In the shadowy mountain forest, a massive figure lurked silently in the darkness.
Creak! Creak! Creak!
With every movement, the enormous form emitted a bone-chilling sound of grinding flesh and bone.
"Urokodaki! Urokodaki! Urokodaki! Damn Urokodaki!" The colossal figure repeated the name like a curse, its voice thick with rage and resentment, as if it harbored an immense hatred for the name it kept uttering.
BOOM!
When the massive figure finally stepped out of the darkness, illuminated by the moonlight, what kind of monstrous visage could possibly describe it?
No trace of human form remained—it looked more like a grotesque lump of clay haphazardly molded by a three-year-old.
Dozens of sickly green, twisted arms coiled together, forming the revolting Demon now bathed in the moonlight—the Hand Demon!
As the enormous Hand Demon continued chanting "Urokodaki," it lashed out several thick arms in a fit of fury, smashing dozens of sturdy trees in its path.
The name the Hand Demon kept repeating belonged to none other than the Water Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps—Urokodaki Sakonji, the man who had captured and imprisoned it on this accursed Mount Fujikasane over thirty years ago.
Thirty years! It had been trapped on this mountain for over three decades, treated like livestock raised by humans!
All of it was because of that damned Urokodaki Sakonji!
Every time the Hand Demon thought of that name, it was driven to madness.
The image of that tengu mask was seared into its mind, and it swore—absolutely, without fail—it would make Urokodaki Sakonji pay!
After venting its rage, the Hand Demon finally calmed down slightly.
Having survived on Mount Fujikasane for over thirty years and evaded multiple purges by the Demon Slayer Corps' Hashira, the Hand Demon had developed its own unique methods.
First, it was extremely cautious.
Unlike other starving Demons that would recklessly charge at any human swordsman who set foot on the mountain, the cunning Hand Demon preferred to hide, ambushing only isolated swordsmen.
It never overindulged—after devouring one or two humans, it would retreat into hiding once more.
Thanks to its shrewdness and prudence, the Hand Demon had, over the decades, consumed over thirty human swordsmen who had come to participate in the Demon Slayer Corps' Final Selection.
From a weak, insignificant Demon, it had transformed into the terrifying, monstrous abomination it was now and the Demon Slayer Corps remained completely unaware that such a powerful and horrifying aberration lurked within Mount Fujikasane.
To the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, the Hand Demon might have been nothing more than an insect. But for the young, inexperienced swordsmen undergoing the Final Selection, facing the Hand Demon was akin to stepping straight into hell.
Dozens of sickly green, thick arms—each tipped with crimson claws—formed the Hand Demon body.
These arms not only replaced its torso but also served as its organs and weapons.
Beneath the writhing mass of limbs, the thickest arms acted as legs, supporting its grotesque form as it moved.
Aside from its countless arms, the Hand Demon had only one—no, half—a sickly green head. Two bloodshot, monstrous eyes glared from its face, their pale yellow pupils brimming with cruel, cunning malice.
"One day! There will come a day! Urokodaki, I will make you pay! That damned tengu mask! I'll crush every last one of them!" The Hand Demon rambled on, its shrill, piercing voice grating enough to cause physical discomfort—Shinichi in the tree felt the same way.
So, Shinichi decided he'd had enough of this disgusting creature incessant muttering.
Just as the Hand Demon was about to retreat to its lair, a figure suddenly descended from above with a thunderous BOOM!!
The impact left a deep crater in the ground.
Under the demon horrified gaze, Shinichi—eyes still closed—slowly straightened from his crouched position.
His cold, expressionless face showed no emotion as he cracked his neck and back, producing a series of sharp pops and snaps from his joints.
Testing the strength in his fists, Shinichi finally opened his eyes—his right eye crimson, his left eye emerald green—both locking onto the Hand Demon with an eerie intensity.
"Well, well. It's been a while since I've seen something as ugly as you. Compared to you, even Karasuma could be considered handsome. Tell me, is this some twisted aesthetic you demons have? Or is it that the uglier you are, the stronger you get?"
Shinichi bared his fangs, taunting the creature before him.
Squelch!
Veins bulged beneath the Hand Demon sickly green skin—clearly, Shinichi words had struck a nerve.
But the demon couldn't help but feel wary.
The aura radiating from Shinichi was overwhelmingly powerful, far surpassing its own, despite having devoured over thirty humans.
Since when had such a formidable demon appeared on Mount Fujikasane?
Yet what unsettled the Hand Demon most wasn't just Shinichi strength—it was the anomaly in his presence. Despite being a Demon, his eyes held none of the usual bloodlust or savagery.
Even more terrifying was the rhythm of his breathing—an unmistakable sign of Breathing Techniques!
Only humans used Breathing Techniques!
Like Urokodaki Sakonji, the man who had captured and imprisoned it on this mountain.
The memory of his Water Breathing was still fresh—just one strike had nearly ended its life.
So how could this creature before it, clearly a demon, be using such a technique?
What the hell was he?!
"Who are you?!" the Hand Demon shrieked.
Shinichi dug a finger in his ear, grimacing.
"Ugh. Not only are you hideous, but your voice is downright unbearable."
The demon seethed.
This bastard had the gall to mock it so brazenly? Fine—it would teach him a lesson!
With that thought, the Hand Demon body squelched grotesquely as over a dozen thick, putrid-green arms shot toward Shinichi at terrifying speed.
To the demon, its attack was blindingly fast—it wanted to see how this arrogant fool would dodge.
But to Shinichi, the Hand Demon movements were sluggish compared to even Karasuma tongue.
He could evade them blindfolded.
And so, under the demon stunned gaze, Shinichi weaved through the onslaught like a phantom, effortlessly slipping between the gaps in the flailing limbs—closing in on the Hand Demon's true body with terrifying ease.
"Impossible! Impossible! Impossible!"
The utterly horrified Hand Demon screamed three times in disbelief.
As Shinichi drew closer, all the shit-green arms on the Hand Demon body simultaneously lashed out, enveloping Shinichi like an overwhelming tide.
Squeak!
The sound of deerskin boots scraping against the ground echoed as Shinichi abruptly halted his steps at that precise moment.
A flash of excitement passed through his crimson right eye, and his usually stern face broke into a rare smile.
"Perfect timing! Blood Demon Art: Raging Blood!"
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