A solitary butterfly fluttered through the freezing air in the darkest hour before the dawn.
Graceful, weightless, and breathtaking—yet the instant she zeroed in on prey, she transformed into something blindingly fast, surgical, and lethal.
She was a venomous hornet disguised as a delicate butterfly, concealing neurotoxins beneath a veneer of elegance.
And now, she had spotted her quarry: a stray demon wandering toward the sanctuary, a monster deserving nothing less than absolute eradication.
Without overthinking, exterminating a stray roadside demon was as trivial to her as crushing an ant beneath her heel.
All demons deserved to die!
Plummeting from the canopy, her uniquely needle-tipped Nichirin blade turned into an executioner’s stinger.
A relentless, high-precision barrage of piercing strikes rained down like a monsoon.
Clang!
…
Carrying an offering over his shoulder, Horne strode casually into the grand shrine.
The interior was unmistakably a demon’s den of depravity—lavish, hedonistic, and thoroughly degenerate, proving the resident demon was an addict of twisted luxury.
The sacred sanctuary once meant for deity worship was now saturated with the sickening stench of stale liquor, sweat, and potent sexual pheromones.
Young village men were moving their hips rhythmically across the tatami, offering up their bodily fluids and vitality to the demon that had usurped their gods.
The demon was female, dripping with raw, perverse eroticism, her physique sculpted purely to stimulate primitive male lust.
Right in front of her dais, a group of young men were draining blood from a tied-up maiden into a massive ceremonial sake cup.
The men then vigorously masturbated, shooting heavy ropes of thick, warm semen directly into the virgin blood before topping it off with refined sake.
The female demon greedily gulped down the blended cocktail in one long, slurping draft.
“Ah…
nothing rivals the exquisite harmony of virgin blood and virile human cum.
Care for a sip, stranger?”
She eyed the newcomer intruding upon her palace.
In her experience, unexpected demon guests arrived either to claim turf or to bend the knee.
She pegged him for the latter.
“No thanks.
Not my taste.
I figured arriving empty-handed would be bad manners, so I bagged a little housewarming gift for you outside.”
Horne tossed the captured “butterfly” off his shoulder onto the floor.
One glance at the distinctive uniform was enough for the demoness to identify the threat.
“Demon Slayer Corps?
Those irritating, persistent flies.
I went through so much trouble hiding out here, and they still sniffed me out.
No matter.
I’m on the verge of ascending to the Twelve Kizuki anyway.
Let those pests come—I’ll swallow every last one of them whole!”
She threw her head back in arrogant laughter, her massive, plush tits jiggling and bouncing enticingly with every chuckle.
Very few mortal men could resist such primal stimulation, yet Horne’s gaze remained rock-solid.
Her eyes gleamed with renewed intrigue.
“What’s your name, boy?
How long ago did you turn?”
“Horne.
Turned just recently.”
“Recently?
Don’t tell me you haven’t even unlocked a Blood Demon Art yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Tch, just a fledgling hatchling then.
Still, since you were thoughtful enough to bring me a prize, I wouldn’t mind sheltering you under my wing for a while.
Of course…
you’ll have to keep me thoroughly satisfied in return, darling.”
With a flick of her wrist, she kicked aside the dried-up, mummified corpse of a man lying beneath her throne.
The husk wore an expression devoid of agony—only a deranged, glazed bliss, having been milked to literal death.
“Mortal men are utterly useless.
If a lady wants real pleasure, nothing beats the brutal stamina of a demon’s thick club~”
She ran her tongue across her blood-red lips and shamelessly spread her shapely thighs, exposing her groin to Horne.
What lay between her legs was entirely inhuman: a writhing, pulsing aperture resembling a massive sea anemone, venting hot, misty steam while viscous fluids formed glistening, sticky strings with every twitch of its wet folds.
A ravenous trap designed to drain a man dry of every drop of life, hinting at the countless victims she had swallowed through that orifice.
Horne casually stepped up to her throne.
Just as she assumed he was leaning in to service her…
His fist drove straight through her ribs like a piledriver, aiming straight for her heart.
“You brat with no Blood Demon Art!!
You dare ambush me?!!”
Though her ribcage and heart were obliterated, internal trauma meant nothing to a demon.
Infuriated, the fleshy anemone between her thighs sprouted a swarm of thick, writhing tentacles coated in hyper-corrosive gastric acids capable of eating through solid hardwood tatami on contact.
“Blood Demon Art: Wicked Moaning Incense!”
A massive plume of sweet, colorless mist vented from the depths of her groin.
An ordinary human breathing a single lungful would be instantly reduced to a mindless, rutting beast governed purely by animalistic lust.
Even a demon would suffer violent hallucinations and sensory overload.
Her combat loop was vicious: paralyze the target with aphrodisiac mist, ensnare them with corrosive tentacles, and drag them into her maw to be digested into nourishment.
Hard crowd control up close, mid-range tentacle grappling, and long-range acid spitting.
This setup had wiped out dozens of unsuspecting Demon Slayer swordsmen over the years.
Unfortunately for her, she had crossed paths with her natural predator.
With a single thought from Horne, sleek black armor coated his flesh.
Glowing red eyes and twin demon horns announced his inhuman nature.
The moment the armor sealed, the aphrodisiac vapor, the acidic slime, and the thrashing tentacles were rendered utterly useless.
“What is this?!
Your Blood Demon Art?!”
The demoness shrieked in shock.
“Not a Blood Demon Art.
This is my Stand.”
Horne’s armored gauntlets flashed, razor-sharp claws shredding the tentacles reaching for him while his armor drank in every drop of demon blood that splashed across its surface.
“Who…
what the fuck are you?!”
“A demon.
A demon who slaughters demons, who feasts upon demons, until every rotten monster in this world is extinguished!
All evil demons must die!!”
The demoness sneered with vicious mockery.
“Hah!
You’re a demon yourself, yet you preach about exterminating demons?
What kind of lunatic delusions are you spewing?!”
“Delusions or not, you’re about to experience it firsthand!!”
Horne carved forward, his claws tearing bloody trenches across her torso, painting the walls in crimson arterial spray.
“You moron!
You think petty scratches can kill a demon?!”
Pushed past her limits, the demoness went all-out.
As a creature flirting with the power tier of the Lower Moons, she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Securing a seat among the Twelve Kizuki required fighting brutal Blood Battles against superiors—demon-on-demon combat was her specialty.
From the deepest recess of her genital aperture, several colossal, muscular tentacles burst forward, armored with thick hides and unnatural gripping power.
They coiled violently around Horne’s limbs and throat, dragging him bodily toward the gaping, steaming pit between her thighs.
Inside that abyss, concentric rings of serrated, needle-sharp teeth ground against each other in a frenzy, eager to chew whatever fell inside into paste.
The raw physical leverage of these tentacles far outstripped what a newly turned fledgling demon could overpower.
Yet Horne was no ordinary demon.
With a wet sound of tearing flesh, two-foot-long bone blades erupted from the backs of Horne’s armored forearms, cleanly severing the tentacles binding him.
“Die!
Demon-rending execution!!”
The twin bone blades were razor-sharp, leaving gaping wounds that outclassed ordinary claw slashes by orders of magnitude.
A blinding whirlwind of slashes overwhelmed the demoness, giving her no room to breathe.
Worse, the bone blades acted like ravenous siphons, guzzling her demonic blood with every slice.
Still, hacking a high-level demon to pieces piece by piece was taking too damn long for Horne’s liking.
As if responding to his bloodlust, the [Army into One] armor evolved on the fly.
The demon horns on his helm extended into wicked scythes, leg blades deployed from his shins, and the chestplate peeled open into a gaping maw lined with jagged, fanged teeth.
Matching toothy maws sprouted across his pauldrons, thighs, and knees.
Every hunk of demon flesh carved away by the blades was instantly snared by the maws’ probing tongues, dragged inside, and devoured down to the cellular level.
Severed, digested, absorbed.
The demoness felt her demonic blood reserves draining toward empty at terrifying speed.
Terror finally breaking her vanity, she collapsed onto her knees, wailing for mercy.
“Wait!
Please spare me!
I surrender!!
The territory is yours!
I’ll be your slave, your bitch, anything you want!!
Just let me live and you can use my body however you please!!!”
Horne’s response was cold as ice.
“Shut your mouth.
Evil demons must die.”
His blades severed her limbs to feed the hungry armor, and with one brutal shove, he forced her writhing torso and screaming head straight into the massive maw on his chest, grinding her into pulp.
The Demon Devourer was born.
And the instant he dismissed the armor, having completed the feast, the lurking hornet in the shadows thrust her stinger forward once more.