Another demon who had no idea how vast the heavens were, nor how thick the earth beneath its feet.
Aoyama remained calm.
Before killing it, he decided to make it suffer—just a little—an offering to the people it had devoured.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of the wooden sword.
His eyes locked onto the demon before him.
"Brat! Your life is mine! Gahaha!"
The demon screeched, its six limbs digging into the ground before it launched itself upward, soaring above Aoyama's head. As it descended, it aimed to bite his skull clean off.
Aoyama saw through its intention instantly.
He inhaled deeply.
"Total Concentration! Water Breathing! Second Form—Water Wheel!"
He leapt upward to meet it midair.
Gripping the sword tightly, his body spun 360 degrees like a rotating waterwheel.
"AAAH—"
"Slash—"
Thud!
The demon crashed heavily onto the ground.
Aoyama landed steadily.
Three severed limbs from the demon's left side lay scattered nearby. Blood gushed from the wounds, staining the earth crimson.
"Y-you… what can you possibly do to me?!" the demon snarled through gritted teeth.
What terrified it most was that a mere wooden sword had cut as sharply as steel.
Fortunately for it—
Its regenerative ability was extraordinary.
The wounds began healing at visible speed.
Aoyama's eyes flashed coldly.
He seized the moment.
Leaping high once more, he targeted the demon's right side as he descended.
"Water Breathing! Second Form—Water Wheel!"
Hot blood splattered across his clothing.
The demon's remaining three limbs were severed in a clean arc.
Now reduced to a writhing torso, it lay helpless on the ground. Its left limbs hadn't fully regrown before the right were cut off as well.
Rage erupted.
"You brat! I'll bite your head off! I'll drain your blood dry! Aaaah!!!"
Fueled by fury, its regeneration accelerated.
With sickening sounds, new limbs burst forth from both sides.
Aoyama had anticipated this.
This time—
He would end it swiftly.
He drew a deeper breath.
His blood flowed even faster than before. Heat surged through his body.
Total Concentration.
Breath of Light.
First Form—Flash.
His figure vanished in a streak of brilliance.
When he reappeared—
He stood behind the demon.
Blood dripped from the tip of his wooden blade.
"Y-you… who are you? A wooden sword… how could it—"
The demon's body began disintegrating from the wound outward, turning to ash piece by piece.
Ding! Host has slain a lower-level demon. Reward: +5 Enhanced Hearing. Random Drop: Beginner Combat Suit.
Aoyama brushed his clothing with his hand.
The texture felt subtly different.
The system must have fused the combat suit's attributes directly into his current attire.
With that demon dealt with, he sheathed the wooden sword and dashed deeper into the mountain.
He needed to find the Hand Demon—the one who had devoured Sabito and Makomo.
As he ran, a cry for help echoed through the forest.
He changed direction instantly.
A three-eyed demon crept toward a blond-haired boy in yellow clothing lying unconscious on the ground.
Aoyama's lips curled slightly.
The boy was none other than Agatsuma Zenitsu—the walking contradiction of terror and brilliance.
As expected—
The "unconscious" Zenitsu suddenly rolled to his feet, narrowly evading the demon's strike.
His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, waiting for the perfect moment.
Thunder Breathing.
He only knew the First Form.
Aoyama watched calmly.
In his half-awakened state, Zenitsu's true strength emerged.
There was no need to interfere.
Time passed.
The scent of blood thickened in the forest.
Many had already fallen.
Finally—
He found it.
The Hand Demon.
It crouched grotesquely, chewing on half of a corpse.
"Hey, hey… full yet? That should be your last meal."
Aoyama stood behind it, hands clasped behind his back.
The demon paused mid-bite and slowly turned.
Its gaze fixed on the fox mask.
"A fox mask?"
Its eyes rolled wildly.
"You're that man's disciple! Hahaha! Perfect! My adorable little fox, I'll devour you!"
A massive hand shot toward Aoyama's head, intent on crushing it like a melon.
Aoyama sidestepped lightly.
This towering monster—
This was the one he had been searching for.
The first strike missed.
Another enormous hand lunged toward him, determined to twist him into a mangled heap before eating him.
This time—
Aoyama drew his Nichirin Blade.
All along the way, he had used only his wooden sword.
This blade—
He had saved for this moment.
His gaze sharpened.
Deep breath.
Total Concentration.
Water Breathing.
Second Form—Water Wheel.
If he was avenging Sabito and Makomo—
He would do so with Water Breathing.
The blade flashed.
The incoming arm fell to the ground, severed cleanly.
The Hand Demon didn't even flinch.
Instead, it grinned grotesquely.
"Tell me, little fox… what year is it now?"
Even as it spoke, the severed arm began regenerating.
"It's the Taisho era," Aoyama replied calmly.
"Remember it well."
"Because this will be your year of death."