Beside the rugged mountain path, wooden stakes stained with dried blood had been driven into the rocks. Each one was a whole tree trunk with both ends cut off.
A thick stench of blood shrouded the area. Hiruma made his way up the mountain path, the scenery around him flashing by in an instant, but the foul smell lingered stubbornly.
The odor was nauseating, like a corpse that had been rotting for days.
Suddenly, a human head flashed through the corner of his eye. He came to an abrupt stop before a wooden stake. Taking in the gruesome sight before him, his blood pressure shot up and his eyes turned red.
A head had been nailed to the top of the stake with a Nichirin Blade. Though its features had been mangled beyond recognition, the sword revealed its owner's identity.
He was one of the Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen who had come to investigate not long ago.
"Damn it, you bastard!"
Hiruma cursed furiously, clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into his flesh. At that moment, he was consumed with rage, as if a volcano had erupted in his chest.
That damned demon had actually mutilated his comrades like this.
He continued up the mountain path, his eyes filled with nothing but fury. Every so often, he saw another head nailed to a wooden stake.
The closer he got to the summit, the more badly decomposed the heads became, to the point where the swordsmen's original features could no longer be made out.
His anger continued to deepen, yet he remained calm. Only his killing intent grew stronger.
They had already died in battle, yet even their corpses had been subjected to such humiliation. Hiruma had never been this enraged before.
He counted them. There were only