Confusion.
Guilt.
Self-doubt.
Pain.
Sorrow.
A storm of emotions surged through Chiba Yang's heart, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"Only one being can turn humans into demons—the progenitor of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji."
The moment he recalled the words Kyojuro Rengoku had once told him, every one of Chiba Yang's emotions transformed into burning rage.
"Muzan Kibutsuji!!!"
Chiba Yang tightened his grip on the Nichirin Blade in his hand. His entire body trembled with fury.
Even though he had never met Muzan Kibutsuji before, the hatred in Chiba Yang's heart had already reached its peak.
"Even if I must chase you to the ends of the earth… I will kill you!"
With a violent motion, Chiba Yang plunged the Nichirin Blade into the ground and made his vow.
"Caw! Caw! A Demon Slayer Corps swordsman is fighting a demon to the north! A swordsman has already been killed! Go provide support! Go provide support!"
The crow's voice rang out again.
Before Chiba Yang had even managed to calm his emotions, a second mission had already arrived.
Silently pulling the Nichirin Blade from the ground, Chiba Yang knew he had no time to remain lost in thought.
He gently placed the boy's discarded coat on the ground.
In his heart, he offered a silent prayer for the siblings who had died… and for all those who had fallen victim to demons.
Then he immediately followed the crow's guidance and ran north.
Even though he knew that killing demons who devoured humans was the correct thing to do, the death of the boy still weighed heavily on his mind.
Deep inside, a lingering feeling remained—as if he himself had been responsible for that boy's death.
So this is the burden carried by Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen like Kyojuro Rengoku… Sanemi Shinazugawa… and Shinobu Kocho…
The guilt of failing to save someone.
The sorrow of witnessing endless human suffering.
The pain of being misunderstood, yet having to endure it silently.
Compared to all of that…
Physical injuries must feel insignificant.
For someone like Kyojuro Rengoku, who lived by the principle of protecting others, seeing the devastation of that village must have filled him with unbearable guilt.
And yet…
He still comforted me with such warmth.
Now… it's my turn to stand back up.
Gradually, Chiba Yang calmed his emotions and focused entirely on moving forward.
Before long, a small mountain appeared in front of him.
At the same time, distant screams echoed from within the forested slopes.
This must be the place the crow mentioned.
Without hesitation, Chiba Yang rushed into the mountain forest.
The moment he stepped inside, the thick smell of blood filled the air.
As he continued forward, fragments of Demon Slayer Corps uniforms and broken Nichirin Blades appeared along the ground.
Bloodstains covered everything.
Yet strangely, no bodies could be seen.
"Hahaha! Are all of you Demon Slayers this weak?"
"And stupid too! Even after seeing the number in my eyes, you still dared to attack me."
"I am Lower Rank Two of the Twelve Kizuki!"
An extremely arrogant voice echoed from ahead.
The moment Chiba Yang heard it, he rushed toward the source.
At the top of the mountain, within a clearing in the forest, a demon stood laughing wildly.
He looked like a middle-aged man with a thick beard. Blood-red markings covered the upper half of his face.
In his hand, he was gripping the throat of a Demon Slayer Corps swordsman.
Within the demon's left eye were engraved characters indicating his rank.
Lower Rank Two.
Rokuro.
All around him, human corpses hung from the surrounding trees.
Each body had been pierced by a thick rope that ran through the torso.
Most of the corpses were twisted into grotesque shapes—legs wrapped around their heads, arms twisted like spirals, bodies curled into unnatural, flattened forms.
"Hashira… will kill you…" the swordsman gasped through the demon's crushing grip.
Rokuro sneered.
"I've already lost interest in you people."
"Fewer and fewer humans pass through this place anyway. It's about time I moved somewhere else."
"If this Hashira you speak of can find me, then let him try."
As soon as he finished speaking, the Demon Slayer's body suddenly twisted.
The sound of cracking bones filled the air.
"AAAAHHHH!!!"
The swordsman screamed in agony, blood vessels bursting in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Rokuro's expression turned into one of sick enjoyment.
At that moment—
A figure shot into the clearing at incredible speed.
A flash of cold steel.
Rokuro's arm—still gripping the swordsman—was severed instantly.
He leapt backward in a single bound and regenerated the lost arm almost immediately.
Because the swordsman had been in Rokuro's grasp, Chiba Yang had deliberately avoided using a sword technique.
After tossing aside the severed arm, Chiba Yang turned toward the injured swordsman.
"Can you still move?" he asked.
But the swordsman ignored the question.
Instead, he warned him hoarsely.
"Don't let him touch you…"
Rokuro watched the scene with amusement.
"You think you saved him?"
The moment those words left his mouth—
The swordsman's neck twisted violently.
It rotated completely around.
Then his body collapsed limply to the ground.
"Hahaha! What a shame."
"He was in contact with me for far too long."
Rokuro mocked Chiba Yang openly.
The sensation of controlling another person's life and death thrilled him.
It helped dull the fear he constantly felt toward a certain other demon.
"You must be a Demon Slayer too," Rokuro continued.
"Then you should understand what the number in my eyes means."
"My power is far beyond what weaklings like you can handle."
"So how about this?"
"If you bring me more humans to eat, I'll let you live."
"What do you say?"
Of course, Rokuro had no intention of actually sparing him.
As a demon, he would never allow prey that had already arrived at his doorstep to escape.
This offer was nothing more than an insult directed at Demon Slayers.
Chiba Yang did not respond.
He gently laid the fallen swordsman's body on the ground.
Then he slowly stood up and began walking toward Rokuro.
He already knew what the numbers in a demon's eyes represented.
Kyojuro Rengoku had explained it to him.
Demons bearing numbers were direct subordinates of Muzan Kibutsuji—the Twelve Kizuki.
They possessed extraordinary strength.
But none of that mattered to Chiba Yang.
He did not care.
The only thing he wanted…
Was to kill them.
The human corpses hanging from the trees constantly stabbed at his nerves, fueling the flames of his anger.
"Why do you trample upon life?"
Despite the fury burning inside him, Chiba Yang's voice remained strangely calm.
Yet beneath that calmness lay boundless rage.
He knew a demon would never provide a meaningful answer.
He also knew that in the next moment, the two of them would engage in a battle where only one would survive.
Even so—
He wanted to ask.
"What?" Rokuro responded with confusion.
He could not understand why this Demon Slayer was questioning him.
"Life grows old. Life falls ill. Life is wounded. Life fades away."
"Simply existing is already difficult."
"So why do you take the lives of others so easily?"
His low voice echoed through the empty forest.
Moonlight poured down upon Chiba Yang, illuminating the flame-like mark on his forehead until it glowed even more vividly.