A miracle was not going to happen.
This condition was incurable.
After attempting several different diagnostic protocols with his LV.3 Medical Skill, Natsunishi finally reached a conclusion.
Forget about "Cure" or "Eradication" plans; even the "Alleviation" plan was highlighted in deep red, indicating an extremely low success rate. The former two were directly grayed out, rendered unselectable.
When Natsunishi clicked them, the system flashed a notification:
[Current Medical Skill cannot take effect against Curse-type effects.]
This was even stranger than Hiruko's strange disease! No, it wasn't a disease at all—it was a curse. It didn't even qualify as a Blood Demon Art; it belonged entirely to the realm of magic or the occult.
Natsunishi suddenly felt that his Medical Skill failing completely for the first time was... perhaps understandable? He suspected that even if the "Alleviation" plan succeeded, he would at most be able to concoct some placebos similar to painkillers.
Under the expectant gazes of the crowd, Natsunishi shook his head. "No, I can't treat it—"
The young man forced himself to swallow the words "I can't fix it, just wait for death, goodbye" that were on the tip of his tongue. After all, the man had just complimented his looks; he had to maintain some level of politeness.
"What the Master has is not a disease, but a curse. I'm not sure if more advanced medical techniques would be effective, but with my current abilities—and even the level I might reach in the near future—I'm afraid I'm powerless."
LV.3 was already near the ceiling, and yet this was the result. Natsunishi had reason to suspect that even if medicine could work, it would likely require LV.5 or higher to have even a glimmer of hope. LV.4 wasn't going to cut it.
"Rather than medicine, I think looking for 'Divine Arts' or having a priest perform a 'Purification' would be more reliable."
Ubuyashiki did not show disappointment at these words. "Being able to see its true nature proves that Kuguruma-kun's medical skills are already formidable."
He nodded gently, his demeanor as warm as ever. "After all, only the priests of the Himorogi family reached the same conclusion back then."
Himorogi?
That sounded familiar. Natsunishi checked the system and remembered the proctor from the Final Selection.
"Priests? Shintoism? Even they couldn't do anything about this curse?"
Ubuyashiki shook his head helplessly. "This is no ordinary curse. It is a restriction and an inescapable fate that has been coiled around the head of the Ubuyashiki family for a thousand years, passing from generation to generation."
He signaled the Kakushi members nearby to withdraw. Then, he began to recount the ultimate secret of the leader's family—a secret that even ordinary members of the Demon Slayer Corps might not fully know.
"It all traces back a thousand years. The progenitor of demons, Kibutsuji Muzan... he was originally a member of my Ubuyashiki clan. For a certain reason, he transformed into the first demon. This is the origin of the curse on my body."
As he finished, a heavy silence settled over Ubuyashiki's face.
Beside them, Shinjuro's expression was equally somber, but he still cast a quiet glance toward Natsunishi.
This kid? Why does he look like his mind is wandering?
At that moment, Natsunishi's eyes refocused. Even when skipping animations at sixteen times speed, he could still catch glimpses of the flickering subtitles.
He basically understood! The Demon King and the Master's ancestor were brothers. One relied on mutation, the other on technology—a thousand-year rivalry between two factions.
Ubuyashiki continued, "In short, Kuguruma-kun, we have seen everything you have done so far. You are constantly adding weight to the scale to defeat Muzan—"
Speaking of which, Natsunishi suddenly remembered the time he first entered the selection. He interrupted, "Speaking of that, Master... our Corps' promotion and training mechanisms are a bit... well, vintage, aren't they?"
The Final Selection, that kind of one-shot elimination tournament with such a high mortality rate, was honestly too extreme.
Shinjuro glanced at him again, but Ubuyashiki signaled for him to continue.
Natsunishi began to point out where he felt the game's "developers" had designed things poorly. Logically, the Demon Slayer Corps should be desperate for manpower. Yet, the "Cultivator" one-on-one apprenticeship model took at least a year to produce a single student.
Setting aside those who couldn't survive the training, those who quit before the selection, and those who transferred to the Kakushi or the Butterfly Mansion, the number of people who actually stood at the starting line of the selection each year was already limited.
Yet every year, hundreds of people were killed, injured, or eliminated just to barely filter out a few dozen so-called "qualified" lowest-ranked swordsmen. It was a competition that focused intensely on the result while ignoring the process.
Among the swordsmen he had encountered recently who had passed the selection, more than one hadn't even seen a demon during the trial. They had somehow survived in the wilderness for seven days and become Mizunoto rank. Some had even passed simply by hiding in wisteria groves for the duration.
And what about those who chose to actively seek out and fight demons?
According to this selection mechanism passed down from a thousand years ago, almost all "late-game heroes" were being eliminated. Even swordsmen with talent and resolve could end up losing their lives to a demon before they had a chance to grow.
Furthermore, demons get stronger by eating people. If a demon in a selection ground happened to awaken a Blood Demon Art or simply experience a massive power spike by eating a few swordsmen, any fledgling swordsman who encountered it would essentially just be throwing their life away.
In the long run, the Corps was sacrificing dozens of swordsmen every year while only replenishing their ranks with a dozen or so from the hundreds who had undergone bitter training nationwide. In a few years, the Demon Slayer Corps might truly face a crisis of talent depletion.
After listening, Shinjuro was stunned and fell into a contemplative silence. As a genius himself, he had never given these issues much thought when he participated in the selection. He had simply felt that those who failed were insufficiently trained or lacked the resolve to kill demons.
But looking at it from another perspective, wasn't it exactly as Natsunishi said? Those selected weren't necessarily the strongest. Those with talent and determination could die at the starting line due to an accident.
Just like his own still-naive eldest son—if his luck were poor and he encountered a demon that had secretly grown powerful, or if he were blindsided by a demon or even another swordsman... he might also fall in some selection ground.
Ubuyashiki's expression gradually shifted from gentle to solemn. He listened intently, nodding slightly from time to time.
Natsunishi took the opportunity to propose some simple concepts he had just thought of.
In the Final Selection, they could add swordsmen of sufficient strength to serve as proctors or patrollers. Or they could simply appoint some deputy proctors to monitor the grounds. They could evaluate each candidate's performance—their willpower, swordsmanship, character, and so on.
As long as they met a certain standard, they could be considered to have passed. Those who were strong but wicked, or who survived only by betraying their comrades, would not be allowed into the Corps even if they lasted seven days. Conversely, those with a deep hatred for demons and a firm will could be accepted even if their current strength was slightly lacking. Those who truly couldn't become swordsmen could still supplement the ranks of the Kakushi or the Butterfly Mansion.
Moreover, proctors could intervene and rescue candidates when they encountered unexpected crises they couldn't handle. After all, anyone coming to the Final Selection had been trained by a Cultivator for at least half a year to a year. They were swordsmen deemed to have reached the threshold of being able to slay a demon; they were far stronger than ordinary samurai and knew at least the basics of Breathing Styles and a few sword forms. It was a waste to let them die.
Then, Natsunishi mentioned another point. Candidates who passed the selection shouldn't be immediately thrown into demon-slaying missions. Instead, they should be treated as interns. There should be a centralized training session for rookies to learn basic knowledge about demons and team-coordinated tactics. Then, they should be led by veterans for one or two actual battles, or formed into squads to execute initial missions.
They had to work in squads. Otherwise, having a brand-new Mizunoto-ranked swordsman face an unknown demon alone was essentially gambling.
Natsunishi spoke more and more as he went on. From personnel deployment to swordsman rankings, to periodic centralized training and the logistics system, Natsunishi felt there were many points that could be optimized.
Many of these ideas seemed exceptionally advanced for this era—even radical. After all, he was a person from the year 2099. Even a well-informed person from the early modern era could find room for improvement in the current system of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Ubuyashiki took all of this into his heart in silence. He did not immediately refute, nor did he feel offended. In those eyes, which were clouded by the curse but still clear, the first thing to emerge was sincere admiration... and a hint of faint apology.
"Kuguruma-kun, that you could think of so many powerful suggestions... many of them give me the fleeting sensation of facing a great sage. It is truly remarkable."
This direct and solemn affirmation caught Natsunishi off guard for a moment. However, Ubuyashiki's next move exceeded everyone's expectations.
Slowly and with great solemnity, he bowed his head slightly toward Natsunishi.
"Therefore, I must first offer an apology to you, and to all the members who have had similar thoughts but could not see them realized."
The Master raised his head, his face filled with deep helplessness and weight. "I apologize not because your ideas are wrong. On the contrary, it is precisely because they are so correct, yet I cannot immediately implement them, that I feel such guilt."
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