Name: Soma
Race: Demon
Lifespan: Infinite
Abilities: Immortality (Complete), Rapid Regeneration, Enhanced Physique
Weaknesses: None
Status: Perfect
Blood Demon Art: Devour (Perfectly acquires the talents, abilities, and Blood Demon Art of the target)
Swordsmanship: Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū
Breathing Style: Sun Breathing
Physique: 3.1 + 0.1 (An average adult is 1)
Agility: 3.2 + 0.1 (An average adult is 1)
Strength: 3.1 + 0.1 (An average adult is 1)
Mental Strength: 5.5 + 0.1 (An average adult is 1)
...
Every attribute on the panel—physique, agility, strength, and mental strength—had increased by 0.1. The improvement was small, but unmistakable.
And this… was the result of devouring nothing more than the weakest kind of demon—one that had even been starved for an entire year.
If he were to consume a stronger demon, the increase would likely be far more significant.
Of course, as his own strength continued to grow, the gains from such ordinary demons would eventually become negligible.
Feeling the changes within his body, Soma casually swung his Nichirin Sword where he stood.
He adjusted slightly, testing the flow of his movements. His strength and speed had both improved noticeably—so much so that, for a brief moment, even he felt slightly unaccustomed to the change.
Still, an increase of 0.1 was minor compared to his base attributes hovering around 3. After a few swings of the blade and a short walk to steady himself, he quickly regained full control over his enhanced body.
Once he felt fully adjusted, he lowered his gaze to the Nichirin Sword in his hand.
At the moment he had severed the demon's head earlier, he had clearly felt the surge of blood within him—a pulsing, instinctive hunger. That had been his body's desire to devour.
And when he focused his will, he could distinctly sense the energy of the slain demon being absorbed into himself.
At first, he had expected something far more obvious to occur. He had even prepared an explanation in advance—something about possessing a special constitution as a "demon eater," allowing him to temporarily take on demonic traits or even inherit Blood Demon Arts, much like Shinazugawa Genya.
He had even considered the possibility that Makomo might notice the truth—and had prepared himself, reluctantly, for the worst outcome.
If necessary… he had been ready to kill her.
Fortunately, none of that had been needed.
The activation of his Blood Demon Art was incredibly subtle. Even after fully devouring the demon, Makomo hadn't noticed anything unusual.
Of course, that might also be because her current strength wasn't yet sufficient.
If he were to use this ability in front of a Hashira, it would likely be detected.
Or perhaps…
His gaze shifted unconsciously toward Tanjiro.
Still immersed in the lingering sadness, Tanjiro stared at the spot where the demon's body had disappeared. Something felt off to him—the scent of the demon hadn't faded gradually, as it normally would.
Instead, it had vanished abruptly, as if something had forcibly pulled it away in an instant.
Frowning slightly, he crouched and examined the area where the body had been.
Nearby, Kanao blinked, her violet eyes fixed curiously on Soma.
Through her keen dynamic vision, she had clearly seen it—the instant Soma's blade cut through the demon's neck, a faint red mist, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, had extended from his wrist. The moment it touched the demon's body, everything outwardly appeared normal… yet internally, the demon seemed to wither away in an instant.
Watching Tanjiro's confusion and Kanao's quiet observation, Soma quickly understood.
His Blood Demon Art might be subtle—but it wasn't entirely undetectable.
In the future, he would need to be more cautious when using it.
Makomo, on the other hand, hadn't noticed any of this. She didn't possess Tanjiro's extraordinary sense of smell, nor Kanao's sharp, perceptive eyes.
And yet…
She was still sensitive enough to notice that something about the two of them had changed.
When she had just declared that demons were disgusting creatures who deserved to have their heads cut off, both Tanjiro and Kanao had reacted in subtle but unmistakable ways.
Tanjiro's emotions had shifted—something about him felt off, as if her words had struck deeper than expected.
As for Kanao… the way she had looked at her was different. There had been something cold, almost dangerous in her gaze, a sharpness that made Makomo feel inexplicably uneasy.
And then there was Soma.
After killing the demon, he had been pacing nearby, occasionally swinging his empty blade as if testing something only he could feel.
The more she looked at the three of them, the stranger it all seemed.
"What's wrong with you all…? You're acting weird," Makomo muttered under her breath.
Soma sheathed his blade and walked back toward them, a relaxed smile on his face. "It's my first time killing a demon. I got a little excited."
"You only killed a demon that couldn't even fight back," Makomo replied bluntly, stating the obvious without mercy.
"Haha… that's true. If you hadn't cut off its limbs first, there's no way I could've taken its head so easily," he admitted with a grin.
Makomo turned her head away, no longer looking at him, her gaze fixed on the darkness in the distance. "That demon was weak—completely different from the ones outside. If it had been one of those, I wouldn't have handled it like that."
"Then I should thank you even more for the opportunity," Soma said lightly, nodding in agreement. "But it's true—these demons have been starving for over a year, and living in a place surrounded by wisteria only weakens them further."
Makomo's grip on her sword tightened slightly. "Demons this weak… I just can't understand it. There's no way my seniors would have lost to something like that. They would never fall to ordinary demons like these."
"Then why did they fail?" Soma asked quietly.
He stepped closer, standing beside her as they both looked out into the dark expanse ahead. "There's no logical reason for them to lose. If there's any explanation… it's that there's a demon here—one that specifically targets Urokodaki-san's disciples."
"A demon… that specifically hunts Urokodaki-sensei's disciples…"
Makomo bit her lip unconsciously, a surge of anger rising uncontrollably within her.
If that were true, then such a demon was unforgivable.
It had taken one precious person after another from her. It had forced her teacher to sit alone atop the mountain, burdened with guilt, time and time again.
But…
Why would such a demon exist?
Why target her teacher's disciples specifically?
What kind of hatred could drive something like that—for so many years?
The more she thought about it, the more it twisted painfully inside her chest.
Soma glanced at her briefly. He knew the truth behind it all—but he had no intention of saying it aloud.
Instead, he looked up at the fox mask swaying gently atop the tree. "If such a demon truly exists, then when it sees that mask—the one unique to Urokodaki's disciples—it will definitely come."
Makomo followed his gaze, her eyes settling on the mask. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. "If such a cruel demon exists… then I will be the one to cut off its head."
"I'd like to cut down a demon like that too," Soma said with a faint smile.
Makomo turned to him, letting out a soft huff through her nose. "If that demon really shows up, I won't be handing it over to you."
…
The night deepened.
Before long, another demon, drawn by the scent of prey, made its way toward them.
Seeing that it was just as weak as the previous one, Makomo chose not to act.
Instead, Soma lightly patted Tanjiro on the shoulder. "Go on, Tanjiro."
"—Hah…"
The boy exhaled deeply, his breath hot against the cold mountain air, forming a faint mist.
"What a strong Sun Breathing…" Makomo murmured in quiet admiration. Compared to Water Breathing, Sun Breathing was far more intense—almost violent in its force.
The approaching demon, its bluish-purple skin stretched tight over a gaunt, starved frame, drooled as it fixed its crimson gaze on Tanjiro. Its expression twisted into something feral and grotesque.
"A brat… and not even holding a Nichirin Sword."
It crouched low, slipping into a hunting stance, its eyes filled with undisguised contempt.
Tanjiro said nothing.
This was his first true confrontation with a demon. Though he had already resolved to walk the path of a demon slayer, standing face to face with such a horrifying creature still made his heart pound with tension.
Breathe…
He drew in another deep breath.
Unlike most people, who might panic during their first real battle—losing composure and fumbling despite all their training—Tanjiro, though still nervous, held the handle of his axe with steady hands. Even his steps remained firm and controlled.
"Is this really his first time facing a demon?" Makomo murmured, unable to hide her surprise. At the very least, when she had first encountered one, she hadn't been nearly as composed as he was now.
"You could say that," Soma replied quietly, watching the scene unfold.
Perhaps Tanjiro hadn't yet undergone the kind of life-altering tragedy he had in another life—his family slaughtered, his sister turned into a demon, forcing him to grow stronger almost overnight. He lacked that hardened resolve born from despair.
And yet… some people were simply different.
Even without such painful experiences, the quiet steadiness he carried, his earnest nature, and his natural instinct for combat all set him apart. It didn't necessarily mean he would succeed at everything—but it meant he would always bring out the very best of what he could do in that moment.
More importantly, that warmth—his compassion, his ability to understand others—was something that could move people, draw them in, and inspire them.
The demon, however, had no patience for such thoughts.
Driven mad by hunger, it could no longer restrain itself at the sight of prey so close at hand.
"Brat… just stand still and let me devour you. Let me eat you whole!"
"ROAR!"
With a savage howl, it lunged forward at terrifying speed. For an ordinary person, a demon's burst of motion—far beyond human limits—would be impossible to react to.
But Tanjiro was no ordinary person.
Those who practiced Breathing Styles could, for brief moments, match a demon's physical capabilities.
His breath flowed—exhaled, then drawn in again.
A thin mist formed before him as the warmth of his breath met the cold mountain air. The heat brushed against his face, making his eyes narrow instinctively—and in that instant, he saw it.
The demon's twisted face.
The sharp claws tearing toward him.
And he moved.
In one swift motion, he evaded the attack, his body pivoting with precision as his axe came down in a smooth, flowing arc.
"Sun Breathing… First Form: Dance."
The blade traced a beautiful curve through the air.
Before the demon could even comprehend what had happened, the strike had already landed—cleanly slicing through its neck.
In a single instant, its head was severed.
Blood sprayed outward as the head was flung into the air.
For a human, that would have meant certain death.
But demons were different.
Because Tanjiro wielded an axe—not a Nichirin Sword—the demon did not die, even with its head cut off.
Its headless body still lunged forward, claws slashing wildly toward him.
For most people, the sight of a headless corpse still moving would be enough to freeze them in terror.
Tanjiro had anticipated this possibility, yet even so, his pupils shrank at the grotesque scene before him. Still, though shock rippled through his mind, his body did not hesitate.
His axe flashed again.
In a heartbeat, he severed the demon's limbs, scattering them across the ground.
The dismembered pieces twitched and writhed, slowly dragging themselves back toward the body.
Meanwhile, the severed head continued to howl in rage.
"Damn brat! I'll eat you! I'll eat you! It hurts! It hurts so much!"
Soma stepped forward at an unhurried pace.
Amid the demon's confusion at sensing a familiar aura, he raised his blade once more and, with effortless ease, struck.
As he swung, his tall frame subtly blocked the movement of his wrist from Makomo's line of sight, preventing her from clearly seeing the act.
The blade came down.
With a clean, brutal motion, it split the demon's head in two—like slicing open a watermelon.
Only, unlike the sweetness of fruit, what spilled out was pale brain matter mixed with dark crimson blood, thick and nauseating.
A few stray droplets splashed onto his face, staining his handsome features with streaks of red.
From Soma's wrist, a faint trace of crimson mist, so subtle it was almost impossible to detect, slid along the blade and coiled toward the demon's severed head. In the span of a heartbeat, the inside of the demon's body withered away, as though drained of all vitality.
When the mist flowed back into him, a flush rose across Soma's face. Beneath his dark eyes, the hidden crimson grew more pronounced, flickering faintly in the depths.
Standing directly before him, Tanjiro saw everything clearly.
"Y-you've… grown stronger, sir…"
He could smell it—the aura surrounding Soma, rapidly intensifying. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"I'm starting to enjoy the feeling of cutting off a demon's head more and more."
Soma sheathed his blade, the faint red still staining his face. He turned back toward Makomo with a gentle smile.
"The sensation of severing a demon's head… it's truly exhilarating."
Under the moonlight, the scattered traces of blood on his handsome features gave him a strangely eerie charm—something almost unsettling. Makomo found herself unable to hold his gaze for long and instinctively turned her head away.
Unbothered, Soma slowly closed his eyes, quietly savoring the power surging through his body.
Physique +0.1
Strength +0.1
Agility +0.1
Mental Strength +0.1
The steady growth of strength felt intoxicating—especially when it came so effortlessly, like simply claiming what was already his.
He didn't enjoy fighting.
Even less did he enjoy battles where life and death hung in the balance.
What he preferred… was this.
Ending an enemy's life cleanly, effortlessly—when they had no power left to resist. Even if he possessed overwhelming strength, he still preferred it this way.
If he could avoid it, he had no desire to struggle desperately.
After all, people never looked good when they were fighting for their lives.
Once the demon was dealt with, Soma put away his blade.
Nearby, Tanjiro, once again sensing the lingering sorrow of the fallen demon, stepped forward. He knelt beside it and gently closed its eyes, his movements filled with quiet compassion.
Makomo watched the scene with a puzzled expression, unable to fully understand it. After a moment, she lifted her gaze toward the sky.
The bright moon hung high above.
And the night… was still far from over.