Were they all here as tourists?

It had clearly recognized Sakonji Urokodaki's mask. It harbored a deep obsession with its former "prey."

At those words, Kirishima Bupai raised his brows slightly. He glanced at the demon's enormous body, then at Tanjiro struggling to hold on beside it, and a cold gleam flashed through his eyes.

He slowly lowered his stance, gripping the sword hilt with his right hand and resting his left on the sheath, assuming a sword-drawing stance.

Still locked in combat with the demon, Tanjiro noticed Kirishima Bupai's movements, and every hair on his body stood on end.

He knew all too well what that stance meant...

"Get out of the way!" Tanjiro shouted, throwing himself aside almost on instinct.

Almost at the exact moment he leaped away, Kirishima Bupai moved.

"You have a substitute-!"

With a low shout, Kirishima Bupai vanished from where he stood.

The next second, he appeared behind the tumor-covered Hand Demon.

Space seemed to tear apart at that moment. Countless pitch-black slashes materialized out of thin air, raining down on the Hand Demon's enormous body like a violent storm.

"Crack... crack, crack..."

The sound of shattering bones rang out incessantly. Before the demon could even scream, its massive body was sliced apart and crushed by countless slashes.

When everything settled, only a demon's head remained, having rolled onto the ground. Its eyes were still wide with terror, as though it had yet to understand what had happened.

Kirishima Bupai knelt on one knee and slowly slid his sword back into its sheath.

"Clang!"

The instant the blade entered its sheath, another faint burst of cracking sounds came from the surrounding space.

Utter terror flashed through the demon head's eyes. Then, like weathered stone, it crumbled inch by inch, finally turning to ash.

[Ding! Slain one special demon (Hand Demon). Gained 90 points. Current total points: 1,750.]

Under the Nichirin Blade's slashes, the Hand Demon's hideous head turned instantly to ash.

The drifting dust dispersed on the wind into the air, which was filled with the scent of wisteria.

The entire ravaged valley fell deathly silent, with only the wind whimpering through the broken trees.

All the surviving participants, including Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Genya...

And the group of "freeloaders" who had followed close behind like a tour group, barely lifting a finger, stood frozen on the spot.

They stared at Kirishima Bupai, dumbfounded, their jaws almost hitting the ground and their pupils contracting sharply in utter shock.

"A-amazing...!"

The first sounds to break the silence were the gasps that escaped the "tour group" members' throats from sheer horror.

They looked at the spot where Kirishima Bupai had just struck.

All that remained there was a massive shallow crater plowed out by the shock wave, along with churned-up, scorched earth.

Then they looked back at the white-haired boy kneeling on one knee, slowly returning his Nichirin Blade to the sheath at his waist...

They felt as though they were witnessing a miracle-or rather... the birth of a godslayer.

"W-what... just happened?"

A boy with a buzz cut and bloody scrapes still on his face rubbed his eyes hard.

His voice was dry and hoarse, filled with disbelief. "A-am I seeing things?"

"That... that mountain of flesh of a demon..."

Beside him, a boy wearing a battered bamboo hat trembled so badly that his voice shook beyond recognition.

Only leaning on his sword kept him from collapsing. "It's... just... gone? Not even a scrap left?"

"One slash? No... I don't think I even saw the blade flash... and... it was over?"

"That's ridiculous... that can't be power a human could possess, can it?"

"A monster... we've had a monster scarier than demons traveling with us!"

Their irrepressible chatter burst through the deathly silence like a flood breaking through a dam.

What began as fearful whispers quickly turned into uncontrollable exclamations and awe rising from the depths of their souls.

Their gazes on Kirishima Bupai were filled with the complicated emotions of people looking at something inhuman.

Those looks mingled the reverence of gazing up at a deity with the terror of facing an abyss.

Zenitsu's reaction was the most direct. His legs gave out, and he dropped to the ground with a thud.

His hands braced weakly against the cold earth, his golden hair plastered messily to his sweat-soaked forehead.

His mouth hung wide open, his eyes unfocused and vacant. The faint gasps escaping his throat made him seem liable to faint from sheer fright at any moment.

At that moment, he finally understood just what kind of "true god" he had shamelessly latched onto back then.

What powerful backer!?

This was a fucking god descended to earth!

Where had I found the courage to pester him back then?

Genya also stood frozen in place, the corner of his mouth twitching as he unconsciously clenched his fists...

His face, made far more vicious-looking than those of his peers by his unusual constitution and years of self-loathing, now held only an almost blank numbness.

The hand gripping his small firearm trembled slightly.

He had always aimed to surpass his older brother, Sanemi. He believed that, however weak he was, he would eventually catch up through the forbidden power of "eating demons."

But the pure power Kirishima Bupai had just displayed, seemingly capable of tearing space apart, shattered his understanding like a sledgehammer.

That power surpassed Breathing Styles, and even the boundaries between "human" and "demon" as he understood them, making him feel a despair-inducing gulf.

Tanjiro Kamado struggled to his feet and brushed the dirt and grass clippings off his light-blue checkered haori.

The wound on his forehead was still bleeding, but his eyes were exceptionally bright and resolute.

He hurried over to Kirishima Bupai, pressed his hands against the seams of his trousers, and bowed deeply to the powerful teammate who had just saved his life.

He bent almost ninety degrees, the pair of sun-patterned hanafuda earrings on his earlobes swaying gently. "Mr. Bupai, thank you so much for your help! If you hadn't stepped in when you did..."

Tanjiro's voice carried sincere gratitude and a trace of lingering fear.

Hearing this, Kirishima Bupai stood and casually brushed the dust off the hem of his black trench coat and his trouser legs.

He glanced at Tanjiro, then swept his gaze over the other participants, who were still immersed in immense shock, their eyes filled with complicated emotions.

Rubbing his chin, he curled his lips into an amused smile, his manner somewhat languid and dismissive. "It was no trouble."

For Kirishima Bupai, crushing an opponent on the Hand Demon's level really was as effortless as brushing dust from his clothes.

These people had been scared out of their wits and thinking of running away earlier, yet now they were looking at him as though he were a monster. The contrast was genuinely amusing.

"Let's go."

Without another unnecessary word, Kirishima Bupai shook out his wrist and took the lead, heading toward the outskirts of the valley.

Zenitsu snapped out of his daze and scrambled after him, terrified that falling even a step behind would leave him as demon food.

Genya followed close behind in silence, staring at Kirishima Bupai's back with a complicated look, his thoughts unknown.

As for the "tour group" members, they acted as though they had grasped a lifeline.

The whole crowd hurried after him in a swarm, exchanging looks filled with relief and lingering fear.

After that earth-shattering spectacle, they no longer had the slightest doubt about their decision to "cling to Kirishima Bupai."

With such a killing god clearing the way ahead, they felt an inexplicable sense of security-not merely about surviving the remaining selection period, but even about encountering the Twelve Kizuki.

And so, the remaining time on Mount Fujikasane became Kirishima Bupai's unrivaled solo show.

He seemed addicted to killing, turning into a tireless human bulldozer that swept through the entire mountain forest with an absolute aesthetic of violence.

Whether they were foul-smelling old demons lurking deep inside dark caves or vicious fiends perched atop ancient trees, lunging down with savage grins-

As long as he sensed their presence, or they dared to appear within his sight, their end held no suspense...

A flash of his blade, and before they could even wail, they turned to ash beneath his sacred slashes.

[Ding! Slain one Common Demon. Gained 10 points.]

[Ding! Slain one low-level demon. Gained 5 points.]

[Ding! Slain one Common Demon. Gained 8 points.]

The system's mechanical notifications sounded one after another in his mind, like monotonous yet pleasant background music.

Although the points awarded per demon were deliberately reduced, his horrifying killing efficiency more than made up for it.

His total points skyrocketed toward ever-higher levels as though riding a jet-powered rocket.

Meanwhile, the ever-growing "tail" of people behind him had been reduced entirely to a cheering section and war correspondents.

They spent almost the whole time with nothing to do...

Because all they needed to do was follow behind and watch Kirishima Bupai dispatch demons of every shape and form as easily as chopping vegetables, striking from all manner of inconceivable angles and at incredible speeds.

On mist-shrouded mornings, at noon beneath the blazing sun, in the deepening dusk... wherever and whenever it happened, combat ended before anyone could react.

That bizarre atmosphere of "safety" even gave a few of the more carefree members the wrong impression.

They felt that this journey through the Final Selection was like a spring outing.

They could even occasionally admire Mount Fujikasane's unique scenery, ravaged beyond recognition.