Night returned to the Swordsmith Village with deceptive calm.
Lanterns swayed gently along the stone paths, their light warm, steady—reassuring in a way that felt almost artificial after what had been revealed that morning. The forges had quieted, leaving behind a low, residual hum that vibrated faintly through the ground, like a heartbeat refusing to sleep.
Karina moved alone across the upper walkways.
Her steps were soundless, deliberate. She had not gone to rest after the assembly. Sleep was inefficient when variables were shifting this quickly. Instead, she had chosen movement—mapping the village again, recalibrating her spatial awareness now that the emotional topology had changed.
Because it had changed.
No amount of internal discipline could deny that.
She stopped near the outer ridge, where the village gave way to open darkness. The air was colder here, thinner. Good. Cold sharpened thought.
Arcane Breathing cycled quietly within her, restrained to its lowest expression. Even so, her senses extended beyond the physical—threading through gradients of pressure, sound, and intent.
Something was wrong.
Not immediate danger. Not yet.
But alignment was forming elsewhere.
"You always end up here."
Karina did not turn. "This position offers maximum visibility with minimal interruption."
Mitsuri stepped into the lantern light beside her, wrapped in a light haori. Her movements were slower than usual, careful but not weak. Recovery had tempered her energy, not diminished it.
"I had a feeling you'd say something like that," Mitsuri said gently. "But that's not why you come here."
Karina glanced at her. "Then why do you believe I do?"
Mitsuri leaned against the railing, looking out into the darkness. "Because it's quiet enough that you don't have to pretend you're unaffected."
The statement was not accusatory. It was observational.
Karina considered correcting her.
She didn't.
"Affection introduces noise," Karina said instead. "Noise complicates prediction."
Mitsuri smiled faintly. "You say that like prediction is the only thing that matters."
"In combat," Karina replied, "it is."
"And outside of it?"
Karina's gaze returned to the horizon. "Outside of combat, I have less data."
Mitsuri studied her face in profile, the sharp precision of her features softened by lantern light. "Then maybe this is how you collect it."
A pause stretched between them.
The night air shifted.
Karina felt it first—a subtle compression, like space pulling inward on itself. Her muscles tensed instantly, Arcane Breathing responding without conscious command.
Mitsuri sensed it a heartbeat later. "Karina?"
"Do not move," Karina said quietly.
The shadows beyond the ridge thickened unnaturally, folding over one another as if layered by invisible hands. From within them stepped a figure—female, slender, movements unnervingly smooth.
Not a demon.
Not fully.
She wore remnants of a Demon Slayer uniform—foreign in cut, altered beyond regulation. Her hair was dark, pulled back tightly, eyes glowing with a faint, unnatural sheen.
Karina's breath caught for exactly one fraction of a second.
Then it stabilized.
"Karina," the woman said, her voice carrying easily across the distance. "You're far from home."
Mitsuri instinctively stepped forward, blade half-drawn. "Who are you?"
The woman's eyes flicked to her, sharp and amused. "Ah. So that's the resonance."
Karina raised a hand slightly. "Mitsuri. Stay back."
The woman laughed softly. "Still issuing commands. Still pretending you don't care."
Mitsuri looked between them. "You know her."
"Yes," the woman said. "Intimately."
Karina's voice dropped, controlled but cold. "Elena. You should be dead."
Elena spread her hands slightly, palms open. "And yet. Here I am."
The air around her pulsed—distorted, wrong. Karina could see it clearly now: demon blood, refined, stabilized. Not a full transformation, but something far more deliberate.
"You accepted augmentation," Karina said.
"I survived," Elena corrected. "You abandoned me."
The accusation struck harder than any blade.
Mitsuri felt it immediately—the shift in Karina's breathing, the micro-delay in her response. She stepped closer without thinking, presence firm and grounding.
Karina noticed.
Elena noticed more.
"Oh," Elena murmured, eyes lighting with interest. "That's new."
"This is not your concern," Karina said.
"But it is," Elena replied. "Because Muzan is very interested in what you've become. In what you can do when you're… anchored."
Mitsuri's grip tightened. "You're working with him."
Elena smiled. "I'm working with opportunity."
The space between them warped suddenly—Elena vanished, reappearing closer in a blink, movements bordering on Arcane mimicry.
Karina reacted instantly, stepping between Elena and Mitsuri, blade drawn in a clean, fluid arc.
Steel met nothing.
Elena was already gone again, voice echoing from the darkness. "Still fast. Still beautiful in motion."
"Do not provoke her," Karina warned. "You are outmatched."
Elena laughed. "Am I? Or are you… restrained?"
The implication hung heavy.
Mitsuri felt it too. She met Karina's gaze, unflinching. "You don't have to hold back."
Karina hesitated.
Just enough.
Elena's smile widened. "There it is."
The pressure surged—Elena's presence amplifying, pulling at the edges of reality. Karina felt the familiar strain, the temptation to externalize, to fracture perception itself.
But she didn't.
Instead, she grounded.
Arcane Breathing shifted—not expanding outward, but folding inward, synchronizing unconsciously with Mitsuri's steady rhythm.
The air stabilized.
Elena's expression flickered—surprise, then irritation. "Interesting."
"This ends now," Karina said.
"No," Elena replied calmly. "This begins now."
She stepped back into the shadows, form dissolving like mist. "Muzan will come for her," she added softly, eyes locked on Mitsuri. "And when he does… I'll be watching to see what you choose."
Then she was gone.
The night rushed back in all at once, lantern flames fluttering violently before settling again.
Silence.
Mitsuri exhaled shakily. "Karina…"
"I know," Karina said quietly.
She sheathed her blade with deliberate control. Her hands did not shake—but inside, fault lines had opened.
"That was someone from your past," Mitsuri said.
"Yes."
"And she's aligned with Muzan."
"Yes."
Mitsuri stepped closer, placing a hand gently against Karina's arm. "Then we face her together."
Karina looked down at the contact. She did not pull away.
"This path will place you in direct danger," Karina said. "She will exploit emotional leverage."
Mitsuri smiled, soft but unwavering. "Then it's a good thing I'm not fragile."
For the first time since Elena's appearance, Karina allowed herself to lean—just slightly—into Mitsuri's presence.
"Then we adapt," she said.
Above them, unseen, the night deepened.
Threads tightened.
And the web around Karina and Mitsuri grew ever more deliberate, woven by enemies who now understood that power alone was no longer the most dangerous factor.
Connection was.