Did they really get into trouble? Kawachi's heart raced, worried for his two companions. However, the intense, growing scent of blood kept him in place. Wherever this blood was coming from, there had to be a powerful demon there, slaughtering humans without restraint! It had to be stopped!
A dense wall of bushes blocked their path. Without hesitation, Kawachi drew his Nichirin Blade, planted his foot firmly on the ground, and gripped the handle sideways, muttering to himself, "Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree!"
A fierce gust whipped up, carrying the light of his blade as it shattered the bushes blocking their way. The scene beyond came into full view, and what Kawachi and his fellow Demon Slayers saw was a living nightmare.
"What… is that?" Even though they had steeled themselves for anything, the grotesque sight before them still left the Demon Slayers stunned.
Dozens of bodies were strung up like bloody gourds, impaled on thick ropes that stretched across the forest clearing. The earth beneath was soaked in a dark red pool of fresh blood. A few twisted bodies lay beside an old, decrepit well, their disfigured forms barely recognizable as human.
But the most unsettling sight was the huge figure seated next to the well, facing away from them. That aura—it had to be a demon!
With a synchronized movement, all the Demon Slayers drew their Nichirin Blades, their muscles tensing as they directed their blades at the sitting figure. The demon turned slowly, meeting the gaze of its hunters.
There were characters in its eyes! Kawachi's eyes widened in shock, his hand gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. What was he seeing? The letters inscribed in the demon's right eye confirmed it: this was one of the Twelve Kizuki!
The Twelve Kizuki—the twelve most powerful demons under the command of Muzan, the Demon King. Each one had taken countless lives, with a strength that struck terror into the hearts of even the strongest Demon Slayers. Over centuries, countless powerful Slayers known as Hashira had fought and fallen, but none had ever managed to kill an Upper Rank demon. Even those who had slain Lower Ranks were rare. And many of the Hashira themselves had died in the process.
This demon bore the characters "Lower Four." This was a Lower Rank demon, ranked fourth. A demon of such power was beyond them; only Slayers ranked A, B, or C might stand a chance, and right now, the strongest among them were Kawachi and Takemoto, both of whom were only ranked D. Kawachi felt a cold sweat break out on his hand gripping the sword.
"Demon Slayers? I haven't encountered any of you in years," the demon muttered, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I must have gotten too comfortable, exposing my activities here in Hakushii Mountain. A pity—this place is so suitable for a nice tea ceremony. But if it's come to this, I suppose I'll use your blood to brew one final pot of tea."
"That's a Lower Rank demon!" a voice trembled behind Kawachi, and Takemoto gripped his sword, his voice tense as he spoke, trying to muster his courage.
Hearing this, the demon's mouth twisted into a sadistic grin, baring its sharp fangs. "The one about to kill you is Lower Four—Taiping Saburo!"
Just as he spoke, ropes slithered out from the bushes, ensnaring two Demon Slayers in the air. One of them had already succumbed to his injuries.
"Junbo! Takano!" The Slayers recognized their captured comrades immediately, their expressions twisted with rage and horror.
Taiping Saburo brought the bloodstained ropes to his mouth and took a slow, deliberate lick. "Ah, yes… Demon Slayer blood is exquisite. It's so much richer than the blood of those dull farmers."
"Damn it!" The sight enraged the remaining Demon Slayers, pushing them to the brink of despair.
Kawachi's mind raced. He knew they stood no chance against this Lower Rank demon. Their only hope was to hold him off as long as possible, to survive until backup from the Demon Slayer Corps could arrive. Kawachi had secretly signaled a crow, sending out an emergency request for reinforcement.
Coincidentally, Kawachi remembered meeting Flame Hashira, Rengoku, before they'd headed to Hakushii Mountain. Rengoku was on a nearby mission. If they could hold out long enough, perhaps they'd survive until Rengoku arrived!
The thought brought a surge of resolve to Kawachi's eyes, his gaze at Taiping Saburo hardening with newfound determination.
They were close, very close! The demon's aura grew stronger with every step. Having regained his strength, Shinichi, followed closely by Enji, carried his newly wrapped Nichirin Blade on his back.
With one swipe, Shinichi slashed away the vines blocking his view, opening up his field of vision. But then he froze, his eyes widening in shock. Lying ahead, in the blood-soaked clearing, was a lifeless figure sprawled on the ground.
The blood mixed with torn flesh and organs, the sight gut-wrenching. The only intact part was the head, its face frozen in the final moments of terror and confusion before death. The scent of fresh blood was overpowering; the man had likely been killed only minutes ago.
Realizing the urgency, Shinichi looked to where Enji was barking, following the sounds of battle not far off. Sparing one last look at the horrific scene, Shinichi's eyes flashed green as he ran toward the sounds of combat.
"Too strong! We can't fight it!" One of the Demon Slayers shouted in desperation, his arms shaking as he barely blocked an attacking rope with his Nichirin Blade. The moment his sword made contact with the rope, his hands shook as though he'd struck solid stone, his grip breaking under the force.
And it wasn't just one rope; a dozen ropes surrounded Lower Four Taiping Saburo, each attacking from a different angle. The demon had yet to even stand, lazily preparing his tea as he watched them struggle.
In less than two minutes, five Demon Slayers had already been slaughtered by Taiping Saburo. Only Kawachi and Takemoto remained, fending off the endless assault of ropes while trying to catch their breath.
Nearby, the lower-ranked Demon Slayer, Koshiro, swung his blade, trembling. He'd only joined the Corps a year ago, unprepared to face one of the Twelve Kizuki. The sight of his comrades' bodies strung up on ropes and his own terror had already shattered his will to fight.
With another flick of Taiping Saburo's fingers, a rope whipped through the air, striking Koshiro's sword. His grip failed, and the Nichirin Blade flew out of his hand, landing far from reach. Overcome with panic, Koshiro turned to run, "I can't do this! I don't want to die!"
But he didn't make it far before a rope sliced through him, stabbing through his chest.
"Koshiro! Damn it! Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!" Enraged, Takemoto spun with his sword, water flowing from the blade as he sliced one of the ropes in half.
But more ropes replaced the one he cut, outnumbering them more and more, even as their own stamina faded. With every swing, sparks flew as their blades clashed with the demon's supernatural ropes, but their strength was fading.
Smiling coldly, Taiping Saburo turned the crank of his well, allowing another rope to uncoil into the clearing. "Blood Demon Art: Death Rope of Strangulation!" He laughed. "If they're so eager to cut my ropes, let them have at it a while longer. I need only think it, and I can crush them in an instant."