"Mr. Lucas!"
Tanjiro exclaimed in surprise.
He couldn't quite describe it, but there was something different about Lucas now. Ever since he arrived, every movement he made seemed more elegant—refined, even regal. Although Tanjiro couldn't feel the full weight of it, he sensed the same pressure that had stunned Tamayo and Yushiro into silence.
Lucas gave Tanjiro a nod and smiled gently.
"Don't worry. I don't have any ill will toward kind-hearted demons like Miss Tamayo. I only wish to make friends with her."
Tamayo narrowed her eyes and continued to observe Lucas silently, saying nothing in response.
Zenitsu, standing off to the side, looked at Lucas with a complicated expression. He had heard this line before—right before Lucas eliminated a ghost in a brutal, decisive fashion.
When Lucas says he wants to be friends, it usually ends with the ghost's head flying off their shoulders.
Zenitsu gulped.
Are these two demons going to die too?
Seeing Tamayo and Yushiro still tense and defensive, Lucas let out a sigh and shrugged.
He could guess why they were so guarded. Even though he had tried to restrain his overwhelming aura as the Ghost King, that kind of pressure couldn't be erased overnight. Every move he made, every breath he took—his very presence carried a weight that couldn't be concealed so easily.
"It seems," Lucas murmured softly, "that I still need to show some sincerity."
As he said this, he reached for the wooden stair railing beside him and tilted his head slightly.
BOOM!
A handball whizzed past Lucas's ear and slammed into the wall of the wooden house, leaving a gaping hole.
Before the dust even settled, another barrage of handballs came flying in, tearing through the air with deadly force.
But this time... the attack had no effect.
ZING!
The handballs split cleanly in half midair, falling harmlessly to the ground.
Tamayo's eyes widened in disbelief.
So fast! She hadn't even seen him draw his blade! Could it have been... him?
Her eyes drifted to Zenitsu—still blinking in confusion beside Lucas—and then snapped back to the figure who stood calmly in the center of the chaos.
It had to be Lucas. No doubt about it.
Lucas slowly turned around. There would be time to talk to Tamayo later. First, he needed to deal with these two noisy intruders.
Outside the house, the Handball Demon's expression darkened as her attacks were sliced apart like paper. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"The demon slayer inside is... interesting. That makes this even more exciting," she said with a twisted smile. "What do you say? Should we have some fun?"
Her partner, the Arrow Demon, clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Just don't dirty my clothes."
Amidst the rising smoke and the echoing silence, a figure emerged through the hole caused by the handball.
The Handball Demon didn't care who it was—she simply hurled two more handballs with manic excitement.
ZING!
Once again, the balls were effortlessly split apart mid-flight.
The Handball Demon growled, then upped her tempo, launching a frenzied assault. Handballs flew like bullets—fast, furious, and wild. But no matter how fast she threw, they all met the same fate.
Split.
Cleanly.
Midair.
Her eyes twitched.
Impossible! Her attacks had no pattern. They were erratic, unpredictable—completely random! How could he possibly be reacting so perfectly every time?
This wasn't luck.
The Arrow Demon behind her also began to sense something was wrong. He raised his bow-like arm and readied his eye-marked arrows, aiming directly at the slowly approaching shadow.
---
[Handball Demon: Susamaru]
Race: Demon
Level: Sin
Comprehension: Medium
Qualification: Low
Talent: None
Blood Demon Art: Handball Manipulation (Mastery)
[Arrow Demon: Yahaba]
Race: Demon
Level: Sin
Comprehension: Low
Qualification: Medium
Talent: None
Blood Demon Art: Crimson Directional Arrows (Mastery)
---
The shadow stepped through the smoke and became clear—it was Lucas.
The moment they saw him clearly, both Susamaru and Yahaba froze.
Their mouths opened slightly, and Yahaba almost whispered the word, "Lord..."
Who was this man?
Why did his presence remind them so strongly of Muzan Kibutsuji, the Ghost King himself?
It wasn't Muzan—not exactly. But his aura... his presence... there were unmistakable echoes of Muzan in the way Lucas carried himself. They couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but they felt it deep in their bones.
Fear.
Respect.
Submission.
All of it crept into their expressions. Their earlier arrogance dissolved instantly.
Yahaba's hand trembled as he aimed. The closer Lucas got, the heavier the pressure became.
"Would you... like to be friends?" Lucas asked softly.
The simple words struck them like a hammer.
"Make... friends?" Susamaru blinked. "Did he just say... friends?"
What kind of joke was this?
People didn't make friends with demons. They hunted them. Was this guy completely insane?
Susamaru's expression twisted in disbelief. The bloodlust in her eyes reignited.
So what if he had Muzan's aura? The real Ghost King only trusted one person—and that was Muzan himself.
This imposter needed to die!
With a roar, she hurled another handball at Lucas, then summoned two more in each hand, preparing to overwhelm him.
But before she could act, she froze.
Where was he?
Lucas had been right in front of her. She blinked—and he was gone.
She tried to move her head, to turn and locate him—but she couldn't. Her body refused to respond.
A moment later, his calm, smiling face appeared in front of her—right in her field of vision.
"Remember next time," Lucas said gently, "interrupting someone else's conversation is very rude."
Susamaru's eyes widened.
Slowly, her gaze drifted downward—to where her body should have been.
It wasn't there.
Only a hand—Lucas's—held her severed head.
"Hand...ball..." she murmured weakly, before her consciousness faded away.
---
Inside the house, Tanjiro had just taken a step forward, ready to help, when he froze.
That… that was Mr. Lucas?
His mind struggled to reconcile the gentle, smiling man he knew with the cold, decisive killer standing in the middle of a ghost massacre.
Lucas held the demon's severed head as if whispering something to a dear companion. If you only looked at their faces, you might think they were lovers sharing a tender moment.
But his blood-soaked hands shattered that illusion entirely.
Zenitsu, too, didn't even blink this time.
He'd seen this exact scene play out too many times.
No matter what level of demon they faced, none had lasted more than a single move against Lucas.
It was becoming routine.
Lucas would ask: "Would you like to be friends?"
If the ghost said yes? They died.
If they said no? They died after saying yes.
Lucas casually turned toward the Arrow Demon now, who was visibly trembling.
"Have you thought about it?" Lucas asked, his tone calm, almost conversational.
Yahaba couldn't breathe. He had seen it clearly—Lucas had vanished, then reappeared holding Susamaru's head, and she hadn't even seen it coming.
If someone of Susamaru's level was killed that easily, what chance did he have?
Yahaba's mind raced with panic and fear.
That suffocating aura—so close now—made his fingers twitch uncontrollably.
Lucas waited patiently.
"I—I..." Yahaba stammered. His voice cracked. "I am... willing to be friends with you..."
---
[Bite]
[Successfully added Arrow Demon: Yahaba as a friend!]
[Connection detected between Yahaba and Lucas's network of friends. Reward granted!]
[Acquired Skill: Blood Demon Art – Crimson Directional Arrow (Mastery)]
[Merge skill now?]
[Option selected: No]
---
Zenitsu saw Yahaba nod and instinctively closed his eyes.
He already knew what would happen next.
When he opened his eyes again, Yahaba's head was rolling across the floor.
His eyes were wide open in disbelief, as if asking:
"Didn't I agree to be friends?"
Was this what Lucas meant by friendship?
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