Blood fountained.
A shrill scream followed.
The phantom vanished. The trees stopped swaying. Blindingly white snow sifted down. The demon slammed to the ground as an arm flew off, tumbling to a stop at Tanjiro Kamado's feet.
[Martial Arts +1]
Tanjiro's pupils blew wide. He stared as the severed limb turned to black smoke, emotions surging like a storm-tossed sea.
He pumped a fist and shouted to Roy, "Nice one, Brother!"
From stillness to motion and back again took Roy only a blink of an eye as he swung the hoe.
It was the simplest of movements, yet what it contained made Sato Takeichiro's back go cold.
"You're a Hashira?" Sato Takeichiro rolled up from the snow and fixed Roy with a grave stare.
In demon terms, "Hashira" corresponded to the Twelve Kizuki. Sato had once seen the Upper Rank One from afar; with a casual stroke that lord's blade shed arcs like crescent moons.
They said he had been a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in life.
Later, when Sato was eating people at the foot of the mountain, the Water Hashira hunted him. Only the Hashira's age and frailty, plus help from Sato's comrades, let him escape.
And today, in this forsaken forest, he had run into a third one.
Unfortunately for him… Roy wasn't.
In the Corps, to become a Hashira you either defeat a member of the Twelve Kizuki or slay fifty demons.
But Roy, who knew the story, understood a truer measure: mastery of a Breathing Style.
Just as in the Hunter world, the sole criterion for a first-rate Nen user is how deeply they've developed and mastered their own ability.
With shallow mastery or a wrong development path, even the gifted struggle to become excellent Nen users—
Like Hua Shi Doulang, who lacked a master's guidance and, though an Enhancer, developed a Conjuration-type clone instead.
So this time in the dream, besides mining and selling coal to improve the Kamado family's meals, Roy had another mission—find a master and learn a Breathing Style.
The nearest candidate was former Water Hashira Urokodaki Sakonji.
Dragging the hoe, Roy scored a straight line in the snow.
He didn't answer Sato's question. Instead he watched, interested, as the demon sprouted a new arm. "How many more times can your demon blood fuel a full recovery?"
Sato snarled, "Enough to rip out your heart and liver!"
Roy nodded. "Good. Keep your word."
"Nobody leaves today unless you tear out my heart and liver."
Sato Takeichiro & Tanjiro: "?"
Both were baffled.
Tanjiro couldn't understand why his brother wouldn't press the attack before the arm finished regenerating.
Sato, on the other hand, snapped to high alert—then—
He scooped a handful of snow and flung it at Roy, using the flurry to blind him, and bolted with everything he had.
"Bounce—bounce—bounce—bounce!" Trees shook one after another under his feet. In a blink he'd opened a hundred meters.
Tanjiro stared, frozen, not yet processing what had happened.
His brother's face went black.
''My XP. My XP bag—'' Roy was livid.
At minimum, a demon shouldn't be this crafty. So that "Bounce Kill" Blood Demon Art was just for turning tail at the first sign of trouble?
Watching the demon pull farther away—
Roy ground his teeth, raised his right foot, and kicked. A stone cracked out like a shot, streaking after Sato's fleeing back.
But without Shu, Roy couldn't cling Nen to a released object to boost its speed. The demon stayed wary and his Blood Demon Art excelled at forest sprints—
Sato simply ducked and the stone sliced past.
"In that case, no helping it."
Two hundred meters. Three hundred. Any farther and the naked eye would lose him.
Roy rolled up his sleeves.
For the first time, he invoked a Breathing Style.
Wind moved cloud. A spear of sunlight slipped through and lit Roy's face.
He set the hoe like a longsword, feet offset in a bow stance, and drew a great breath.
His body hit fast-forward—blood roared, heartbeat surged, the web of capillaries burst one after another, racing across his skin in an instant.
On the panel, his Physique stat swung wildly.
Visibly, it leapt from—
[Physique: 10.051] to [Physique: 20.102].
Doubled. By brute force.
Sun Breathing feeds on aura as fuel.
Twin divine flames seemed to kindle in Roy's eyes. He seized the brief surge and lunged with a forward thrust.
A razor whine split the cold as the hoe carved the air.
Tanjiro saw only a blur pass. In his next clear glimpse—
His big brother Eiichiro had crossed nearly three hundred meters in a single breath and stood above the demon.
Then a descending cut—
Sun Breathing—Dance!
A ring of fire-colored silk ripped the snow-wind and closed in a circle around Sato Takeichiro.
At first he felt nothing. Then he realized his body was airborne while everything below the waist remained on the ground. He had been cleaved in two.
Blood-red eyes full of choked rage, he jabbed a finger at Roy and roared, "And you say you're not a Hashira?!"
Darkness rushed in. He toppled backward into the snow.
Blood spread in thin rivulets. The pain arrived late, but it arrived.
Clogs over thick socks. A youth with a hoe on his shoulder approached at an unhurried pace. Sato's eyelids twitched. Ignoring the agony, he burned more demon blood to restore his body—
But this time… nothing happened.
Terror, panic, fear, trembling. He felt life draining out of that filthy body.
He lifted his head in unwilling fury and demanded, "What technique is that?!"
Roy paused, looked over the world of white, and sighed. "You really can't keep your word. Don't force me to use Sun Breathing to kill you."
"Are you satisfied now?"
Sato's pupils shrank.
"You… what are you—who?!"
Roy smiled gently, raised his foot, and crushed the demon's head. "Names stay the same whether standing or sitting. Kamado Eiichiro."