The day passed in uneasy silence. After climbing Mount Fujikasane, the groups scattered at first, but by evening, nearly everyone had drifted together on the mountainside. Only Yukishiro and his companions remained apart. The rest—Kimura's team and several smaller groups—gathered in a nervous cluster.
Kimura clearly wasn't pleased to have outsiders joining his group, but he swallowed his irritation. To drive people away so openly would make him look petty, unfit for leadership. Image mattered—even in a life-and-death trial like this.
Night descended quickly.
The air thickened with a strange, metallic tang, and even those who had never laid eyes on a demon before felt it—the oppressive stillness, the unnatural scent.
On a stone outcrop at the center of the clearing, Kimura and Eimi rose together. At once, their teammates stood as well, a clear sign of who the crowd regarded as their leader.
The other candidates eyed them uneasily. Some slumped to the ground in defeat already, while others lingered at the edges, subtly edging closer, as though hoping to blend into Kimura's group. After all, everyone here had only met today. Who would notice one or two more?
Kimura's sharp gaze swept the clearing. For all his youth, his bearing was that of a commander. His voice cut through the silence:
"Everyone, night is here. The demons are already moving. Let me say this once more—the Final Selection is not a child's game. It is life or death. If any of you want to quit, do it now. Take your packs and retreat into the wisteria forest."
The words fell like a hammer. A tense pause… and then, four or five participants broke.
Clutching their packs, they fled downslope into the safety of the wisteria.
Kimura waited. When no one else moved, he nodded. "Very well. The rest of you are staying. Then listen. We move into the woods. We'll establish a position that's easy to defend and difficult to attack. With so many of us supporting each other, seven days is survivable. We will pass this test."
Murmurs broke out immediately.
"Into the woods? At night?" someone whispered.
"That's suicide!" another hissed.
Remaining here meant safety. If demons came, they could either fight or flee to the wisteria grove. But entering the forest now, when demons prowled at their peak?
It sounded insane.
Kimura had expected this resistance. He spread his hands calmly. "If you have questions, ask. If I cannot answer, then we'll discuss as a group. But doubts left unspoken are like cracks in glass.
One blow, and the whole pane shatters. Speak your thoughts."
Three young men huddled together. After a quick, whispered exchange, the tallest of them stepped forward. "Why not just stay here? Why go into the woods at all?"
Kimura's eyes hardened. He could read the opportunism behind the question. And from the way the crowd shifted, he could tell many others felt the same.
"Because that mindset will only doom you," Kimura said sharply. "You're thinking of using this place as a fallback, to linger near safety. That's not resolve—it's hesitation. If you're hoping to scrape by without truly fighting, you'll only drag down those who came here to succeed."
The tall youth flushed. Around him, others looked away, ashamed at having their secret thoughts exposed.
Kimura straightened, his voice rising. "We came here to join the Demon Slayer Corps.
That means facing death head-on. If you are only here to 'give it a try,' then stay. Do not follow us. This team is for those who are prepared to risk everything."
His words lit a fire in the crowd. Several participants cheered, sneering openly at the doubters.
"Cowards! You want the Corps to protect you? Go home and farm!"
"The Demon Slayer Corps isn't a charity!"
The opportunists shrank back under the jeers. Kimura, seizing the momentum, pressed on.
"And another thing—this place," he gestured at the clearing, "is flat, open, and without cover. If a demon comes, you'll be exposed. Yes, you could run into the wisteria forest, but that's surrender. And those who hesitate? They will be the first to die."
Laughter and cruel mockery rippled through the group. Kimura's argument had not only silenced opposition but also earned him admiration. Many who had doubted him now looked to him with respect.
But Kimura wasn't finished. "Some of you may ask—why at night? Why not enter during the day? The answer is simple. Earlier, we knew nothing of the terrain. If we entered then, we risked an encounter while exhausted, without rest or preparation. A fight like that would drain us before the true trial began. Now, we've rested. We're alert, we're fed, and we're ready. Entering at night is dangerous, yes—but it is a calculated danger."
The silence that followed was different now. Not hesitant, but convinced. Heads nodded. Even those still nervous found themselves swayed by his logic.
Kimura scanned the crowd one last time. "Any further questions?"
No one spoke.
"Good. Then follow me. The rest of you—stay if you wish. Do as you please."
With a sharp gesture, he organized them into formation. Two lines angling outward, like the blades of a pair of scissors. A structure designed for both attack and defense, able to respond to threats from all sides. It was clear he had studied this.
The group marched into the darkness under Kimura's command.
Behind them, only the three opportunists remained—the tall youth and his companions. Their bravado was gone, replaced by regret.
"Should we… stay?" one muttered.
"Or just quit and head down to the wisteria?"
They hesitated, whispering among themselves. And in that hesitation, none of them noticed the shape creeping from the treeline.
It was not merely a demon. This thing had shed the last semblance of humanity.
Eight limbs spread wide, six legs and two arms digging into the soil as it crawled low to the ground. Its bald, bulbous head gleamed in the moonlight, and its mandibles clicked as it scuttled closer. Its speed was unnerving, its movements unnatural.
The Spider Demon had arrived.