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"Ding! Congratulations to the host for slaying a demon. You have gained: Handball Manipulation."
Handball Manipulation: Grants the ability to control handballs with immense force, capable of destroying buildings.
"Ding! Congratulations to the host for slaying a demon. You have gained: Red Arrow."
Red Arrow: Invisible to the human eye, these arrows can manipulate objects they touch, allowing precise control for attacks or movement.
Two cold, mechanical voices echoed in Sam Miller's mind. With each announcement, an instinctive understanding of his new abilities surged within him.
Sam clenched his fist slightly, and a handball materialized in his palm. With a flick of his wrist, the ball shot forward like a cannonball.
BOOM!
The ground exploded into a massive crater, its force nearly equal to that of artillery fire.
More impressively, Sam guided the handball midair with his thoughts, making it arc upward, spiral down, and zip left and right with precision.
"This will come in handy," Sam murmured, satisfied.
Sheathing his sword, his gaze shifted toward the slender figure moving gracefully under the moonlight.
"Makomo, stop."
"Okay," Makomo called back, drifting lightly to his side.
Her clothes swayed softly, and before long, she had obediently landed beside Sam.
With Susamaru and Yahaba dead, Sam's eyes turned to the two remaining demons — Tamayo and Yushiro.
"Are you going to kill them too?" Makomo asked, tilting her head. Her delicate eyes curved into crescent shapes — but there was an unmistakable edge to her smile.
Despite her soft voice, there was an underlying threat in her tone — like a cat poised to strike.
The air seemed to tense.
Yushiro, now visible again, positioned himself in front of Tamayo, standing protectively with narrowed eyes.
"No need," Sam said, placing his hand on Makomo's head.
Makomo blinked in surprise. Sam had never shown mercy to demons before. Why now?
Her gaze shifted to Tamayo.
She's... beautiful.
With her soft features and gentle presence, Tamayo seemed vastly different from the twisted demons they'd fought before.
Suddenly, Makomo felt a small pang of discomfort in her chest.
Could it be... Sam likes her?
Before her mind could wander further, Sam flicked her forehead lightly.
"Don't overthink it," he said.
"I wasn't!" Makomo pouted. Then, her gaze drifted back to Tamayo.
"But if you like her," she teased with mock innocence, "I'll catch her for you."
After the initial tension, Tamayo slowly regained her composure.
She stared curiously at the unusual pair — a demon and a Demon Slayer working together.
Why would a human trust a demon?
Tamayo's gaze fell on Makomo's stance — the way she held her sword, her breathing steady and precise.
She's trained in the breathing techniques...
The breathing styles were the signature methods of the Demon Slayer Corps.
This meant the young girl was either part of the Corps or closely connected to them.
A Demon Slayer... trusting a demon? How strange...
"Lady Tamayo, you should leave now," Yushiro urged. "I'll hold them off."
Hearing Makomo's earlier remark — "That female demon is my Sam's favorite!" — had made Yushiro furious.
He couldn't allow Tamayo to fall into their hands.
"You can't stop me," Makomo scoffed, unimpressed.
"That female demon... belongs to Sam!" she added smugly — though her voice betrayed a hint of bitterness.
Yushiro's face darkened further.
He clenched his fists — knowing that despite his determination, he stood little chance against Sam or Makomo.
"Step aside, Yushiro," Tamayo said softly. "If they intended to harm us... they would have done so by now."
Reluctantly, Yushiro obeyed and moved aside.
Tamayo's gentle gaze turned to Sam.
This demon... is nothing like the others.
"We should move," Sam said. "This isn't a safe place to talk."
He felt a strange presence drawing near — something powerful.
"Agreed," Tamayo nodded.
As Sam prepared to leave with them, he paused for a moment.
With a quiet breath, a shadowy figure identical to himself formed beside him — a perfect clone.
The clone remained behind, positioned to intercept whatever danger was approaching.
Not long after Sam and the others departed, a swift figure arrived.
Landing on a nearby tree branch, the figure's piercing red eyes scanned the scene below.
The destruction was undeniable — his two subordinates, Yahaba and Susamaru, were nothing more than scattered ash.
The man wore a black Western suit and a pristine white hat. Beneath the brim of his hat, a pair of crimson eyes glowed with seething fury.
This was Kibutsuji Muzan.
His gaze locked onto the figure that stood unmoving in the wreckage below — Sam's clone.
At first, Muzan assumed it was another demon under his command.
But no...
This demon's aura felt... different.
Not one of mine...
"A demon... like me?" Muzan muttered darkly.
"Kibutsuji Muzan," Sam's clone said calmly, its gaze meeting Muzan's.
"You're later than I expected."
Muzan's expression twisted in anger.
A demon... mocking me?
For centuries, no one had dared to provoke him like this — except for one man: Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the one person who still haunted Muzan's mind.
Did this demon think he could challenge me as well?
Muzan's hand stretched forward, his arm swelling into a grotesque mass of twisted flesh and tendrils.
"I'll kill you."
His fingers curled into claws, striking the clone with overwhelming force.
The clone's calm words echoed in Muzan's ears:
"I've found you, Kibutsuji Muzan."
For a brief moment, Muzan's breath caught in his throat.
That tone... that confidence...
It reminded him too much of Yoriichi — and Muzan's greatest failure.
With a single crushing motion, Muzan's fingers clenched, reducing the clone to a mangled smear of flesh on the forest floor.
Even as the clone dissolved, Muzan's unease lingered.
Was it anger... or fear?