After my father abandoned the two of us, my mother raised me alone without a single complaint.
Even when she fell gravely ill, she still did everything she could so that I might live properly. In the end, she even tried to take her own life because she feared becoming a burden to me. I had barely managed to stop her from doing so…
And then demons attacked the village.
My mother was brutally killed.
Out of the entire village… I was the only one who survived.
Sanemi Shinazugawa's family had so many children that simply surviving was already incredibly difficult. Yet the person most important to them—their mother—turned into a demon. Out of six younger brothers, only one survived.
And he had no choice but to kill the mother he loved with his own hands.
And then there were those siblings…
Demons constantly steal away the people we cherish.
They treat humans like toys.
They delight in human suffering.
They revel in human grief.
They take pleasure in slaughtering human lives.
Weren't they once human as well?
Why did things turn out this way?
Why do creatures like demons even exist?
And that man—Muzan Kibutsuji…
What kind of disgusting, vile being must he be?
Rokuro listened to Chiba Yang's words with mild confusion and replied indifferently.
"What does any of that have to do with me?"
"We demons killing humans is perfectly natu—"
Before he could finish speaking, Rokuro suddenly froze.
As he stared at Chiba Yang slowly approaching him, another voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.
"What exactly is so amusing? What is there to laugh about?"
The voice carried the same suppressed rage.
Along with it came a vision.
A man who looked strikingly similar to the young swordsman before him.
The man had long black hair with crimson edges tied into a high ponytail. On his forehead was a strange flame-shaped mark. Dressed in red, he stood beneath the moonlight.
This is…
Lord Muzan's memory.
Rokuro immediately understood.
Cold sweat began to form on his forehead.
"You were once human as well."
"Then why do you slaughter humans?"
Chiba Yang's voice sounded again.
At the same time, the voice within Rokuro's mind spoke once more.
"Why do you forget?"
The Nichirin Blade slid from its sheath.
The black blade slowly turned crimson.
Cold sweat continued pouring down Rokuro's forehead.
Every cell in his body screamed with fear.
His entire body began trembling uncontrollably.
"Damn it! Die already!"
In panic, Rokuro shook his head violently, trying to shake off the terror gripping him. Then he rushed forward, throwing a punch toward Chiba Yang.
A slicing sound rang through the air.
In a single instant, Rokuro's four limbs were severed.
Although four strikes had been delivered, they were so fast that it sounded like only a single cut.
"AAAAAHHH!!!"
Rokuro screamed and collapsed onto the ground.
Chiba Yang walked toward him slowly, holding the Nichirin Blade.
The black blade had now turned completely crimson.
It looked identical to the blade held by the man from Muzan Kibutsuji's memory.
"What does life mean to you?"
"What do you think life is?"
Two voices overlapped.
At that moment, the image of Chiba Yang holding the crimson blade completely overlapped with the figure in Rokuro's memory.
The fear surging through Rokuro's cells reached its absolute peak.
No… that's impossible…
Why would I feel such terror toward a human?
And how could Lord Muzan ever fear a human?
This must be an illusion.
Humans are weak creatures.
They grow old. They fall ill. They suffer injuries.
They could never defeat demons like us who are free from all of that.
Rokuro desperately tried to suppress the fear consuming his body.
But he continued trembling uncontrollably.
"H-Haha… don't think you've won already!"
"Your sword touched my body just now, didn't it?"
"I'll destroy it right now and see what you do then!"
"Blood Demon Art — Rotational Twist!"
Rokuro shouted, his voice trembling slightly as he glared at Chiba Yang's blade.
For a moment…
The forest fell silent.
Nothing happened.
Chiba Yang slowly raised the crimson Nichirin Blade.
His expression was calm, yet the fury burning deep within his eyes was unmistakable.
"That's impossible!"
"My Blood Demon Art can rotate anything I touch however I want!"
"Why didn't it work on your sword?!"
Rokuro screamed in disbelief.
His Blood Demon Art allowed him to twist any object he touched at will.
Unless someone decapitated him in a single strike, their Nichirin Blade would be twisted into a useless loop the moment it made contact with him.
Furthermore, if he touched a person's body, he could twist that part of their body until it completely broke.
The longer the contact lasted, the stronger the control became.
Because of this ability, whenever he faced Demon Slayers with comparable strength, his chances of victory were nearly absolute.
Yet now—
His once-infallible Blood Demon Art had failed completely.
How could this be?
His sword cut off my limbs, so my body definitely touched that blade.
Then why didn't my Blood Demon Art activate?
Cold sweat poured from Rokuro's body.
Fear grew rapidly within him.
He was so terrified that he even forgot to regenerate his severed limbs.
Even if he had attempted regeneration, it would have been useless.
Wounds inflicted by a crimson Nichirin Blade were extremely difficult to heal—even for Upper Rank demons or Muzan Kibutsuji himself.
For someone like Rokuro, a mere Lower Rank Two, regeneration was impossible.
The failure of his Blood Demon Art was also caused by that crimson blade.
Of course, Chiba Yang had no intention of answering Rokuro's question.
Truthfully, he didn't know the answer either.
Walking up to Rokuro, Chiba Yang asked one final question.
The previous questions had simply been words born from his hatred of demons. He had never expected an answer.
But this final question—
This was the one he truly wanted answered.
"Where is Muzan Kibutsuji?"
Chiba Yang stared down at the demon lying on the ground and asked coldly.
It was precisely because he wanted to learn Muzan Kibutsuji's whereabouts that he had not used a Breathing Technique to behead Rokuro immediately.
Some demons might have traces of tragedy in their past.
But Muzan Kibutsuji—
The one who endlessly created demons, forced families to devour one another, and brought endless suffering into the world—
Was a being who deserved absolutely no sympathy.
Under the moonlight, Chiba Yang's figure looked almost divine to Rokuro.
Everything he had believed about humans no longer applied to the young man before him.
He seemed like a being beyond demons.
Something even more perfect.
Demons gained strength by devouring humans.
They had to abandon the sunlight and lurk only in darkness.
Yet the strength of the person before him was completely unreasonable.
He looked no older than a teenager.
And yet his speed and strength far surpassed that of a demon who had devoured countless humans.
He was like a god walking the world.
Power seemed to be a natural part of his very existence.
"I… I don't know…"
"I don't know…"
Rokuro's eyes were filled with terror.
Muttering repeatedly, he slowly crawled backward across the ground.
Half of his fear came from Chiba Yang.
The other half… came from Muzan Kibutsuji.