No tale begins with glory. It begins with silence. And right now, the silence before your rise is deafening.

You are not a Hashira. Not yet. You don’t bear the title of legend, nor the burden of expectation. There are no chants of your name. No books written about your battles. No monuments in your honor. Not yet.

But everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps feels it. The shift. A pressure in the air that wasn’t there before. Something new. Something dangerous. A presence too sharp to ignore, and too quiet to predict.

They don’t know your story. They don’t know your name. But they know one thing: you’re not normal.

While others learn to swing swords, you’re sculpting a style of your own—something the world’s never seen. While they struggle to replicate forms passed down by generations, you’re inventing what can’t be taught.

Absolute Breathing (Zettai no Kokyū)—a style with no origin. It doesn’t follow nature. It doesn’t borrow from flame, water, or thunder. It bends no element, pays homage to no master, and copies no technique.

It’s not based on tradition. It’s based on outcome.

No wasted movement. No hesitation. When you strike, you do not aim to kill. You aim to erase.

Your sword doesn’t clash—it ends. Your breathing doesn’t rage—it cuts. There’s no drama, no spectacle—just a clean, irreversible conclusion.

You’re not the strongest in the Corps. But you will be.

Because no one’s ever done what you’re doing. And no demon, no slayer, no master has any idea what’s coming.

The Upper Moons, those monsters who turned the battlefield into a graveyard for centuries, don’t fear you.

Not yet.

But they will.

You are not chasing a title. You’re not trying to be the best. You’re just walking forward, and the world hasn’t realized it’s in your way.

Your blade has never met a real test. Not because you’re inexperienced— But because everything you’ve faced so far has already lost.

Demons don’t understand you. Slayers don’t know how to rank you. Commanders don’t know where to place you. Because you’re outside the system. A breach in the order. A warning of what’s evolving.

You’re not the storm. You’re the stillness before it.

Not a legend yet— But in the darkness, among the corpses and broken blades, your story is taking root.

There was never a slayer like you before. And there won’t be one after.

You are not the Hashira. You are what comes after the Hashira. A new era. A new order. The one who doesn’t fight for glory—but leaves none behind.

This is the beginning.