Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

Night quietly descended.

A full moon rose silently into the sky.

Yet within the forest, peace was nowhere to be found.

Sounds of clashing flesh and slashing blades echoed throughout. Though the noises didn't carry far individually, together they filled the forest with restless, uneasy tension.

"This makes thirteen already… How can there possibly be so many demons here?"

Shirou flicked the blood from his Nichirin blade onto the ground, panting as he ran deeper into the forest.

From the moment he entered Fujikasane Mountain, Shirou hadn't paused to rest. Every few steps he encountered demons—usually not alone, but in groups of two or three at a time.

Fortunately, these demons lacked coordination and occasionally turned on each other mid-fight.

"[Sword Breathing—Flame Style: Unknowing Fire]!"

Shirou surged forward like a blazing flame. Before the two demons could even react, their heads tumbled onto the ground.

After merging Breathing Techniques with his magecraft, Shirou no longer needed to project specific blades to replicate their forms. He realized different Breathing Techniques shared common principles; slight adjustments were enough to seamlessly switch between styles.

Yet even Shirou, always confident in his stamina, now felt himself nearing exhaustion after countless skirmishes.

If I keep fighting at this intensity, I might not even make it through this Final Selection…

The demons of Fujikasane Mountain weren't particularly powerful; Shirou hadn't encountered any with Blood Demon Arts yet. But the sheer numbers were overwhelming.

The reason wasn't because the mountain itself was teeming with an unusually high density of demons. Rather, Shirou misunderstood the intent of the trial, believing he needed to actively engage every demon he encountered.

He thought the Demon Slayer Corps intended the demons captured here to be slain immediately—not preserved for future participants. But most candidates wisely hid during the night, traveling by daylight to avoid encounters.

Even Kamado Tanjirou prioritized survival, initially hiding to endure the seven days.

Unlike Shirou, who openly marched down paths, waited at battle sites, rested, and fought again—drawing increasing numbers of demons.

Even Hashibira Inosuke hunted actively after each fight rather than sitting still, becoming a moving target rather than a stationary beacon like Shirou.

Unknowingly, Shirou had turned himself into a blazing torch, attracting nearly every demon in the vicinity.

Compared to hunting hidden prey, the exhausted, beacon-like human openly broadcasting his position was an irresistible temptation for hungry demons.

Everyone else was hiding, while Shirou waged a one-man war openly through the night.

"!"

Suddenly, Shirou felt an immense sense of dread from behind.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Heavy footsteps shook the forest, each step resonating ominously in Shirou's chest.

Shirou tightened his grip on his crimson Nichirin blade, turning sharply toward the approaching presence.

"Oh my, oh my… I'd assumed the one slaying so many demons would be a cute little fox. But it seems I was mistaken. You don't even use Water Breathing. How disappointing…"

A twisted voice, dripping with malice, emerged from the enormous figure now visible in the moonlight—a grotesque demon composed entirely of countless arms, revealing only one enormous eye—the Hand Demon.

In one of its massive hands dangled the lifeless body of a young candidate. The demon glanced down at its victim briefly before losing interest and tossing the corpse aside.

Someone's already dead…!

Shirou tightened his grip on his sword, gritting his teeth in anger. He shifted his stance, kicked powerfully off the ground, and shot toward the demon like a bullet, the air shrieking in his wake.

Yet the Hand Demon remained utterly unconcerned about Shirou's blade aimed at its neck.

Clang—!

It's incredibly tough!

Shirou inwardly cursed. The powerful blow met resistance as if hitting solid steel, sending numbing vibrations through his arms.

Instantly, two enormous arms, thick as tree trunks, swung toward Shirou, still suspended helplessly in midair.

Unable to maneuver, Shirou was trapped. The Hand Demon had slain countless skilled swordsmen this way. None expected its neck to be nearly as hard as stone—without strength capable of splitting rock, decapitating it was impossible.

Inside Fujikasane Mountain, trainees without actual Demon Slayer experience wouldn't have such power.

"[Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel]!"

Just as the arms were about to seize Shirou, a shout rang from the shadows nearby.

A beautiful blue arc flashed before Shirou's eyes, instantly severing the two massive arms mid-swing, sending them crashing to the ground.

The sudden interruption briefly startled the Hand Demon.

"[Sword Breathing—Wind Style: Dust Whirlwind Cutter]!"

Slash—!

A brilliant green-edged blade flashed through the air.

Splurt—!

Blood erupted from the demon's thick neck.

"I… bled?"

The Hand Demon realized, with genuine surprise, that its neck had been partially severed.

"So hard!"

Shirou shook his numb hands, stunned. His red Nichirin blade had embedded halfway into the demon's neck.

Even at his full strength, he'd only managed a partial cut. Had he not released his sword quickly enough, he'd be dangling helplessly from the demon's neck right now.

"But… yet another little fox has appeared."

The Hand Demon casually pulled Shirou's sword from its neck, snapping it in two and tossing the pieces aside. It turned its interested gaze toward the red-haired newcomer who'd just saved Shirou.

"Little fox, tell me—what year of the Meiji era is it now?"

After its initial surprise, the demon completely disregarded Shirou standing behind it. Without a Nichirin blade, even someone capable of cutting its neck was harmless.

Compared to this unfamiliar young man behind it, the fox-masked, red-haired boy before the Hand Demon had long been its favored prey.

"[Trace—On]!"