Chapter 9: Back Off, It's My Turn
The scale of the battle ahead was far larger than either of them had anticipated. Calling it a chaotic melee would be an understatement.
Seven or eight swordsmen were frantically using their respective Breathing Styles to hold off four man-eating demons. Several motionless human bodies already lay on the ground nearby.
Natsuya's HUD scanned the demons.
[Ao-Bloat ??? (Power Level: 43)]
[Heavy Pressure ??? (Power Level: 41)]
[Dokenjin ??? (Power Level: 62)]
[Rot ??? (Power Level: 51)]
These mobs actually know how to coordinate? Natsuya mused. Did I clear out all the weak ones, leaving only the tactical squads?
Although there were many examinees, their individual stats didn't give them an advantage. Furthermore, these demons had lived in this prison together for years; their chemistry and teamwork were leagues beyond a group of swordsmen who had met only two days ago.
It was obvious: if Natsuya didn't intervene, it was only a matter of time before these Friendly NPCs were wiped out.
"You there! Run!" one of the swordsmen shouted, spotting Natsuya and Seiko. He barely dodged a claw to warn them.
Natsuya glanced at him. The boy was using Stone Breathing, but his skill level was only LV.1. He was actually weaker than Seiko.
Speaking of Seiko, her high-intensity "demon-hunting marathon" with Natsuya over the last few days had paid off—her Breathing Style had recently leveled up.
"Seiko. Take the short one. Standard rules."
Standard rules: Get the health bar into the red, and Natsuya takes the kill for the XP.
The girl nodded. She blurred into a shadow, her expression turning cold and focused as she lunged at the shortest demon.
[Yukibashiri Seiko (Power Level: 31)] [Water Breathing LV.2]
[Heavy Pressure ??? (Power Level: 41)]
The stat gap wasn't insurmountable anymore. In this game, Breathing Styles allowed swordsmen to perform far beyond their raw base stats. Plus, most demons fought like berserkers—all raw power, zero technical skill.
Natsuya raised his sword and surveyed the battlefield.
The endless crashing waves of Water Breathing.
The roar of scorching Flame Breathing.
The lightning-fast thrusts of Thunder Breathing.
The wide, violent gusts of Wind Breathing.
The heavy, mountain-crushing strikes of Stone Breathing.
Even though these were just unrefined "Novice" versions, Natsuya could appreciate the distinct "flavor" and intent of the five basic styles.
...But the particle effects are a bit much.
Natsuya mentally toggled a setting: [Disable Breathing Style VFX].
Instantly, the flashy water, lightning, and fire vanished from his sight. The battle remained intense—swords clashed, claws tore, and sparks flew—but the visual clutter was gone.
Much better. My frame rate feels smoother already.
"Wind Breathing..."
"First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!"
Natsuya surged forward like a runaway freight train, crashing directly into the center of the fray.
"Another one..." one of the swordsmen muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and despair. He thought adding one more rookie to the pile wouldn't change the outcome against four high-level demons.
Then he saw it.
The blue-skinned demon was sent flying, its chest cavity collapsed from the impact. Two other demons were instantly carved with deep, jagged wounds.
Natsuya didn't stop. He transitioned immediately into his next move.
"Eighth Form: Primary Gale Slash!"
A massive, circular rotating strike. It forced the strongest demon back while cleanly decapitating another demon that had been a split-second too slow to react.
In just two moves: one demon killed, one heavily damaged.
S-So strong! The despair in the surviving swordsmen's eyes turned into awe.
Natsuya savored the feel of the strike. LV.3 Wind Breathing was on a completely different level compared to Level 2. The speed and precision were incredible. Combined with his boosted base stats, it was a qualitative leap in power.
Yesterday, he would have had to be cautious and pick these three off one by one. Now? He could just unga-bungo his way through the whole pack.
"Everyone, together! Let's avenge our fallen comrades!" one swordsman roared, rallying his strength.
He wasn't met with a battle cry from Natsuya, but a warning.
"Back off. These are my kills."
The swordsman froze. Wait, what? You want to solo them?
Natsuya ignored their confusion and grinned at the two remaining demons.
"Perfect. I was wondering how my new blade felt after the level-up. Since you demons don't feel pain anyway, you won't mind if I test a few combos on you, right?"
A shiver ran down the spines of both the demons and the Slayers.
Natsuya lunged.
"Don't you dare look down on me!" Dokenjin, the demon with a Power Level of 62, roared as it charged Natsuya.
A few breaths later...
[Proficiency +41]
[Proficiency +83]
[Proficiency +101]
As Natsuya took the final head, Seiko's battle was also drawing to a close. She had carved the limbs off the demon she was fighting. Instead of finishing it, she stepped back and looked at Natsuya.
"You little bitch! If I hadn't been careless, I never would have lost to you! Come at me again!" the demon shrieked, struggling to regenerate its limbs.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over it. Seeing Natsuya's face and realizing its comrades were already dead, the demon's bravado turned to pure panic.
Natsuya didn't give it a chance to speak. The cold light of his Nichirin Sword finished the job.
If you're trash, go practice in the lobby. Stop yapping.
[Wind Breathing LV.3 (263/2000)]
With no demons left standing, the other swordsmen collapsed to the ground, panting.
"We... we lived..."
"I thought I was a goner..."
"Who is that guy? He's a monster..."
Seiko walked over and whispered in Natsuya's ear, "Well, it looks like every candidate here owes you a huge favor now."
The warm breath made his ear itch. He turned to her. "What am I supposed to do with a 'favor'?"
Seiko rolled her eyes, then tapped her chin. "For you? Maybe you could ask them to show you their Breathing Styles. You seemed interested in that."
Oh? Natsuya's eyes lit up. He walked over to a lanky, exhausted swordsman and held out a hand.
"Kokonoe Natsuya. Let's get acquainted."
"Huh?" The swordsman looked up blankly, then took the hand and was pulled up. "I'm... I'm Goda Shota. Thank you for saving us."
"If you want to thank me, show me a few Flame Breathing forms once you've caught your breath."
"EH?!"
Shota mentally labeled the boy as a [Strong, Direct Weirdo].
Before he could agree, Natsuya's gaze shifted to the trees behind them.
"Looks like we missed a stray."
[Rust-Eater Maru ??? (Power Level: 49)] [Blood Demon Art...]
In the shadows of a tree trunk, a gaunt, masked demon was crouching, silently watching the group. Its aura wasn't particularly strong, but there was something eerie about it. It hadn't fled after seeing its pack slaughtered; instead, it looked... eager.
Its stats are lower than the last one, so why is it still here?
Almost the moment Natsuya spoke, Seiko moved.
"Water Breathing..."
"First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
Even without the visual effects, her strike was sharp. Her blade bit deep into the demon's left arm.
Got him! Seiko thought.
But then, the tactile feedback from the hilt felt wrong. She looked at her Nichirin Sword. The blade, which should have been razor-sharp, was now missing its top half.
The broken edge was covered in thick, dark-brown, jagged crusts of rust.
My sword... it snapped?!
"Did you really think it would be that easy?" The demon looked at the girl, its face twisting into a manic, distorted grin.
It swung its claws toward the stunned Seiko.
Blood sprayed—but it wasn't Seiko's head that flew. It was the demon's arm.
Natsuya had intercepted just in time, severing the limb. But his Nichirin Sword suffered the same fate. A sudden bloom of rust appeared on the blade, and it snapped like dry glass.
Natsuya raised an eyebrow.
This isn't a weapon durability issue. His sword was practically new.
If it wasn't the sword, it was the demon.
"Oh? You noticed?" The demon laughed, its gaunt frame shaking with glee. "So what if you realized it?"
"I can regenerate my limbs a thousand times. But you? You only have one sword."
The bleeding stump of its arm began to sprout fresh flesh, regenerating at a visible rate.
Natsuya stood there, holding nothing but a broken hilt.