The dense forest lay unnervingly silent, a dark cave yawning at its heart. The closer Ryo Anzai approached, the thicker the stench of blood and rot filled the air.
He crouched low, picked up a small stone, and coated it with the wisteria flower powder he always carried. With a smooth flick, he tossed it into the cave.
A bone-chilling roar erupted from inside, shattering the silent night.
A twisted shadow burst forth. The creature crawled on all fours like a rabid beast. Rotten, gray-green skin clung tight to its sunken frame, and its elongated head dripped saliva from jagged fangs as its lifeless eyes locked on Ryo.
"A Demon Slayer… persistent little pests you are."
"Oh hey, a familiar face," Ryo muttered.
His thumb nudged against the sword hilt. In a flash of lightning he launched forward, voice sharp with excitement.
"Then I won't waste time talking."
Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash.
A crack of thunder split the air. The demon snarled and slashed with its claws, unbelievably deflecting the strike.
This demon was nothing like the fodder he had been fighting recently. Not the weaklings with only a few days to live. This one was closer to the Hand Demon in strength, maybe stronger. Ryo's heartbeat quickened. This was a challenge worth savoring.
He dashed around the creature, blade flashing with arcs of lightning.
Thunder Breathing, Third Form: Thunder Swarm.
In that instant dozens of rapid strikes flared through the night, a bombardment of crackling lights that carved into the demon's flesh. Wounds opened everywhere. It howled in pain.
Ryo appeared behind it, blade sweeping at the neck.
With one clean stroke, the head fell.
He exhaled, shoulders relaxing. But something felt wrong.
There was no familiar notification from his system.
And the sensation through the blade… it felt like he had only cut skin, not bone.
Yet the head had definitely come off.
Before he could question it, instinct screamed. Ryo spun, sword raised.
Steel clashed against teeth.
The severed head floated there, jaws locked on his blade, snarling.
Too fast. Too close.
He shoved it away just in time for a powerful fist to slam into his back. The impact launched him into a tree, rattling his bones. He gasped, clutching his ribs.
The head drifted in the air. The body stood on its own. They moved independently.
A demon that could overcome decapitation?
Ryo blinked. "You have got to be kidding me. You are not even Upper Rank yet."
The head emitted a shrill laughter as the body hunched forward, ready to pounce again.
Ryo's mind raced. He remembered a myth he had read while learning about demon folklore. A creature whose head and body acted separately.
"Flying Head Demon…" he growled.
Not a demon immune to beheading.
Two demons sharing one life.
"Your head and body take shifts on the job. Real creative."
This was trouble. He had underestimated its strength.
The head screeched. The body leapt.
Ryo met it with a slash, taking both arms clean off. But the head swooped from behind, jaws wide.
"Blood Demon Art. Crimson Thorns."
A cloud of blood burst outward, hardening into countless needles that rained down on him.
Ryo grounded himself, lightning exploding across his body.
Thunder Breathing, Second Form: Rice Spirit.
Blade arcs shredded the blood needles in a flurry of sparks. But the body's arms regenerated and another punch hammered his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth and charged not the body, but the head. Take down one half. That was the only way.
The head jerked back, but not fast enough. His blade sliced off its jaw.
"Stupid Demon Slayer," the mangled head shrieked, flesh quivering as it regenerated.
Ryo tightened his grip, breath crackling through his lungs.
"Whatever you are trying to say, I bet it is nonsense. So go to hell."
He sheathed his blade, body crouched low. Lightning surged violently around him, exploding outward.
Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash, Threefold.
The ground split beneath his feet as he rocketed forward. One strike. Two. Three.
The head split clean down the middle before it could react. The body followed, torn to pieces in a storm of steel and thunder.
Ash scattered into the breeze.
Ryo did not bother watching the demon's final memories. He didn't care what tragic backstory led it here. He had learned one certainty since becoming a Demon Slayer: no matter how they started, they killed and ate humans to survive. Strength came from slaughter.
He waited.
A cheerful chime sounded in his mind.
[High-Rank Demon Eliminated. Reward: Lifespan +3 years]
[Current Remaining Lifespan: 4 years, 14 days]
He grinned. Nearly halfway. Soon, the ten-year punishment would no longer hang over him.
Whistling, he sat down to wrap his ribs. Definitely fractured. He should call the Kakushi for pickup.
Before he could send the flare, rapid footsteps thundered closer.
A boy in standard Demon Slayer uniform burst through the trees, eyes sharp and anxious. He scanned the surroundings, sword drawn.
"I sense heavy bloodshed. Hold on. I am here to help."
Ryo opened his mouth.
"I already took—"
"Please rest. That demon was incredibly dangerous. Do not push yourself."
This guy.
Ryo exhaled, stood up and patted the newcomer's shoulder.
"It is fine. The demon is already dead."
"Yes, well, that is good to hea— WHAT?!"
The boy's sword clattered against his scabbard as he stared wide-eyed.
"You defeated it alone? By yourself?"
"Yeah. Took a beating though. Total hassle."
He rotated his shoulder with a wince. If the demon had not underestimated him at first, the fight could have gone much worse.
"That is incredible. Absolutely incredible!" the young slayer stammered. "The Kakushi report said this demon was extremely hard to kill. Several of our comrades suffered severe injuries. They said decapitation was useless. You took it down solo? You must be a Hashira. Or at least a Rank C. Rank B?"
Ryo blinked.
The enthusiasm was… overwhelming.
Slowly he lifted his arm. With deliberate breathing, a kanji surfaced on the back of his hand.
癸
Lowest rank.
"Demon Slayer Corps Rank: Mizunoto. Name: Ryo Anzai. Joined less than a month ago."
Silence.
The forest itself seemed stunned.
"Mizunoto…" the boy squeaked. His voice cracked. "That is… how is… This cannot be real."
His worldview appeared to collapse in real time.
Then the realization struck him like lightning.
"You are that Ryo Anzai. The one from the Final Selection. The one Lord Ubuyashiki personally summoned. The Thunder Breathing prodigy."
News traveled too fast in the Demon Slayer Corps.
Ryo sighed and let himself drop to the ground. He was not in the mood for worship.
"My name is… Iwasaki Souma," the boy introduced with a shaky bow.
Ryo waved lazily.
"Iwasaki, contact the Kakushi. My ribs are busted. Need to recover at Mount Momoyama."
As Iwasaki scrambled to help, Ryo added with a faint smirk:
"And do not obsess over ranks. Killing demons is what matters."