Swish!
The crisp, clean sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the suddenly silent banquet hall.
Shinichi brought his green Nichirin blade to bear, its tip pointed directly at Kamaro.
"Are you ready?"
Shinichi's cold words cut through the air.
Though surrounded by guards, pinned by dozens of angry and fearful stares, he seemed to exist in a world apart.
His gaze traveled over the black muzzles of the pistols, past the smirking demon on the stairs, and swept across the so-called human elite—men in fine suits who reeked of decadence and decay.
Then, just as everyone, including Kamaro himself, braced for a thundering attack on the demon… Shinichi's gaze shifted.
It locked onto several of the high-ranking officials and generals in the crowd.
And the cold fury in his eyes was replaced by something deeper, something incomprehensible.
A burning, hellish scarlet.
That's right.
Scarlet.
With a flick of his wrist, Shinichi threw his sword.
The green blade, wrapped in a shimmering green aura, shot like an arrow straight at Kamaro.
The flying blade was the signal.
CRACK!
The massive glass windows above Kamaro's head shattered inward!
Two figures, one maple-red and one cyan-blue, dropped into the room like lightning.
"Breath of Maple, Second Form: Dancing Blaze Slash!"
"Breath of Mist, Fourth Form: Shifting Flow Slash!"
The blades of the Tokito brothers, Yuichiro and Muichiro, descended in a pincer attack, instantly cutting off all of Kamaro's escape routes.
Further back, the Wave Hashira Sabito bypassed the fight entirely, rushing toward the room where Chinatsu was being held captive.
"Oh my, this is unexpected. A high-powered team, all at once," Kamaro mused, his voice laced with amusement as he sidestepped the initial assault.
"The Demon Slayer Corps truly thinks highly of me. I'm flattered."
He was, however, puzzled by Shinichi, who, after throwing his sword, had simply stopped moving.
What is he planning?
The moment his team was in motion, Shinichi exploded.
Deep within his amber eyes, the demonic blood he had kept suppressed for so long was intentionally, violently, unleashed.
BOOM!
A wave of scorching heat erupted from him, blasting the police and bodyguards who were closing in on him backward.
"What's happening to him?!" the dignitaries cried out, stunned by the sudden turn.
But something far more shocking was about to happen.
Vicious, blood-red lines snaked up Shinichi's neck, crawling across his cheek like living veins.
His right eye bled into a solid, demonic scarlet.
The corners of his mouth tore upwards into a snarl as sharp, white fangs pierced his lower lip, dripping hot blood.
Vicious claws extended from his fingertips.
The vast, peaceful aura of the forest that always surrounded him vanished, replaced by a violent, demonic energy that seemed to burn the very air.
"GRAAAH!"
A low, guttural roar burst from the depths of his throat, a sound filled not just with brutality, but with the wails of countless wronged souls.
It shook the crystal chandeliers, making them tremble and chime a frantic, discordant tune.
A terrifying pressure, centered on Shinichi, slammed through the room like a tsunami.
The dignitaries who were too close screamed and tried to flee; some simply fainted from sheer terror.
He had transformed.
In full view of everyone, Shinichi, a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, had brazenly become a demon.
The scene was beyond anyone's comprehension.
The human elites, Kamaro on the stairs, and even Shinichi's own comrades were frozen in stunned disbelief.
"Master… Master?!" Yuichiro's eyes were wide with horror, his blade hesitating in the air as his voice cracked.
The hypocritical smile on Kamaro's face finally froze.
The pupils behind his gold-rimmed glasses contracted, revealing genuine, unadulterated shock.
He had anticipated a hundred different reactions from Shinichi, but this?
Turning into a demon, here, in front of the very humans he was meant to protect?
Was the man insane?
But they didn't know.
The catalyst that had pushed Shinichi over the edge wasn't just anger at Kamaro.
It was a blood debt, buried deep in his soul, from another time, another life.
In the flood of his past-life memories, these faces—the fat general, the sinister cabinet minister—they were not just corrupt officials.
They, their descendants, and their ideology would soon transform into the most brutal of beasts, bringing an inhuman massacre to Asian continent.
These were the executioners, the war criminals, still enjoying their champagne and celebrating their power.
The sins that clung to them were fouler than any demon's.
A demon's evil was a curse, an instinct to survive.
The evil of these men was a choice.
Tonight, his actions might damn him.
He might become a monster in the eyes of his own comrades.
But his soul would not regret it.
"You… you're a demon?! How can a demon be in the Demon Slayer Corps?!" a fat-headed lieutenant general shrieked, collapsing to the floor in a puddle of his own making.
Shinichi's fully scarlet eye snapped to him.
"So you do know of demons," he snarled, his voice a distorted rasp.
"Then why, General, do you associate with them?"
His figure vanished, leaving a sonic boom in his wake.
The next second, he reappeared in front of the general.
His black claws, screaming through the air, swung down without mercy.
SPLAT!
The general's massive head exploded like a watermelon hit with a sledgehammer.
A grotesque firework of red and white sprayed across the horrified faces of the surrounding dignitaries.
For a moment, there was dead silence.
Then, the room erupted in hysterical, collapsing screams.
Shinichi stood before the headless corpse, bathed in blood, his crimson eye a vortex of hell as it slowly scanned the cowering elites.
"Monster!"
"Help me! Someone save me!"
"Don't kill me! I have money! I'll give you everything!"
Amid the begging and screaming, a few sporadic gunshots rang out, the bullets having no effect.
The police inspector, Sato, had long since fled with his men, locking the ballroom doors from the outside—a cowardly act that had, ironically, trapped Shinichi's prey for him.
His scarlet eye locked onto an old cabinet official trying to secretly draw a pistol.
Swish!
The claws flashed again.
The man's arm, along with the gun in his hand, was severed at the shoulder.
Blood gushed as he fell to the ground, howling like a slaughtered pig.
Shinichi was a tiger loosed upon sheep.
His demonic form weaved through the panicking crowd.
Every flash of his claws brought a spray of beautiful, tragic crimson and a desperate scream.
He wasn't massacring them indiscriminately.
Like a surgeon of vengeance, he was targeting specific individuals—those whose faces he remembered from his past life, those whose auras of corruption were the strongest, those who still tried to fight back.
Broken limbs, shattered bones, and splattered blood transformed the magnificent ballroom into a hellish abattoir.
On the second floor, Kamaro had melted back into the shadows, easily evading the Tokito brothers' attacks.
The initial shock on his face was gone, replaced by an expression of profound, complex fascination—a mixture of amusement, awe, and an almost academic appreciation.
"What an unexpected development," he murmured to himself, his eyes flickering with a strange light as he watched the demonic Hashira systematically dismember the leadership of Japan.
"Shinichi Moriki… what in the world… could possibly make you this angry?"
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Note : Shinichi was angry at the army generals cause in his past life this same people is the one who ordered a massacree on china (nanqing massacree), i change it to whole south and south east asian instead.