Chapter 106: Saa, Count Up Your Sins!
To the trio, the difficulty of the Final Selection didn't seem nearly as
terrifying as Master Urokodaki had described.
Aside from the initial psychological hurdle of taking a life during their first
kill, the subsequent battles hadn't offered much of a challenge. Most of the
demons imprisoned here were "trash-tier" mobs that had only devoured a handful
of humans.
If measured by Natsuya's numerical HUD, their Power Levels hovered between 40
and 60. As long as a rookie was cautious and didn't get caught in a "Death-Ball"
ambush or run into a rare elite spawn, the 1v1 win rate was actually quite high.
For the talented Water-breathing duo, it was even easier.
A Level 60 demon didn't possess an absolute physical advantage. Their [Body]
stat usually made up about half their total value—around 30 or 40. With Sabito
and Giyu's current physiques, augmented by the massive multipliers of their
Breathing Styles, they could trade blows comfortably.
A demon lacking martial logic and relying on pure predatory instinct was no
longer a lethal threat to a swordsman who had truly mastered his Breathing.
Sabito acted as the main DPS. Under his fluid, relentless "Water" technique,
even two or three demons attacking at once were dismantled with ease. Giyu,
while slightly lower in raw output, was adapting to live combat at a frightening
speed. After his first kill, it was as if a "Level-Cap" had been removed from
the silent boy. He was growing significantly faster than he ever had during the
dojo drills, nearly catching up to Sabito's pace.
As for the third member of the squad?
Murata certainly made his contribution. While he was too nervous to lead a
charge, he did an excellent job of managing morale and keeping the "party chat"
active. It wasn't that he didn't want to kill demons; it was just that Sabito
and Giyu were farming the map so fast that he'd only managed to trade a single
strike with one common demon before Sabito casually took its head.
Sabito's movements became more surgical. Giyu's fear evaporated into cold focus.
Rather than a life-or-death survival test, the Final Selection felt more like a
high-stakes, pre-recorded performance review.
The trio cut through the opposition like a hot knife through butter, pushing
rapidly into the deep heart of Mt. Fujikasane.
Then, they stepped into a forest clearing that was unnaturally silent.
The scent of blood spiked.
Sabito frowned, raising a hand to signal the others to slow down. After a few
more steps, they found the corpse of a Slayer. The body looked like it had been
hit by a heavy-duty construction vehicle; multiple bones were shattered.
Having been "educated" by Natsuya on human anatomy, the two boys knew
immediately: A standard mob can't do this.
Nearby, a demon as bloated as a small hill, draped in a grotesque coat of
writhing, sickly green arms, slowly turned around. It was using the multiple
hands half-covering its massive maw to slowly chew on the lower half of a
Slayer.
The Slayer wasn't dead yet. His legs were still twitching in the demon's grip.
The demon's gaze swept over the trio, then locked onto the fox mask on the side
of Sabito's head.
CRUNCH.
With a sickening sound of splintering bone, the Slayer's spasms stopped
permanently. The smell of fresh copper was so thick that Murata, who had never
seen a "Boss-tier" kill, felt his hands begin to shake.
No one told him there were monsters like this in the starting zone.
"It doesn't look like he's only eaten one or two Slayers..." Murata whispered,
his voice trembling.
The demon let out a high-pitched, jagged cackle, responding to the whisper. "To
be precise... including that one I just swallowed? That makes forty-three."
Sabito and Giyu's expressions darkened.
The more people a demon eats, the stronger it gets. That was one of Natsuya's
core lessons.
Forty-three? This mob is knocking on the door of the Twelve Kizuki tier.
"Oh my... more brats with the little fox masks... hee-hee-hee..."
The Hand Demon let out a grating laugh, its eyes shifting to the mask on Giyu's
belt. "It's been a few years since I've had a taste of Urokodaki's lineage."
"And look at that—two of you at once."
"Let's see. Ten, eleven... counting you two, that makes thirteen."
Masks? Thirteen?
The connection snapped into place in Sabito's mind. His face turned like a mask
of cold stone. Master Urokodaki had mentioned that almost all the children he
had trained previously had failed the Final Selection. He never gave an exact
number, but based on the graves at the dojo, it was about a dozen.
"The Seniors... you were the one who ate them."
Giyu remained expressionless, but the rayskin on his hilt creaked under his
grip.
The demon didn't care about their feelings. If anything, it enjoyed poking at
the "Aggro" trigger. "Well, what do you expect? Those brats... they all wore
Urokodaki's little charms."
"I hate that bastard more than anything. He's the one who locked me in this
wisteria prison."
"Thinking about the look on his face when his precious 'children' get crushed
here? It makes me feel... ABSOLUTELY HYPED!"
For the Hand Demon, the grudge against Sakonji Urokodaki was its entire
personality. It would let a dozen other examinees pass just to wait in the
shadows and murder anyone wearing a warding mask.
"In a way, Urokodaki was the one who sent them to their de—"
"SHUT UP!!"
Sabito's rage boiled over. Water Breathing kicked into a high-rev state. His
silhouette became a blur, a projectile of blue light hurtling toward the
monster.
The battle erupted.
"Let's see what you've got, Little Fox!"
The demon manipulated its dozens of arms like a wall of tentacles, attempting to
snare Sabito in a crushing cage. nichirin steel clashed with demonic flesh. The
monster's strength and defense were leagues above any stray they had fought, but
Sabito's technique was superior.
His Water Breathing was an endless tide. After a few exchanges, he was actually
winning the "Neutral Game."
Giyu turned to Murata. "Stay back. (Murata, this is a family matter.)"
He drew his own blade and dove into the fray. The tactical advantage was now
undeniable. Wounds opened across the Hand Demon's massive frame. Its
regenerating arms were being lopped off as fast as they could sprout.
"HOW?! You brats! Why are you so strong?!"
The Hand Demon roared in frustration. Compared to the previous "Fox-kids" it had
killed, these two were on a completely different power level. Their coordination
was professional. It had thought it was the Hunter, but it was starting to look
like the Prey.
In a fit of desperation, it triggered its "Phase 2" Blood Demon Art. It sprouted
even more muscular, hardened arms, sweeping them toward the duo in a frenzied
arc.
DIE! DIE! JUST DIE ALREADY!
Then, the script took a turn.
Sabito's Nichirin Sword, after days of high-intensity grinding and hacking
through demonic bone, finally hit its durability limit. As he parried a massive
overhead smash from the demon's primary arm—
CRACK.
The blade snapped.
Giyu's pupils shrank. "SABITO!"
The Hand Demon didn't miss the frame. It had broken plenty of Nichirin Swords
over the decades; it knew exactly when a Slayer was vulnerable. With a manic
laugh, two gargantuan palms swept toward the unarmed Sabito, the wind of the
strike carrying the stench of death.
"GOT YOU!"
It was certain of its victory.
However, the boy facing him remained unnervingly calm. He looked almost bored,
as if a broken blade was just a minor inconvenience.
A broken sword? Natsuya-aniki ran that scenario with us a hundred times in the
backyard.
Aniki's Four Fundamentals: Zan-Ken-So-Ki. (Sword, Fist, Footwork, and Tricks).
Losing the blade doesn't mean losing the match.
In the space of a heartbeat, Sabito's footwork shifted.
[Total Concentration!]
He dropped low, his leg strength exploding in a sharp burst. The boy left a
faint afterimage as he slid sideways at an impossible angle, narrowly avoiding
the smash that would have deleted his head.
It was the "Sliding Step" Natsuya had taught them—a blend of Water Breathing and
specialized kinetic logic.
But he didn't just dodge.
As they crossed paths, Sabito's fist, hyper-boosted by his Breathing, coiled
like a cobra.
"Fist-Style: STRIKE!"
He delivered a series of precise, heavy blows to the demon's arm joints. Even if
the arms were long and muscular, the biological structure of a joint remained a
weak point in the game engine.
Amidst the heavy thuds and the sickening crunch of bone, the demon's nervous
system registered the massive impact. The "Boss Attack" was interrupted. Before
the monster could reorganize its limbs, Sabito had already completed a roll and
stood up.
In his hand was a new Nichirin Sword.
He had looted it from the ground—one of the blades belonging to the Slayers who
had died earlier.
"Now then..."
Sabito leveled the new blade at the monster, his voice as cold as a frozen lake.
"Count up your sins. It's time to end this."
☆☆☆
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