The sound of rustling leaves intensified. What began as scattered noises became a relentless chorus, like waves crashing against the cliffs. It was not the march of animals—they all knew better. This was the sound of predators.
The tide of sound swelled, peaked, and then suddenly… died down. The silence was suffocating. It wasn't that the tide had receded—it was that the source of the noise had drawn near.
The Demons were here.
The team's formation wavered, their ring shrinking inward unnaturally. Fear made their bodies betray them, each contestant pressing closer, squeezing the inner ranks, until the circle began to look more like a crushed knot of bodies.
The forest suddenly burst alive with grotesque figures.
They appeared behind trees, crouched low in the underbrush, their forms glinting under moonlight. Some stood, stooped but tall; others squatted like beasts, hands dragging on the ground. A few perched above, clinging to branches like crows watching carrion.
One, two, three… ten.
Ten Demons in total.
The contestants froze, hearts pounding like drums.
One Demon alone was enough to terrify most. But ten, surrounding them from every angle? Knees shook, throats tightened, and the acrid scent of sweat mixed with the earth.
The Demons varied in shape and size—some skeletal thin, others grotesquely bloated—but every one of them shared one feature: their eyes. Each pair burned with the same gleam of hunger, a greedy crimson light that reflected in the moon's glow. Lips curled back, revealing wet teeth, and several licked their mouths as though savoring a feast yet to begin.
To them, Kimura's group was nothing but a banquet waiting to be devoured.
Kimura forced himself to swallow, the dryness in his throat nearly choking him. "Everyone, listen carefully!"
His voice quivered, but authority steadied it. "Don't panic. Focus only on the Demon before you—do not cross into another's ground. If someone falls, those behind step up immediately. Hold the line! Draw swords!"
Shing—!
The night filled with the sound of steel scraping from sheaths, a metallic symphony of resolve and desperation. Following Kimura's command, the outer circle advanced five paces, widening the formation. It gave space for those inside to rescue, rotate, or strike without clashing against one another.
Kimura himself stood among the front ranks, Nichirin blade gripped tightly, his knuckles white with strain. As captain, he had no choice but to lead from the front. His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths.
Stay calm. If I falter, they all break.
The moon's pale light fell across their blades. Tonight's sky was mercilessly clear.
Then—it began.
One Demon broke first. A wiry, long-limbed fiend dug claws into the earth and sprinted forward with shocking speed, the ground tearing beneath it. Its wide mouth gaped as it lunged, choosing its target: a broad-shouldered male contestant in the outer ring.
The Demon leapt, a blur in the air, claws slashing forward.
The burly contestant gritted his teeth. Unlike others who trembled, his grip on his sword steadied. His stance dropped low, knees bent, feet gripping the dirt. Just as the claws neared his throat, he roared:
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
The forest sang with the sound of flowing water, faint ripples seeming to shimmer around his blade. The arc of steel glittered, slicing upward like a cresting wave toward the demon's throat.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Then—the Demon twisted unnaturally in mid-air. Its body contorted, knees buckling, joints bending backward. The blade whistled past as the demon dropped beneath it. Its legs coiled like springs, and in a flash, both clawed hands shot upward, stabbing toward the contestant's unguarded abdomen.
The swordsman's eyes widened. His strike was still extended; he couldn't retract in time. The claws gleamed, an inch from piercing flesh—
"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Shizuku Ripple Thrust!"
A voice rang from his right.
Zing!
A piercing streak of white light flashed like an arrow. The demon's eyes bulged as the Nichirin sword plunged into the side of its face. Blood burst in a fine spray as the fiend shrieked, staggering aside.
Before it could recover—
"Flame Breathing, Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun!"
From the left, another roar followed. Flames exploded upward in a spiraling arc, a blazing dragon ripping the darkness apart. The sword carved across the demon's chest, scorching its flesh as it hurled backward, body aflame.
Its scream tore through the forest, sharper and more desperate than before. It tumbled three, four meters before rolling to its feet. It crouched, whimpering like a beaten cur, one hand clutching its charred chest. Its glowing eyes darted between the three swordsmen before it bolted into the shadows of the woods, fleeing in terror.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then a spark ignited in the hearts of every contestant.
That flaming slash—it was a hope given form. Fire in the dark. Light in despair. Proof that demons could bleed. That demons could fall back.
They weren't invincible.
The surrounding Demons stirred uneasily. Fire was no ordinary weapon—it was the closest thing to sunlight. And sunlight was their doom.
The sight of it rattled even their hardened instincts.
Among the team, even Kimura felt his chest swell. Adrenaline surged, his face flushed. Yes! It was my formation, my leadership that made this possible! If not for me, they'd already be dead.
The burly contestant, clutching his abdomen where claws had nearly ended him, panted in relief. He bowed shakily to his comrades on either side, gratitude brimming in his eyes.
Kimura, sensing his moment, cleared his throat loudly. "As you've seen," he declared, voice ringing with confidence, "demons are not invincible! As long as each of us fights like those three, we will repel every attack!"
"Yes, Captain!" voices answered at once.
"It's all thanks to the captain's strategy!"
"As long as we follow his orders, we'll last the seven days!"
"The captain is brilliant!"
Kimura's pride soared. Still, he forced himself to wear the calm mask of a composed leader, as though above their flattery.
"Good. But don't relax. That Demon's strike was only a test. The real attack will be stronger. Stay alert—always ready!"
"We're ready, Captain!"
The fiery display had electrified them all. Their initial terror had burned away, replaced with a reckless light in their eyes. For a fleeting moment, they even believed they could challenge Muzan himself if he appeared.
Then, just as Kimura predicted, the woods erupted.
Ten shadows leapt at once, a tide of claws and teeth.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Shizuku Ripple Thrust!"
"Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!"
"Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cut!"
Steel clashed against claws. Flames roared, wind howled, water rippled. The contestants unleashed every form they knew, blades cutting arcs of light across the battlefield.
The melee had begun.
…
Far across the mountain, away from the chaos of Kimura's embattled group, Yukishiro and Mitsuri finally received their first visitor of the night.
From the shadows, a lone Demon stepped forward, its pale grin illuminated by moonlight.
Yukishiro didn't even rise from his seat.
"Well," he murmured with a faint smile, "looks like it's our turn."