The growth of a demon generally follows three stages.
The first is the newly-turned stage. At this point, aside from immortality, a demon is barely any stronger than an ordinary human.
After that, if a demon manages to consume enough humans and avoid being slain, there's a chance it will awaken a Blood Demon Art—the ability that marks its evolution into an Ability Demon.
But there's another possibility:
If a demon gorges itself without the talent to awaken a Blood Demon Art, the excess energy builds up, becomes impossible to absorb, and twists its body into grotesque deformities.
Those are the so-called Deformed Demons.
Ability Demons are the proper path of demon evolution.
Deformed Demons, bluntly speaking—are failures.
No matter how many more people they eat, their bodies only become more monstrous. Their strength barely improves. Their bloated size and voracious hunger make it nearly impossible to hide among humans—meaning they're discovered by Demon Slayers sooner, and almost none live long.
"Time to eat again…"
A low, rumbling voice echoed as a mountain of flesh crawled out of the shadows.
From afar, it looked like a pale, pulsing maggot—large as a house.
For a creature that size, it moved eerily silently. No one knew where it had been hiding during the day.
A closer look revealed that countless human limbs extended from beneath it, pushing its mass forward.
Its body was a heap of mangled torsos fused together, with distorted faces pressed into its surface—each gnashing their teeth in a chorus of grotesque grinding.
Just looking at it was enough to make one's stomach twist.
"How revolting. I almost feel bad dirtying my blade with you."
Okane Kichiro stood to the side, unable to look directly at the abomination. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly drew his sword.
The fleshy mass heard the sound.
Its surface rippled like waves as something pushed outward.
A head extended from within—like a snail's eyestalk emerging from sludge.
The sight alone could freeze anyone's blood.
"You… aren't afraid of me?"
The demon's neck twisted unnaturally as it spoke.
From Okane Kichiro's expression, it read nothing but disgust.
The realization stirred both anger and confusion.
A silver flash cut through the demon's words.
Its head hit the ground—eyes full of disbelief.
What just happened?
"Water Breathing, First Form—Water Surface Slash."
Okane Kichiro sheathed his blade as he finally voiced the technique he'd already performed.
It had simply been a horizontal cut—yet with the breathing style, it became something far more.
The Deformed Demon's massive body began to carbonize and crumble, releasing a nauseating stench of decay. Okane Kichiro frowned and immediately turned away.
"What… are you…?"
The demon's voice echoed as its head disintegrated.
Okane Kichiro never once looked back.
[Slain Intermediate Demon – Reward: 300 Paradise Coins]
Even in death, the demon's eyes remained wide open, fixed in the direction Okane Kichiro had gone.
There were rules to slaying demons—at least let the victim finish speaking. But this one hadn't even seen the blade move before its head was gone.
What an unbearably humiliating way to die.
Okane Kichiro did not care about a demon's final emotions.
All he wanted was experience and Paradise Coins.
And more importantly—this demon's existence was too offensive to leave alive even a second longer.
The demon had strength.
An ordinary Demon Slayer would have struggled.
But it had the misfortune of meeting him.
For the next month, Okane Kichiro's life was simple:
If he wasn't killing demons, he was on the way to kill demons.
Most who fell by his blade were Lower-Rank demons—some Deformed, a few Ability Demons.
But only one among them had noteworthy skills.
There simply weren't as many demons as the legends claimed.
Which made sense.
If hordes of demons actually roamed, the Demon Slayer Corps wouldn't remain a "rumored organization" among civilians.
Despite the effort, his gains were modest.
A full month passed without leveling up.
Most of the time was consumed searching for demons—killing them was instant.
And large towns had numerous disappearances and deaths not caused by demons at all.
Okane Kichiro wasted many nights chasing false alarms.
Still, his pace was extraordinary.
His efficiency rivaled even the Hashira.
His rank had risen to Class C, and many Demon Slayers now recognized the existence of this terrifyingly capable newcomer.
At this rate, Okane Kichiro was on track to break the record for the fastest rise to Class A.
But to become a Hashira, mere Lower and Intermediate demons weren't enough.
He needed to slay at least one of the Twelve Kizuki.
For Okane Kichiro, defeating a Lower Six demon was no challenge.
The problem was opportunity.
Demon Slayers below Hashira-level must follow headquarters assignments.
The Demon Slayer Corps had survived centuries against demons precisely because of strict organization—not letting talented members act recklessly.
Even if Okane Kichiro knew where one of the Twelve Kizuki might be hiding…
He couldn't leave his assigned area.
And besides—those demons were not to be underestimated.
Without support from headquarters, it was unclear who would be hunting whom.
"Kichiro! Urgent directive! Proceed immediately to Natagumo Mountain! A Twelve Kizuki sighting is suspected!"
A Kasugai Crow landed on his table, screaming loudly—drawing startled gazes from nearby diners.
"So… it's finally happening."
Okane Kichiro set down his chopsticks, excitement flickering in his eyes.
He placed money on the table and announced boldly:
"No need to bring the change."
The server stared blankly as Okane Kichiro strode out.
He then looked at the mountain of empty plates and muttered:
"Who would've thought someone that handsome could eat that much…"
Okane Kichiro patted his stomach.
He'd only eaten until he was eighty percent full.
Ever since learning Breathing Techniques, his appetite had skyrocketed—but with equally fast metabolism.
His body had only grown leaner and more defined.
Thankfully, the Demon Slayer Corps never skimped on his supplies.
He rarely even used the full monthly rations provided.
An organization that had endured for centuries was certainly more formidable than it appeared.
Its power in the human world must run deep—but none of that concerned Okane Kichiro.
All he needed to do was kill demons.