Yukishiro dashed in the direction where the Three-Headed Demon had fled. He didn't dare waste a second worrying about Mitsuri or whether she would let the Bouncing Demon escape.
There were still seven or eight hours left before the Final Selection ended. If the Three-Headed Demon was allowed to recover and return, it would attack again with terrifying ferocity.
If that happened, the few remaining contestants would surely face even greater losses.
Without hesitation, Yukishiro vanished into the dark woods, following the cracking of frozen trees.
With the hulking Three-Headed Demon gone, the battlefield suddenly felt lighter. The oppressive weight that had crushed everyone's hearts eased, and for the first time, hope sparked within the exhausted group.
Shouts rang out across the clearing as the trainees fought with renewed vigor, blades flashing, blood spraying.
At the edge of the battlefield, Mitsuri faced the Bouncing Demon directly. Kimura and Akino had managed to restrain the Spider Demon, keeping its threads from wreaking havoc among the trainees. With those threats suppressed, the tide of battle slowly began to turn.
The Bouncing Demon, however, was unlike any of the others. Its body looked almost sculpted, as though some cruel artisan had carved it from flesh and bone. Only its eyes betrayed a sense of life—cold, detached, merciless. Everything else moved with mechanical precision, like a puppet following fixed instructions.
It suddenly crouched low, then sprang upward. In the blink of an eye it rose more than ten meters, hung in the air for an instant, then descended like a boulder flung from a catapult.
Its target was Mitsuri.
In its indifferent gaze, she was already a corpse.
"Without Yukishiro here… I guess I'll have to take this seriously," Mitsuri murmured, her lips tightening into a determined smile.
She did not dodge. As the Bouncing Demon's colossal foot hurtled toward her head, she braced her stance, arms spreading unnaturally wide, her muscles swelling with raw strength. She caught the deadly kick head-on.
The ground cracked under the force. Mitsuri skidded back several meters, boots carving deep ruts in the soil, before halting with a fierce shake of her arms.
She hurled the Demon backward.
The Bouncing Demon flipped twice in midair, landing smoothly. For the first time, its glassy eyes showed something beyond cold calculation—a faint spark of recognition.
This prey was different.
Mitsuri lunged, her Nichirin Blade whipping through the air. But the Demon was impossibly agile, twisting and weaving past her swings, retaliating with vicious flying kicks from every angle.
Mitsuri countered each blow, her enhanced strength matching its brutal force.
They clashed again and again, sparks flying from steel and claw. At last, the Demon seemed to realize its attacks were ineffective. Its head rotated mechanically, and its gaze slid past her toward the scattered contestants.
It leaped suddenly, its body tracing a graceful arc through the night air. It came down directly above an unsuspecting trainee, who was hacking at another Demon with all his strength.
The boy never even looked up until death was upon him.
By the time he noticed, the Bouncing Demon's foot was already descending like a guillotine. His mind went blank. There was no room even for fear.
But in that instant, a blur of pink surged through the chaos. Mitsuri's voice rang clear, delicate yet filled with conviction:
"Breath of Love, Second Form: Regretful and Hesitant Love!"
Her blade coiled like a serpent around the Demon's calf. She wrenched the hilt, the blade slicing through flesh with brutal precision. The Demon's legs split apart, severed cleanly.
It crashed into the melee, writhing in blood.
The trainees recognized it instantly. This was the monster that had slaughtered so many of their comrades. Panic made them scatter at first. But when they saw its broken legs twitching helplessly, fear gave way to fury.
"Kill it!" someone shouted.
Blades rained down.
The Bouncing Demon's flesh was hacked into ribbons, its body unrecognizable, a quivering heap of blood and gore.
Watching, Mitsuri's chest tightened. For a fleeting moment, she pitied the creature. In her eyes, the trainees—faces twisted with rage, eyes empty of compassion—looked no different from the Demons they fought.
The Spider Demon shrieked, and its minions surged forward. The intent was clear: they were trying to save their ally.
Several more contestants screamed as claws tore them down. The trainees faltered, pushed back step by step.
And then, impossibly, the mutilated flesh of the Bouncing Demon began to writhe. Muscles twitched and stitched themselves back together, knitting bone and sinew.
With a sickening crack, new legs sprouted where the old had been cut.
The Demon's eyes snapped open. It sprang to its feet as though reborn.
"No way…" one trainee gasped.
"It didn't die?" another cried.
Terror spread like wildfire. If even after being butchered it could return, how could they possibly survive?
But instead of fleeing, the Bouncing Demon crouched again, leaping to the top of a nearby slope. Moonlight washed over its figure. It turned back, coiling its body, preparing another dive—this one from higher ground, to amplify its devastating force.
"Who's it targeting this time?" Mitsuri whispered, narrowing her eyes.
Around her, the Spider Demon's forces pressed harder, distracting the trainees and pulling their attention away. The battlefield tilted once more toward despair.
Mitsuri exhaled slowly, grounding herself. Her legs bent, her body sinking low. She gripped her blade firmly and called out, her voice ringing with resolve:
"Breath of Love, Third Form: Kiss of the Cat!"
Her muscles bulged, power flooding her body. The ground beneath her feet cracked, leaving twin craters in the mud. With an explosive kick, she launched forward, bounding across the battlefield. Each time she landed, she used the Demons around her as stepping stones, slashing them down with swift, fluid strikes.
"Too fast!" one trainee gasped as they watched.
In mere moments, Mitsuri had cleared a path through the horde. She met the Bouncing Demon in midair. Their bodies collided in a flurry of motion—her foot slammed against its legs, sending it tumbling backward.
The Demon spun helplessly, suspended in midair. Mitsuri twisted gracefully, flipping backward, and drove her heel into its spine. The impact thundered like a landslide.
The ground caved in beneath the blow, a pit half a meter deep forming as the Demon's back shattered. Bones cracked like brittle wood.
Mitsuri landed lightly at the edge of the crater, turning her back on the twitching figure. Her hair fluttered as she gazed ahead calmly, as if already moving beyond the battle.
From the crowd, youmei stared wide-eyed, her jaw dropping. "She's… incredible…"
Every trainee who had seen the power of the Bouncing Demon's legs knew how lethal they were. Yet Mitsuri had not only withstood them—she had utterly overwhelmed them.
But the fight wasn't finished.
With a guttural roar, the Bouncing Demon rose once more. Mud and blood dripped from its towering body. Under the pale moonlight, it stood behind Mitsuri, silent as death.
"Be careful!" youmei screamed.
Mitsuri did not flinch. She spun, her blade coiling like silk.
"Breath of Love, Unbridled Form: The Suffocating Ache of the Heart!"
Her sword curved in an impossible arc, wrapping around the Demon's thick neck. With a sharp pull, the blade tightened.
Slice!
The Demon's head launched skyward, blood spraying in a crimson fountain that glittered like fireworks against the night.
For a heartbeat, the headless body stood upright in the moonlight. Then it crumbled into ash, scattering on the night wind.
The Bouncing Demon was no more.