The Spider Demon crept forward with chilling silence, its limbs scraping softly against the ground. The three contestants remained oblivious, still locked in their petty debate.
"What do we do? Stay here or just head straight down?" one muttered, voice laced with uncertainty.
Another frowned. "If I go back like this, I'll never live it down. The villagers all knew I was taking the Demon Slayer Corps exam. They even raised money for my family. Going home in shame would be unbearable."
The third scoffed, shrugging. "What's the big deal? Just make up a reason. You think every person who enters the Corps passes? Better to fail alive than die here."
They argued, unaware of the nightmare crouched behind them. The Spider Demon circled the group like a predator savoring its prey. Its eight limbs shifted deliberately, not striking yet, but waiting—waiting to play.
It spun suddenly, like a top, its grotesque body twisting unnaturally. Then, as if deciding on its game, it scuttled behind the tallest contestant. Slowly, its skeletal body rose upright. With deliberate care, its bony arms extended, claws hovering just beneath the youth's neck.
At last, the other two noticed. Their eyes widened in horror.
The thing had emerged from the shadows like a nightmare made flesh. Its glistening bald head and grotesque body evoked a centipede, or some monstrous arachnid born of darkness. Terror coursed through them. Their skin prickled, their muscles locked. They wanted to scream, to run—but their bodies betrayed them.
One of them, seated diagonally, shakily lifted a trembling hand, pointing at the looming figure. His lips quivered, trying to form a warning, though tears blurred his vision.
The tall contestant—Ryu—saw the gesture, but misunderstood. "What's with you two? Did you see—"
He began to turn his head. The word "Demon" never left his lips.
Crack!
The sound of breaking bone split the night. His neck twisted violently at a right angle. His eyes bulged in shock and agony, just in time to behold the monster's face. Bloodshot veins spread across his gaze as life drained away.
With Ryu's death, the invisible weight that held his companions in place seemed to vanish.
"Gh—gh-Demon!" one screamed, his voice shrill enough to tear his throat.
He scrambled desperately toward the path Kimura's group had taken, his nails clawing at the dirt in panic. His only thought was to catch up with them, to beg forgiveness and be allowed back. Why did I listen to him? Why didn't I run earlier?
The other contestant remained paralyzed. His skin was chalk white, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. A dark puddle spread beneath him, the acrid stench of urine mixing with the forest air.
The Spider Demon scuttled forward leisurely. It circled the frozen youth once, savoring the fear radiating from him. Then, with a final tilt of its bald head, it crept behind him. The boy whimpered, barely able to breathe. A cold claw brushed the back of his neck.
Click.
Another neck snapped like dry wood.
The forest rang with the sound of his death cry, a shrill, cracking wail that echoed through the mountains like fireworks before a festival. But this was no celebration for the living.
It was the beginning of the Demons' carnival.
…
Kimura's group heard it instantly.
The piercing screams froze their steps. Every head turned, every scalp tingled, as if invisible fingers had clawed down their spines.
"Help! Help, someone save me—!"
The panicked cry grew nearer… then cut off abruptly, like a candle snuffed out in the dark.
Dead.
The thought echoed in every mind.
Fear spread like wildfire through the ranks. It crept from their feet, up their spines, until it choked their throats. Whispers, rustles, shifting eyes.
Something was coming.
Rustling leaves. Crunching footsteps. From the front. From behind. From the trees above. The sounds multiplied until it seemed they were surrounded on all sides.
"We're trapped!" someone whispered, nearly hysterical.
Kimura stepped forward, forcing steel into his shaking voice. "Don't panic! There are many of us. Form a circle—slowly. Shields outward. Do not break formation!"
Even with his voice trembling, the authority in his command cut through chaos.
His role as leader had never been clearer.
The formation shifted, blades and bodies turning. The arrowhead they had marched in dissolved into a tight circle, backs pressed together, weapons ready.
Kimura inhaled deeply, steadying his own pounding heart. I can't falter. Not now. If I lose them, this team falls apart, and then we're all dead.
He raised his voice. "Listen! We are already here—there is no way out! If you came this far, you should be ready to die in battle. Fear will not save you—it will kill you. Hesitation will not protect you—it will endanger everyone beside you."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, then added with sharp clarity:
"Anyone too cowardly to draw their blade will be abandoned. Anyone who runs will be abandoned. But those who fight with their whole hearts—we will protect them. This team is not a shelter for the weak. We are here to endure the test and overcome it together. Only unity gives us hope!"
The ring of his words steadied trembling hands. Eyes that moments ago darted with panic now began to focus.
"Yes!" voices answered, wavering at first, then stronger.
Kimura pressed on. "And remember—the little girls at the base of the mountain told us: the demons here were captured by the Corps. That means they are not among the strongest. If the Corps can face them, so can we!"
His logic cut through dread. It wasn't raw inspiration, but simple truth—and truth was what frightened humans clung to most.
Confidence flickered among the group, fragile but real.
…
Meanwhile, back on the stone platform, Yukishiro and Mitsuri remained detached from the chaos below.
Yukishiro reclined lazily, eyes fixed on the silver disc of the moon. He flicked a pebble into the forest, listening absently as it clattered among the trees.
Beside him, Mitsuri hugged her knees, puffing her cheeks, dragging the tip of a stick across the ground in idle circles.
When the scream tore across the night, she shot upright.
Her head whipped toward the sound, sharp eyes narrowing.
Halfway up the mountain. More screams followed, desperate, begging, then suddenly silenced.
Mitsuri's fists clenched. For a moment, her body leaned forward, as if ready to dash into the dark. But then—hesitation. Slowly, she sank back down beside Yukishiro.
"Someone died," she murmured.
"I heard," Yukishiro replied evenly.
Her brow furrowed. "Are we just… going to do nothing?"
He glanced at her, expression unreadable. "And what do you suggest?"
"…I don't know."
"Then don't act blindly. The first night is always the hardest. Survive this, and the rest becomes easier."
She lowered her head, silent.
The forest below continued to tremble with the beginnings of the hunt. The night of slaughter had only just begun.