The perspective shifts back to Shinichi.
Having bid farewell to the valley shrouded in mystery and secrets, the young man found himself profoundly moved by the millennia-old legends he'd learned.
Now, he walked the homeward path beneath a morning sun that warmed his shoulders.
No longer did the savage demon-blood power churn within him.
Instead, an oceanic yet tranquil vitality flowed through his veins—a profound, unfathomable life force.
Each footfall resonated with the earth beneath him, as if the land itself acknowledged his presence.
The vital energy of plants and trees nourished him like gentle streams, silently replenishing the toll of his long journey.
His mind had achieved unprecedented clarity too.
The shadows cast by past slaughter and loss of control had been largely cleansed through Abe Nobumasa's guidance and this period of quiet contemplation.
Yet as he drew nearer to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters—that supremely concealed valley nestled within the mountains—an indescribable unease coiled around his heart like frost-touched vines.
Too quiet.
This wasn't the natural stillness of wilderness, but rather... a deathly hush.
An absence of life that set his nerves on edge.
Kneeling, Shinichi pressed his palm to the earth.
Eyes closed, he breathed deeply, listening to the mountain's vital whispers.
When he finally reopened them, his brows furrowed involuntarily.
From the land's fading pulse, he sensed terror and shuddering dread.
Something catastrophic had occurred here.
The realization triggered urgent recollection in him—the villages he'd passed earlier, settlements that should have been bustling with undercover Corps members and support personnel.
In his memory, although these places were some distance from headquarters, he would often see Demon Slayers in black uniforms discreetly purchasing supplies or delivering messages, always in a hurry.
Even in some hidden corners, there would be special markings left by members on guard duty.
But recently, Shinichi hadn't seen a single Demon Slayer—not even the shadow of a Kasugai Crow overhead.
At first, Shinichi didn't pay it much mind, thinking perhaps the Demon Slayer Corps was occupied with some critical mission, leaving them short-handed.
But now, the thought struck him differently...
Without further hesitation, Shinichi steeled himself and raced toward headquarters at full speed.
...
After some time.
He drew closer to the entrance of the valley where headquarters was located.
Shinichi remembered that this area was supposed to be guarded by multiple hidden security lines and at least one sentry post manned by a Kinoe-ranked swordsman.
Yet, as he stepped into the familiar mountain forest, his heart sank abruptly.
The scent of blood.
A faint, lingering odor of blood, mixed with the decay of earth and vegetation, hung in the air.
Though diluted by time, Shinichi's keen sense of smell caught it immediately.
Stopping beneath a large tree, Shinichi frowned and crouched down.
His fingers brushed over what appeared to be an ordinary fallen leaf, only for his fingertips to come away stained with a dried, blackened, sticky substance.
Blood—and quite a lot of it.
As Shinichi pressed forward, his unease grew like a snowball rolling downhill.
Along the path, the trees bore numerous slashes from sharp weapons, along with scorched remnants of explosions.
Hidden trap mechanisms had been violently destroyed, their wreckage scattered everywhere.
Signs of battle—and on a considerable scale!
Amid the chaotic remnants of the battlefield, the acrid stench of gunpowder lingered, instantly reminding Shinichi of his fight in the Yoshiwara red-light district—the matchlocks wielded by police officers during that battle where he had lost his rationality!
And most crucially, Shinichi didn't sense much of a demonic presence on the battlefield.
There was some, but it was incredibly faint—far too weak to pose any real threat to the Demon Slayer Corps.
So why would demons be collaborating with humans armed with powerful firearms?
Recalling how Upper Rank Six—Kamaro—had disguised himself as a human police inspector in Yoshiwara, deliberately stirring conflict between the police and the Demon Slayers...
In an instant, a terrible suspicion took root in Shinichi's mind.
....
Finally, Shinichi arrived at the familiar entrance to the valley—cleverly concealed by dense vines and natural rock formations—the secure gateway to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters.
In the past, even though their leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, was considerate and respectful toward his subordinates, basic precautions were still in place.
At the very least, two Demon Slayers would be stationed here on rotating guard duty.
But now...
The vines at the entrance were reduced to charred remnants, and the massive natural boulders, formed over centuries, had been violently split in two.
The rocks were marred by gunpowder stains and uneven craters—as if they had been blasted apart by an enormous amount of explosives!
Shinichi's heart skipped a beat as a chilling premonition flooded over him like icy waves.
Taking a deep breath, he hesitated no longer.
Moving like lightning, Shinichi dashed through the shattered entrance.
Soon!
The outline of the headquarters came into view, but... the sight before him struck Shinichi like the heaviest hammer slamming into his chest, instantly stopping his breath as blood seemed to freeze in his veins.
Ruins!
A shocking, deathly silent expanse of ruins!
The Demon Slayer Corps headquarters, once simple yet full of life in his memories, had now turned into charred remnants of broken walls.
The once neatly arranged wooden houses had mostly collapsed, burned by fire until only charred frames and twisted charcoal remained, like the withered bones of a dead beast, pointing despairingly at the gloomy sky.
A few relatively sturdy stone buildings still stood precariously, but they too were covered in cracks, their walls blackened and windows shattered—a sight that was horrifying to behold.
Not far away, the training ground looked as if it had been plowed open by some tremendous force.
Deep pits had overturned the blackened earth, and the brick-paved paths were crisscrossed with fissures.
Between the cracks of the stones, faint traces of dried, dark brown bloodstains could still be seen.
The scorched smell of wood and ash in the air had faded somewhat with time, but the chilling stench of blood that lingered—unable to fully dissipate even after so long—left Shinichi silent.
Silence.
A deathly silence enveloped the ruins.
Even the wind seemed to have stilled, as if unwilling to disturb this tragic slumber.
"No… impossible. How could this happen? What… what went wrong? The headquarters… Oyakata-sama…"
Shinichi's pupils trembled violently.
His right hand clenched tightly around the hilt of the long sword at his waist—an ordinary blade scavenged from a pile of bandit corpses—before he swiftly stepped into the ruins, frantically searching through the wreckage.
Beneath a charred wooden beam, he found bloodstained fragments of a Demon Slayer Corps uniform.
At the edge of a massive crater, he picked up a half-melted, blackened Nichirin Blade.
The familiar pattern of the hilt's wrappings told him this likely belonged to a young member he had once trained and fought alongside.
"The Butterfly Mansion! Shinobu!"
The image of those gentle violet eyes flashed through his mind.
The next moment, Shinichi charged toward the Butterfly Mansion like a man possessed.