Who Was the Prey?

As evening fell, the sun gradually sank westward, casting its last rays upon the earth.

A veil of fiery red light draped over the land, and the small cabin halfway up the mountain was cut into a fading silhouette by the sunset.

Kuwajima Jigoro carried a large basin of steaming rice to the wooden table in front of the yard and called into the house.

"Makoto, dinner!"

"Okay!"

Hiruma answered, and a nimble, monkey-like figure swung down from the roof.

"What are you doing climbing onto the roof when you've got nothing better to do?"

Kuwajima Jigoro said irritably. As he spoke, he served himself a bowl of rice, then pushed the entire basin toward his disciple.

"We're out of rice at home, so make do with this for now."

"Go into town and buy some more after you finish."

"Okay!"

Hiruma nodded and picked up his chopsticks. Though there was only one basin, it was enough to fill him about sixty percent.

His appetite had not been great lately, so one basin was enough.

From afar, they looked about the same height. One leisurely ate a bowl of rice, while the other hugged the basin and wolfed it down.

In this era, feeding someone a whole basin of rice per meal was not something ordinary people could afford. Luckily, the Ubuyashiki Family's benefits were generous, with more money than they could spend. Otherwise, the old man and the young one would have starved to death sooner or later.

After dinner, Jigoro gave him some money, and Hiruma raced down Peach Mountain. This was also part of his training.

Mount Peach Town was neither large nor small, about five kilometers from Peach Mountain. He could get there in ten minutes without even breathing hard.

At the rice shop counter, the owner hoisted a huge sack of rice and handed it to Hiruma. A sack that would take an adult's two hands to carry was lifted by Hiruma with one hand.

Using one hand was still somewhat strenuous for him, but he could manage. He treated it as weight training.

"Makoto, your strength's gotten even greater. You'd be a great worker if you came to my shop." The rice shop owner was both astonished and envious.

Damn this body made for working!

Hiruma felt somewhat helpless. Good thing the old man had taken him in. Otherwise, he probably would not even have enough to eat.

Thinking of this, he silently thanked the old man for three seconds.

"Uncle Yamamoto, I'm going to save the world. There's no way I'm going to work!"

"See you!"

The owner shook his head, looking utterly disappointed. His eight hundred and sixty-ninth invitation had failed. Another day of missing out on a good employee.

"Makoto, get home quickly today. Things haven't been peaceful in town lately!" The rice shop owner had watched Hiruma grow up, and the kid was fond of playing around, so he reminded him.

Hearing this, Tendo Hiruma, who had already walked several meters away, stopped. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of the owner, startling him badly.

"Uncle, what do you mean by not peaceful? Tell me everything!"

Seeing the blazing look in Hiruma's eyes, the owner was dumbfounded. Shouldn't a normal person be afraid?

Whatever. This kid was different from ordinary people—in other words, not normal.

"I'm telling you, there's been a psychopathic serial killer lately. More than a dozen people have already died. I heard all the victims had their internal organs removed. It's terrifying."

The owner lowered his voice, and it even trembled slightly. He was terrified, afraid that he would be next.

"All right, all right, hurry home. Don't go wandering around tonight. Get home early!" the owner earnestly urged.

"I got it. Take care, Uncle!"

Hiruma had somehow appeared on a distant street. With his back to the owner, he waved goodbye.

What the rice shop owner could not see was Hiruma's upturned lips, the fervor in his eyes, his excitement, and the intense killing intent.

Besides psychopathic serial killers, this world also had another kind of man-eating creature: Demons.

When human bodies were mutilated, there was a high chance that a Demon was responsible.

Ever since he had grown up, Hiruma had always yearned for real combat. Before leaving home today, he had even secretly hidden a kitchen knife on himself.

Night fell.

The last trace of light vanished into the forest. Cold moonlight poured down, while a chilly wind passed through the trees, carrying a faint, intermittent scent of blood.

Within a dark thicket, a pair of scarlet eyes suddenly opened. It was a humanoid monster with a bluish face and protruding fangs, chewing on a bloody arm.

Suddenly, its body began to tremble violently. Its blue-black nose twitched, and an unbearable greed shot from its fierce red eyes.

The severed limb fell to the ground as its sharp teeth clashed violently, making cracking sounds.

"Rare Blood. Such a rich scent—what luck!"

"Ha ha ha!"

"Once I eat this Rare Blood, given time, I'll rise into the Twelve Kizuki, and Lord Muzan will value me even more!"

At the thought of future promotions and pay raises, the Demon was delighted.

Tendo Hiruma strolled along the forest path, with only the moonlight faintly illuminating the road ahead.

Sigh!

Why hasn't a Demon attacked me yet? Could it really just be some psychopathic serial killer?

Thinking that this country had more psychopaths than Demons, he felt somewhat disappointed.

If an ordinary person knew what he was thinking right now, they would definitely think he had gone mad.

Instead of going home in the middle of the night, he actually wished to be attacked.

Mad!

He was truly mad.

Little did he know, the Demon he had been longing for was watching him from the darkness of the pitch-black forest.

The Demon's drool flowed all over the ground like a small waterfall. It could not control it; it was the instinct of a man-eater, its intuition.

The human before it smelled far too delicious, so irresistible that the Demon could barely contain itself.

Its instincts told it that eating that little brat would be worth more than eating hundreds of people.

It had never seen Rare Blood with such overwhelming allure. Merely watching from afar made every cell in its body cheer with excitement.

To it, such delicious Rare Blood being possessed by a frail child was simply a gift from heaven.

Where should it start eating?

The head, or the feet?

No, no, no. It had to drain the blood first. Such precious Rare Blood could not be wasted, not even a drop.

Like a fanatical believer, the Demon's cold gaze brazenly fixed itself on Tendo Hiruma.

That gaze was like a lion staring at a newborn deer. This would be a hunt with no suspense.

A defenseless human child, itself lurking in the shadows, and its Blood Demon Art.

How could it fail?

How could it lose?

The Demon knew it could not possibly fail. This human was as good as eaten. Even if Muzan came, it would not matter. It said so.

Delicious prey, enjoy the fear of death.

The Demon's lips curled up, nearly stretching to its ears.

But who exactly was the prey, and who was the hunter? That remained to be seen.

It believed itself to be a hunter with victory in hand, never realizing that it was the true prey.

When the bright moon hung high, the Demon made its move. To be safe, it chose to launch a surprise attack from behind.

After all, such Rare Blood was a once-in-a-thousand-years find. It was better to be cautious.

At that moment, the child the Demon had considered certain to die turned around.

Their eyes met. In Hiruma's eyes, it saw fervor, excitement, hunger—and, beyond all that, icy killing intent.

What a terrifying look!

Between him and me, who is the Demon?

Who is the real prey?

For an instant, that thought flashed through the Demon's mind.

It did not understand why the human's first reaction upon seeing it was not fear, but excitement.

Is this human a lunatic?