"Ding! Host has slain a mid-level demon. System reward: +20 enhancement to leg explosive power."
The system's voice echoed in his mind.
Aoyama felt a subtle change surge through his legs—lighter, more elastic, coiled with power.
Thud. Thud.
The massive demon lumbered forward. Though slow, each step shook the ground, pebbles trembling under its weight.
Aoyama drew a steady breath, eyes locking onto his opponent.
This one was enormous. Thick arms. Hardened flesh.
Its physical durability was clearly far superior to the agile demon from before.
As the distance closed, the Line of Opening stubbornly refused to appear.
Aoyama frowned slightly.
He stomped the ground and launched upward.
Total Concentration!
Light Breathing—First Form: Flash.
Midair, he slashed downward toward the demon below. Landing in a crouch, blood rolled along the blade's edge and dripped onto the soil.
The demon's arm had not been fully severed—just a strip of flesh still connected it.
"Heh… you think you can beat me, brat? My body's been specially tempered. Far tougher than you imagine."
Grinning with jagged teeth, it grabbed the nearly severed arm and pressed it back into place.
Flesh reknit.
Bone fused.
In an instant, the limb was whole again.
Aoyama rose slowly.
When his blade struck earlier, he had clearly felt resistance—a dullness in the cut.
This outcome wasn't entirely unexpected.
"I'll snap your neck, eat your body, and leave only your head. Heh…"
Drool streamed from the demon's mouth.
"Big. Words."
Aoyama's tone was ice-cold.
He dashed forward, leapt, and landed briefly on the demon's shoulder. As it reached to grab him, he kicked off and vaulted away—
Landing on a nearby tree branch.
He crooked a finger.
"Over here."
The demon turned, scanning wildly before locking onto him and stomping toward the tree.
Aoyama counted the steps silently.
Three.
Two.
One.
Within range.
He dropped.
Total Concentration! Light Breathing—First Form: Flash!
Air wrapped around the blade. His body weight and gravitational force compressed into the strike.
Slash—
This time, no resistance.
The left arm was cleanly severed.
Without pause, he pivoted low.
Light Breathing—First Form: Flash.
The blade glowed faint white. His breathing deepened, blood roaring through his veins.
Thud—
The towering body collapsed forward, balance lost with one arm and one leg gone.
Aoyama's forehead beaded with sweat.
A gift from Kibutsuji Muzan.
He would accept it properly.
Though not one of the Twelve Kizuki, this demon had clearly received a considerable amount of Muzan's blood. Mere cannibalism couldn't account for such hardened flesh.
"Special tempering," the demon had said.
Meaning Muzan had done something to him directly.
Aoyama planted a foot on the demon's face.
"Tell me. What did Kibutsuji Muzan do to you? Speak."
The blade tip hovered over its eye.
One twitch, and he would pierce it.
The demon trembled violently. With its remaining hand, it clutched its head.
Just hearing that name sent terror flooding its body.
"Oh right," Aoyama muttered. "You're cursed. You can't speak about him."
The demon nodded instinctively.
"The Lord instructed—ugh—no… don't…"
Its body convulsed.
Something writhed inside.
Aoyama sensed danger and leapt back immediately.
The fool had responded without thinking.
From the top of the demon's skull—
A massive hand burst outward.
The arm bent downward with sickening cracks, twisting—
And ripped the demon's own head off.
From its abdomen, two more arms tore outward, ripping its torso apart from within.
Aoyama felt nausea rise in his throat.
Kibutsuji Muzan…
Cruel. Lawless. Inhuman.
The eastern sky lightened.
Dawn broke.
Aoyama sat silently on a rock for a long while.
When the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, it struck the torn remains. The demon's body slowly disintegrated into ash.
He stood.
Glanced once at the rising sun.
Then continued forward.
Those two demons—
They had been crafted specifically by Kibutsuji Muzan to ambush him while alone.
One built for speed.
One built for power.
Speed and strength combined.
A personalized execution squad.
Aoyama's hand tightened around the hilt at his waist.
Kibutsuji Muzan…
One day, I will return your gift.
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