The forest ahead felt unnaturally still. The trees were tall and twisted, their shadows tangled together like knots from a forgotten nightmare. Tanjiro and Giyu stepped carefully beneath the canopy, the air heavy with the scent of dust, silk, and faint blood.
Tanjiro whispered, "The smell here is strange. Sweet, but also… sharp. Like threads soaked in poison."
Giyu nodded once. "We are close."
As they walked deeper, thin strands of white drifted down like snow. At first, they looked harmless, almost delicate. But when one landed on Tanjiro's sleeve, it sizzled through the cloth.
He pulled back his arm. "These threads… they burn."
Giyu caught another thread on his sword. The moment it touched the blade, it slid cleanly across the metal and left a thin cut along the steel itself.
"Be careful. This is demon silk," Giyu said quietly. "Only one demon creates this level of thread."
Tanjiro narrowed his eyes. "Lower Moons are getting more dangerous."
A soft voice echoed above them.
"Oh, so the guests have finally arrived."
Both looked up.
A woman descended from the treetops, standing on a thick carpet of web stretched between trunks. Her skin was pale with violet markings, her fingertips extended like sharpened needles. Long white hair flowed around her, decorated with silken ribbons.
Eight glowing eyes opened on her back.
She smiled. "I am Arachne. Lower Moon Five."
Tanjiro steadied himself. "Lower Moon Five. So you are above Gorai."
Arachne tilted her head. "Was that the lightning child? Such a noisy brat. I am nothing like him."
Giyu stepped forward. "Your threads cut steel. You are the one who killed the humans in this area."
Arachne shrugged. "Of course. Their fear was delicious. Humans scream in beautiful ways."
Tanjiro clenched his jaw. "You will stop here."
Arachne flicked her fingers. Hundreds of threads shot out at once. Tanjiro swung his sword upward, slicing them apart, but each thread carried a strange vibration that numbed his wrists.
Giyu moved fluidly, deflecting strands with precise movements.
"Tanjiro. Her threads are infused with blood art. Even blocking too many will drain stamina."
Arachne floated gracefully upward. "Do not make this difficult for yourselves. Just let me wrap both of you and turn you into beautiful puppets."
She crossed her fingers.
"Thread Hell."
The forest erupted.
Massive webs snapped across every direction. Branches twisted into cages as threads wrapped around them. Dozens of silken hands formed from the ground and reached toward the two demon slayers.
Tanjiro took a deep breath. "Breath of the Sun God. Ascending Flame."
His strike tore through the webs, but Arachne appeared behind him, her hand aiming for the back of his neck.
"Caught you."
Giyu appeared in that instant, intercepting with his blade.
"Water Breathing Fourth Form. Striking Tide."
Their clash scattered the threads around them.
Arachne smirked. "Hashira reflexes. But not as fast as you used to be, Tomioka."
Giyu did not respond, but Tanjiro could sense the pressure rising from him.
Tanjiro whispered, "She is strong."
"She is fast," Giyu corrected. "But not strong. The danger is her battlefield. We must break it."
Tanjiro nodded. "I will destroy the webs. You find her real body."
Arachne chuckled. "Real body? What do you mean, boy?"
Tanjiro looked straight at her. "Your scent splits. That means clones."
Arachne's smile vanished. "Unexpected."
Her clones burst from the trees, each holding a dozen razor threads. Tanjiro moved fast, slicing through the illusions, but more kept forming. Each one created so many threads that the entire forest blurred into a maze of white.
Giyu spoke sharply. "Tanjiro. Look down."
Tanjiro landed, then noticed it.
Beneath all the webs, one corner of the forest was darker. No threads grew there. The scent there was thick and sharp.
"The real one is hiding underground."
Arachne hissed. "Too observant."
Her clones lunged toward them.
Tanjiro jumped forward and stabbed his blade into the earth.
"Breath of the Sun God. Solar Rupture."
The ground cracked, erupting with a wave of crimson heat that tore apart roots, earth, and hidden webs.
A scream came from below.
"Aaaahhh. You filthy brat!"
Giyu rushed in immediately.
"Water Breathing Seventh Form. Piercing Drop."
The ground split as Giyu shot downward like a falling spear. His sword grazed Arachne's true body, cutting her shoulder before she could retreat.
Arachne burst from beneath the ground, enraged. Her real form was larger now, with armoured silk covering her limbs and dozens of razor threads swirling around.
"You hurt me. No one hurts me."
Tanjiro stood firm. "Your webs will not trap us."
Arachne snapped her fingers.
"Then drown in endless threads."
Everything turned white as she unleashed thousands of threads, all cutting, twisting, and wrapping.
Tanjiro closed his eyes.
He felt each thread's vibration.
He felt Giyu's movement.
And he felt something else.
His purpose.
He opened his eyes.
"Giyu. I am breaking her barrier now."
Giyu nodded.
Tanjiro inhaled deeply, flames gathering at his feet.
"Breath of the Sun God. Blazing Horizon."
A wave of flame surged outward in a full circle, burning all the threads within reach. Arachne staggered back.
Giyu appeared beside her at the same time.
"Water Breathing Tenth Form. Constant Flux."
A spiraling torrent of water twisted around his blade as he slashed repeatedly, pushing Arachne into the center of Tanjiro's flames.
She screamed, her silk armor melting.
Tanjiro raised his sword high.
"Lower Moon Five. Arachne. Rest."
Giyu followed with one final strike.
Their blades crossed through her neck at the same moment.
Arachne's body froze, then slowly dissolved into ash. Her threads melted into the air, freeing the forest from her control.
Tanjiro exhaled. "That one was dangerous."
Giyu sheathed his sword. "Her battlefield made her strong. Without it, she was manageable."
Tanjiro nodded. "Two Lower Moons remain."
Giyu looked up at the dim sky, his eyes calm but firm. "And after that… Muzan."
Tanjiro tightened his grip on his sword. His heart beat steadily, filled with quiet determination.
"We will finish this."
The forest wind brushed past them, carrying away the last traces of silk.