Why does the world show a health bar? !

The camera, a tool imported from the West, was a miraculous device. It could capture the truest likeness of a person, more precise than even the most skilled portrait painter, almost a perfect replica of the subject.

Rengoku Shinjuro had come across a phrase that spoke of preserving beautiful moments, which inspired him to spend a considerable sum on this expensive Western gadget.

In reality, Ruka's health was far from optimistic. The gentle yet stern woman from his memories was now confined to her sickbed, her emaciated appearance a far cry from her former self. Thus, Shinjuro wanted to capture her image, so that in the future, Senjuro and Kyojuro could see what a great beauty their mother had been.

However, the expensive camera had been reduced to scattered parts, destroyed in the first moments of the battle. This sizable object was the most significant item Shinjuro had brought home, and it was now in ruins.

Shinjuro gripped his Nichirin Blade tightly, the evening breeze rustling the white haori with flame patterns that he wore.

Every fiber of his being was tense, focused... Shinjuro had never imagined a day when he would be so intensely concentrated.

All because of the man standing before him.

Pale skin; short peach-colored hair; light red eyebrows; deep blue fingers and toes with blood-red nails. The upper half of his body was clad in a purple-red short shirt, exposing much of his skin, which bore tattoo-like patterns.

Every aspect of his appearance screamed that he was not human.

Shinjuro saw the number in the man's eyes and slowly read it aloud, "Upper Moon... Three?!"

The Twelve Kizuki were divided into Upper Moons and Lower Moons. Throughout Shinjuro's life, he had faced Lower Moons multiple times and had even slain some. One particularly memorable encounter was with a Lower Moon who wielded a flamethrower. The demon's long-range attacks were so relentless that Shinjuro had failed to decapitate him, allowing the demon to escape.

Shinjuro had believed that if he could kill a Lower Moon, the gap between him and an Upper Moon wouldn't be too vast. After all, the Demon Slayer Corps' top fighters, the "Pillars," were considered equal to the strongest among the Twelve Kizuki, the Upper Moons.

—Even though the Demon Slayer Corps' records stated that multiple Pillars were needed to confront an Upper Moon, Shinjuro was considered the strongest Pillar in nearly a century.

Perhaps that title had lost its meaning with the emergence of Himejima Gyomei and Li Mo. Yet, Shinjuro never considered himself weak.

However, his perspective had just shifted.

Shinjuro had briefly clashed with the Upper Moon before him, their blades crossing several times. The sheer destructive power of the demon made it clear that Lower Moons were utterly insignificant compared to Upper Moons.

Both were part of the Twelve Kizuki, but the difference in strength between Upper and Lower Moons was like heaven and earth. To estimate the strength of an Upper Moon based on a Lower Moon's abilities was utterly foolish.

If he made it back, he would report this to the leader.

"My name is Akaza, Upper Moon Three. Hey, you're a Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, right? What's your name?" Akaza asked.

"Flame Pillar, Rengoku Shinjuro."

Akaza smirked. "Flame Pillar, huh? This is my first time meeting a Flame Pillar. You'll be the first one I kill."

This was going to be a brutal fight.

Shinjuro tightened his grip on his sword, the familiar weight of the blade with its flame pattern offering him a sliver of comfort. He adjusted his breathing.

Upper Moons were strong.

But he was a Pillar.

"A man of the Rengoku family will never be intimidated by such nonsense!"

Fear and worry were pushed aside. His fighting spirit ignited, and flames seemed to rise within him.

Shinjuro had never felt more alive.

Akaza tilted his head. "Your fighting spirit... it can still grow stronger? I can see it. You're strong, not far from reaching the pinnacle."

"How interesting, how interesting. I thought this would be a boring mission, but I never expected to encounter someone like you."

"Shinjuro, do you know what's holding you back from reaching the pinnacle?"

"You age. You die. You're already in your thirties, at the peak of your physical abilities. But what comes next? Your body will decline. You'll never reach that ultimate state."

"Become a demon, Shinjuro. A hundred years, two hundred, three hundred. With time, you'll reach the pinnacle of martial arts."

Shinjuro listened to Akaza's words.

For a warrior, the pinnacle of martial arts was an irresistible lure. In literature, there was no clear winner, but in martial arts, there was no second place.

But...

"Akaza, I will never become a demon."

"A Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps will never become a demon."

"A man of the Rengoku family will never become a demon."

Images flashed through his mind: Ruka, the ancestors of the Rengoku family, and himself.

His wife was a stern, gentle woman who cared deeply for the world. If she had been born a man, she would have been an exceptional swordsman. She would be disappointed in him for even considering such a thing.

The ancestors of the Rengoku family had fought demons for generations. Would he betray their legacy for the sake of reaching the pinnacle?

Finally, there was himself.

Shinjuro glared at Akaza. "I'm starting to dislike you, Akaza. What do you think a swordsman is?"

"We throw ourselves into battle, not for some so-called pinnacle, but to kill demons like you."

Akaza fell silent, his pupils contracting slightly. Then he said, "Is that so?"

"Then, rather than watch you decline with age, I'll let you die at your peak."

*Boom—*

Akaza stomped the ground, and the earth cracked like a spider's web around his feet.

He assumed a stance.

"Technique Expansion!"

"Destructive Death: Compass Needle!"

A snowflake-like pattern appeared beneath his feet, its blue light reflecting off his pale face. A grin spread across his lips, as if he were delighted by the impending battle.

*Boom—*

The air screamed as Akaza vanished, leaving behind an afterimage. He charged forward like a cannonball.

"Flame Breathing!"

Shinjuro inhaled deeply.

Oxygen filled his lungs, fueling his body.

He swung his blade! A blazing flame erupted from his Nichirin Blade.

Akaza dodged with unimaginable speed, his fist slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.

Under the night sky, in the wilderness outside Tokyo, where no one would witness their battle, the two clashed.

Smoke, flashes of steel, the sound of flesh being cut... These were the only signs of their fierce battle.

A Pillar and an Upper Moon, a demon slayer and a demon, fought with all their might.