"Ryo..."
Tanjiro's call was caught in his throat.
Ryoma's figure had already transformed into a blurry shadow, and after a few leaps, he disappeared into the night of Mount Fujikasane.
Tanjiro could only grip his nichirin blade tightly and run east as planned, seeking a place to rest until dawn.
It was nighttime, the time when demons were active, so to get some much-needed rest, he ran towards the east, where the sun would rise earliest.
After leaving the false safety of the wisteria flowers, Ryoma put on his fox mask and stepped into this true hunting ground.
He did not rush to climb the mountain or head east, but instead unleashed his keen senses, like an invisible net, catching every trace of the demons' foul aura in the air.
He wasn't here to survive, he was here to hunt. Naturally, he wouldn't be as cautious as others, only aiming to last seven days.
Ryoma deliberately let his senses roam, wandering through the mountains at a leisurely pace, seeing if he could attract a few demons.
Soon, he caught his first prey. A putrid wind assailed him, accompanied by the nauseating sound of drooling saliva.
A demon with twisted limbs, his eyes glowing red from hunger, was lured by Ryoma's undisguised scent of a living person and lunged out of the shadows.
After being trapped for so long, what rationality could these demona possibly have left in theie eyes? Only a craving and greed for flesh and blood!m remained.
Now, the scent of a living person was nothing short of the most fatal temptation to them. They had no thought of concealment whatsoever.
Ryoma looked at the somewhat inhuman, mutated creature, his footsteps never stopping, his gaze not even focusing on the monster.
Just as the demon's claws were about to touch his mask, he casually pushed the tsuba with his left thumb.
Shing!
Accompanied by a faint unsheathing sound, almost drowned out by the wind.
Ice Breathing: First Form: Ice Surface Slash!
A crescent-shaped ice blade, condensed from a Breathing Style combined with extreme cold magic, silently solidified in an instant from the trajectory of Ryoma's swing.
An extreme chill flashed along the blade's trajectory, the air seeming to freeze instantly, and the ice blade silently cut through the night.
Crack!
It wasn't the sound of flesh being torn, but the crisp snap of something suddenly shattering after being frozen.
The demon's lunging posture froze in mid-air, an ice-blue thin line appearing on his neck and rapidly spreading throughout his body.
The next instant, his head and body cleanly separated along that ice line, the cut smooth as a mirror. Not a single drop of blood splattered, all the foul blood instantly frozen into crimson ice crystals, rustling to the ground.
The last flicker of life in the demon's eyes froze in incredulous terror, then disintegrated into dust along with his frozen remains.
Ryoma sheathed his nichirin blade, his movements fluid and graceful, his footsteps not pausing in the slightest.
The ice blade quietly dissipated into the air after the strike was complete, leaving behind only sparkling ice shards and a biting chill.
These were just low-level, trash demons who didn't haveBlood Demon Arts. Besides being slightly stronger than humans in physical abilities and having powerful regeneration, they weren't particularly formidable.
Everyone participating in the assessment carried a nichirin blade. As long as they weren't too weak or surrounded by a group of demons, surviving seven days wouldn't be a big problem for those who knew a Breathing Style.
However, if one couldn't face the fear brought by demons and couldn't exert their full strength, even if they survived seven days, they wouldn't be suitable to become a Demon Slayer.
It was nighttime, and these demons, especially those driven mad by hunger, had an extremely acute sense of smell for the scent of flesh and blood.
Constantly fleeing would only exhaust their stamina faster, expose their location, and ultimately lead to being caught and devoured in despair.
Not everyone was like Zenitsu, who, despite having considerable strength, lacked confidence and could only unleash it after passing out.
Ryoma felt that this selection process was a bit too cruel. In the anime, it seemed only five out of dozens of participants had survived that particular selection.
Perhaps an examiner should be assigned, capable of saving a candidate's life at a critical moment and revoking their right to continue the assessment.
This might prevent the accidental demise of talented swordsmen like Sabito and also recruit suitable individuals into the Kakushi to better provide logistical support.
—
Three days passed just like that.
Ryoma had killed many demons, but he hadn't encountered the Hand Demon.
The forest was not silent. The wind whimpered, and leaves rustled, occasionally interspersed with sounds of distant combat.
As long as it wasn't a cry for help, it meant there wasn't much of a problem, and Ryoma wouldn't specifically go to intervene.
'Where could that Hand Demon be?'
Ryoma wandered all over the place but still hadn't encountered the Hand Demon. As expected of a creature that had eaten 50 people without being discovered, it was quite good at hiding.
Suddenly, a shrill scream, mixed with extreme terror, came from the front left, followed by the dull thud of a heavy object hitting a tree and a beast-like roar.
"Help... help me! Someone... Ah—!"
Ryoma's eyes narrowed, and he stomped his foot, utilizing Water Breathing to its utmost. His body instantly became incredibly light.
His tiptoes touched the ground almost silently, moving at high speed through the complex terrain like a fish in water. In a few seconds, he had rushed into a slightly more open clearing in the forest.
A boy about his age lay collapsed on the ground, his nichirin blade broken in two, with numerous cuts and heavy impact injuries on his body.
A hunched demon, on all fours with sharp claws, was grinning maliciously, his fanged mouth wide open, pouncing on the swordsman who was now powerless to resist.
Only the ashes of despair remained in the boy's eyes.
"Stop!"
A furious roar exploded like thunder.
Ryoma's figure, carrying a biting cold wind, instantly cut in between the demon and the boy.
The demon, startled by the sudden intruder, paused his movements, then let out an angry roar. "Another snack to die? Just in time to—"
Before he could finish speaking, Ryoma's nichirin blade had transformed into a cold stream of light.
Ice Breathing: First Form: Ice Surface Slash!
An ice blade strike condensed and roared out with Ryoma's swing trajectory.
Schling!
The ice blade grazed the demon's neck.
The malicious grin on the demon's face hadn't even fully frozen before his head flew off his body.
After cutting through the demon's body, the ice blade continued with undiminished force, striking a large tree behind the demon.
Crack!
A deep gash was cut into the tree trunk, the cut smooth as a mirror and also covered with white frost.
A cold permeated the air, making the rescued boy on the ground shiver involuntarily, looking in astonishment at the somewhat unimaginable scene before him.
Ryoma sheathed his nichirin blade and quickly walked to the boy's side, asking, "Are you alright? Can you still move?"
The boy was still shaken, looking at Ryoma's fox mask and then at the ice crystals on the ground, his lips trembling. "I... I... my bones seem broken... but... but thank you. Your... your nichirin blade..."
"It's just a special Breathing Style."
Ryoma didn't explain further. He helped the boy up and picked up the broken nichirin blade, handing it to him.
"It's too dangerous here. You're badly injured. Retreat from the mountain immediately, following the wisteria flowers. You are no longer suitable to continue the assessment."