The demons had no chance.
Wherever Sahiru walked, they died—
without warning, without sound, without mercy.
One after another, towns and villages that trembled under demon threat now sang songs of a lone swordsman with scarlet and violet eyes.
A ghost in the dark.
A shadow of vengeance.
A storm with a sword.
Kenta watched him from afar. He had sent scouts—none of whom could even keep up with Sahiru's movements. When he saw the aftermath of Sahiru's battles himself—dozens of corpses of demons, wiped out with surgical precision—it terrified him.
But it wasn't just the carnage.
It was his eyes.
Emotionless.
Silent.
Burning.
He finally called Sahiru back.
In a quiet room, Kenta poured tea with shaking hands.
"You've become… unstoppable. But something's tearing you apart."
Sahiru sat, quietly sharpening his blade.
"I fight. That's all that's left."
Kenta sighed, setting down the cup.
His next words were firm but kind.
"Then from now on… you will no longer take orders. No more missions from me. You will choose what you want to do.
You've earned your own path, Sahiru Orasawa."
There was no protest.
No emotion.
Just a slow nod.
That night, Sahiru sat by a quiet river under the stars.
The moon reflected on the still water, casting gentle light across his face.
He removed his hat and set it beside him. His scarlet and violet eyes stared into the ripples—at himself.
And then…
A soft smile.
"I'm smiling for you, Suzune."
A breeze passed.
The river sparkled.
Somewhere far above, maybe… she smiled back.