Demon Slayer: Upper 0 seems to be a waste

Chapter 318 I'd Rather Die Than Give Way

The dead are more troublesome than demons and more difficult to deal with than the Demon Slayer Corps.

You can cover the mouth of a demon you don't like, or twist off the head of a Demon Slayer Corps member you don't like. In short, you can make the world quiet, even if only for a moment.

But the souls hidden in the shadows cannot be dealt with in such a simple and effective way. They remain forever entangled and following, without needing his permission or being driven away by his will.

Lin Yang is that kind of person, he was before, and he is now. He always appears when Lin Yang doesn't want to see him and says those nonsensical things that Lin Yang doesn't want to hear at all.

Those who are already dead should just die peacefully.

Go to heaven if you're meant to go to heaven, go to hell if you're meant to go to hell. If they really exist, then go wherever you're meant to go. Whether it's reincarnation or being scattered, just do what you're supposed to do. What's the point of constantly bothering him like this?

When he opened his eyes, it was complete darkness, but this was no longer a dream. Rinko knew this was reality because the damned voice had disappeared, the pain was clearly present, and the heaviness was no longer due to the existence of nothingness, but because something real was pressing down on him.

The roof ridge, the beams, the floor, the door frame—I don't know what's on it, but something is pressing down on him. Maybe all of these things are there, otherwise how could he be so heavy?

His breathing was rough and deep, very slow, so heavy that he could barely breathe, and the difficulty in breathing made him try even harder to breathe. The air that came in carried dust that scratched his throat, and the particles that he exhaled stung his eyes.

But none of that matters.

Compared to the feeling of bones breaking and piercing in other parts of my body, it didn't matter at all.

A bone is broken, and it is undoubtedly healing; this is only natural.

With his broken bones healed and heavy debris piled on his body, all Rinko could do was clench his fists after his body recovered, slowly but firmly supporting himself little by little. It was difficult; the things were heavy, and his physical abilities were limited. His bones would break under excessive force, but it didn't matter; they would heal.

He just needs to give himself a chance to breathe, and then...

Just climb out.

Even if it means biting him with his teeth or rubbing his face, he will crawl out of this man-made hell.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Do gods exist in this world?

do not know.

But if it exists.

Surely even the gods aren't entirely fair.

Kyojuro didn't want to think that way.

But reality seems to be explaining this to him time and time again.

His gentle, strong, and brave mother was the first ray of sunshine in his life, guiding him through the world like a torch. But this mother eventually passed away due to illness.

A father who dedicated his life to saving lives, after saving so many people, was unable to save his own wife and could only watch helplessly as his mother passed away.

He had once guided and mentored him with such enthusiasm, like a father radiating sunshine, but in the end, all he received was an empty room and jars of liquor.

Those who practice and train year after year, hoping to add a little help to the Demon Slayer Corps, have no talent or ability to survive in this dangerous world. Their will is so firm, but when facing demons, only death is the outcome.

No matter how hard they try, they can never cross that line. Ghosts always have the advantage in the dark. They don't get tired or feel pain. Their severed limbs can grow back, and their physical strength can be quickly restored. Life seems to have no end for them. Humans need decades of learning, effort, and progress to reach a brief peak, while ghosts can catch up in a very short time.

That's so unfair.

Ghosts have so many advantages and have done so many bad things, but in reality, they hardly have to pay any price.

But every night so far, more lives have been taken.

When he first met Iguro, he couldn't even lift a knife. How long did it take for Butterfly to get over her trauma? Tokito is still just a child, at an age when he should be being cared for by his parents. Kamado had a wonderful family, but now only his one sister is left.

They caused so many tragedies and massacres, so many families were torn apart, so many wives and children were separated, yet the ghosts never received any punishment.

That's so unfair.

My body is heavy, my arms are tired, my bones must be broken, and I'm having trouble breathing because the building is pressing down on me. I can't see the light because I'm trapped, because it's still dark, the sun hasn't come out yet, daytime hasn't arrived, and the battle isn't over.

Now is not the time to rest.

Yes, the sun hasn't risen yet, Muzan is still alive, he needs to stand up, he needs to go back and do something.

Go join the battle, participate in the battle, and offer even the smallest bit of help. At least we can't just stay here and lie there any longer.

Strange, is the Nichirin Blade really that heavy? Are his hands and feet really that stiff? His vision is so blurry he can barely see anything. Are all these things pressing down on him really that heavy?

Breathing is so difficult. With each breath, the broken bones seem to move, causing even more pain. Rinko is indeed very powerful.

He initially intended to persuade them, but he didn't expect the other party to have killed so many people, and the opportunity to negotiate was lost. He originally wanted to kill them with his own hands, but now it seems that he was too arrogant. He was completely unable to gain the upper hand when he encountered the Upper Moon before, but he naively thought that he could let Rinko rest in peace by cooperating with Kamado and Giyu.

How naive.

But at least.

I still want to tell the other person some things, even before Rinko dies.

It was before he died.

My body has never felt so heavy. I had only crawled out of the pile of garbage that was pressing down on me, yet I was almost completely exhausted. What a sorry sight.

"Huh...huh..."

My breathing is so heavy, completely disordered. This won't do. I need to adjust. Even if it hurts, I have to endure it. Even if I'm tired, I have to control myself. As a pillar, I have to be a role model for others. I have to take responsibility. I have to keep fighting to protect others.

This is not the end.

It won't be over until someone dies a horrible death.

"Splash."

The sound of gravel rolling down.

Something was pushed aside, and someone crawled out alive.

Kyojuro instinctively turned around, first noticing the small, trembling pile of rubble that kept rolling as it was pushed. He paused as he was about to approach, because the first thing he saw was a hand, a very small hand.

The child's hand.

Of course, there wouldn't actually be a child on this battlefield.

Hand, then arm, that hand stretched out, grabbing whatever it could, not caring if it would chafe the hand, just gripping it tightly, not caring if splinters pierced the palm, just pulling and dragging, then short hair completely covered in dust and gray, the other hand, when the head was raised, you could see the words carved in the eyes.

The body reacted even before the brain, and by the time it realized it, it had already gripped the knife and given chase.

"Breath of Flame, First Form, Shiranui".

The falling blade didn't strike the neck; instead, it was caught by the raised hand, which gripped it firmly. As it pressed down, it cut through the skin, dug into the flesh, and scraped against the bone with a grating sound.

"Don't look down on me, Kyojuro."

The deep, hoarse, and rough voice was almost unlike the voice of Rinko he remembered. It was unlike the voice of the boy who was tightly gripping his knife.

The voice was hoarse, the tone was harsh, and the hand gripping his was trembling, not from exhaustion or fear, but from anger, a boundless anger that he could almost feel, like a wild animal cornered.

It bared its fangs and claws, and let out a low, hoarse roar—a threat and a warning.

"I'm not in the mood or have the time to play with you right now."

The hand gripped the knife so tightly that it couldn't be pulled out.

"Breath of Flames, Form of Unbridled Power, Vortex of Blazing Flames."

The body rotated, moving the knife, which in turn moved the arm. The hand was so forceful that even as it severed the bone, the fingers remained clenched.

By the time he adjusted his posture, the best opportunity had already passed. Rin had successfully pulled himself out of the rubble and stood on the ground. His clothes were covered in dust and blood, but his limbs were unusually clean. He must have broken his hands and feet repeatedly and then healed them to climb out of the rubble.

"Get out of my way, Kyojuro, don't block my path."

Rinko stood on the ground, breathing heavily, her body slightly hunched, her arms hanging down in front of her, like a wild beast ready to hunt. The sense of oppression was so strong. Even though that boy had always been quiet, always the less conspicuous one, always the one who would go unnoticed, at this moment, the sense of oppression was so real, pressing down on her shoulders, making her fingers tremble slightly.

“Your bones are broken, your eyes are almost blind, and your legs and hands are trembling. You’re only standing here because of your willpower. If you continue, you’ll only die. Kyojuro, I’ve let you go many times, but this time, if you don’t move aside, even if you die here, I won’t mourn for you.”

That's a terrible statement, but what's even more terrible is probably...

Kyojuro knew perfectly well that this was not just empty threats, but real, completely real. Both the descriptions of him and the threats were definitely true.

but.

With his hand gripping the blade tightly, he wouldn't back down even if he trembled, and he wouldn't fall even if he couldn't stand.

Because he is the child of the Rengoku family, the child raised by his mother, the child of his father, and the Rengoku Kyojuro of the Demon Slayer Corps.

It is the Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyojuro.

"I won't move aside! I won't! I'd rather die than move aside! So if you want to get past me, then bring it on, Rinko!"