The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves as Kamanue moved carefully through the shadows. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting fragmented patterns on the ground, but his sharp eyes cut through the darkness with ease. Muzan’s orders echoed in his mind, cold and unyielding. Failure wasn’t an option. He’d seen what happened to those who disappointed Muzan, and the thought alone sent a chill down his spine.

Kamanue’s steps quickened as he neared the edge of a small village, his senses straining to pick up any sign of human life. The faint sound of laughter reached his ears—a group of travelers somewhere in the distance. Time was running out, and the longer he hesitated, the more likely it was that Muzan would punish him. He clenched his fists, forcing his nerves to steady. He had to succeed.

Creeping through the shadows, he made his way closer to the village. His breath fogged in the cool night air, though he didn’t feel the cold. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional creak of a shutter or the distant bark of a dog. His golden eyes scanned every corner, every alley, searching for an isolated target.

Then, he heard it—soft footsteps coming from a nearby alley. A lone figure, wrapped in a cloak, walked briskly through the darkness, completely unaware of the predator watching from the shadows. Kamanue’s claws flexed instinctively as his lips curled into a nervous smile.

Perfect.

He would strike fast. He had no choice. Failure meant more than punishment—it meant death.