[Trait Acquired: Anti-Demon (F)]
Attacks are more effective against lower-ranked demons. Slight intimidation effect on weak-willed targets.
— — —
New information engraved itself into Hikaru's mind.
A new ability had taken shape.
The demon that had once towered over him now lay motionless on the ground. And before long, its body began to blacken—shrouded in a thick, oily mist as if its insides were burning away. Its scream echoed in the stillness, twisted and hollow, until its form dissolved completely into thin, night-chilled air.
Hikaru inhaled slowly. Then exhaled.
"…If even that wasn't enough to win, I would've had no hope at all."
That much, he understood.
Because right now, he only knew two basic forms of Mist Breathing.
One for initiating battle.
One for defense and counterattack.
That was all.
"I… I got lucky," Hikaru muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Those words weren't just for himself.
They were for the body's original owner, whose memories now guided his actions.
And also—for the mysterious system that had appeared in his mind without warning.
Without those lingering memories, he would've lost his composure long ago.
Without the system… he never would've survived.
But here was the truth.
If he could survive once—he could survive again.
Every success was recorded.
Every lesson became a skill.
Every moment of survival… became experience.
This system didn't boost his power just by existing.
No shortcuts.
No instant growth.
But it rewarded effort.
And for Hikaru… that was enough.
It was the kind of system that gave back exactly what you earned.
No more.
No less.
But that didn't mean he could afford to relax.
Thanks to the inherited memories—and his own knowledge from his original world—
"…This is Kimetsu no Yaiba, isn't it?"
With the chaos of battle behind him, Hikaru's mind finally had space to think clearly.
The demons that prowled the night.
The Breath Styles used by swordsmen.
The secret organization—the Demon Slayer Corps.
All of it lined up.
This wasn't just similar to the anime he once watched.
He had been transported into it.
"This world is dangerous… Demons hunt at night. And even regular people who have nothing to do with the Corps can be attacked at any moment."
He turned his gaze toward the final remnants of the slain demon.
Nothing was left now but a faintly scorched skull, half-crumbled, barely recognizable.
Even in death, some trace of consciousness lingered.
Hikaru had felt it—the burning agony.
But more than that…
He saw something in the demon's eyes.
Not rage.
Not madness.
But peace.
Relief.
And… gratitude.
Demons were once human.
They weren't born as monsters.
They were turned into them.
Cursed into existence, shackled by an endless hunger, driven by instinct and darkness.
But in the moment of death…
Some of them remembered.
That they had once been people.
And in that final breath, they found freedom.
It reminded Hikaru of something he'd once heard—
> "This cruel world turns humans into demons…"
…Wait, that was the wrong quote.
He shook his head and sighed, brushing the stray thought aside.
Now, even the skull had faded into dust.
"…Even if I've been thrown into another world—life goes on."
His voice melted into the wind, quiet and resolute.
There was still some confusion inside him.
But in the next few seconds, that hesitation hardened into something else.
Resolve.
He might have the body's memories. He might understand the rules of this world.
But he didn't belong here.
He was an outsider—thrown into a place where every night was a fight for survival.
Still, that didn't matter.
His goal was simple.
Survive.
And after that—
Become stronger.
Because only with strength…
…could he protect something.
…could he choose his path.
…could he secure a future.
— — —
He walked on.
Above him, the crimson hue of the moon began to fade—replaced by silver, soft and pale.
Quiet. Peaceful.
Mountains stretched out in every direction. Not a single village or sign of civilization in sight.
Still, the forest remained calm.
Even though demons ruled the night, they weren't lurking behind every tree. They were many—but not that many.
And it made sense.
This was the Taisho Era.
After the Meiji period, Japan had entered a time of rapid modernization. Steam trains. Firearms. The slow birth of industrial power.
Even with their supernatural strength, demons couldn't just rampage openly.
Cannons. Bullets. Explosives.
If they drew too much attention from the military…
It could spell disaster for the demons.
And that was the last thing one man wanted—
Kibutsuji Muzan.
The First Demon.
A creature who could turn humans into monsters with nothing but his blood.
The one who had lived in secret for over a thousand years, pulling the strings of this world from the shadows.
As Hikaru walked, his mind turned back to the "system."
Was it even right to call it that?
After all, it didn't give him quests.
It didn't issue commands.
It didn't speak.
It simply recorded.
Analyzed.
Displayed results.
Like it wasn't something foreign…
…but a part of him.
Still—one thing was clear.
That "system" was the greatest strength he had in this world.
He was still weak.
By Corps standards, his current rank was Kanoe—the third-lowest of the ten.
The demon he'd just slain? A weak one. Barely above fodder.
His physical ability, his combat sense, even his mentality…
They were still far too fragile.
He still feared pain.
Still feared death.
Still feared the unknown.
But—
He kept walking.
His mind remained sharp.
His eyes scanned the forest.
He didn't know how long he walked…
…until—
A golden glow broke across the horizon.
Like a thousand swords tearing through the night, sunlight pierced the sky, washing away the blood moon with clear, brilliant blue.
Dawn.
Warmth touched his skin—and for the first time that night—
Hikaru sighed in relief.
Even without fighting more demons, the discomfort had lingered in his chest.
Because as long as the night lasted…
Anything could happen.
Only with the rising sun—
—did safety return.
By a riverbank, water flowed crisp and clean.
He crouched beside it, scooping the water into his hands to wash his face.
Cold.
Fresh.
It wiped away more than just blood and grime—it cleared something heavy from his heart.
It was real. All of it.
And there was no going back.
All he could do now… was move forward.
He looked into the water.
A reflection stared back.
A young man with long black hair.
A lean frame.
Eyes dark as obsidian.
A pale but composed face.
He took a long breath.
Everything had changed.
The name might be the same.
But he was no longer who he used to be.
"This isekai… came out of nowhere. I never asked for it. But if it's happened—then all I can do… is accept it. And keep going."
He might've looked calm on the surface.
But truthfully—
He wasn't calm at all.
He just didn't have a choice.
And Hikaru was someone who, since childhood, had always been forced to adapt.
You could say…
He was used to being swept by the current.
But that was fine.
That was enough.
He stood up, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The morning sun climbed into the sky, casting golden light across the forested hills and the endless peaks beyond.
He watched for a moment.
Then took his next step.
The morning wind played through his hair, lifting each strand like drifting clouds.
His next goal was simple:
Grow stronger.
Stay alive.
And one day—
Find a way home.
That was all.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
📚 Want to read more chapters or get early access?
Join my Patreon here:
🔗 patreon.com/FaaanzKun
✅ Enjoy 15+ chapters ahead of WebNovel
✅ Get 1-2 new chapters every day exclusively on Patreon
Join now and dive deeper into the story—weeks ahead of public release!
Thank you for your amazing support 💖
— — —