The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the peaceful stillness of dusk—but the tense, coiled silence that came before something deadly moved.
Rin stood alone beneath the canopy, his eyes closed, body relaxed… but every muscle ready to snap.
He'd followed the trail Akaza left on purpose.
This wasn't a surprise encounter.
It was a challenge.
High above, atop a black pine, Akaza crouched like a beast, eyes glowing with violent intent.
"Found you," the demon growled. "You're the one who erased Doma."
Rin looked up, expression unreadable. "He screamed a lot. You gonna be louder?"
Akaza flashed forward, fist cocked back with enough force to crack the earth.
Their clash shattered the trees.
[The Fight – No Flashy Effects, Just Pure Combat]
Rin met him head-on.
Akaza's martial style was brutal—each strike designed to destroy the body, break the will, rip the soul.
But Rin wasn't a normal fighter.
He didn't dodge like a man. He moved like a dragon.
Flowing, sliding, turning deadly force into counterattack.
He didn't rely on overwhelming power, not yet.
He watched.
Adapted.
Used Akaza's aggression against him.
But even still—he bled. A cracked rib. A deep slash across his arm. The fight wasn't easy.
And that made it better.
Because Rin didn't want an easy meal.
[Final Clash]
When Rin's hand finally pierced through Akaza's chest, it wasn't rage in his eyes—it was something deeper.
Control.
Resolve.
And hunger.
He whispered, "You die here… and you feed me."
Flames surged.
A dragon's roar echoed faintly in the wind.
And Akaza vanished—consumed from the inside out.
[Later – Nightfall, Alone]
Rin sat beneath a stone outcrop, wrapping his injured arm.
Breath slow. Pulse steady.
But inside?
The system whispered again:
[Devour: Upper Moon Three – Akaza – Complete.][Acquired Traits:]– Martial Insight: adaptive combat reading and prediction.– Shock Regeneration: muscle tissue restoration under high-stress.– Soul Anchor (Fragmented): partial resistance to mental tampering and blood demon arts.– Battle Drive: increased reflex sharpness during prolonged fights.
No overwhelming spike. Just…
Refinement. Evolution.
His fists tightened.
He could feel it—the perfect predator forming slowly inside him.
Not a demon. Not a slayer.
Something older.
Something natural.
Something inevitable.