A windswept plain stretched endlessly beneath a sky of dull winter steel. Snow swallowed everything in sight. Through that frozen white emptiness trudged Ren Kuroda—cold, irritated, and very much not in his original world.
The system had ignored every one of his protests the previous night. A spatial wormhole had yawed open beneath his futon, swallowing him whole before he even realized what was happening. When he came to, he was standing here—wherever "here" was—while the system's familiar emotionless voice informed him that a new "training mission" had begun. Complete the objective, and only then would he be allowed to return home.
Ren had been transported enough times to grow numb to the concept, but this… this was ridiculous.
The world was primitive. The wooden buildings nearby looked like something straight out of the Edo period. No power lines, no neon lights, no paved roads. But that wasn't what caught his attention.
It was the smell.
Thick. Metallic. Heavy enough to sting the back of his throat.
Blood.
As a half-demon, Ren's senses were far sharper than a human's—especially when it came to the scent of spilled blood. This much meant at least a dozen people had died, possibly more. The fact that the stench carried even in this heavy snowfall only proved the scale of it.
But mixed into the blood was something else. A foul, twisted scent—something not human, yet not quite like the yokai of his world either.
Determined to figure out where the system had dumped him, Ren followed the stench.
And when he reached the village…
He stopped dead.
Bodies. Severed limbs scattered across the snow like grotesque decorations. A monstrous shape bounded from rooftop to rooftop, hunting down fleeing villagers. The thing looked vaguely humanoid—but only vaguely. Two thick horns jutted from its skull, and its bulging eyes rolled wildly as it chased its prey.
The creature landed before a young mother holding her daughter, licking its lips with an almost gleeful hunger.
That was enough.
Ren stomped down. The ground exploded beneath his foot, snow scattering like shrapnel as he launched himself forward. He shot past the mother and daughter in a blur, intercepting the creature just as its claws reached for them.
His heel connected with the monster's skull.
CRACK.
The creature—easily several times Ren's size—flew across the snowy street, skidding until its huge body toppled into a mound of snow. Its head, however, rolled in a separate direction, tumbling to a stop at Ren's feet. A fountain of blood painted the ground scarlet.
The young mother, who had braced herself for death while holding her shaking daughter, slowly opened her eyes. Instead of claws and darkness, she found a handsome young man with short brown hair standing protectively in front of them.
Ren didn't get a chance to ask them what that creature was.
Because the monster whose head he had just kicked off… got back up.
Its headless body lunged at him—and its severed head began speaking.
"What the hell are you, brat? You reek of a demon, but you're not one of us… I thought you were another demon looking for a snack, so I ignored you. But you had to go and attack me! Fine, I'll eat you too!"
Ren froze—not from fear, but from sheer disbelief.
A moving, fighting body.A talking head lying in the snow.
Even Shuten-dōji—one of Japan's Three Great Yokai—had died when Minamoto no Yorimitsu cut off his head. But this creature? It treated decapitation like an inconvenience.
The young mother clutched her daughter and called out to him, voice trembling:
"Sir! He's a demon—an oni! I've heard they can only be killed with blades forged by the Demon Slayer Corps, or by sunlight! Hoes and swords don't work—they heal too quickly!"
Her eyes held fear… but also trust.
Ren's appearance gave him a ridiculous advantage. If he had looked anything like the monstrous oni before them, the woman would have fled instantly. But he didn't. He looked human—beautiful, even—and he had saved them.
So despite sensing something demonic about him, she believed in him.
"Well then…" Ren cracked his knuckles. "Sturdiness is impressive. But if sunlight and special blades are the only things that can kill you, your weaknesses are surprisingly boring."
The oni's headless body reattached itself with a wet snap.
Ren exhaled. Unfortunately, his weapon—the Demonwound blade—had been deemed a non-system item and couldn't be brought into this dimension. So here he was, empty-handed.
Without a proper sword, he could only use a fraction of his full strength. Maybe thirty percent at best.
But even so…
He could tell this creature wasn't actually that strong.
Its regenerative power was absurd. But its speed, strength, and technique? Far below the truly dangerous yokai he had faced.
Ren shifted his weight, lowering his stance. Snow swirled around him.
"All right, ugly," he muttered. "Let's see how long you can keep crawling back after I tear you apart."
And with that, the half-demon lunged into battle.