There were no fancy techniques. No elegant flourishes.
Just speed, far beyond expectation.
The sharp blade sliced through the demon's arm in an instant. Agonizing pain forced it to retreat violently.
Yet in Marcus Lee's eyes, that movement felt unnaturally slow, as if time itself had been dragged down.
Gripping the hilt of his Nichirin blade, Marcus stepped forward without hesitation, as though he had already made his choice.
"Ahhh… damn it! My arm! How is this possible… damn it!"
The demon screamed wildly, its voice cracking with panic. Fear crept into its howls.
Something indescribable had changed in this weak human.
Like a beast driven into a corner, with nowhere left to run, forced to bare its fangs and fight to the death.
Marcus said nothing.
His movements, however, were relentless.
A simple, unadorned slash that seemed to draw upon the strength of his entire body.
Clean. Decisive.
The blade severed the demon's neck in one swift motion. The grotesque head traced a bleak arc through the air before separating completely from the body. Its eyes widened, frozen in disbelief and resentment.
Killed by prey it had deemed food.
What humiliation. What unwillingness to accept it.
The moment the head hit the ground, it crumbled like burning paper, turning to ash in less than a breath.
Marcus staggered, nearly collapsing. His right hand clutched the blade tightly, the hilt slick with sweat. He gasped for air, breath tearing in and out of his chest.
His emotions were tangled. Relief. Excitement.
But not a shred of sympathy for the demon.
Marcus was never the kind of person overflowing with compassion.
"So even someone like me… can kill a demon?"
"Me?"
The thought echoed in his mind.
It made sense that he felt shocked. Even as a transmigrator, his previous life had been painfully ordinary. He had never seen blood, never taken a life.
To slay a demon with a Nichirin blade felt nothing short of a miracle.
His mindset shifted quietly.
And then came frustration.
He had gambled everything. Pushed his body to its absolute limit. And the demon he killed was neither Upper Rank nor Lower Rank.
It was weak. Frail. Probably had not even eaten many humans.
The realization left him both disappointed and oddly amused.
As the battle ended, the pain he had ignored came rushing back.
Veins bulged across his otherwise decent-looking face as his expression twisted violently.
Pain. So much pain.
His shoulder burned as if his skin had been torn apart.
His arms ached so badly he could barely lift them.
Marcus was no tough guy. In his previous life, he would already be on the way to the hospital by now.
His teeth chattered. Hunger gnawed at his stomach.
Every part of his body was screaming warnings. He was at his limit.
"A transmigrator as pathetic as me… there probably aren't many," he thought bitterly.
"System, say something already."
Pain throbbed behind his eyes and across his forehead. After kneeling to catch his breath, he finally had the mental space to examine his so-called cheat ability.
The system itself was worthless. Practically a malfunctioning artificial idiot.
During the fight, his eyes had clearly changed. That had to be the so-called three-tomoe Sharingan reward.
Honestly, it felt absurd.
In a world without ninjutsu, what use was a Sharingan supposed to be?
Enhanced perception, copying, and genjutsu were its core abilities.
"Let's start with perception," he analyzed silently. "I didn't see meridians or chakra flow during the fight. Which makes sense. A demon having chakra would be ridiculous."
"But its movements felt slowed down. I could track high-speed motion and predict it."
"Is that essentially enhanced dynamic vision and neural reaction speed?"
"In simple terms, slow motion."
"At my current level, that might be the limit. Maybe in the future, I could predict movements through subtle muscle changes."
Marcus frowned, carefully evaluating how much of this crippled version of the Sharingan remained usable.
As for copying abilities, copying ninjutsu was obviously impossible.
But breathing techniques and swordsmanship might still be feasible.
Beyond that, there seemed to be a deterrent effect.
When the demon met his gaze earlier, it clearly froze for a split second. Against stronger demons, this would likely be useless.
As for genjutsu, without chakra, it was probably reduced to weak hypnosis or suggestion. Useless against strong-willed humans, let alone demons.
All things considered, calling it completely useless would be a lie.
But it was nowhere near as practical as being directly given Sun Breathing.
"Haa…"
Marcus exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes.
"Even if it's a nerfed version, will there really be no side effects?"
"Maybe it doesn't consume chakra, but stamina and mental energy."
After such a short battle, his head already ached faintly.
Prolonged use would likely cause severe headaches, dizziness, nausea, maybe even temporary blindness.
Worst of all would be permanent blindness.
Whether that would happen, he had no way of knowing.
Just then, a faint sound rustled through the forest.
Marcus's expression changed instantly. He forced himself to stand, praying silently.
Please don't be a demon.
Please.
Let it be another participant in the selection.
"Blood… I smell blood!"
A demon with an unnaturally long tongue crawled out of the forest, its greedy gaze locking onto Marcus.
In that instant, his heart sank straight to the bottom.
Another one?
Could he at least be given time to rest?
His wounds were untreated. The lingering scent of blood spread continuously, drawing demons like starving wolves.
No trustworthy companions.
No powerful ally to rely on.
Marcus wanted to curse out loud. What kind of era was this, still using methods like this? Damn Demon Slayer Corps. Could they not design a gentler selection process?
"Blood! Blood!"
The newly arrived demon grew excited. It was roughly the height of an adult man, but its limbs were grotesquely twisted. It scuttled along the ground in a crawling frenzy, lunging toward Marcus.
Another battle with no retreat.
No choices.
Only two outcomes remained.
Fight.
Or die.
Marcus forced himself upright, squeezing strength from a body already at its limit. He knew pain and exhaustion were not valid reasons to quit.
As a student, he could slow down during gym class because he was tired.
As an adult at work, he could convince himself to pause because he was tired.
But when facing man-eating demons, excuses never existed in the first place.