The Hand Demon's frantic laughter paused for a moment, and its countless arms swayed along with it."Thirteen... what's wrong? Brat, do you want to become the next one?"
The Hand Demon said mockingly, "Don't worry, I'll savor you properly. You smell... really delicious!"
Then its gaze fell upon the straight, slightly trembling blade at Shirakawa's waist.
"And on you, there's a scent that makes me feel nostalgic. Though it's faint... there's no mistake."
"It's a scent... I've tasted before~"
"Tch~!"
Shirakawa moved.
There was no warning, no starting stance—he didn't even draw his sword in advance.
His figure vanished from the spot like a phantom; in the next second, he had already appeared less than five meters directly in front of the Hand Demon.
He was so fast that Tanjiro couldn't even see how he had moved.
The Hand Demon was also clearly stunned, its waving arms freezing for an instant.
Raising his right hand, Shirakawa gripped the hilt of Makomo's sword at his waist.
"Clang!"
The sword was unsheathed.
It was a clear, high-pitched ring—but more than that, it was a roar.
The purple-pink blade erupted with an eerie glow in the dim forest.
The Hand Demon's yellow eyes snapped wide open.
It felt it.
The resentment radiating from this sword!
"This... this is..." The Hand Demon's voice was filled with hesitation and confusion.
Shirakawa gave it no time to think.
He turned his body slightly and assumed a starting stance that Tanjiro had never seen before—
The blade pointed diagonally toward the ground, his center of gravity lowered, his entire being like a cheetah poised to strike.
Or like... a fox about to bare its fangs.
"Color Breathing—"
Shirakawa spoke in a low voice, his tone filled with nothing but coldness.
"Second Form—"
His figure vanished once more.
No—it wasn't disappearance, but movement at the absolute limit of speed!
Yet as those rapid footsteps struck the ground, they made no sound at all.
His trajectory was no longer straight; instead, he moved like an agile fox weaving through the forest, leaving behind trails of pink afterimages!
"—Fox Walk!"
The moment the words fell, Shirakawa had already appeared on the Hand Demon's right side.
The blade flashed like pink lightning, slashing upward diagonally!
The target wasn't the neck or the head, but the thick arms on the right side of the Hand Demon's torso!
"Puchi!!!"
The dull sound of a blade cutting through flesh, along with the Hand Demon's unprepared scream of pain, erupted at the same time!
Four arms—each thicker than a boy's waist—were severed at the root!
Blood gushed like a fountain as the severed arms flew through the air before crashing heavily to the ground, twitching briefly before slowly dissolving into black ash.
"AAAAHHH!!!"
The Hand Demon let out a shrill scream, its massive body trembling violently from the pain as its remaining arms clawed frantically toward Shirakawa on its right.
"How dare you!!!"
Suddenly, the Hand Demon froze.
To its right, Shirakawa was already gone, leaving only a pink afterimage behind.
In the next instant, the blade flashed again!
Without anyone noticing when, Shirakawa had circled from the back-right to the demon's front-left!
The purple-pink blade sliced across the Hand Demon's torso, severing another three arms!
"Bastard! Bastard!!!" The Hand Demon was completely enraged by the intense pain.
It no longer cared how tempting Shirakawa's scent was; at this moment, it only wanted to crush this pest circling around it.
However, Shirakawa disappeared from the left side once again.
The Hand Demon roared as its arms regenerated, "Run! Let's see how fast you can run!!!"
It wildly swung all its arms, smashing everything around it like a mad beast.
Thick trees snapped easily, and deep craters formed in the ground as dust filled the air.
Since it couldn't see or find him, it chose to attack everything indiscriminately.
Its thinking was simple—but correct.
To the side, Tanjiro, who had been forbidden from entering the battlefield, tightly gripped the sword given to him by his master, the hilt already slick with sweat.
However, no matter how correct an idea is, it still requires strength to back it up.
Facing the overwhelming assault, Shirakawa seemed to have truly become a nimble fox, slipping effortlessly through the gaps between the arms.
Every time he appeared, it was followed by a precise flash of his blade and another limb being severed.
Back-left—four arms.Right shoulder—three arms.Lower back—two!Main left and right arms...
"AAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
The Hand Demon's screams echoed through the mountain forest, now carrying a clear hint of terror.
"Get out here!!!"
It had never encountered such an opponent!
He didn't attack vital points—instead, he repeatedly cut off its limbs over and over again!
He was... dismantling it!!!
However, Shirakawa ignored its furious roars.
When he appeared beside the Hand Demon again, he changed his strike to a horizontal slash.
But the target was still not the neck.
It was the Hand Demon's four legs, each as thick as an adult's torso.
One!Two!!Three!!!
The speed at which the legs were severed was so fast...
So fast that the demon didn't even have time to maintain its balance. As its legs were cut away, it collapsed to the ground like a mountain of flesh.
"You... just who are you?!"
The Hand Demon was truly losing its mind. As it frantically regenerated its limbs and attacked wildly, it hissed, "You're not here for the selection! They don't have this kind of strength!"
Shirakawa stopped briefly, standing on a tree stump ten meters away.
He was breathing slightly heavier, but his gaze remained as cold as steel.
The purple-pink glow on Makomo's sword grew brighter.
The previous wailing had vanished—replaced by excitement.
He looked down at the faintly trembling blade and spoke softly, in a voice only he could hear.
"Makomo, don't rush."
"This has only just begun."
He raised his head and looked at the Hand Demon, whose face was twisted with rage and fear, a faint smile slowly forming on his lips.
"You want to know who I am?"
The mountain wind brushed past his waist, lifting a fox mask decorated with small flowers to face the Hand Demon.
"I am just... another disciple of Sakonji Urokodaki."
"That mask!" The Hand Demon's eyes widened. "I've seen—"
Before it could finish, Shirakawa moved again.
"Color Breathing, Second Form: Fox Walk!"
A pink phantom appeared beside the Hand Demon once more.
He resumed cutting down the newly grown limbs.
Kill it?
No need to rush.
A quick death would be far too merciful.
If he let it die like that, how could Makomo's suffering be repaid?
Who would bear the despair Sabito felt as he was devoured?
Who would understand the grief of the master, hearing of his disciples dying one after another?
"Can't you regenerate? Then keep going!!! Don't stop!!!"
Shirakawa's roar came together with the sound of three arms hitting the ground.
"AWOO!!!"
"Didn't you want to hold your brother's hand? Where is it? Grow it back!!!"
The Hand Demon crashed to the ground again—its newly regenerated legs severed once more.
"I want to see just how many hands you can grow!!!"
Freshly grown arms were sent flying again.
The Hand Demon was reduced to a grotesque, limbless trunk, howling in despair.
Arms grew—then were cut!Legs grew—then were severed!
Shirakawa became like a relentless grinder, circling and shredding everything!
"Scream! Louder! More desperate! Let your screams echo all the way to Mt. Sagiri!!!"
His face twisted gradually, wrapped in pink flames like a vengeful spirit.
He used no other technique.
Only this one.
Fox Walk.
Only this technique—left behind by Makomo—could extinguish the hatred in his heart.
[Name: Urokodaki Makomo (Sword Spirit)][Strength Rating: D][Potential Rating: High (Can trigger Third-tier Analysis)][Current Analysis: 90%][Attribute Boost: 30%][Constant Concentration Efficiency Boost: 50%][Derived Technique: Color Breathing, Second Form: Fox Walk]
This was the information after Makomo entered the Soul-Nurturing Nichirin Sword.
Entry meant reaching the third tier.
Although her enhancement wasn't as strong as Nezuko's, she was the only one who could perfectly synchronize with Shirakawa, allowing the boost to reach one hundred percent effectiveness.
Because she was right there—in his hand.
She would also be the companion who would stay with him the longest in the future.
Although Makomo was temporarily unable to communicate or manifest after entering the Nichirin blade,
When Shirakawa held the hilt, their shared anger and hatred were clearly felt.
No words were needed!!!
He would repay the pain a hundredfold!
"Color Breathing, Second Form: Fox Walk — Chaos!"