[I'll ask one last time. Host—are you sure you want to allocate all remaining lifespan?]
The system's voice echoed in his ears.
"Cut the crap! Do it—now!"
[All 156 days of lifespan allocated to Thunder Breathing · First Form · Thunderclap and Flash!]
[Thunderclap and Flash upgraded to Mastery. Technique unlocked: Triple Strike!]
[Warning! Host lifespan depleted. If a powerful demon is not slain today, death is inevitable!]
The moment the prompt faded—
A torrential surge of power erupted from the very core of Ryosuke's life force, exploding through his parched organs!
It wasn't warmth.
It was burning.
Tearing.
A merciless extraction of life's final embers!
Veins bulged across Ryosuke's body like twisted roots. From every pore burst visible, violent arcs of lightning!
"Thunder Breathing—First Form! Thunderclap and Flash!"
With a roar no human throat should make, the ground beneath his feet detonated. Dirt and shattered stone blasted backward like cannon fire!
His speed shattered its previous limit in an instant. A solid curtain of golden light lingered behind him as he charged straight into the Hand Demon's massive arms!
Several severed limbs flew skyward!
The Hand Demon reeled in shock. "So fast?!"
Even Shota froze, staring at the fading streak of light.
Ryosuke twisted mid-motion.
The second strike came—faster than the first—aimed straight at the demon's neck!
Shota's pupils dilated as his fists clenched instinctively.
He's going to cut it—!
Crack!
A sharp, brittle sound rang out.
Ryosuke's Nichirin Blade snapped clean in half.
Time seemed to stop.
Not only Ryosuke—even Shota stood stunned.
Ah, damn it!!!
How the hell did I forget how Sabito died?!
For six straight days, Ryosuke had been hunting nonstop.
Aside from the Hand Demon and the few kills Shota took, he'd practically wiped out every remaining demon on Mount Fujikasane!
The result?
His Nichirin Blade was worn to the limit—utterly incapable of cutting through the Hand Demon's hardened neck!
"Hehehe…"
The Hand Demon sneered as countless tendrils surged forward.
Luckily, Thunderclap and Flash was too fast—this attack missed entirely.
In that instant, Shota reacted.
He grabbed his Nichirin Blade and hurled it with all his strength.
"Ryosuke! Catch!"
Ryosuke's eyes turned cold as stars.
Twisting midair, the third strike of the Triple Flash detonated!
At blinding speed, he caught the blade mid-flight. Lightning compressed into a razor-thin line of brilliance!
The edge flashed—severing countless massive arms!
And at that very moment—
The Hand Demon's head was cleaved clean off, crashing to the ground.
Ryosuke dropped to one knee.
It felt like a plane taking off three times in a row—his body completely hollowed out in an instant.
The Triple Strike was devastating.
So was the backlash.
[Mid-level demon "Hand Demon" slain. Lifespan gained: 1 year.]
[Current remaining lifespan: 1 year.]
Not bad.
At least it wasn't a loss.
This single year—
Was Ryosuke's first bucket of capital.
Shota clutched his injured side and stumbled over, grabbing Ryosuke's shoulder.
"Are you okay?" His voice was shaking.
"Just exhausted," Ryosuke replied with a weak grin, lying back on the ground. "Not dead."
Shota might like competing with him on ordinary days, but when things truly went to hell—this kid never hesitated.
"Tch… I actually got my head cut off…"
"I won't accept this… I won't accept it!"
"Damn you, Urokodaki…!"
"I want to eat… I want to eat more…"
"After becoming a demon… I bit off my brother's neck…"
"Huh… brother… who was that again?"
"Could he still hold my hand…?"
The Hand Demon's muttering drifted through the air.
It was common knowledge—whether human or demon, everyone in this world saw illusions at death's door.
A final reel of memories.
Except for that ugly vase freak.
Anime didn't show it, so it didn't count.
On the morning of the eighth day, sunlight pierced through the wisteria mist, bathing the survivors.
Even the Kakushi assigned to guide them out were stunned.
Because gathered near the exit were more than a dozen young swordsmen.
In recent Final Selections, that number was practically unheard of.
Soon, the reason became clear.
Amid the shaken whispers of the survivors, one name surfaced again and again—
The Thunder Breathing swordsman who had hunted demons like a madman for six consecutive days.
The one who had nearly single-handedly cleaned out this death trap—and slain the Hand Demon at the end.
When they returned to the shrine surrounded by wisteria, everyone instinctively stepped aside to make way for the three of them.
Ryosuke nudged Shota, feeling helpless.
Shota didn't react much.
Moriyama Akira, on the other hand, looked vaguely guilty.
After all, he'd contributed exactly one move—then got knocked unconscious.
By the time he woke up, the battle was already over.
A pure loot-stealer. A certified freeloader.
After selecting their ore and receiving their uniforms, Ryosuke's Kasugai Crow descended.
It was a rare, sharp-beaked hummingbird—small, with deep blue feathers and a long beak like a quenched needle.
As the three prepared to leave, an Ubuyashiki guide suddenly arrived.
"Yasui Ryosuke, Kiritani Shota, Moriyama Akira—please remain. The Master wishes to see you."
"The Master?!"
Shota and Moriyama exclaimed in joy at the same time.
For newly inducted members of the Demon Slayer Corps, being summoned by the Master himself was an unimaginable honor.
Ryosuke, however, remained calm. He nodded at the guide.
"Please lead the way."
Passing through layers of wisteria trellises, an old, elegant estate came into view.
Ubuyashiki Kagaya sat beneath the veranda.
He had beautiful eyes, jet-black hair, skin like jade, and delicate features.
Though not much older than the three of them, the quiet gentleness that radiated from him made him seem far more mature.
"Welcome," Kagaya said softly. "Brave swordsmen—seeing you return safely brings me great comfort."
"L-Lord Master!"
Shota and Moriyama bowed hurriedly, their voices cracking.
Truth be told, it was almost ironic.
The Ubuyashiki family had produced Muzan, the Demon King—and were cursed by the gods for it.
To slow the curse and live past thirty, each generation had no choice but to marry into priestly bloodlines.
By the timeline, Kagaya had married Amane at thirteen, just a year ago.
He was already the father of twin daughters.
And Ryosuke knew—those twins were only the beginning.
For the sake of the family's survival, Kagaya worked hard. Alarmingly hard.
Unaware of Ryosuke's inner commentary, Kagaya inclined his head gently.
"My apologies. Due to inadequate oversight by the Demon Slayer Corps, a demon far exceeding the standards of Final Selection was allowed to remain within Mount Fujikasane, creating extreme danger."
"Had it not been for your efforts in slaying it, the casualties would have been unimaginable."
"This was our failure. As the Master, I bear responsibility. I offer my sincerest apologies—to you, and to every swordsman who endured this trial."
He bowed slightly, humble and solemn.
Moriyama's eyes reddened with emotion, words tumbling out.
"N-no, please! Lord Master, you honor us too much! Being able to serve the Demon Slayer Corps is my greatest pride!"
Shota nodded fiercely, his face glowing with the joy of recognition.
Only Ryosuke yawned—utterly unmoved, even a little sleepy.
No reason.
In his last life, he'd eaten far too much corporate motivational nonsense. This time around, he was full.
"Mr. Yasui."
Kagaya looked at him and smiled faintly. "You're a fascinating person."
Ryosuke tugged at the corner of his mouth, his honesty tinged with exhaustion.
"It's nothing. I just want to live."
For himself.
And for the continuation of a family.
In the end—we're all just struggling to survive.
"I see."
Kagaya nodded, his voice still gentle.
"To live—that is the fundamental strength that allows every demon slayer to keep swinging their blade through the endless night."
"May that strength guide you, Mr. Yasui, as you carve open the path that lies ahead."