Yukishiro's defiance left everyone stunned. No one could believe it—someone had actually stepped forward to provoke the monstrous behemoth.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then Mitsuri's heart surged, her blood pounding like drums in her ears. She drew her Nichirin Blade, stepping in behind Yukishiro.
"I'll fight with you."
Yuka, pale but determined, nodded weakly at Akino. He unsheathed his Nichirin blade and joined Yukishiro's side.
"I'll fight too."
Kimura followed. Then Eimi. One by one, blades flashed in the moonlight. Survivors who had been trembling in despair now found their courage again, each of them stepping into the open ground, forming a fragile but burning line of defiance.
The moonlight poured like cold water. The night wind howled. The air was thick with iron and blood. Every heart hammered the same truth—there was no more running.
Yes. To join the Demon Slayer Corps, one could not fear demons. Fear meant death.
After six days of fleeing and hiding, it was time to raise their blades and cut without hesitation.
The sudden collective resistance enraged the surrounding demons. They shrieked, teeth flashing, crawling and leaping forward like a pack of wild beasts.
"Don't stand with me."
Yukishiro's voice cut through the chaos.
His eyes never left the monstrous figure before him.
"If you stay here, you'll only drag me down. Take the others and keep them away."
The words stung, but Mitsuri understood. His breathing style was different, his icy aura affecting everything around him. If they stayed close, they would weaken his strength and rhythm. Worse—he would be forced to protect them while fighting.
For the first time, Mitsuri felt utterly powerless. She lowered her gaze and whispered,
"You… be careful."
Akino gave her a look of understanding before moving to guide the others.
The clearing wasn't large, and nearly everyone had heard Yukishiro's words. Some survivors felt relief, glad to be spared from standing so close to the giant. Others trembled with worry. But most… most were simply stunned.
He wanted to face the monster alone?
Was he insane? Or were they, for even letting him try?
Still, when one person moved, the rest followed. Slowly, they withdrew toward the edges of the clearing, leaving the center for the lone boy in white.
Only when they were gone did Yukishiro exhale, a thin mist curling from his lips.
"Ice Breathing… First Form: Cold Wave."
At once, a pale fog seeped from his body, rolling outward. Shards of frost and glittering snowflakes drifted down through the air, circling him in a widening ring of white.
Cold Wave was not a strike. It was a domain.
The mist obscured vision, the frost numbed flesh, lowering the enemy's blood flow, slowing their strength and speed. Within it, he was the storm's eye.
The survivors gaped in disbelief.
None of them had ever seen such a technique. His strange breathing, the ice falling like snow—this boy wasn't just strong. He was something else entirely.
Kimura and Eimi exchanged looks, both at a loss for words.
The three-headed Demon roared, an earth-shaking bellow that rattled branches loose. Then its colossal body thundered forward, six arms swinging as it crashed into the icy mist.
The roar was the signal.
Demons in the forest and hillside howled in unison, charging at the survivors.
Only the Bouncing Demon lingered atop the slope, its muscles coiling. The Spider Demon clung to its treetop perch, waiting for the perfect strike.
Yukishiro's voice carried through the fog:
"Don't hesitate. Aim for the neck—cut clean. This is the last night. Either they die… or we do."
"I'll handle the three-headed one. The rest of you—deal with the ordinary demons. Mitsuri, Kimura, Akino—keep your eyes on the hillside. Don't let the Bouncing Demon or Spider Demon interfere. If they come for me, ignore it. Just stop them from disrupting the others."
"Clear!" Kimura barked back.
Strange—he, who had once led them, was now taking orders. The thought stung, but his instincts told him the truth: survival hinged entirely on whether this white-haired boy could cut down the monster.
The memory of the Spider and Bouncing Demons returned to him—those two had destroyed their team's unity, shattered their minds, and left them in shambles. If they interfered again, all of this would collapse.
The clash began.
The three-headed Demon thundered into the fog, six grotesque arms lashing out.
"Ice Breathing, Second Form: Falling Snow."
Yukishiro gripped his blade in both hands, slashing with calm precision. The white mist and shards of frost whipped into a crescent arc, his strikes carving frozen wounds across the Demon's reaching palms.
Six arms—three men's worth of strength. Yet Yukishiro did not yield an inch. His blade sang, steady and merciless, each stroke slicing through flesh and freezing it solid.
Screams tore from the Demon's throats as icy fractures spread along its limbs.
The survivors stared, breathless.
One boy—holding back three.
His blade flowed like winter wind, sharp, ordered, devastating. And he had yet to reveal his full power.
Hope sparked where despair had once ruled.
Yes. If not for the massive monster, and those two cunning demons above, they would have nothing to fear.
All around, steel clashed with claws. Survivors found their footing, their strikes truer now. Fear gave way to rage. For the first time in six days, they weren't just running—they were fighting.
Screams echoed across the clearing—some from demons, some from comrades.
The ordinary demons fought like beasts, relying on instinct. Scratch. Bite. Pounce. Rip. Their movements were simple, chaotic.
But their bodies were resilient, their stamina endless.
There was only one way to kill them—strike the neck.
Mitsuri, Kimura, and Akino held the outer line, blades flashing as they cut down attackers. But their eyes never strayed far from the hillside, watching, waiting.
And at last, the two stirred.
The Bouncing Demon bent its legs and launched, soaring ten meters into the air before hurtling down with crushing force.
At the same time, the Spider Demon slithered down the tree, its twisted body writhing unnaturally fast as it darted across the clearing.
Both aimed low, closing the distance in an instant.
Would they strike the clustered survivors?
Or would they go straight for the boy in the storm of frost?
After all, both had already felt his icy edge. And the Spider Demon had nearly died beneath it.
Mitsuri, Kimura, and Akino tensed, every muscle straining as they watched the two close in—
The hunt was far from over.