Noe sat slumped on the ground, staring at the spot where the demon had vanished, gasping for air—not from exhaustion, but from sheer terror.
A moment later, she turned back and flashed a cute smile at Cold Cry, raising a V-for-victory sign. Her smug expression seemed to say, "See? I told you I could protect you."
What she didn't notice was the dark shadow leaping out from behind a nearby rock.
It shot into the air—at least ten meters high—before descending straight toward her.
For now, it could only be called a Jumping Demon.
The creature had been waiting for this exact moment—waiting for Noe to let her guard down.
Cold Cry had been waiting too.
Letting Noe handle the earlier demon hadn't been about testing her strength. It was bait. And the hidden predator had taken it.
However, even he hadn't expected this kind of ability.
From what he had read, some demons could undergo mutations after consuming large amounts of blood—especially their own kind—developing abnormal traits.
Clearly, he had encountered one.
"Ice Breathing: Sixth Form — Phantom."
Cold Cry vanished instantly from the stone platform, leaving behind a trail of afterimages that stretched toward Noe.
By the time she regained her composure, he was already standing behind her.
"So fast! Cold Cry, what Breathing Technique is that? It's beautiful—huh? Why is it so cold?"
Noe still hadn't realized the danger. As she turned, trying to stand, a sudden chill crept through her body, making her shiver.
Cold Cry's left hand gripped the scabbard. His thumb pushed against the tsuba, loosening the blade. His right hand settled on the hilt.
A perfect draw stance.
"Ice Breathing: Fifth Form — Swift Ice Thorn."
A blinding white flash cut through the air.
Noe instinctively shut her eyes as a sharp whistling sound rang out—like fireworks launching, but far more piercing.
This technique was Cold Cry's fastest—designed for sudden, lethal responses.
In mid-air, his Nichirin blade pierced straight through the Jumping Demon's palm.
Only the palm.
Above and below, their eyes met for a split second.
Both immediately understood—
They had encountered a formidable opponent.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Using the blade as support, the Jumping Demon dropped its legs, clamped the sword between its feet, and forcibly pulled its hand free—despite the freezing wound. With a swift motion, it flipped backward mid-air and landed several meters away.
Silently.
Perfectly.
Like a gymnast completing a flawless routine.
Its body was light. Agile. Terrifyingly flexible.
Only then did Noe finally notice it.
Realizing Cold Cry had just saved her, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to his side, gripping her Nichirin blade tightly.
Under the moonlight, they saw it clearly.
The demon was bald and bare-chested, wearing only tattered shorts—the remnants of its former human life.
Its muscles were compact and defined, with no excess fat. Its body was streamlined, almost unnaturally smooth, as if coated in oil.
Its long legs were especially striking—dense with muscle, like coiled springs ready to release explosive force.
Everything about it was built for speed and jumping.
This wasn't just mutation—it was evolution.
And if one such demon existed on Fujikasane Mountain, there were likely more.
The Final Selection was no simple trial.
It was a descent into hell.
"What… what is that thing?" Noe whispered.
"A demon," Cold Cry replied calmly. "A mutated one."
The Jumping Demon examined its injured palm. Frost clung to the wound, releasing faint white mist.
It lifted its head and glanced at them.
Then, as if deciding the fight wasn't worth it—
It turned.
Bent its knees.
And leapt.
In a single bound, it soared ten meters into the air before disappearing into the distant forest.
"This…"
Noe's mouth hung open.
Earlier, she hadn't even seen its attack.
Now that she had, she was completely stunned.
Only after it vanished did she slowly regain her senses.
It had been aiming for her.
If Cold Cry hadn't intervened—
She didn't dare finish that thought.
Cold Cry sheathed his blade and turned back, only to find Noe staring blankly at him, mouth still open.
He reached out and lightly lifted her chin, closing it.
"Haven't eaten enough? Thinking of switching to humans now?"
Her teeth snapped shut with a soft click.
Noe shivered and snapped back to reality, quickly following him.
"W-what was that just now?"
Cold Cry didn't answer.
He already had.
She knew it too—she just needed confirmation.
"Was that really a demon? How could a demon look like that?"
They returned to the stone platform. Noe leaned closer, anxiety written all over her face.
Cold Cry subtly shifted his arm away.
Truthfully, he didn't know much more than she did.
She had never seen a demon before.
He had only seen two.
They were equally ignorant.
"What should a demon look like?" he replied. "You've never seen one either, have you?"
Noe fell silent.
She hadn't—but she had imagined them, based on stories her sister used to tell.
"It likely mutated," Cold Cry continued. "Some demons devour their own kind when starving. That can trigger abnormal changes. To humans, they're unstable life forms—full of unknown variables."
Originally, he had planned to use this trial to test his abilities.
Now, simply surviving the seven days seemed like a challenge.
Especially with this "burden" tagging along.
And yet…
He had saved her without hesitation.
Even he couldn't explain why.
"By the way," Noe said suddenly, "that Breathing Technique you mentioned earlier—'Training Breathing'—is it derived from one of the main styles?"
She nodded at her own question.
"It's derived from Flame Breathing. That style requires high body temperature and strong cardiopulmonary function. The women in our clan naturally meet those conditions."
Among the main Breathing Styles, Water Breathing was the most widely used due to its adaptability.
Flame Breathing demanded endurance and heat.
Thunder Breathing required explosive leg strength.
Stone Breathing relied on overwhelming physical power, making it the rarest.
Wind Breathing required immense upper-body strength.
Derivative styles existed because not everyone could meet these extreme requirements.
They weren't inferior—just adapted.
Still, only a few could truly stand at the pinnacle:
The Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima
The Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa
The Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku
The Water Hashira, Giyu Tomioka
The rest were simply walking different paths to reach the same peak.
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