Unknown Place
Third-Person POV
The night sky blazed with thousands of stars glittering like scattered diamonds, unmarred by the smog of modern cities.
A cool mist wove through gnarled, moss-clad trunks, curling around leaves in a ghostly waltz, the air thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and the faint tang of wildflowers.
In this untamed expanse, a young man—looked no older than twenty, though his scowl shaved years off, making him look like a perpetually annoyed teenager—trudged forward.
Alex Jones parted overhanging branches with a frustrated grunt, swatting a vine that clung to his dark hair like an overeager suitor trying to propose.
His black and golden haori sway with the wind. The fabric was pristine despite the forest's attempts to claim it as if it repelled the dirt itself.
IMAGE..
"Shit," he muttered, his voice slicing the night's stillness like a blade through silk. "Why didn't the system warn me I'd be cut off from System Space?" His tone carried the exasperation of someone who'd just realized their phone died mid-road trip.
His boots crunched leaves, each step a protest against the forest's embrace, snapping twigs with a satisfying crack that echoed in the quiet.
He tapped the sleek transmitter clipped to his ear—a marvel of tech now as useful as a paperweight in a windstorm, its faint blue light flickering uselessly. "Cara, you there? Can you hear me?"
Static hissed, then a fractured voice broke through: "Yea—s—Mas—ter… krchhh… I—hea—r… krchhh… yo—u… me—ee…" Cara's tone, usually warm and steady like a hearth fire, like a radio lost in a storm, her words barely clinging to coherence.
Alex's sigh carried the weight of every tech glitch in history, his breath fogging in the chilly air. "Cara. Good news: I'm in Demon Slayer world. Bad news: no System Space for 24 hours." He swatted a bug diving for his eye, its buzz a personal vendetta, and muttered,
"Take that, you little kamikaze." A dry chuckle escaped him, though his blue eyes stayed sharp, scanning the shadows. "You're stuck without me, Cara. Tragic, I know. Bet you're crying binary tears right now."
Author's Note: Time in System Space flows slower than in the outside world (2:1 ratio).
He tapped the transmitter again, his fingers brushing the cool metal, scanning the forest for signs of life—or demons, their claws glinting in his imagination. "Just say 'yes' if you heard me. No AI rebellions while I'm offline, got it?" His chuckle was half-hearted,
A flicker of humor masking the tension coiling in his chest, his eyes sharp as they darted between twisted tree trunks.
"Ye—s—krchhh…" Cara's reply cut off, confirmation enough, her voice fading like a ghost into the static.
Alex lowered his hand, exhaling thoughtfully, his breath a faint cloud in the starlit air. If he could reach Cara properly, drones in system space would pinpoint his location.
He'd uploaded Japan's geography pre-jump, every river and mountain etched into his tech, but Demon Slayer's world might not match Earth's.It can be or not but there won't be too much difference.
Still, he wasn't helpless. A human combat card had gifted him survival skills—tracking, navigation, stargazing. Using constellations, their patterns burned into his memory, he trudged north, his boots sinking slightly into the loamy earth.
A thunderous boom shattered the silence, a metallic roar echoing from the east, shaking leaves from branches like startled birds. Dark smoke plumed above the treetops, a beacon of chaos staining the starry sky.
Something's gone full Michael Bay, Alex thought, cracking his neck with a satisfying pop, his lips curling into a grin.
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the explosion, weaving through trees like a phantom, his haori billowing behind him, chasing his first clue in this anime nightmare.
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Unknown Place
General POV
The night air reeked of blood and scorched earth, the Mugen Train's wreckage smoldering in a field littered with twisted metal and splintered wood, glowing faintly orange under a crescent moon.
The earth churned into a violent canvas by the battle with Lower Moon One. The air was thick with the acrid sting of smoke and the coppery tang of blood, mingling with the faint sweetness of trampled grass.
Tanjiro Kamado slumped against a jagged debris chunk, his torn haori soaked with blood, the red stains stark against the checkered pattern.
His chest heaved, each breath a labor that rasped in his throat, but his eyes burned with unyielding resolve like embers refusing to die.
Nezuko clung to his thigh, her small hands gripping his hakama, soft hums of worry escaping her bamboo muzzle, her pink eyes wide with fear. Onii-chan's hurt, she thought, her heart aching as she pressed closer, her warmth a quiet comfort.
Inosuke Hashibira, ever defiant, stood nearby, flexing gashed arms under his boar mask, blood dripping onto the grass.
"Hah! Nezuko, you saw me fighting that demon, right?" he bellowed, striking a pose despite swaying from exhaustion, his muscles trembling under his bravado.
She's gotta think I'm the strongest! he thought, chest puffed, his mask's eyes glinting in the moonlight. Nezuko tilted her head, blinking, more focused on Tanjiro's wounds than Inosuke's theatrics, her hums soft and distracted.
Zenitsu Agatsuma crouched in the clearing's corner, a trembling wreck hugging his knees, his yellow haori quaking like a leaf in a storm.
"We're gonna die, we're so gonna die," he whimpered, his voice a high-pitched wail that cut through the night. Why me? I just want a wife and a quiet life, not demon fights with these maniacs!
His eyes darted to the forest, expecting another monster to pounce, his heart hammering loud enough to wake the dead.
Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira, stood apart, his crimson haori fluttering in the breeze, a blaze of color against the wreckage. His broad shoulders were squared, hand on his Nichirin Blade's hilt, but his heavy breaths betrayed the fight's toll, his chest rising and falling like a bellows.
His fiery hair gleamed under the moon, eyes sharp as embers scanning the horizon. These young ones have fire, he thought, pride flickering in his chest.Tanjiro's heart, Inosuke's spirit, even Zenitsu's hidden courage—they could be Hashira with time.
His lips twitched upward, a warm smile forming, but a cold shiver sliced through the air, silencing the thought, his hand tightening on his sword.
The breeze died, leaving the air heavy and still. Tanjiro's head snapped up, nose twitching at a scent that chilled his blood, sharp and predatory. Nezuko's grip tightened, a low growl rumbling in her throat, her eyes narrowing.
Inosuke froze mid-flex, mask tilting toward the forest, his dual blades glinting. Zenitsu squeaked, diving behind wreckage, his voice a panicked whisper.
"W-What was that?!" he wailed, peeking out, eyes wide as saucers. Another demon? I'm too young to die!
A figure materialized without sound, as if carved from the night itself, stepping into the moonlight with eerie grace. Akaza, Upper-Rank Three, stood bare-chested, blue tattoos glowing like frozen lightning across his muscular frame, pulsing with demonic energy.
His pink hair shimmered, but his eyes—branded with "Upper-Rank Three"—gleamed with manic cruelty, a predator's hunger that made the air feel like it was suffocating.
"Ah," Akaza said, voice smooth yet crackling with madness, a grin baring sharp teeth as he locked eyes with Rengoku. "I found one."
Rengoku's gaze narrowed, stance shifting like a flame steadying before a blaze, his haori rippling like fire. "Upper Rank…" His voice was low, resolute, a man who'd faced death and smiled, his golden eyes unyielding.
This one's leagues above thr demon we fought now, he thought, grip tightening on his blade, muscles coiling like a spring.
Akaza's grin widened.
"You're alive… impressive."
Tanjiro, still bleeding, forced his head up, blinking through pain. "Who…?"
WHAM.
The earth shattered.
Akaza blitzed forward, vanishing in a blur. His fist shot toward Tanjiro's skull, a meteor of force.
But—
CLANG!
Steel met flesh.
A shower of sparks exploded as Rengoku intercepted, blade flashing between Tanjiro and death.
"Stand down," he said coldly, his golden eyes fierce. "This boy is injured. I won't let you lay a finger on him."
Akaza's grin deepened. "You're strong. What's your name?"
His tone was almost joyful. His fingers twitched with anticipation.
"Kyojuro Rengoku," he replied calmly. "Flame Hashira."
"Excellent. Become a demon, Rengoku. Transcend weakness. Embrace immortality. Fight forever."
Rengoku's voice didn't falter. "I will not," he said, resolute. "I will fulfill my duty. I will not allow anyone here to die."
Akaza tilted his head.
"Why choose death?" he asked, almost pleading. "You're wasting your strength. You could fight eternally… grow forever."
"Because growing old and dying is part of being human," Rengoku replied, voice deep and unwavering. "It's what gives life value. It's the fleeting nature of our existence that makes it beautiful."
Then, taking a stance with his blade, he added, "And that is something you'll never understand."
Akaza's smile darkened, hunger flaring in his eyes like wildfire. "A shame." In a blink, he lunged, fist a blur aimed at Rengoku's heart, the air screaming in its wake, a sonic boom rattling the wreckage.
But, Both froze, heads snapping toward the forest, a new presence—sharp, elusive, powerful—pricking the air, leaves rustling like a warning whisper. Rengoku's eyes narrowed, his heart racing. Another demon? He thought, his mind calculating.
I can't fight Akaza and protect the others if there's more. His face stayed resolute, hair swaying as he angled to watch both threats, his blade half-drawn.
Akaza straightened, fists clenched, grinning like a wolf scenting prey. "Reinforcements?" he mused, voice mocking, his eyes probing Rengoku for a crack. "No… they wouldn't send another Hashira for a Lower Moon."
Tanjiro's nose caught a human scent. Not a demon, he thought, hope sparking in his chest. But who? He tried to stand, but Nezuko tugged him back, her eyes darting nervously.
Inosuke snorted, brandishing dual Nichirin Blades, his mask gleaming. "I'll chop whoever's out there!" he roared, stomping forward, his voice echoing. Another fight? I'm the king! His bravado hid trembling legs, exhaustion gnawing at him.
Zenitsu peeked out, whispering frantically, "Inosuke, you moron! What if it's another Upper Rank? We're doomed!" I haven't proposed to Nezuko-chan! Tears streamed down his face, his hands shaking.
Rengoku stepped between Akaza and the group, haori billowing like fire, his presence a wall of resolve. "Stay back," he commanded, voice firm yet warm, a beacon in the chaos. I'll hold them off, he thought, resolve blazing like an inferno. These flames won't die.
Akaza's chuckle was like a chilling blade, slicing through the tension. "This just got fun," he said, cracking his knuckles, eyes manic with delight. "Who dares interrupt us, Flame Hashira?"
A silhouette emerged from the forest, cloaked, no katana visible, his form shrouded in the mist. Akaza's eyes narrowed, rage surging like a tidal wave.
A ronin? Interrupting my fight? With a snarl, he lunged, fist a deadly blur, the air cracking with force. "You ruined my fight, ant!" he roared, his voice a thunderclap.
Rengoku tensed, blade half-drawn, recalling humans aiding demons in training, his mind racing. Is he with the demon? But Akaza's attack shifted his focus—he dashed to save the stranger, blade flashing like a comet, but Akaza's speed outpaced him, a blur of destruction.
"Oya, did I crash your party, Akaza?" a teasing voice cut through, sharp and playful, like a blade wrapped in silk. The figure vanished, leaving a fading afterimage, the mist swirling in his wake.
Then—
A flash.
In a blink, he reappeared at the place Akaza was before, wielding a crimson Nichirin Blade with pulsing purple veins out of nowhere (for retards who read without thinking it's from inventory, inventory & system space are two different things), like a living heartbeat, it edge glinting purple tint.
In his other hand dangled Akaza's severed arm, blood dripping onto the scarred earth, staining the grass crimson.
Akaza staggered, staring at his stump, eyes wide with shock, his tattoos flickering. What just happened? His flesh bubbled, but regeneration stalled, pain raw and searing, like fire in his veins. No… it's healing but very slowly.
Rengoku froze, blade drawn, jaw tight, his golden eyes wide with awe. That speed… beyond human, he thought, his heart pounding. He severed Upper-moon 3 arm in a blink. Is he a Slayer? His gaze weighed Alex—ally or enigma.
The stranger turned, waving Akaza's arm at Tanjiro's group with a grin, as if presenting a trophy at a festival. "Hello~!" he sang, his voice light and theatrical, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
Nezuko tilted her head, humming curiously, her pink eyes blinking. Tanjiro blinked, nose catching Alex's sharp, human scent. Not a bad person… who is he? he thought.
Zenitsu shrieked, "EEEEK!" stumbling back, clutching Inosuke like a lifeline. "He's waving a demon arm!" I'm gonna die! he panicked, nearly fainting, his legs wobbling like jelly.
Inosuke's eyes sparkled under his mask, his body vibrating with awe. "So cool!" he whispered, practically bouncing. "He's tossing that Upper Moon like I toss Kenitsu! Gotta fight him!"
"Oi! That's not cool!" Zenitsu snapped, his voice cracking. "And it's not even my name, you boar-brained idiot!"
Akaza's severed arm twitched, sinew knitting under the moonlight, but his healing faltered, blood pooling in the dirt, the air thick with ash and iron. His lips curled into a feral grin, eyes glinting with pain and twisted delight. "Not bad," he hissed, voice ragged, his tattoos pulsing faintly.
"First time that's happened." He'll pay, he vowed, hate blazing like a furnace in his chest.
Alex tossed the arm aside like trash before he took some of his blood in inventory, twirling his blade, its edge gleaming with fiery wrath under the moon. "Name's Alex," he said coolly, blue eyes sparking with confidence.
"You're slow for an Upper Rank." Cocky brute, he thought, smirking, his cloak fluttering in the breeze.
Akaza froze, the insult a dagger to his pride, his grin twisting into a snarl. "You'll regret that!" he roared, veins glowing as his
Blood Demon Art: Compass Needle
the air crackling with invisible shockwaves, shredding the ground in a deadly web aimed at Alex, the earth groaning under the assault.
Rengoku tensed, ready to intervene, his blade gleaming, but Alex waved him off with a smirk, exuding unshakable confidence, his posture relaxed yet lethal.
"Quite the show," Alex teased, head tilted, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Upper Rank Three…" he stopped midway His gaze flicked to a tree, where a tiny insect-demon scurried, vanishing instantly into the shadows. "Thought so," he chuckled Muzan is watching through Nakime , eyes turning cold, sharp as steel, his grin predatory. "Time for some PTSD, Upper Three."
Alex shifted into a stance—fluid, precise, breathtaking—his body radiating power, the air around him shimmering with heat.
Sun Breathing: Twelfth Form – Flame Dance
Tanjiro gasped, gripping Nezuko, his eyes wide with awe. Hinokami Kagura? Sharper than Father's… flawless, he thought, his heart pounding, the scent of Alex's resolve overwhelming.
Akaza, Compass Needle blazing, took a martial stance, confidence oozing, his tattoos glowing brighter.
He could read any move, and counter any strike. None had bested him; all the Hashira he encountered fell before him, their blades no match for his fists.
But Alex vanished—one moment distant, the next, his face loomed inches from Akaza's, a phantom wreathed in the bath of moonlight, his crimson blade a blur.
Two slashes carved through the air—Flame Dance—one horizontal, one vertical, slicing a burning cross into Akaza's chest. It wasn't just a strike—it was an execution born of fire and surgical precision, the air igniting with heat.
The impact? Monstrous. A crushing force equivalent to thirty-two tons at Mach 1, hurling Akaza like a living cannonball, his body a streak of destruction.
BOOOM!
The world couldn't keep up. Trees shattered like glass, splintering into clouds of bark, the demon's body skidding a brutal forty meters across the forest floor.
Earth split beneath him, a jagged trench forming, and the ground itself recoiled from the fury Alex unleashed, the air thick with dust and the scent of scorched wood.
Akaza flew like a damn rocket, body ragdolling through the night sky, crashing through branches with bone-crunching force.
Alex tilted his head, eyes narrowing behind the faint afterglow of his slash, his cloak settling around him like a shadow.
Thirty-two tons of force, Mach 1 velocity... Yeah, I did the math, he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips.
That's roughly the same kinetic energy as a modern tank shell—give or take. Enough to turn any demon's torso into a fine mist
He exhaled slowly, watching the wreckage, his breath steady despite the chaos.
Still... forty meters of skid marks? I'll call that a win for my 20% strength, well of course, without GLR.
Akaza groaned, trying to rise, but his body betrayed him, his torso mangled, ribs jutting like broken spikes, organs pulverized into a bloody mess. His healing stalled, pain raw and unrelenting, a fire that consumed him.
"kuff-kuff"
He coughed up blood, his vision blurred, and his legs collapsed, trembling under his weight.
Alex approached, haori fluttering like a death shadow, a crimson mark appearing on his forehead, glowing faintly under the moonlight. Akaza's breath hitched, his eyes widening in terror.
A buried memory erupted—a man with red hair, white glowing eyes, that same crimson mark, staring down at him like filth, his presence crushing.
"What's so fun about it?" the man's voice thundered in Akaza's mind, cold and unyielding.
"What do you think lives are?!" Words from a force that would hunt him to oblivion, a specter of judgment.
Akaza trembled, wide-eyed, his body shaking uncontrollably. Why am I shaking? he thought, panic clawing at his mind. This isn't my memory… this is Muzan-sama's.
Alex loomed above, smiling faintly, eyes cold and knowing, his presence a blade pressed to Akaza's soul.
"Got your PTSD lesson?" he taunted, voice dripping amusement, his smirk sharp enough to cut.
"Your 'boss,' hiding in his Infinity Castle for a century? He only crawled out after that man died." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "Kekeke…"
Rengoku's eyes narrowed, heart racing, his blade still drawn. He knows Muzan? he thought, stunned, his mind reeling. This person power and knowledge… he's no ordinary Slayer.
Tanjiro's eyes widened, as he looked at Nezuko, his breath catching. He also thinks of Alex knowing Muzan.
Akaza's mangled torso slumped in a crater, ribs jutting like shattered spears, organs pulped, blood pooling beneath him. Pain seared every nerve, his healing sluggish, faltering under the weight of Alex's strike. Yet his eyes blazed, feral and unyielding, his spirit unbroken.
I'm Upper-Rank Three, Akaza reminded himself, clawing at the dirt with trembling fingers, veins bulging and pulsing with fury, his blood staining the earth. I won't fall like this… I refuse!
Blood dripped from his lips, the metallic taste thick on his tongue, his breath ragged. His body was broken—bruised, slashed, cracked—but his spirit burned like wildfire, untamed and fierce.
With a primal, guttural roar that echoed through the forest, shaking leaves from trees, he surged to his feet, the earth cracking beneath his heels from the force. With that heal somewhat of his worn-torn figure for hi final move
"You're strong!" he bellowed, eyes bloodshot with rage, his voice a thunderclap. "But don't think for a second I'll die without a fight!"
His aura exploded around him like a detonation of rage and bloodlust, warping the air in a violent storm of red energy, the ground trembling.
With a savage snarl, he activated his Technique Development, pushing his Blood Demon Art to its absolute limits, the air screaming with power.
Alex's speed was unnatural—unfair, even by demon standards, a blur that defied comprehension.
Plus he is 9-10 times more powerful than yoriichi so yeah this verse was like the one punch man verse to saitama and he doesn't hold back
Akaza wasn't weak. Far from it. He was a powerhouse, a force of nature. The kind of demon who could obliterate multiple houses with a single punch, his fists honed over centuries of bloodshed and battle, molded through countless duels and sharpened instincts.
His fists were death-made flesh, and few could survive long enough to see his true strength.
And yet… here he was—being outclassed, his pride crumbling like the earth beneath him.
Alex wasn't struggling. With only Sun Breathing humming in every movement, he looked less like a warrior in battle and more like someone casually strolling through a peaceful garden, his steps light, his expression calm, controlled, unbothered.
The moonlight caught his blade, casting fiery reflections.
It wasn't just speed—it was terror incarnate in motion. If Yoriichi could unleash over a thousand slashes in a second, then Alex could probably do double the amount without even breaking a sweat, his movements a dance of death.
Akaza's muscles coiled tighter, senses sharpened to the limit, his blood demon technique shifting mid-battle, reshaping itself just to keep up. Because right now… survival didn't just require strength. It demanded evolution.
{Destructive Death – Final Form: Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow.}
Countless blue-silver shockwaves erupted in a chaotic storm, slashing from every angle, the air screaming with their force, aimed to shred Alex to nothingness, the forest groaning under the onslaught.
Alex smirked, vanishing—Substitution Technique. A half tree trunk exploded, splinters raining like shrapnel, the air thick with dust. Akaza's grin twisted, A trick? he thought, humiliated, his shockwaves tearing through the forest, felling trees like dominos.
A twang cut through—a tatami portal glowed beneath Akaza, Nakime's Biwa Demon Art shimmering like a mirage.
Akaza's eyes flared, his voice a snarl. Muzan-sama's robbing me of my pride? His shockwaves intensified, tearing earth, his rage a wildfire.
Rengoku's heart sank, his blade rising. I can't let Akaza escape. His gaze flicked to Alex, then he stopped in his track
Alex's gaze sharpened, blade flashing like a comet. "You're not slipping away," he said, his voice cold, cutting through the chaos. "No loose ends." He surged three times the speed of sound, a sonic boom splitting the air, shaking the wreckage.
—Alex creation—ignited fiery slashes, countering Akaza's shockwaves, the forest glowing red, heat warping the air like a furnace.
Alex's final slash, a single, devastating crescent, burned with solar fury, aimed at Akaza's neck, a blaze of light that seemed to sear the night itself.
clang!clang!clang!
Akaza's eyes widened, his Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow was like a futile attempt to hit a wall with an arrow, his body trembling. This human taking all those like nothing, he thought, panic clawing at his core.
The fiery crescent struck, severing his head clean, the cut precise as a surgeon's scalpel. His body reeled, hurled backward by the force, crashing away from the portal just as it flickered, the tatami door slamming shut.
For a fleeting moment—just a split second thats all it took after nakime portal opened and alex severing akaza head—Alex's eyes locked with Muzan Kibutsuji's.
The demon king stood beside Nakime, her pale fingers hovering over the strings of her biwa, ready to pluck them at the slightest command. Her gaze was empty, cold. But Muzan—Muzan was anything but calm.
His jaw clenched tight, his nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed with a mix of hatred and something he never dared show before—fear.
The tension in the air crackled like lightning.
Then, like a slow-burn promise, Muzan's furious stare bore into Alex, a silent vow of vengeance etched into those crimson irises.
But Alex… he didn't flinch.
He simply grinned.
No words. Just lips moving with a predator's confidence—You're next.
And with that, the portal door closed—vanishing in a quiet blink, leaving nothing but silence in its wake… and a war that was now inevitable.
Akaza's head rolled across the forest floor, eyes dimming, his decapitated body twitching to regenerate. Flesh sprouted from his neck—then froze, blood pooling as his aura faded, the tattoos on his skin dulling.
Rengoku's eyes widened, blade still drawn, his breath catching as if a demon was about to born which can't be killed with a nichirin blade just like Muzan.
His regeneration… halted? He thought, stunned by the phenomenon, his heart pounding.
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SPOILER FOR DEMON SLAYER FANS
"…Why?" Akaza murmured.
His voice cracked like shattered porcelain, barely more than a whisper as he tilted his head toward the sky. He who had carved his name into centuries of bloodshed, who had crushed dreams and swallowed lives whole—now found himself crumbling, dissolving into the wind like a forgotten nightmare.
Flecks of ash peeled from his arms and shoulders. The edges of his form blurred, eaten away by the light, as if the dawn itself were reclaiming him.
And then, he heard it.
Koyuki's voice—soft, lilting, and impossibly familiar.
"Hakuji… Please stop hurting people."
His breath caught—not from pain, not from fear, but from the sharp, blinding clarity of a memory so warm it burned.
It wasn't Akaza—the demon—that heard her.
It was Hakuji—the boy who once lived.
The boy who once loved.
The monstrous roar of Muzan's blood within him screeched in protest, cells thrashing and howling for survival. It clawed at his mind, demanding he regenerate, demanding he fight. But for the first time since his transformation—
He refused.
"No," he whispered, a tremble in his voice, raw and ragged. "I won't regenerate. I don't deserve to. I won't… kill anymore."
A thousand memories surged like a tide, flooding through him in an overwhelming cascade.
His master's stern, kind eyes.
The dojo, filled with warmth and laughter.
Koyuki, gentle as falling snow, her smile softer than the spring wind.
He had buried it all—his love, his humanity—beneath hate, beneath bloodlust, beneath the illusion of strength. But in these final moments, when all that remained of him was ash and breath and regret…
The truth glowed brighter than ever.
He fell to his knees. His body continued to flake away, the pieces carried off by the breeze, the forest now bathed in the golden hues of morning.
And then—he saw them.
Bathed in light that was not sunlight but something deeper, purer, stood the ones he had lost.
His master stood tall, arms crossed, pride in his eyes.
And beside him, Koyuki—her kimono flowing like starlight, her expression soft, not with judgment, but sorrow and forgiveness.
"Koyuki…" he gasped, the name like a blade and a balm. Tears—real, human tears—spilled freely, cracking the hardened face of a killer. "I'm sorry," he wept. "I couldn't protect you… I became a monster…"
But she only stepped forward, eyes gentle, arms outstretched.
There were no more words.
Only the warmth of her presence, the softness of her smile, and the peace he had been chasing for centuries.
And in that moment, Akaza—the demon—was no more.
There was only Hakuji, the boy who once loved.
And at last… he found peace.
His form faded with the first light of dawn.
Alex sheathed his crimson blade with a quiet click, the steel sliding into its scabbard like a whispered vow, the purple veins dimming as if mourning the battle's end.
His haori fluttered in the still night air, the crimson mark on his temple fading, as if his body acknowledged the fight's conclusion, the forest settling into an eerie calm.
He stood in silence, his chest rising and falling slowly—not from exhaustion, but from the gravity of the moment, the weight of what he'd done settling in his bones.
Before him, Akaza's form was crumbling, his body beginning to break apart, dissolving like ash in the wind, carried away by the breeze.
The demon's eyes flickered, not with hate, but something more subdued… almost confused. Maybe even regret, a fleeting spark of humanity in his fading gaze.
Alex's gaze lingered on him for a long moment, his blue eyes unreadable, like a storm held in check.
His expression, once sharp and focused, softened—just slightly, a flicker of something passing through his eyes. Not forgiveness. Not sympathy. But perhaps… understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the tragedy before him.
And yet, beneath that fleeting moment of humanity, there was something else. Something colder, like ice beneath the surface.
He felt… nothing.
This was his first kill. A life taken by his own hands. Well—a demon's life. That made it easier to justify. Less evil, more necessity. Monsters like Akaza thrived on bloodshed, their existence a blight on the world. Killing one should have meant something—a surge of triumph, a pang of guilt, anything.
But it didn't. There was no rush. No guilt. No regret. Not even satisfaction. It felt disturbingly natural, like breathing or stepping forward.
Is this who I'm becoming? The thought drifted through his mind, weightless but heavy, not in fear, not in doubt—just as an observation, a mental note filed away for later.
He looked down at the spot where Akaza once stood, now just embers in the wind, the grass stained with blood and ash.
"Rest in peace," he murmured, his voice low, quiet enough that only the wind could carry it, a whisper lost in the forest's hum.
He didn't like Akaza. Not even close. And he sure as hell didn't pity demons. To become one of the Upper Moons—to reach that level of power and cruelty—meant stepping over thousands of corpses, their blood staining the earth.
It meant choosing to feed on life, to rip families apart and paint villages red in exchange for power.
Even if Akaza claimed he never harmed women or children, because he deemed them weak, what did that matter? Every man he killed left behind a grieving family—wives, sons, daughters, their lives shattered like glass.
Every punch that shattered a life also shattered a household, the ripples of his violence spreading far beyond his fists.
Whether he acknowledged it or not, he destroyed far more than the people he struck down, his legacy one of pain and loss.
Alex's eyes narrowed slightly as the wind picked up, carrying away the last of the demon's form, the air growing lighter, cleaner.
Evil isn't just what you do with your hands, Alex thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. It's what you leave behind when you're gone. (author note impotant read )
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Author's Note
And that, dear readers, is how Alex made his entrance and claimed his first kill.
Now, I know some of you might be thinking, "That fight ended too quickly!" But here's the thing—Alex isn't like your typical shonen protagonist who drags out battles just to show off, throwing punches for the drama. He doesn't hold back. Ever. That's how he shows respect to his opponent: by fighting at full strength from the very start, with no hesitation, no theatrics.
And if you think Akaza looked weak here... brother, you are so wrong, on so many levels.
Let's get one thing clear: Akaza is still the Upper Moon Three—fast, brutal, experienced, and deadly, a demon who's crushed countless foes with a single blow. But Alex? Alex isn't fighting fair. He's using tech, tactics, and chakra in ways no demon in this verse has ever seen before, a storm of innovation and power.
Let's talk gear for a second—Alex wields a katana forged from vibranium. Yes, that vibranium, straight out of Wakanda's finest forges. It doesn't just cut; it absorbs kinetic force, swallowing Akaza's house-shattering punches like a sponge. That means when Akaza tries to smash Alex with a fist that could reduce entire villages to rubble, the blade doesn't just block—it eats the force, leaving Akaza's attacks impotent.
That alone gives Alex the ability to parry Akaza's blows like he's playing table tennis, batting away destruction with a smirk. And sure, even without the sword, Alex could still do the same, his reflexes honed to a razor's edge, but the blade helps keep distance—and distance when you're up against a martial artist like Akaza, is everything.
Also—did you catch that Substitution Jutsu moment? Yeah, Akaza didn't. He was already mid-flurry, expecting to at least graze Alex, his fists a blur of death. But nope. The guy vanished and reappeared like a ninja ghost, leaving Akaza punching air like a fool. "Nice try," Alex probably thought, chuckling as he danced away.
Now, about that Rasengan. Yes, Alex has it, that swirling ball of chakra that could shred big trees.But he's smart—he won't whip it out just to flex, unlike some anime protagonists who'd scream their attack names for the crowd.
Rasengan requires chakra control, timing, and most importantly—closing the distance, getting in Akaza's face. If Akaza managed to counter it? That'd be dangerous. The chakra load needed to form and maintain Rasengan is already high, a drain on his reserves. \
If Alex gets deflected mid-charge, his speed drops, his defense drops, and if Akaza lands a hit to a vital spot? Game over.
He's not invincible, not by a long shot.
Alex only has chakra reserves around an elite chunin's level—think Naruto in his early days, but sharper, more calculated. Minato's template is only at 28%—so every move counts, every slash deliberate. He doesn't waste energy unless he has to. He's efficient, ruthless, and strategic, a predator in human form. And that's what makes him terrifying, a force that doesn't just fight—he dominates.
So no—Akaza wasn't weak. Not by a long shot.
Alex was just built differently, a warrior from another world, playing by rules Akaza couldn't hope to understand.