Seeing that Dojima seemed paralyzed by fear, the Tumor Demon wasted no more time. With a wave of its hand, five or six fist-sized tumors shot straight toward the swordsman like projectiles.
[Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun]
Almost simultaneously, the swordsman unleashed his familiar technique. A rising arc of sword light, carrying a searing heat, sliced through the air and shattered the tumors into pieces.
"Sorry, but I have no intention of sitting around waiting to die."
Forcing his turbulent mind to steady, Kazuma Dojima settled into a firm kendo stance, his gaze locked onto the demon. He said coldly, "So, shut your mouth, monster."
The kind smile on the Tumor Demon's face deepened. The swordsmen who had come to the textile factory before were like this. In its distant memories, the swordsmen it had eventually devoured were exactly the same.
Clearly terrified out of their wits. Yet they insisted on using words and self-hypnosis to bolster their courage. They would use that fragile little toothpick to resist in vain, until they finally succumbed beneath its perfect body. Eventually, it would forcefully inject them with its seeds.
It enjoyed this kind of "flirting" with its lingering aftertaste of resistance.
The Tumor Demon was in no hurry to use its full strength. Instead, like a predator playing with its prey, it pressed toward the swordsman. It swung sharp claws and executed brutal charges. While its immense physical stats gave these crude, brawling attacks formidable power, they were not yet a fatal threat to Dojima, who had undergone rigorous training and possessed extensive experience in slaying demons.
I can dodge! I can counter-attack!
Wielding his Nichirin Sword, Dojima either exerted every effort to evade the dual claws or slashed to deflect the oncoming arms. He constantly shifted his footwork, rapidly closing the distance with the demon. After sidestepping a heavy punch, he had pulled within the optimal range. It was the range where his blade could reach the opponent's neck.
In the next second, the swordsman's eyes narrowed.
[Total Concentration: Flame Breathing!]
[Second Form: Rising Scorching Sun]
This slash was far more decisive and violent than the previous one. This strike concentrated all of his spirit and energy—a self-sacrificing blow delivered under Total Concentration Breathing. The flame-light successfully swept across the opponent's neck.
Dojima's thought: Did I win?
Even for him, a faint, jarring sense of wrongness crept in. The sensation... something was off. It didn't feel like cutting through flesh; it felt more like driving a blade with full force into thick, elastic gelatin. It was exactly the same as when he slashed the clones earlier!
Before he could even retract his swung blade, Dojima saw the demon's head still sitting perfectly intact upon its neck. Rather than having been cut through, it was as if his blade had merely "passed through" a phantom image of the neck.
"You didn't actually think you had decapitated me, did you?"
Dojima's pupils constricted. He retracted his sword and retreated hastily.
"Guh... guhahaha... HAHAHAHA!"
The demon's distorted laughter echoed through the workshop, filled with gleeful mockery.
"Good eyes, good resolve, and good sword skills. However... my dear young swordsman." It used a deformed finger to slowly stroke its own neck. On that cyst-covered throat, there wasn't a single trace of having been slashed. "The blade is fast? But as long as I let my body know it's coming before the blade touches me... then, shrrrip~"
It made a splitting motion with its hand.
"Your little toothpick will pass right through a channel I've proactively opened. Then, once your sword is gone, snap, I close the gap again. Isn't it a fascinating Blood Demon Art? Furthermore, every slash allows my body to remember your 'shape,' making the next split faster and more proficient. It satisfies your desire to hack away at me while simultaneously making me stronger. It's a wonderful cycle between us~"
Dojima gritted his teeth, his eyes turning dark.
How is this possible?! This kind of cheating Blood Demon Art...
Veins popped on Dojima's forehead, and the hand gripping the hilt made a creaking sound from the pressure.
"Don't believe me? Then... why don't you try again?" The demon spread its arms wide and even proactively thrust its neck forward, its face wearing an unabashed sneer.
[First Form: Unknowing Fire]
[Fourth Form: Blooming Flame Undulation]
If one strike is useless, then I'll keep swinging until I hack you into mincemeat!
Dojima's figure turned into a blur of fire. The blade swept across the demon's body again and again from different angles and with varying levels of force. Limbs, head, torso. Every slash carried a piercing, forward-moving will.
But every single one was in vain. The blade hitting the body felt like striking an even thicker liquid. It passed through, then sealed shut. The demon even intentionally let small bits of tissue "split" off along with the blade's edge, only to quickly suck them back into its body, as if performing a sickening magic trick for his benefit.
"Huff... huff..."
Consecutive full-power slashes caused Dojima's breathing to become erratic, and sweat gradually soaked his back. But unlike the burning sensation in his lungs, a cold sense of helplessness began to spread from his sword-hand, slowly eroding his fighting spirit.
"Guhahaha!"
"You really kept going? I already told you the answer, and yet you're so stubborn... fine, let's give you a memory to remember."
The demon seemed to have tired of playing with Dojima. In the next instant, its seemingly sluggish body suddenly accelerated. Its two arms elongated abruptly like rubber.
Bang! Bang!
The heavy punches were far beyond the limit of what the swordsman could react to. One punch slammed into his chest, and another smashed into his shoulder. Dojima only had time to cross his sword to parry a fraction of the force before he was sent flying by the massive power. Like a kite with its string cut, he crashed heavily against the workshop wall.
Pfft!
Blood and saliva sprayed out. The young swordsman nearly lost his grip on his Nichirin Sword. He coughed violently, using his sword as a crutch against the floor to barely force himself to stand up.
It's no good. I really can't win. Should I run? But these people here... damn it... I have to hold out!
He didn't know how the Tsuguko's side was faring, but since the opponent could negate slashes, he assumed the other was likely in a bitter struggle as well. Forcing his Breathing Style to work again, Dojima raised his sword once more. His raging fighting spirit had not been extinguished.
This drew a look of confusion from the Tumor Demon. "Guh? Still not running?"
But following the man's positioning and gaze, it suddenly realized the truth. It laughed loudly: "So you're worried about those people? How touching... and how STUPID!"
The smile vanished. The demon seemed provoked by Dojima's behavior. Dojima's expression remained unchanged, but the light in his eyes grew increasingly concentrated, like a burning fire.
He spoke: "You see, I've always wanted to be a hot-blooded man who values loyalty."
Abandoning comrades and innocents to leave one's back to a monster? What kind of man would that be?
The demon sneered: "Then let me see if that hot blood can still protect them once you've become a cold corpse!"
It liked "little cuties" who succumbed after flirting, not this kind of stubborn fool who was as foul and hard as a rock in a latrine.
A ripple of movement surged across the demon's skin, and over a dozen smaller, uglier tumor-demons split off. Chattering and screeching, they swarmed toward Dojima like a tide.
"Guhahaha... play with my little darlings. I've lost interest in you."
With that, as if it were human, it leaned against a textile machine, leisurely enjoying the sight of Dojima's death-struggle. It even said to its split-off selves, "Don't kill him too quickly~"
Dojima was once again plunged into a bitter fight. These small monsters weren't particularly strong or fast, but they were numerous and immune to slashes. They constantly tried to cling to him and bite, draining his stamina and attention. Even though the light from his Flame Breathing remained fierce, new wounds continued to appear on his body.
But that wasn't the end of it. Just as Dojima's attention was fully occupied by the small monsters, a crueler light flashed in the demon's eyes. It extended its malformed right hand toward the swordsmen and civilians behind Dojima—those it had "seeded."
It hooked its fingers.
In the next second, Dojima's scalp went numb. Aside from the one swordsman who had had the sprout sliced off, the other civilians actually stood up one by one and began approaching him. Some picked up broken wooden clubs; others picked up stones. Together with the flitting small tumor-demons, they formed a desperate circle of encirclement.
The scarred and battered Dojima was now completely trapped in the center.