Naraka, the upper moon 6, slowly comes to consciousness, his head swirling with confusion. As he opens his eyes, he is greeted by a hazy scene, unable to recognize where he is. Glancing around, he realizes that the formidable upper moon 4, Eliza, is nowhere to be seen.
…
"Tch… How could I have been so foolish? Eliza... she's not just an ordinary demon but a pinnacle among the Upper Moons. And what did I do? I let my pride get the better of me and spoke to her like she was just another subordinate. She was only teasing, and I—damn it, I reacted like a petulant child."
.
He paused, his fingers running through his tangled hair in frustration.
"I should have known better. If she wanted to provoke me, it was probably a test, a way to see if I was worthy of standing alongside her. And instead of rising to the occasion, I let my arrogance blind me."
———————————————————————
As Chikafusa, Rinka, and the rest of the demon slayers neared the southern district, an unsettling sensation prickled at Chikafusa's senses. His keen nose caught an unusual scent wafting through the air, sharp and metallic, cutting through the usual aroma of the forest.
It was the unmistakable stench of blood.
A shiver ran down his spine as the realization struck him. The scent was not faint but persistent, lingering ominously in the breeze from a considerable distance. Instinctively, Chikafusa's eyes narrowed with focus, his mind racing to connect the dots. The normally serene forest now felt heavy with an unsettling dread.
He says to Rinka, "Kumagami-San, I've sensed something strange. I need to go to the forest right now."
"But you shouldn't go alone, Yamamoto-kun. It's dangerous. You need to take some demon slayers with you."
"Alright!"
He immediately leaves her with some demon slayers and runs towards the place.
With swift, purposeful strides, he led the group deeper into the forest. The trees, once tranquil and inviting, now seemed to close in around them, their shadows stretching ominously as if trying to conceal the source of the sinister scent. The underbrush rustled and crackled under their hurried steps, each sound amplifying the tension that gripped them.
The further they ventured, the stronger the smell became, seeping into their senses and heightening their alertness. Every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs seemed to whisper warnings of danger lurking just beyond their sight.
Chikafusa and his group of demon slayers arrive at a small, dilapidated house in a forest clearing, guided by the pungent scent of blood. Upon reaching the scene, they discover a demon, covered in blood, is crawling towards a terrified woman and her child.
The woman and child are in a state of panic and fear, clearly vulnerable and in danger. Without hesitation, Chikafusa and his fellow demon slayers spring into action. They swiftly and efficiently kill the demon.
Chikafusa focuses on protecting the mother and child, shielding them from violence and chaos. Once the demon is defeated, he reassures the woman and her child, offering them comfort and safety.
"You're safe now, miss," he reassures.
... "Th... Thank you for saving my child," she sobs. Her eyes are filled with tears.
..
...
Suddenly, the surroundings turn cold. Everywhere is a scent of sweetness.
Everyone, including Chikafusa, looks around to find the source of the sudden cold and sweet scent.
"What's going on...?"
Suddenly.
In the darkness, a pair of blue eyes emerged, their glow fierce and penetrating, cutting through the gloom like twin shards of ice. The eyes seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, filled with a malevolent intensity that spoke of insidious intent.
As the eyes remained fixed upon them, Chikafusa felt a creeping numbness spreading through his limbs. It wasn't long before the world around him began to blur and tilt. The other demon slayers, too, succumbed to the encroaching darkness. One by one, they crumpled, their forms collapsing to the ground with a grim finality.
In front of them, the mother and her child stood as silent witnesses.
Out of the suffocating darkness, a spectral figure emerged, casting an eerie, white glow that pierced through the shadows. The figure stepped forward with a grace that seemed both ethereal and menacing.
It was Eliza, the Upper-Moon 4, her presence commanding a chilling reverence.
As she moved deliberately over the fallen bodies, her elegance was contrasted by the chaos she left behind. The mother clutched her child, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperation. Tears streamed down their faces, their sobs the only sound in the otherwise oppressive silence.
Eliza approached them with a fluid, almost hypnotic stride. Her crimson lips curved into a faint, unsettling smile as she leaned down towards the trembling child. Gently, she pressed a kiss to the child's forehead, a gesture that was both tender and incongruous against the backdrop of death.
...
The mother's breath caught in her throat, paralyzed by the surreal and unsettling sight of this demon's seemingly affectionate touch.
"Don't worry, I don't harm kids," Eliza murmured, her voice soft and deceptively soothing, slicing through the terror with a chilling calm.
The mother, barely able to control her quaking limbs, managed to stammer, "W… Why did you kill these people?"
Eliza's gaze was inscrutable as she replied, "Because they killed my subordinate." With those final, cold words hanging in the air, she vanished, leaving behind only the echo of her departure.
———————————————————————
The moon hung low over the southern district, casting an eerie glow on the streets. Rinka, flanked by a squad of Demon Slayers, finally arrived, their breath visible in the cold, night air. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on their shoulders as if the district itself held its breath in anticipation.
They moved cautiously, eyes scanning the deserted streets, only civilians in sight, their faces pale with unease. Something was wrong—Rinka could feel it deep in her gut.
"Why were we even sent here? There's no demon," Rinka muttered under her breath, her grip tightening around her sword. "We should be out there, hunting—"
Her words were cut short. In a flash of motion too fast to follow, the air around them cracked with an unnatural force. Out of the shadows, a towering figure materialized—Naraka, Upper Moon Six. His eyes gleamed with bloodlust, and before anyone could react, his monstrous scythe cut through the air with a whistle.
...
He decapitates their heads in an instant.
Rinka's heart skipped a beat, but her body moved on instinct. In the split second before death could claim her, her Nichirin Whip-Katana lashed out, meeting the scythe in mid-swing.
The clash of metal rang out, sparks flying as she deflected the attack with precision.
Naraka glares at her, standing in front of her. He has a muscular physique. Striking black stripes run from his eyes down to his stomach. Two horns, reminiscent of goat's, adorn his head, and he is dressed in a vibrant red and black kimono. His intense hunter eyes are black, with a mesmerizing orange glow from his pupils.
Rinka's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as terror washed over her. She knew, in that instant, exactly what stood before her: an Upper Moon.
She didn't dare move. Not yet. But her eyes betrayed her, flickering to the side where her comrades lay. They had been beside her moments ago, full of life, ready to face any threat. Now, they were nothing more than headless, broken bodies strewn across the blood-stained ground. Their vacant eyes stared into the void, their swords still gripped in lifeless hands.
Tears welled in her eyes, her chest tightening with grief and guilt. She was supposed to protect them. She should have been faster, stronger—but she wasn't.
Her comrades, her friends—they were gone, reduced to lifeless corpses in a matter of seconds.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, barely able to get the words out as her body trembled.
Naraka's scythe gleamed in the moonlight, still wet with the blood of her fallen comrades.
…
Naraka's eyes widened, the glowing orange in his pupils flickering for a moment as if something within him had stirred. His scythe, once poised for another strike, lowered slightly.
"...It's you..." he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.