Wood Demon - Chapter 19
Chapter 19: Flight from the Slaughter
The cacophony of battle – Rui’s enraged, pain-filled roars, the sharp, resonant twang of his threads slicing through trees like monstrous cello strings, the answering shouts and explosive exhalations of Demon Slayers – was their grim, relentless motivator. Jack, with Saya’s trembling hand clutched tightly in his, led their small, terrified party away from the epicenter of the slaughter. The Mother, her beautiful face a mask of stark terror, stumbled blindly after them, occasionally letting out a stifled whimper that was quickly swallowed by the surrounding chaos. The hulking Spider Father, his monstrous arachnid features contorted in what might have been fear or primal fury, moved with surprising stealth for his size, his multiple eyes darting nervously through the web-choked, moon-dappled undergrowth.
Jack’s `Root Sense` was stretched to its absolute limit, a desperate, invisible net cast through the earth, trying to pick up the vibrations of approaching Slayer patrols or the tell-tale tremor of Rui’s more destructive attacks. His `Camouflage Carapace` was a flickering, inconstant shroud, him willing bark and leaves to momentarily obscure their passage as they darted between the ancient, gnarled trees of Natagumo. This wasn’t a strategic retreat; it was a desperate, panicked flight, with Jack improvising their path second by second.
“This way!” he’d hiss, pulling Saya around a thicket where his senses screamed of nearby Slayers. He’d use his BDA subtly, trying to avoid drawing attention. A patch of `Entangling Roots` would suddenly sprout across a game trail behind them, not to stop a Slayer – he knew that was futile – but perhaps to make them stumble, to buy a precious, fleeting moment. He’d coax `Moonpetal Moss` to bloom in confusing, brief flashes in the opposite direction of their travel, a desperate, probably useless attempt at misdirection.
“Every shadow could hold a Slayer with a very pointy sword, every unexpected sound could be Rui’s dying screams or a Hashira deciding our general vicinity needs aggressive, immediate purging,” Jack muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, the words a grim litany. “This isn’t an escape; it’s a Hail Mary prayer whispered into the teeth of a goddamn hurricane.”
They skirted the edges of several smaller skirmishes, the sights and sounds etching themselves into Jack’s unwilling memory. Grotesque spider-puppets, their human forms twisted into nightmarish parodies, being sliced apart with brutal efficiency. The acrid scent of demonic blood, so different from human, mixing with the sharp, metallic tang of drawn Nichirin steel. He saw a young Slayer, barely more than a boy, his face pale but determined, fall with a choked cry as a multi-limbed demon, one of Rui’s more distant, forcibly mutated ‘kin,’ overwhelmed him before being swiftly avenged by two older comrades. The sheer, unrelenting brutality of it all was sickening. Jack felt a profound weariness, a soul-deep exhaustion that had nothing to do with his demonic stamina.
After what felt like an eternity of heart-stopping near-misses and desperate scrambles through the undergrowth, they reached a temporary respite – a narrow, rocky ridge overlooking a mist-filled ravine. The sounds of the main battle, particularly Rui’s distinct, furious roars, were slightly more distant here, though still terrifyingly audible. They collapsed behind a series of jagged boulders, gasping for breath, their demonic bodies thrumming with adrenaline and fear.
It was from this precarious vantage point that they saw it – a display of power so absolute, so terrifyingly graceful, it froze the very blood in Jack’s veins.
Across the ravine, on an adjacent slope, a battle was raging. Several larger, more formidable spider-constructs, demons that would have given Jack serious trouble even at his current Level 37, were converging on a single, lone figure. The figure moved like liquid shadow, a flash of a distinct, mismatched haori – one side a deep, solid crimson, the other a complex geometric pattern of green and yellow. Jack’s manga-corrupted brain supplied the name before he could even fully process the image: Giyu Tomioka, the Water Hashira.
There was no wasted movement, no overt display of effort. Just a quiet, focused intensity. His blade, when it appeared from its sheath, seemed to flow like water itself, yet it struck with the force of a tidal wave. One moment, a hulking, multi-eyed spider demon was lunging, its fangs bared; the next, its head was tumbling through the air, its body collapsing into rapidly dissolving ash before it even hit the ground. Giyu didn’t even seem to pause. His `Water Breathing` forms were things of deadly, impossible beauty – `Constant Flux`, `Striking Tide` – each one a perfect, economical execution that left only death and dissipating demonic essence in its wake. He dispatched three powerful demons in the span of as many breaths, then simply… stood there for a moment, the moonlight glinting off his calm, almost indifferent face, before vanishing back into the shadows as silently as he had appeared.
The sheer, overwhelming pressure of his aura, even from this distance, had been immense, a palpable wave of focused, killing intent that made Jack’s demonic instincts scream in primal terror.
“Okay,” Jack breathed, his voice a dry, shaky whisper. He felt Saya trembling uncontrollably beside him. Even the Father was emitting a low, distressed rumble. “That… that’s a Hashira. That’s what peak human lethality, refined into an art form, actually looks like. My little scuffle with Rui? That was a damn schoolyard shoving match compared to… that.” The image of Giyu’s effortless, absolute power solidified his earlier assessment beyond any shadow of a doubt. He could not fight these people. No demon on this mountain, perhaps not even Rui at his full, desperate fury, could truly stand against that kind of focused, overwhelming power for long. “We need to be on the other side of the planet, not just this mountain,” he added, mostly to himself. “Yesterday.”
The chilling glimpse of the Hashira’s prowess lent a new, frantic urgency to their flight. Jack led them on, deeper into the wilder, less-traveled parts of Natagumo, pushing them, and himself, to the limits of their endurance. Finally, as the sounds of battle grew fainter still, and a sliver of hope began to pierce through their terror, he guided them to a place he’d scouted during his earlier, more peaceful explorations with Woody Jr. – a deep, narrow cave, almost completely concealed by a thick curtain of ancient ivy and a jumble of fallen boulders, with a small, clear stream running nearby. It was as safe a sanctuary as they were likely to find on this cursed mountain.
They collapsed inside, the Mother openly weeping with a mixture of relief and terror, the Father slumping against a rock wall with a shuddering exhalation. Saya leaned heavily against Jack, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
After a few moments, when their breathing had eased somewhat, Jack gently disengaged from Saya and focused his will. Wood and vines, drawn from the damp earth of the cave floor and the surrounding roots he could sense, began to coalesce, twisting and forming into a familiar, rough-hewn shape. His `Verdant Doppelgänger`.
“Alright, listen up, new plan,” Jack said, his voice low but firm, trying to project a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. “This,” he gestured to the newly formed clone, “is Woody the Second. Again. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he knows the way.” The clone gave a jerky, unsettlingly enthusiastic wave. “He’s going to lead you west, further down the mountain, towards the Ashida River. It’s a good few miles, but it’s away from the main Slayer activity. Stick to the densest parts of the forest, move only when he indicates. He’ll get you clear.”
The Mother and Father looked at the clone with a mixture of fear and awe, but nodded their understanding. Anything that promised escape.
Saya, however, stared at Jack, her dark eyes, still luminous even in her true form, filled with a dawning, horrified suspicion. “He’ll lead us?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What about you, Jack? Where are you going?”
Jack couldn’t meet her gaze. He looked down at his hands, then at the rough stone floor of the cave. The words felt like lead in his throat. The image of Rui, not the Lower Moon, but the sobbing, broken child on the mountaintop, overlaid itself with the sounds of Rui’s current, distant, and undoubtedly doomed battle. The plea he had made, the tragic story Rui had shared, his own words about Rui’s parents still loving him… it all churned within him, a toxic brew of pity, guilt, and a bizarre, unwelcome sense of responsibility.
“I… I can’t leave him, Saya,” he finally managed, the words barely a whisper.
Saya’s breath hitched. “Leave who?” she asked, though her expression indicated she already feared the answer. “The Slayers? We are leaving them! That’s the whole point!”
“No,” Jack said, finally looking up, his own eyes filled with a pain that mirrored hers. “Not them. Rui.”
A choked sound escaped Saya. “Rui?!” Her voice rose, sharp with disbelief and horror. “Jack, are you insane?! He tried to kill us! He is killing Slayers as we speak! He’s a monster! A monster who would have slaughtered you without a second thought! He’ll kill you!”
“He’s also just a kid, Saya,” Jack said, his voice heavy, weary. “A lost, broken kid who never had a real chance, who’s been drowning in pain and hatred for centuries. That rage, that cruelty… it’s all he’s ever known, all he has left. After what I said to him on the mountain… after he told me about his parents… he’s still my ‘little brother’ in this screwed-up, nightmare family, isn’t he? I know it’s crazy. I know it makes no sense. But I can’t just… I can’t just let him die out there alone, fighting a battle he can’t possibly win, truly believing that everyone abandoned him, that he was right all along.” His own words from their mountaintop conversation echoed in his mind: It doesn’t mean the love was gone, Rui… They loved you. How could he say that, then walk away now?
Saya stared at him, her beautiful face a maelstrom of conflicting emotions: fear for him, anger at his decision, a profound, heartbreaking sorrow. “So that’s it?” she finally whispered, tears welling in her eyes, her voice cracking. “After everything we’ve been through? After he tried to kill me, to kill you? After he kept us all as his prisoners, his puppets? You choose him? Him, over us? Over… over me?” Her unspoken plea hung heavy in the air, an impossible ultimatum.
Jack felt his own heart clench. This was an impossible choice. His tactical mind, his every survival instinct, screamed at him that going back for Rui was not just foolish, it was tantamount to suicide. But the image of that weeping child, the weight of his own words, the unexpected, unwelcome pang of a twisted familial duty… it was a current too strong to fight.
He looked at Saya, his own expression filled with an agony that mirrored hers. “Saya, it’s not about choosing him over you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You know that’s not it. It’s… it’s something I have to do. I don’t expect you to understand. Hell, maybe I don’t even understand it myself.” He thought of the family he’d killed in his first, blind hunger, the weight of that cruelty. “But I can’t… I can’t be that person again. The one who just walks away, who lets the horror happen. I have to see if… if there’s anything left of that kid to save. Or at least,” his voice dropped, “if he doesn’t have to die completely alone and hated by everyone, even the brother he tried to kill.”
He gently touched her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Please, Saya. Go with them. Be safe. That’s all I want for you right now.”
He turned to his Verdant Doppelgänger, then to the terrified Mother and Father. “Go. Now. Woody the Second will keep you on the safest paths. Don’t stop until you’re miles from this cursed mountain.”
The clone nodded jerkily and gestured for the others to follow. The Mother and Father, after a moment of bewildered hesitation, scrambled to obey, their desperation overriding any other emotion.
Saya looked at Jack one last time, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking mixture of love, fear, and a terrible, dawning resignation. Then, with a choked sob, she turned and followed the clone out of the cave, disappearing into the shadowy forest.
Jack watched them go until they were out of sight. Then, with a heavy heart and the grim certainty that he was probably walking to his own death, he turned back towards the heart of the fighting, towards the sound of a Lower Moon’s final, furious stand. He was a fool, a sentimental idiot. But he was also, in some twisted, broken way, an older brother.