Oboro and the maids were escorted by the old man to the village shrine.
When they arrived, some kind of ritual was already underway. All the villagers were sitting on the ground in perfect unison, hands clasped together.
They were praying towards the closed doors of the shrine.
Standing outside were several youths dressed in traditional kimonos, their faces covered by white cloths—both boys and girls.
Painted on the cloth in fresh blood was the symbol of a balance scale.
In the center of the courtyard lay dozens of unconscious people. Judging by their attire, they were travelers staying in Seirin-machi—samurai, merchants, and ordinary wanderers.
No words were exchanged. As a short-haired girl rang a silver bell in her hand, the old man pressed the hilt of his blade against Oboro's lower back and hissed, "Behave. Move!"
Supported by his maids, Oboro walked over to the pile of bodies on the ground, clearly marked to be the next sacrifices.
Along the way, he noticed the villagers' eyes were strangely calm... some even looked on with malicious delight.
The old man found a corner and sat down.
The youths acting as "messengers" continued to ring the bell. With each chime, two burly villagers dragged an unconscious person to the shrine entrance and then retreated.
Immediately, the wooden doors flew open. Something like countless ropes flashed out, snatching the living person inside instantly.
Moments later, blood began to seep through the cracks in the door.
The atmosphere was silent and eerie.
A villager who had captured and delivered a victim stepped forward and waited quietly.
Soon, the doors opened again, and a blood-stained object was tossed out.
"Medium."
The girl called out softly.
It was a pouch of money.
The villager rushed forward to collect it, bowed gratefully, and returned to his seat.
"Good."
"Excellent."
"Low."
As the bells rang, more and more victims disappeared into the shrine, and more villagers received their rewards.
The payment seemed to be graded based on the quality of the offering.
There were six ranks: Low, Medium, High, Good, Better, and Excellent.
Oboro even saw someone receive a whole bag of gold coins.
Clearly, the villagers had entered into some sort of pact with the demon.
Money was useless to demons, but to the people of Seirin-machi, it was their livelihood.
They could have robbed people themselves, but doing so would be risky. By working with the demon, they gained protection...
For commoners, offending the wrong powerful figures could mean destruction for the entire village. But with a demon backing them, they were safe.
Furthermore, according to records, only a year ago Seirin-machi had barely thirty households. Now, it had multiplied several times over...
Most importantly, the village had grown prosperous and developed, rivaling small towns.
And the shrine had been built exactly one year ago.
"Is it just killing for sport? Probably not for food. Demons are picky eaters... they prefer children or those with rare blood, and they don't consume much at once. Only weak, low-level demons eat mindlessly. A demon with such strong aura... must be doing this for a specific obsession." Oboro covered his mouth, coughing laboriously as he analyzed the situation.
This ritual certainly didn't happen every day, or the scale of death would be impossible to hide.
It was likely held periodically, only when things were safe.
Otherwise, the fear would drive away business and attract the Demon Slayer Corps.
It wasn't that Ubuyashiki Kuno was incompetent... Demon Slayers must have visited Seirin-machi before, but found the demon gone.
They had no authority to punish the villagers, and couldn't act rashly lest they scare the target away.
This demon must have other hideouts besides here...
"Something wrong?"
Oboro's eyes narrowed.
The Demon Slayer Corps always prioritized saving lives. With so many people dying, why hadn't they appeared?
Either they were delayed by something, or they simply hadn't detected the activity yet. Perhaps he had overestimated the Ubuyashiki family's efficiency.
But it didn't matter... If they came now, they would only get in his way.
Soon, only Oboro and his two maids remained from the pile of victims.
The bell rang. Oboro stood up on his own, not waiting to be dragged, and walked calmly to the shrine entrance.
He was separated from the demon inside by only a thin wooden door.
The doors slid open automatically. Since Oboro was still conscious, the demon did not attack immediately, seemingly inviting him to enter...
Stepping inside, the doors slammed shut behind him.
The air was thick with the stench of blood. His shoes slipped on the wooden floor, soaked in sticky, congealed plasma.
Suddenly.
In the darkness, several oil lamps flickered to life.
Oboro saw the demon standing before him—a man of immense, grotesque obesity.
He held a pipe in his mouth and a cleaver in his hand, chopping up bodies on a large table exactly like a butcher at work. Strangely, despite the immense force he wielded, his blade made absolutely no sound when it struck the wood.
On the table beside him sat a balance scale.
The man had a huge, round belly, yet his arms were bulging with muscle and terrifying strength... As a demon, his ears were abnormally large, and his mouth stretched wider than a human's should be.
His skin was dark, and a small horn protruded from the left side of his skull.
However, what caught Oboro's attention wasn't his appearance, but the numbers glowing within his blue eyes as they opened and closed.
Upper Rank Five!
It seemed this was likely the predecessor of Gyokko.
Perhaps Gyokko had already been turned into a demon by now, but the Twelve Kizuki were subject to "Rank Battles." The hierarchy Oboro knew was the final result from the future timeline.
In this Edo period, after Muzan believed he had eradicated all traces of Sun Breathing, his main activities were few.
He wandered the country, planting seeds of demons wherever there were none.
And he sought out followers in places of suffering—prisons, remote villages, harsh wastelands.
Although the Demon Slayer Corps claimed to be hunting him, they couldn't even find his shadow.
They struggled enough just dealing with the demons he created, let alone finding Muzan himself.
Remember, this was not the time of the original story. Not long had passed since the death of Yoriichi Tsugikuni... just one era ago, the Sengoku period.
Oboro smiled in satisfaction. The excitement made him cough again, his body swaying as if the mere act of coughing might knock him over.
He knew... the demon wouldn't kill him immediately.
Because, according to the system, the money the villagers received was based on the "status" of the sacrifice.
Therefore, someone like him was undoubtedly the most valuable prize here tonight.
That was why he was left for last, still conscious.
However, his smile caused the demon to pause his work.
"What are you laughing at?"
Upper Rank Five asked coldly.
"I'm happy... because I can finally escape this sickly body. Your skill with the blade is impressive. I probably won't even feel pain when you cut me."
Oboro smiled weakly. "I am already a dead man walking. That's why I can stay calm in a situation like this. You don't mind, do you?"
"...You aren't afraid of death?"
Oboro's words made the demon study him closely for a few seconds. "I thought men like you, with status and wealth, would cling desperately to life..."
He glanced at Oboro's calm, unwavering eyes. "You... are indeed different."
He turned back, raising his cleaver and bringing it down again—still utterly silent.
A corpse was dissected perfectly; flesh separated from bone, pieces cut into uniform sizes.
The demon grinned cruelly. "Humans are no different from cows or sheep. Their meat sells for money, so why shouldn't people? Tell me, with your status, what price do you think your life is worth?"
"Hmm... My flesh? Probably worthless."
Oboro thought for a moment, giving an honest answer.
"After all, I am gravely ill. My blood and flesh are diseased. Altogether, this body doesn't weigh much..." He continued, "As for my status, that might fetch a price... But the most valuable thing about me isn't my background."
"Then what is it?"
Upper Rank Five's eyes flashed with killing intent.
"I have something priceless."
"Priceless?"
"My soul... do you want it?"
____________________
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