Out on the wide street, the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Members of the Black Dragon Syndicate and the Akiyama family stood locked in a fierce standoff, their contrasting outfits drawing a sharp line between the two factions. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder, ready to ignite at any second.
Ordinary civilians had long since scurried back into their homes, locking their doors to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
Tetsuya let out a lazy yawn. He knew a fight wasn't actually going to break out. These standoffs happened every other day. It was just a classic turf war tactic—flexing their muscles to pressure the opposing side into giving up local interests.
It was a game of chicken to see who would crack first.
"What is all this noise?"
An aged yet deeply authoritative voice rang out. The members of the Akiyama family immediately parted, making way for an old man leaning on a walking stick. It was the patriarch of the Akiyama family. Whispers of respect rippled through the crowd as he stepped forward.
Just as Tetsuya predicted, the standoff didn't escalate. Once the heavyweights from both sides made their appearances, the conflict shifted back to the negotiation table, devolving into a war of words rather than a clash of blades.
Hours passed before they reached another verbal stalemate. Exhausted, everyone packed up and went their separate ways.
"Get lost!"
A departing Syndicate thug barked as he found his path blocked by Rinka. A cruel sneer twisted his face, and he raised his massive, calloused hand, fully intending to slap the young girl out of the way.
Rinka's eyes widened in terror, the color draining completely from her small face. The surrounding Akiyama members paled, some shutting their eyes, unable to watch.
Thwack!
A tiny pebble shot out from the shadows like a bullet, violently striking the center of the thug's raised palm.
The burly man's eyes bloodshot instantly as he fell to his knees, clutching his hand and howling in agony. Within seconds, his palm swelled into a bruised, angry purplish-black. The gruesome sight sent a shiver down the spines of everyone watching.
The Syndicate members flared up in anger, but their fury quickly gave way to paranoia. Unsure of where the attack had come from, they dragged their groaning comrade away and made a hasty retreat.
The Akiyama family members breathed a collective sigh of relief, though worry still clouded their features. The Black Dragon Syndicate was relentless. With every clash escalating further, it was obvious this fragile peace wouldn't last. The powder keg was going to blow eventually.
Rinka bent down and picked up the small pebble. Her bright eyes scanned the surroundings, a warm, comforting feeling blossoming in her chest.
Hidden in the darkest corner of his room, Tetsuya stepped back into the shadows, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
Akaza had murdered a civilian in this town. That would definitely draw the attention of the Demon Slayer Corps. He needed to lay low and get out of here.
But since he was leaving anyway, he figured he might as well solve this little syndicate problem for the Akiyama family before he went. It was the least he could do to repay them for taking care of his body over the last half month.
He was a demon now. Human morals and societal rules no longer bound him.
'Time to throw away my conscience and embrace absolute freedom!'
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Night fell, and thick clouds obscured the silvery light of the moon.
This region was steeped in ancient legends of man-eating demons, so the locals rarely ventured out after dark. The entire town was swallowed by a deafening silence.
Now free to move, Tetsuya melted into the darkness, darting through the empty streets.
'So fast.'
Hearing the wind whistling aggressively past his ears, Tetsuya marveled at his own inhuman speed. If he were back in his old world, even Usain Bolt would have to bow down to him.
The Black Dragon Syndicate Headquarters.
Over a dozen muscular, heavily armed men gathered in a spacious room, raising their glasses and drinking heavily.
"Boss, if you ask me, we should just off that Akiyama geezer and be done with it," a burly thug spat viciously. Three hideous scars slashed across his right cheek, making him look particularly menacing.
To emphasize his point, he slammed a double-barreled shotgun onto the table, making no attempt to hide his murderous intent.
Sitting at the head of the table, a middle-aged man furrowed his brows. This was John Deere, the president of the Black Dragon Syndicate. Originally an elite enforcer for the Western Mafia, he had been sent to Japan to expand their illicit operations.
"This place isn't as simple as you think," John Deere said, shaking his head.
If it were just a matter of firepower, wiping out a minor local family with their imported rifles would be a walk in the park. But John Deere had heard the ancient, whispered rumors of this town—tales of a millennia-long blood feud between demons and Demon Slayers. Rumor had it that the Akiyama family had deep ties to those very same hunters. That alone made John Deere hesitant.
Until he gathered solid intelligence, he wasn't going to make a move.
"Drop the subject. I'm going to turn in for the night. The rest of you should get some sleep too." John Deere set his glass down, stood up, and pushed the door open to leave.
The remaining thugs exchanged meaningful glances. The scarred thug sneered. "John Deere, the so-called 'Musketeer'... looks like the old man has finally lost his edge."
John Deere possessed a terrifying reputation within the mafia. He had once stormed a rival gang's hideout solo, gunning down seventeen men in cold blood. He was a legendary hitter.
"Vic, why don't we..." a monkey-faced youth trailed off, dragging a thumb across his throat with a vicious glare.
They weren't exactly saints. In the underworld, usurping the boss was practically a rite of passage.
Vic's eyes gleamed with greed. Their objective was to turn this sleepy town into a major narcotics transit hub, funneling drugs from South America and the Golden Triangle straight into the country. Every day they delayed cost them an unimaginable fortune. Yet that cowardly old man refused to strike the Akiyama family.
"We'll put up with him a little longer. When the time is right, we'll slaughter everyone in the Akiyama estate!" Vic spat, though deep down, he was still deeply terrified of John Deere's gun skills.
"What a pity. You won't get the chance."
An icy voice echoed through the room. The sound seemed to bounce off every wall, making it utterly impossible to pinpoint the speaker's location.
Crack!
An eerie gust of wind swept through the room, shattering the overhead lightbulbs and plunging everything into pitch blackness.
"Who's there?!"
Startled like birds to a gunshot, the syndicate members shot up from their chairs, their voices trembling with panic.
Tetsuya materialized in the center of the room. His eyes glowed a piercing blood-red, two sinister tomoe spinning rapidly within his irises. His cold, apathetic expression sent a chill straight into the bones of the thugs.
"Fangs... blood-red eyes... is it a demon?!" Vic's eyes widened in horror. He had heard the warnings from John Deere, but he always assumed the boss was just trying to scare them.
"I don't believe it!"
Vic snatched his double-barreled shotgun from the table, leveled it straight at Tetsuya's head, and pulled the trigger without a second thought.
BANG!
A deafening roar filled the room as a spray of buckshot erupted from the barrel.
Tetsuya calmly raised his right arm to block. The moment the buckshot connected, the kinetic force completely shredded his forearm. Blood, flesh, and shattered bone fragments exploded into the air, splattering across the floor.
The heavy, metallic stench of fresh blood instantly permeated every corner of the room.
But a second later, under the horrified gazes of the syndicate members, writhing tendrils of flesh erupted from Tetsuya's mangled stump. Within the blink of an eye, the arm knitted itself back together, looking as flawless as it had before.
"Not bad at all," Tetsuya muttered. He had taken the hit on purpose to test the limits of his demonic regeneration.
The result was incredibly satisfying. An arm blasted to bits took barely five seconds to fully heal. It proved that the only things capable of killing a demon were sunlight and the Nichirin Swords wielded by the Demon Slayers.
A cruel, bloodthirsty smile twisted Tetsuya's lips. Just because he couldn't die didn't mean he couldn't feel pain. The intense, burning agony from the shotgun blast stimulated his brain, unleashing a terrifying surge of killing intent.
"Die!"
Like a ravenous wolf diving into a flock of defenseless sheep, Tetsuya lunged into the crowd. He slaughtered the high-ranking syndicate members with brutal efficiency, their agonizing screams echoing into the night sky.
[Blood Demon Art Awakened: Soul Manipulation!]