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Chapter 8: Swordsmanship X The Demon
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 10:19:30 +0000 UTCChapter 8: Swordsmanship X The Demon
Snow-Walker. The blade was named for its pure white sheath and hilt. It was a trophy Zeno had taken from a master swordsman decades ago.
Roy hefted the katana, giving it a few experimental swings. It felt a little light in his hands. He took a stance and executed a clean, diagonal slash, carving a perfect arc through the air.
The effect was immediate. The system panel flashed in his vision.
[Physique +0.05]
So that was it. He had been approaching it from the wrong direction, ignoring the fundamental nature of Sun Breathing. It was a technique designed for a swordsman. The proof was in the new skill that had just unlocked on his interface.
[Congratulations! 'Swordsmanship' skill unlocked.]
[Current Swordsmanship Level: LV1 (1/100)]
Hm. Is this an expected surprise, or an unexpected one?
Roy slid the blade back into its sheath.
As he did, there was a sharp craaack. The solid oak dining table, with him as the center point, split cleanly in two. Gotoh moved with lightning speed, his hands a blur as he caught the plates and bowls before they could crash to the floor.
"Young Master," the butler said calmly, though with a hint of warning. "This is an exceptionally sharp blade. It would be best not to handle it in your bedroom."
Roy nodded, not disagreeing. It was a fine sword, no doubt. Just a little too light for his taste. He also wondered if it was possible to "reverse conjure" it, to bring it with him into the world of Demon Slayer.
I'll try it tonight.
At ten o'clock, after the grandfather clock chimed the hour, Roy finished his bath. He changed into his sleepwear and lay down on his bed, the sheathed Snow-Walker held close. After a full day of the Zoldyck training regimen—electric shock tolerance, poison resistance, and his own Sun Breathing practice—his body was screaming with fatigue. Sleep came easily.
Soon, he found himself floating in the familiar, kaleidoscopic tunnel. This time, before entering, Roy deliberately looked at his right hand.
It was empty. Not a trace of Snow-Walker. He gave a wry, self-deprecating smile. He'd gotten his hopes up.
It was a known quirk of Conjurers. A certain kind of obsessive, often neurotic personality. It was what led to some of the most bizarre Nen abilities out there. Shizuku, who could forget things she'd just seen; Kortopi, with his strange fixation on copying objects; even Kite, whose "Crazy Slots" was the very definition of an unpredictable, temperamental power.
With no sword at his side, Roy felt a strange sense of freedom. He stepped into the tunnel and drifted towards the sea of his subconscious. As for a weapon, he'd figure it out. The world of Demon Slayer had its Swordsmith Village. If that didn't work, there was always the black Nichirin Blade Yoriichi had left inside the Zero Type training doll.
His plan set, Roy soon saw the familiar wooden door with the oni mask hanging above it. Without hesitation, he pushed it open and stepped through.
The familiar sensation of falling washed over him. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the small wooden cabin.
Beside him, Takeo and Shigeru were fast asleep. As kids do, they'd thrashed around in the night, ending up in a tangled mess of limbs, their blankets kicked onto the floor. Roy quietly got up and tucked them back in. The small movement was enough to wake Tanjiro.
"Bro..." Tanjiro's bright, clear eyes were fixed on him. "Can you take me with you into the mountains today? Please?"
Can I really say no? Roy figured the kid hadn't slept a wink, his mind still reeling from the impossible things he'd seen the day before. It was a lot for anyone to process.
He gave him a mock glare. "Well? Are you going to get up, or are you waiting for me to put your shoes on for you?"
"Sorry! Sorry!" Tanjiro scrambled out of the bedding, buzzing with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.
Roy ignored his frantic energy, pushed open the door, and stepped out into a world of white. The first thing he saw was his mother, Kie, emerging from the kitchen, her head wrapped in a scarf. She was holding a cloth bundle containing several steaming hot rice balls, which she promptly stuffed into Roy's hands.
"Eat these on the way. Don't wait for them to get cold."
Then she spotted the other figure. "Tanjiro, why are you carrying the basket?!"
"I'm going with Bro into the mountains."
"No, you are not."
"Yes, I am!"
"Honey, are you going to do something about this?" she called out.
"If he wants to go, let him go with Eiichiro." Tanjuro's quiet voice came from the veranda, where he had appeared without a sound.
"You..." Kie sighed, looking from her husband to her impossibly stubborn son. She turned back to Roy, adjusted the scarf around his neck, and said, "Look after your brother. Be back before dark."
Just then, their grandmother emerged, holding baby Hanako. Tanjiro opened his mouth, wanting to declare that he could protect himself, and his brother too. But then the image of Roy moving like a phantom through the trees, of his hand piercing solid wood, flashed in his mind. He wisely shut his mouth and simply snuck glances at Roy.
Roy ignored him, his gaze moving from his mother to his father, to his grandmother and Hanako. A gentle, genuine smile touched his lips. "I'll be back," he said.
With that, he picked up his hand-axe, shouldered the empty basket, and turned towards the forest.
"Bro, wait for me!" a clumsy Tanjiro called out, scrambling to catch up.
Kie, Tanjuro, and their grandmother watched them go, their figures shrinking into the vast, snowy landscape. The warmth of that small cabin, the simple feeling of family, lingered in Roy's heart. It was something he had never, ever felt in the cold halls of the Zoldyck estate.
He savored it. He cherished it. For the first time, the thought crossed his mind that maybe... staying in this world wouldn't be so bad.
"Pant... pant..." Tanjiro finally caught up.
Roy knew exactly what he was about to ask. He decided to cut him off. "Tanjiro," he said, his voice calm. "Do you believe that there are other worlds, beyond the ground we walk on?"
"Really, Bro?" Tanjiro's eyes went wide.
Roy led him through the deep snow, their footsteps the only sound in the quiet woods. "I once had a dream," he began, his voice low and even. "In my dream, I went to another world. In that world, I had a new family, new parents, new brothers. Our family business was killing people. I was trained as an assassin from the day I was born. When I woke up from that dream, I found that I knew things... skills for killing that no one had ever taught me. And I realized... that dream was real."
Tanjiro's jaw dropped. A clump of snow fell from a birch branch above and landed on his head, but he didn't notice. It took him a moment to process it all. "That's... amazing!" he finally breathed. "It's like Old Man Saburo's stories... about demons in the world."
"No," Roy said, stopping dead in his tracks. "Those are real."
Tanjiro, not expecting the sudden stop, stumbled and bumped into his back. The boy grunted, rubbing his head. A second later, his nose twitched violently. His expression changed from confusion to alarm.
"Blood... Bro, I smell a lot of blood up ahead!"
"I see it."
Roy lowered the basket from his shoulders, planting the hand-axe in the snow in front of him. He stood protectively before Tanjiro, his eyes narrowed to slits.
