Horitake eyed the pitiful children, ready to order them to retrieve the scattered red-black orbs.
Before he could, the oldest child, voice laced with despair, pleaded, "Sir, if we don't return to the demons' lair tonight, they'll think we fled and slaughter our villages. We're already late—what do we do?"
Damn it! Horitake nearly cursed aloud. The villages—of course!
This wasn't just holding hostages; the demons were using entire villages as leverage!
Which to prioritize—Kusatsu County or the surrounding villages? He couldn't be everywhere at once. If only he could split into thousands of shadow clones!
No. Stay calm. Think.
Horitake weighed the stakes. Harsh as it was, choices meant sacrifices. Kusatsu had far more people than the villages combined. It came first.
But what mattered most to the demons? Not the children—they were tools. Not the villages—mere leverage. The red-black orbs? That was it. They were the demons' true focus.
Just as Horitake prepared to order the orb recovery, a gut feeling struck: If the orbs were so vital, would the demons trust kids to handle them alone? At night, with no oversight?
His instinct proved right.
Horitake turned, activating his spiritual sight, spotting a faint demonic figure racing toward Kusatsu from the distant woods.
A demon, walking into his trap.
He signaled Mitsuri, "Hide."
They slipped behind a wall, concealing themselves.
To the children, Horitake ordered, "Stay put. You won't die. Trust me."
The children, confused but obedient, froze.
Soon, they saw why. A half-human, half-snake figure slithered from the woods. Terror gripped them; they trembled at the sight.
Horitake hissed, "Don't move. I'll protect you."
Reassured, they held their ground.
In the silent, empty street, the children stood, fearfully awaiting the snake demoness.
She arrived—upper body human, lower body serpentine—slithering toward her "brothers." Their terrified expressions seemed normal to her.
Hissing, she sneered, "Making me come fetch you? Useless! Task done?"
Seeing their empty baskets, she cackled, "Good job! Wait—why are some of you out cold? Fighting? Brothers should love each other."
Horitake stepped out, voice dry. "Love? Sounds ironic coming from you."
The demoness's snake eyes narrowed at his Demon Slayer uniform. "Demon Slayer?!"
"Correct," Horitake said.
Mitsuri emerged, blocking her escape.
Realizing the situation, the demoness raged, "This early in the plan, and I run into Demon Slayers?!"
Furious, she lunged at the nearest child, claws aimed to tear her "traitorous brother" apart.
The child froze in terror.
Horitake acted, pointing his sheathed Ikou. A purple lightning bolt blasted her arm into a bloody pulp. She shrieked, clutching the stump, her wail piercing.
The children gaped. The nightmare demoness, easily repelled by Horitake!
Her severed arm didn't regenerate, sparking panic. Screaming, she turned to flee.
Mitsuri, ready to intercept, hesitated—lacking Horitake's lightning, how could she capture her alive?
Horitake didn't hesitate. Pinching his fingers, he gathered purple lightning at his fingertip and flicked it like a bullet. The thin bolt struck the demoness's second cervical vertebra, frying her nerves. She collapsed, paralyzed, eyes wide in disbelief.
Horitake's precision, honed from capturing demons for experiments, disabled her without killing her.
Approaching the limp demoness, Horitake burned with questions. He needed her plan, the orbs' purpose—everything.
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