Part I: Strength Gap and Kaito's Adaptation
The forest was silent.
Kaito stood at the edge of a clearing, eyes locked on the demon crouched atop a broken shrine pillar. Its body was broad and angular—arms like beams, fingers like chisels. Moss clung to its skin, and its amber eyes didn't flicker with hunger.
They flickered with calculation.
This wasn't like the Final Selection demons.
Those had been erratic—lunging, shrieking, driven by instinct. Their Blood Demon Arts, if any, were crude and unstable. They fought like animals.
This one waited.
Watched.
Measured.
"You're not like the last two," the demon said, voice low and deliberate.
Kaito didn't answer.
He activated Anchor Step, locking his stance to the uneven terrain. The demon's aura pressed against him—dense, deliberate. But Kaito didn't flinch.
Two years of training had changed everything.
His breath was steady. His footwork precise. His blade, attuned to Gravemark, felt like an extension of his spine.
The demon moved.
Not a charge.
A test.
It flicked a piece of stone toward Kaito's face—fast, sharp, aimed to distract.
Kaito didn't blink.
He pivoted, deflected, and countered with a low sweep.
The demon leapt back, eyes narrowing.
"You're trained," it said.
Kaito didn't respond.
He adjusted his grip, shifted his weight, and waited.
The demon lunged again—this time with force. Its arm extended like a beam, aiming to crush Kaito's shoulder.
Kaito dropped low, activated Anchor Step mid-motion, and absorbed the impact through his legs. The ground cracked, but he held firm.
Then he struck.
A horizontal slash with torque.
The demon staggered, footing disrupted.
Kaito didn't chase.
He reset.
The difference was clear.
Final Selection had been survival.
This was control.
Kaito wasn't reacting anymore.
He was dictating.
Part II: Blood Demon Art Revealed
The demon snarled and backed into the shadows of the shrine.
"You want to know what I am?" it hissed. "I was a carpenter. I built temples. Homes. Graves."
Its body shifted—wooden textures rippling across its arms. The moss thickened. Its fingers elongated into sharpened planks.
"I build still," it said. "But now I build traps."
The ground beneath Kaito trembled.
Suddenly, wooden spikes erupted from the soil—angled, layered, designed to funnel movement. The terrain reshaped itself into a narrow corridor.
Blood Demon Art: Burial Frame
The demon's art allowed it to manipulate wood and terrain—constructing traps, barriers, and kill zones in real time. It could reshape the battlefield, forcing opponents into predictable paths.
Kaito leapt back, but the spikes followed—growing, twisting and boxing him in.
The demon laughed. "I don't chase. I corner."
A wall of sharpened beams rose behind Kaito.
The demon lunged again—this time with full intent to impale.
But Kaito had seen enough.
He didn't panic.
He didn't retreat.
He adapted.
Part III: Strategy and Execution
Kaito exhaled.
Anchor Step activated.
His feet locked to the only flat stone in the corridor.
The spikes surged forward—but Kaito didn't move.
The corridor collapsed.
The demon roared, scrambling to rebuild the terrain.
But Kaito was already moving.
He dashed forward—Thunderclap and Flash—then pivoted mid-strike slamming the blade into the demon's torso with gravitational force.
The demon staggered, coughing blood.
"You… adapted…"
Kaito didn't answer.
He activated Anchor Step again—locked his stance—and delivered the final blow.
A vertical slash, clean and deliberate.
The demon's body split.
Its Blood Demon Art dissolved.
The shrine fell silent.
Kaito stood alone, breathing steady.
Blood Demon Art user slain. +3 Demon Points earned.
Gravemark pulsed.
The terrain had shifted.
But Kaito had held.
And the storm had learned to build.