words came in a memory, softer now than they ever had been in life: A protector does not stand alone. They stand while others learn to stand too. Haruto closed his eyes and let the thought settle like a cool stone into the bottom of him.
Haruto sat crossed leg. Focusing, channeling his spritual energy. It was practice. Meditation. Discipline.
Raiden watched him from the corner of his eye.
"You know," he said finally, leaning back on his elbows, "you could try resting like the rest of us. The fire's not going anywhere."
Haruto smiled faintly. "Fire doesn't rest. It waits."
Raiden chuckled under his breath. "You and your poetic one-liners. One day, I'll make a book out of them."
"Then you'd have to learn to read first," Yuki murmured.
Raiden groaned. "Oh come on! You too?"
The laughter that followed was soft, but it filled the empty forest in a way sunlight couldn't.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the jagged ridge, Haruto stood guard at the camp's perimeter.
The world had grown quieter — too quiet.
Yuki approached, carrying a small bundle of herbs. "For the pain," she said, offering it without a word.
Haruto accepted, glancing at her with gratitude. "Thank you. You should rest — your shoulder still looks bad."
"I'll live," she said simply, eyes scanning the horizon.
Her voice softened after a pause. "When you fought that demon… you didn't hesitate. Even when you knew you couldn't win alone."
Kaede gave a small smile, almost shy. "In life and death battle. Hesitation is your biggest enemy. I just did what i have to."
Yuki's lips curved, just slightly. "Maybe that's why you able to defeat that demon."
Haruto chuckled quietly. "I can't do it without you all. Specially without Raiden it's impossible. He is reckless but powerful."
They shared a quiet laugh — brief, fleeting.
At the center of camp, Airi was humming softly while patching up one of the younger candidates' arms. The melody was faint, old, something that belonged to a world before demons.
Raiden watched her from across the fire, head tilted. "You know, you sing like someone who forgot the world's still ending."
She looked up, surprised. "And you listen like someone who's finally realized it hasn't yet."
He blinked — then smirked. "Touché."
Night fell fast in the forest.
By the third night, they were ready to move again — spirits calmer, bodies healing, weapons freshly polished. The moon hung low, a silver blade above the black canopy.
Haruto sat beneath it, katana across his knees.
Raiden lay nearby, eyes half-closed but awake. Airi sleeping besides him. Yuki leaned against a tree, silent, her pale hair glowing faintly in the moonlight.
Kaede sat close by the fire.
It was almost peaceful. Almost.
Then came the sound.
A faint rustle. A break in the wind's pattern.
Leaves shivered where there should've been stillness.
Haruto's head lifted instantly. "...Did you hear that?"
Raiden was already sitting up. "Yeah. Three directions."
Before anyone could move, a scream tore through the trees — one of the minor candidates on patrol.
"Demons! East side!"
Everyone snapped into motion.
Haruto reached for his sword — but before he could stand, two of the younger candidates ran to him, eyes blazing despite fear.
"Haruto-sama, please," one said, bowing his head low. "You and the others have fought enough. Let us do this."
Haruto froze. "You can't—"
"We can," said another, gripping his short blade tighter. "You saved us once. Let us prove we can stand too."
The youngest of the patrols — a thin boy named Souta — swallowed audibly but squared his shoulders. "We can handle it," he said, and it sounded less like a plea and more like a promise.
Raiden's grin flickered. "Well, damn."
Kaede stepped forward, concern in his eyes. "It's risky—"
Yuki placed a hand on his arm. "Let them."
Airi nodded softly. "They deserve to fight for themselves."
The candidates nodded — and ran toward the treeline.
Three demons — leaner, faster than the one before — burst from the forest shadows. Their forms were grotesque and inhuman: one crawled on all fours, limbs jointed backwards; another's tongue lashed like a whip; the third towered with bony wings that scraped the canopy.
The sound of clashing steel and monstrous shrieks filled the night.
The minor ten hunters moved with clumsy coordination but fierce spirit.
One demon lunged, and towards, Souta. He ducked under its swipe, slashing upward — his blade cutting deep into its arm. Blood hissed against the dirt.
A young woman named Mika — leapt and flailed, and the demon's claw grazed her side. She fell, winded, and the air left her with a ragged cough. Souta dove under the demon's reach and drove his sword into its flank, not deep, but with enough shock that the demon stumbled. It growled.
A girl named Hana with twin daggers flipped forward, striking twice, then rolled back as claws ripped the air where she'd stood.
They shouted to each other, covering gaps, trading hits, learning as they bled.
By the fire, Haruto and the others stood at the ready — just in case — but they didn't move. They watched. Every instinct screamed to intervene, but this was their comrades' fight.
Raiden's fingers twitched around his sword hilt. "They've got guts," he muttered.
"Courage," Kaede corrected quietly, "born from what they saw us do."
Yuki's lips parted just enough for a whisper. "So this is growth…"
The battle raged.
One candidate took a claw to the shoulder — another leapt in, blocking a fatal bite. Airi winced as she saw them bleed, but her eyes stayed steady. "They're learning to trust."
When the tallest demon swooped down, its wings kicking up gusts of black dust, Haruto's flame flared instinctively—but before he could move, three blades rose as one.
Their timing was imperfect, raw—but their strike landed.
The demon's head rolled, its body collapsing into dust.
The final demon screeched, tail lashing wildly.
A young girl—Sera—barely fifteen—stood in its path, trembling. She exhaled once.
"Water Arts: First Technique—Whirlpool Defense!"
The motion was shaky, uneven—but the principle was there.
Her sword drew a circle, redirecting the demon's charge just enough for her partner to strike.
The last blow fell.
The third demon screamed — and then went still.
The silence that followed was overwhelming.
Smoke curled. Blades dripped. Hearts pounded.
Raiden's grin was wide and wild. "They actually did it."
Kaede smiled faintly. "Not perfect. But alive."
Haruto watched them from where he'd stayed seated, katana across his knees. He felt something he'd not known he could — a heat that wasn't anger or fear but proud and very near to trembling joy. The smallest of them — Mika — tried to stand and teetered. Haruto rose, moved to her, and at the last moment he knelt, steadying her.
"You did well," he said softly, not wanting to make it a sermon. "Don't forget this feeling. If there's one thing a hunter needs more than strength, it's the memory of when they were afraid and still moved."
Mika's eyes were huge. "I—" she began, voice shaking, then steadied. "I'll remember."
Raiden leaned down to pat Souta on the back in a way that was almost awkwardly parental. "You lot surprised me," he said. "You made me proud. Rest. I'll help fetch water."
The night unclenched like a fist. The minor candidates settled in around the main five like fledglings eager to be sheltered; they traded stories in low voices, small jokes, and half-formed plans. The danger had tempered them into something that looked like resolve.
When at last sleep came, it was the uncomplicated kind: exhaustion braided with relief. Haruto lay under a slatted sky stitched with stars and thought about how the world had shifted. Two nights had changed the boys and girls who'd only yesterday clutched their weapons with shaking hands. They'd bled and still reached. That was the true victory here.
He slept before the sky could think of dawn.
They'd survived.
Together.
Time passed.....
The forest smelled of blood and morning dew.
By the time the last embers of the battle died down, the moon was slipping behind the mountain's edge — its silver light fading into the faintest hue of dawn. The night's tension finally exhaled, replaced by the quiet rhythm of wind moving through the burned branches.
The survivors sat around the dying fire, the glow reflecting off their faces — exhausted, proud, alive.
Some tended their wounds; others simply watched the light fade, the adrenaline slowly leaving their veins.
To Be Continued...