Tanjiro's expression hardened.
Everything had happened too fast. Before he could process it, the injured Slayer had been dragged away—and Senior Brother Aoyama had gone in with him.
His fists clenched.
"I'm going in!"
Zenitsu lunged from behind and wrapped both arms around Tanjiro.
"No! Tanjiro, don't go in! It's too dangerous!"
"Move! Move! Don't block my way, coward!"
Inosuke slammed his shoulder into Zenitsu, knocking him aside.
He had been a single step too slow earlier. Otherwise, he would have charged in before Aoyama.
Being left behind made him furious.
At this point, even Tanjiro was starting to get angry.
"Zenitsu, if you don't want to enter, then stay behind like Senior Brother said. But I am going."
He shook off Zenitsu's grip and sprinted into the mountain.
Inosuke followed immediately.
Left alone, Zenitsu crouched on the ground, trembling violently.
Dragged deep into the mountain, Aoyama felt something sticky clinging to him.
Spider silk.
In an instant, he understood.
The threads attached to the Slayer weren't ordinary strings—
They were demon threads from Natagumo Mountain.
He slashed, severing the silk binding the man.
Before he could question him—
Whoosh—
Another thread shot straight at Aoyama's face.
He twisted aside instinctively.
The thread missed him—
And redirected toward the injured Slayer.
Silver silk wrapped around the man's neck.
"Cut it!" Aoyama shouted, rushing forward.
Too late.
The instant the thread tightened—
The man's head was sliced clean off.
It rolled across the forest floor, blood staining the soil.
"Ahhh… what a pity. Just a little too slow."
The voice came from above.
A barefoot boy in a spiderweb-patterned kimono stood balanced on silver threads stretched between trees. A lock of hair covered his right eye.
Aoyama looked up.
Familiar.
Yet this was their first meeting in this world.
Lower Rank Five of the Twelve Kizuki—
Rui.
"Late is late," Aoyama replied coolly. "But it won't stop you from dying."
Using tree trunks as footholds, enhanced by his strengthened legs, Aoyama launched himself upward in rapid succession.
His blade flashed white.
The strike didn't hit Rui—
But it severed the threads beneath his feet.
For a brief moment, Aoyama felt eyes on his back.
He turned—
No one.
Rui glanced toward that same unseen direction, displeasure flickering across his face, before refocusing on Aoyama.
"Your companions… Mother will deal with them soon. As for you, Father will kill you."
His tone was casual.
As if assigning roles in a game.
Mother.
Father.
Aoyama's thoughts snapped into place.
He had been focused on Rui's status as Lower Rank Five and momentarily forgotten—
This mountain was filled with his twisted "family."
Rui turned and disappeared into the trees.
Aoyama followed.
They reached another section of forest.
The sound of running water suggested a river nearby.
Rui stood between two trees.
Behind him, from the darkness—
A massive figure emerged.
"Father, he's yours. I'll check whether Mother has finished."
Rui spoke emotionlessly and vanished.
Aoyama opened his mouth to call after him—
Then stopped.
Unless he eliminated these so-called "family members," Rui would never stand still.
The towering demon stood nearly two meters tall.
Arms thick as tree trunks.
Multiple eyes.
A mouth full of jagged teeth.
He roared and smashed his fist into the ground—
Leaving a crater.
"My family! No one touches them!"
Aoyama froze briefly.
That strength—
Incredible.
A giant fist hurtled toward his face.
He leapt, flipping midair, landing lightly atop the demon's arm.
The other fist came swinging.
This time—
He couldn't avoid it.
BOOM.
He was blasted backward, crashing into a tree trunk.
He coughed, clutching his chest.
Thankfully, his body had been reinforced by the system.
Anyone else would've spat blood.
He rose slowly.
He had underestimated this opponent.
He had assumed—
Large build, immense strength, slower speed.
Wrong.
Two steady breaths.
Grip tightened.
Eyes locked onto the approaching behemoth.
"My family! No one touches!"
Aoyama sneered.
"Family? You call this family? It's nothing but a child's make-believe."
He dodged another massive punch.
Leapt high.
Total Concentration.
Water Breathing — Second Form: Water Wheel.
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