Chapter 42: Piercing the Spider Demon's Throat
The Spider Demon sensed that the wounds spreading across its body were unlike the previous ones. It bared its sharp teeth and let out a piercing wail, clawing frantically at the injuries as though trying to tear the freezing pain away.
Moments later, Mitsuri and Akino rushed into the clearing. Their eyes widened in shock as they beheld the sight before them—a figure shrouded in biting frost, mist curling off his body like winter incarnate.
This was Mitsuri's first time seeing Yukishiro's transformed state. Just one glance at him sent a chill stabbing through her veins, as if she had been dropped into the heart of a midwinter storm. The very air around him was frigid, far colder than the coldest night she had ever known.
The Spider Demon finally realized that the prey it faced was no ordinary human. The frost creeping from Yukishiro's body was eating away at its flesh through the open wounds. Its body temperature, low to begin with, was now dropping further and further. The unnatural cold gnawed at its bones, slowing its movements, stiffening its joints.
"That girl is injured and unconscious," Yukishiro said calmly, his breath frosting the air. "You take her back to the destination and bandage her. I'll hold off this Demon."
"Th-thank you!" Akino's voice cracked as relief surged through him.
He stumbled to the stone and called out desperately, "Yuka! Yuka!"
Yuka stirred faintly, her hazy eyes fluttering open. Her lips moved, forming soundless words, before she slipped into unconsciousness again. Her clothes were shredded, her body covered in countless wounds that bled through torn fabric.
"I… I'll stay and help you!" Mitsuri said firmly, gripping her blade. She stepped up behind Yukishiro. Her unique body resisted the freezing air; unlike ordinary people, the frost had little effect on her.
Yukishiro didn't turn. His voice was steady, yet commanding. "No. You protect them both. Tonight is the last night—the final night of the Demon hunt. They'll be more frenzied than they were on the first."
Mitsuri's heart skipped. "More frenzied… than the first night?"
The truth of his words struck her. Yukishiro had known all along that tonight would be far more dangerous, yet he had not driven Yuka and the others away. Why? Was it because he was protecting them in his own way?
A warmth stirred beneath Mitsuri's chest even amid the biting cold. She looked at Yukishiro, shrouded in swirling frost, and whispered with genuine concern, "Be careful."
She hurried back to Akino and Mitsuri, then bent down and took Yuka onto her back with surprising ease.
Akino froze. This girl looked so much thinner than himself, yet she carried Yuka—who weighed more than a few dozen kilograms—like it was nothing.
He remembered how Mitsuri had tried to lift Yuka earlier, her muscles bulging grotesquely under the strain. Compared to that, Mitsuri's effortless strength seemed almost inhuman.
In that instant, Akino realized the truth. These people were not like him. He and Mitsuri were mere bystanders, dragged into this nightmare to serve as food for Demons. But the ones before him—they were Demon Slayers, participants in the Corps' Final Selection.
The group quickly retreated down the hillside, while above them, the true battle resumed. Yukishiro faced the Spider Demon once more.
The creature shuddered violently, and Yukishiro's sharp eyes widened in grim recognition.
It was shedding its skin.
A crack split open across the Demon's back. From it, a bald head slowly pushed through, followed by a torso, then two arms and six grotesque legs. The frozen shell of its previous body peeled away, clattering to the ground as brittle ice shattered from its surface.
The Demon's new form was leaner, its skin smooth and taut, reflecting a strange brownish-yellow sheen under the moonlight. Where before its six legs seemed awkwardly attached to its torso, now they fused more naturally, its spine bending and twisting with terrifying flexibility. Each molt had brought it closer to some grotesque "perfection."
The frost that had slowed its regeneration was gone with its old skin.
Now, its wounds closed at a speed visible to the naked eye.
With a shriek, the Spider Demon lunged again.
This time it was faster—much faster. In the blink of an eye, it closed the distance.
But Yukishiro stood unmoving. Around him, a radius of one meter was completely sealed in biting frost.
That space was all he needed.
The Demon blurred, vanishing from the front, then appeared behind him. With terrifying precision, it leapt for the back of Yukishiro's neck, its claws outstretched.
It had mastered its hunting technique: use speed to overwhelm prey, then snap the neck in one strike. A tactic so efficient even strong prey fell before it.
But it had chosen the wrong opponent.
Without looking, Yukishiro swung his sword.
The Nichirin blade swept horizontally, shards of ice spraying like glittering glass as it slashed toward the Demon's throat.
The shards chimed faintly against one another—"ding-ling-ling"—like windchimes in a frozen storm.
The Spider Demon let out a strangled cry, jerking its head back. Its palms shot up, catching the blade, and with unnatural strength it pushed away, landing upright on the ground.
It staggered back, skittering like an upright shrimp to escape the cold zone.
Panting, it glanced at its palms. Two thin white lines glowed faintly across them, frost creeping outward. But that was all.
"Only two lines…" it rasped in disbelief.
Yukishiro narrowed his eyes. His strike had met resistance—like cutting across steel.
The molt had given it not only speed, but armor.
The Demon shrieked again, darting back and forth, trying to break past the one-meter frost barrier. Yet each time it neared, its body shuddered under the numbing cold. Frustration leaked into its movements.
It had always killed prey in one strike. It had toyed with humans across Mount Fujikasane, slaughtering freely. Yet this outsider—this intruder—stood firm, unyielding.
Its pride was shaken. Its territory was challenged.
With a screech, it began to circle Yukishiro at blinding speed, its body a blur under the moonlight.
"Trying to confuse me?" Yukishiro thought coldly.
But he did not rely on sight. The chill radiating from his body allowed him to sense even the faintest movement in the air.
"Low intelligence… predictable," he muttered.
Deliberately, he eased the frost, dimming the aura that cloaked him. He lowered his stance, leaving his back open as though he had finally given up.
The Demon took the bait.
With a victorious cry, it launched itself, its body soaring through the air, aiming straight for the exposed back of Yukishiro's neck.
But once airborne, it had no chance to turn back.
"Ice Breathing—Form Five: Swift Ice Spike."
A burst of white light erupted. The blade, wrapped in a torrent of ice, thrust upward in a merciless arc.
The Spider Demon's eyes widened in horror as the point of the Nichirin blade pierced clean through its throat.
Its screech choked into a guttural rasp.
Fear exploded in its eyes. It thrashed wildly, its six legs flailing, claws grasping at the blade that was tearing its flesh apart.
Yukishiro turned slowly, the frost around him intensifying until the clearing itself seemed to freeze. He locked eyes with the Demon—its grotesque, half-human face twisted in pain, its body writhing like a shrimp caught on a hook.
"Your hunt ends here," he said, his voice colder than the blade in his hands.
The Demon's muffled cries echoed weakly in the night, swallowed by the winter storm surrounding Yukishiro.