Chapter 43: Hunted by Demons
Thinking of the contestants who had died miserably, their bodies hanging stiffly from tree branches, Yukishiro tightened his grip and pressed harder on his sword.
The spider Demon shrieked, thrashing even more violently.
Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed from the woods behind him, accompanied by the cracking of trees as if something massive was forcing its way through.
A powerful gust of wind rushed at his back. Yukishiro gritted his teeth, trying to finish the decapitation quickly, but the spider Demon's desperate will to survive gave it unnatural strength. Its claws and legs latched onto the blade, halting its path.
With no choice, Yukishiro drew the sword back and spun around, just as the gust of wind closed to within a meter of him. Retreating swiftly, he swung his Nichirin Blade to block the incoming strike.
He hadn't even seen it clearly yet, but from the aura, he knew it wasn't human—the same unnatural cold clung to it as every other demon.
The impact confirmed it. The blade clashed against something huge—an arm as thick as a man's thigh.
Not one arm. Three.
They stretched from the forest shadows, grotesquely long, each seven or eight meters, their monstrous hands clawing wildly for him.
Another mutated Demon.
Yukishiro cut left, then right, his blade ringing as he hacked at the enormous hands. Sparks of frost scattered with each strike. Finally, after forcing him back several paces, the arms retreated into the woods, vanishing as suddenly as they appeared.
The spider Demon seized the distraction, springing up the slope and fleeing into the night.
Yukishiro didn't pursue. He stood facing the wind, gaze fixed on the darkness where the arms had withdrawn. That thing would be coming out again—soon.
"Go… go!"
Hurried voices rang from the mountain path. Familiar ones. Moments later, Mitsuri appeared, sprinting toward him with Yuka slung across her back and Akino stumbling beside her. She kept glancing behind as if something might leap out at any second.
Yukishiro frowned. "Why are you back?"
"Demons!" Akino gasped, eyes wide with terror. His chest heaved as if he'd run himself to exhaustion. "At the foot of the mountain—Demons everywhere!"
Mitsuri knelt and laid Yuka down gently, tearing cloth to bind her wounds. Blood still seeped, but the girl had woken just enough to whisper a frail, "Thank you."
Forcing a pale smile, Mitsuri murmured comfort before rising to face Yukishiro again.
"What happened?" he asked, voice sharp.
"A swarm of Demons appeared out of nowhere," she said, still catching her breath. "One every few steps—searching. They scoured every corner where someone could hide. But their behavior was… strange. Even when they saw people, they didn't attack. It felt more like… like they were driving us up the mountain."
Akino blinked, startled. He hadn't noticed that.
Yukishiro's expression hardened. "They're hunting."
Both Mitsuri and Akino froze at the word. Humans hunted animals. Yet now—they were the prey.
"You came back at a bad time," Yukishiro muttered. "I'd expect more surprises soon."
Surprise—or disaster? Mitsuri wasn't sure.
Her gaze drifted to the clearing.
The spider Demon was gone, but something grotesque remained—a twisted piece of shed skin, discarded like a snake's molt.
"What is that?" she asked.
"The skin it left behind."
"The skin of a Demon?" She grimaced. "Disgusting… Did you kill it?"
"No. I nearly severed its neck, but those arms intervened. It escaped."
"Arms?" Her face paled. "Three arms, from the woods? That was a Demon too?"
"Most likely. And I doubt it'll stay hidden for long."
Their grim exchange left Akino reeling. Yukishiro spoke as though casually discussing weather, but Akino couldn't forget—the spider Demon was the very one that had destroyed Kimura's team.
Dozens had fallen before it, yet this boy had almost killed it single-handedly.
Compared to them, Akino felt like dead weight.
Soon, shadows stumbled from the forest one after another—other contestants, battered and panicked. Drawn to the clearing, they rushed toward the group, clinging to the safety of numbers.
Among them were Kimura and Eimi. Gone was their former arrogance; the two now looked like beggars dragged through the mud, faces hollow and clothes tattered. They weren't alone—most of the survivors looked the same.
All except Yukishiro and Mitsuri, who still stood straight and unbroken.
When Kimura noticed them, shame burned his face. Compared to Yukishiro's calm, his own sorry state was unbearable. He lowered his head and slipped into the crowd, too humiliated to speak.
Mitsuri saw him too, and for a brief moment, awkwardness flickered in her heart. But gratitude followed—if not for him, she might never have met Yukishiro.
She stepped closer to him, speaking low. "What now?"
Yukishiro's eyes scanned the frightened crowd. Once, they had been a team of forty or fifty. Now barely twenty remained, all broken, clinging to survival. A force already crushed could only drag others down.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "We wait and see."
The crowd stirred uneasily. Six days of hiding had kept them alive, and now, for no reason, they had all been herded into one place.
Someone finally voiced it. "Why… why are you all here? We were hiding until the trial ended tomorrow, but Demons appeared and—forced us up here."
Another survivor echoed the same. "They didn't even attack, just… herded us."
"…Us too."
The realization spread like wildfire.
The Demons had not scattered by chance.
They had driven the prey together.