Time was short, yet long.

  When I paid attention, hundreds of years had already passed.

  How should I explain what happened in these centuries?

  The Demon Slayer Corps had been established for a long time, but I must say—nothing in this world goes smoothly.

  Before Kiyohiro died, the last lesson he taught this newborn organization was failure.

  He mobilized the Corps' elite forces and launched a doomed attack on that demon whose whereabouts had been exposed... named Kibutsuji Muzan.

  Through this failure, the Demon Slayer Corps could see the enormous gap between themselves and Muzan. It could also cool down brains blinded by hatred, preventing rash impulsiveness.

  Also through this failure, this newborn demon-slaying organization entered Muzan's field of vision—yet he didn't take them seriously.

  He thought this was just humans' petty squabbling, unable to threaten his existence. Not worth his special effort to eliminate.

  From the results, it was win-win. But the price was heavy—the Demon Slayer Corps lost two-thirds of its members.

  Kiyohiro's decision was cruel and cold. No wonder before his death, he kept muttering, believing after death he'd go to hell to atone.

  If that day truly came, I'd probably go to hell like him too.

  About a hundred years ago, I parted ways with the Demon Slayer Corps.

  Though through a century of inheritance, swordsmanship and blade techniques had gradually matured... the cost of fighting demons remained heavy. Roughly for every demon killed, at least one to three lives were sacrificed.

  Demons evolved too fast. Those who ate the most people even evolved special abilities called Blood Demon Arts.

  The first time I saw a demon use sorcery was when I went on a mission with the Corps' most elite members.

  Because we faced a demon rumored to have eaten a hundred people, I accompanied them.

  Without question, the unknown Blood Demon Art caused heavy Corps casualties.

  In the end, relying on my own regeneration, I tangled with that demon. Only then did survivors find a chance to sever its head.

  After this incident was reported to headquarters, it sparked huge controversy.

  Quite a few people began questioning the Demon Slayer Corps' purpose. Attitudes became very negative for a time.

  The Corps showed signs of splitting, vaguely dividing into two factions. One faction thought it better to negotiate with Muzan—sacrifice some people to ensure the rest wouldn't be attacked by demons.

  The other faction was more radical, believing when killing demons, hostages shouldn't be considered. Everything should prioritize mission completion to maximize avoiding casualties.

  And I inadvertently became that handle.

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  Both factions believed I might be secretly colluding with Muzan. Past casualties were so heavy—who knew if I'd done something in secret? I shouldn't remain in this human organization at all.

  Though this generation's Ubuyashiki had decisiveness and thunderous methods no less than Kiyohiro's... cleaning up these internal noises still severely damaged the Corps.

  To prevent people from using me as ammunition in the future, after consulting with Ubuyashiki, I left the Demon Slayer Corps...

  And he would slowly erase traces of my existence. Except for the next heir, no one would know I existed.

  This brought me some inconvenience. The Demon Slayer Corps no longer recognized who I was. Once we ran into each other at demon-slaying scenes, often they'd kill the demon then turn around to chase and hack at me.

  But no matter. I ran fast. A bunch of brats wanting to catch me—they were three hundred years too early.

  Heh heh...

  Besides, after my blade wore down, I had no way to find Corps swordsmiths to maintain it.

  Nichirin blade material was special, so daily maintenance differed from ordinary swords. Common blacksmiths didn't know the key points... Beyond superficial repairs, they couldn't extend its lifespan.

  So no matter how carefully I used it, after holding out for a hundred years, my blade still became dull.

  Sigh. After all, it had accompanied me so many years. Even dulled, I couldn't bear to throw it away.

  I had to settle for second best—applying extracted wisteria liquid to newly forged blades. That worked passably.

  Fortunately, I wasn't short on money.

  Well, saying this sounds a bit asking for a beating—the level where Ohagi and Okoto would know to frantically rub my head, ordering me to share the wealth.

  Actually, this was just my deserved compensation for working for Ubuyashiki for centuries. Just because I wasn't human anymore didn't mean my labor should be exploited.

  What difference was that from demons?

  But as long as you had money, in any era, you could live well.

  I could frequently replace worn blades. Even homeless people I brought back could be settled in properties under my name, finding work.

  Not that I particularly liked picking people up. Really had no choice.

  When encountering demons, parents always prioritized protecting children. Husbands also tried hard to protect wives... Therefore, those who could hold on until rescue arrived were often people unable to support themselves.

  Not everyone had talent to learn swordsmanship and join the Demon Slayer Corps. Fighting demons also required strong willpower. People who couldn't do these things couldn't be considered useless.

  Just that after constantly running into the Demon Slayer Corps in cities, to avoid them always chasing to kill me... In case they issued a warrant for me, after painful reflection, I decided to change battlefields.

  Since cities had many people and the Demon Slayer Corps liked running around in cities, I'd redirect to the mountains instead.

  Quite a few people also lived secluded in mountains, lacking conditions to move to cities. They were most easily isolated and attacked by demons.

  The Demon Slayer Corps' numbers were still too few. No way to cover everywhere. They could only prioritize strengthening defenses in most populated places.

  I formed a habit—when free, I'd often wander the mountains. When meeting mountain folk, I'd pay them to cook me a meal... Incidentally teaching them methods of keeping wisteria at home to guard against demons.

  Nothing special about this. Even when my life's third turning point appeared, that day seemed ordinary to me.

  What was extraordinary—I was wandering the mountains and caught a demon's scent.

  This thrilled me. Because they also seemed to have dog noses, always avoiding me.

  Made me wander the mountains for over a decade, encountering only a handful of demons. Every few months I could slaughter one.

  Catching this scent, I immediately rushed over. From afar, I saw a small house showing a bit of light in the mountains. My heart felt uneasy.

  Sure enough, inside came a young woman's cries for help. I also smelled blood.

  The situation was urgent. I didn't take the detour through the front door. Relying on my hard head, I rammed a big hole in their wall, charging in covered in blood.

  Inside, the stumbling girl and the snarling demon both stared at me blankly. Definitely amazed by my entrance method.

  I wiped the blood on my head. Without a single word of nonsense, I drew my blade and started hacking the demon.

  This demon was really pathetic.

  If I'd known it was this pathetic, I wouldn't have rammed such a big hole in someone's wall.

  What now? I didn't know how to repair walls.

  After killing the demon, I worried over the big hole in the wall.

  Behind me, that girl's voice trembled. "Um, thank you for saving me. If it's convenient, this humble woman has another request..."

  I smelled thick blood. Turning my head, I discovered blood dripping from her leg.

  I dully raised my head to look at her. She said with difficulty, "I... seem about to give birth. Could I trouble you to help..."

  ~~~~??~~~~~~~~??~~~~

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