The fourth day.
The night on Mount Fujikasane was still shrouded in screams and the stench of blood.
Sasuke moved through the woods, looking somewhat impatient.
[Ding.] [Kill successful. Gained 95 Revenge Points.] [Current total points: 2450]
He flicked the blood off the Wakizashi and returned it to its sheath.
These imprisoned demons were too weak.
Their existence meant nothing beyond providing him with a negligible number of points.
They did not even deserve to make him draw his blade.
This so-called selection was turning into a monotonous, tedious slaughter.
He needed stronger opponents.
Opponents who could make him feel threatened, who could let him unleash his strength to the fullest.
Just then, a gust of wind blew from deep within the mountain forest.
The wind carried a smell utterly different from anywhere else.
It was an overwhelmingly thick stench of decay.
It was as though countless corpses had been piled together and left to ferment over long years.
What drew Sasuke's attention even more was the exceptionally powerful sinister aura mingled with that stench.
That aura was filled with venomous resentment and hatred.
It was completely different from the demons he had encountered before, who knew only how to hunt by instinct.
This aura possessed a "will."
"Finally, something worthwhile?"
A glimmer of excitement flashed in Sasuke's eyes.
He abandoned his original hunting route and stealthily headed toward the source of that aura.
The closer he drew, the stronger the stench of decay became.
The trees began to thin.
At last, he reached the edge of an open clearing.
Then he saw the owner of that aura.
It was an enormous monster beyond description.
Its body resembled a small mountain built from flesh and blood.
And that "mountain" was made up of hundreds upon hundreds of arms of varying thicknesses and colors.
Those arms twisted and thrashed wildly, pressing against one another with a teeth-grating rasp.
Amid those clustered arms, one enormous, bloodshot eye stared fixedly at the ground.
The Hand Demon.
The true overlord of Mount Fujikasane.
At that moment, it was toying with an already cold corpse using several of its arms.
The candidate was still very young, and the Demon Slayer Corps uniform he wore was identical to Sasuke's.
"Another one. Yet another one."
The Hand Demon's voice was as shrill as a child's, yet filled with venomous resentment.
"Another disciple of that old bastard Kuwajima."
"They're all so weak. How boring."
Its arms tossed the corpse back and forth like a toy.
Sasuke stood in the distant shadows. The hint of a hunter's interest in his eyes instantly turned icy.
Kuwajima.
That name was like a key, unlocking a corner of his heart he had deliberately ignored.
That nagging, stubborn, one-legged old man who had taught him with genuine care.
"I really want to see him again, that old bastard."
The Hand Demon seemed lost in some memory, its voice filled with relish.
"I'd love to show him how his precious disciples cried and screamed as I ate them bit by bit."
"Ah, right, that little girl wearing a fox mask left the deepest impression on me. Her bones were so hard. So crunchy..."
The Hand Demon continued chattering away, boasting about its trophies. (This part was modified, changing the reference to the former Water Hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki.)
It had not noticed at all.
In the shadows behind it, a killing intent far more terrifying and pure than its own was quietly rising.
Sasuke's body did not move.
But in his right eye, the two tomoe had already begun spinning wildly.
The hatred of having his family destroyed.
The fury of having his master's school insulted.
The two emotions intertwined and collided in his chest, finally merging into a sheet of ice cold enough to freeze the soul.
Just then.
The Hand Demon seemed to smell something.
Its enormous single eye abruptly swung toward Sasuke.
"Hmm?"
It sniffed the air hard, its expression shifting from amusement to delighted surprise.
"This scent... there's no mistake."
"Another one's here!"
The Hand Demon grinned viciously, its countless arms waving excitedly.
"You smell exactly like that old bastard Kuwajima!"
"Brat, let me see..."
"Which disciple of his are you?"
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