Part I: The Path and the Past
Dawn broke slowly, casting pale light through the mist. Kaito sat beneath a crooked pine, his sword resting across his knees. The forest was quiet, but his thoughts weren't.
He had made his choice.
Arc Pulse – Activated.
The moment he committed, the other two branches—Flash Reversal and Tempest Frame—faded from his mind's eye like petals curling inward. The system was unforgiving. One path chosen, the rest sealed.
Storm seed pulsed faintly in his chest. Arc Pulse now lived inside him—each strike charged with residual energy, each movement capable of disrupting a demon's rhythm. But the next skill in the branch required 6 Demon Points. He had 3.
He would need 3 more kills to unlock the next evolution.
As he sat in silence, a memory surfaced.
Not from the mountain.
From before.
A small house. A quiet evening. His younger sister laughing as she tried to mimic sword stances. His mother humming while cooking. Then—
Screams.
Blood.
A demon's shadow blotting out the moonlight.
Kaito's breath caught. His hand clenched the hilt of his sword.
Rengoku approached, carrying dried meat and water. He paused when he saw Kaito's expression.
"You remembered something," he said gently.
Kaito nodded. "My family. They were killed by a demon. I was the only one who survived."
Rengoku sat beside him, silent for a moment. Then he spoke.
"There are three kinds of slayers," he said. "The traditional ones—like me. I follow my father's path. Then there are those who lost someone. They fight for the dead."
Kaito looked up.
"You're the second kind," Rengoku said quietly. "I see it now."
Kaito didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Rengoku continued. "The third kind… they fight for strength. For power. They're the ones most likely to fall."
Kaito thought of Daigo.
"I don't want power," he said. "I want control. I want to stop what happened to me from happening to anyone else."
Rengoku smiled. "Then you're on the right path."
They sat in silence, the wind rustling through the trees.
"How many nights left?" Kaito asked.
"Three," Rengoku said. "We've survived four. Final Selection ends on the seventh."
Three nights.
Three more chances to grow.
Three more chances to fall.
Part II – Daigo's Return
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the ravine. Kaito and Rengoku moved cautiously, scanning the terrain. The air felt heavier—charged, like the moment before a storm.
Then they saw him.
Daigo stood atop a boulder, flanked by two demons.
One was tall and sinewy, its arms covered in jagged bone plates. The other was hunched, its mouth stitched shut, eyes glowing faintly.
Daigo's eyes gleamed red. His blade was darker now, pulsing with corrupted energy.
"You survived," he said, voice distorted. "Good. I want you to see what strength really looks like."
Rengoku stepped forward, blade drawn. "You've fallen."
Daigo smirked. "No. I've ascended. These two? They follow me now. I give them direction. Purpose."
Kaito's eyes narrowed. "You're coordinating them."
"Demons don't work together," Daigo said, "but I'm not just a demon. I'm better."
The stitched-mouth demon twitched, then vanished into the trees.
The bone-plated one growled, stepping forward.
Daigo raised his blade. "Tonight, I test my strength. Against yours."
Without warning, he lunged.
Rengoku intercepted him mid-air, flame clashing against shadow.
The bone demon charged Kaito, claws extended.
Kaito met it head-on—Thunder Swarm, each strike followed by an Arc Pulse. The pulses staggered the demon, but it didn't fall. It was stronger than the others—its armor absorbing most of the shock.
From the shadows, the stitched-mouth demon reappeared—aiming for Rengoku's back.
Kaito shouted, "Behind!"
Rengoku spun, blade catching the attack mid-air. Sparks flew.
Daigo retreated into the mist, grinning.
"This is just the beginning," he called.
Then he vanished.
The two demons remained.
Two slayers.
Two enemies.
Three nights left.
And the storm was far from over.