The air reeked of blood.
The collapsed streets and shattered houses had become a scene straight out of hell.
Nothing remained on the torn earth but ruins, dust mingling with dark-red bloodstains that slowly dried beneath the morning sun.
Wave after wave of Demon Slayers had already fallen.
Young and old alike, whether they were rookies who had only recently survived Final Selection or veteran swordsmen hardened by countless battles, they continued charging toward the figure wreaking havoc beneath the sunlight like moths throwing themselves into a flame.
Their blades flashed beneath the sun, brilliant but fleeting.
Muzan's thorn whips lashed through the air, and every sweep brought down one Demon Slayer, sometimes several at once.
"Why can't you understand?!" Muzan shouted irritably, though an emotion even he could not quite identify had begun creeping into his voice.
"You cannot kill me! You have no way to kill what I've become! Charging at me will only get you killed! Stop coming!"
"Then we'll die!"
A young Demon Slayer roared and hurled his Nichirin blade at Muzan's face with the last of his strength.
"Even if all I can do is wound you, then my life was worth it!"
The blade skimmed Muzan's cheek and left a shallow cut.
It healed almost immediately beneath the sunlight, disappearing as though it had never existed.
But the smile on the young swordsman's face as he collapsed made Muzan's expression darken further.
"Lunatics!" Muzan's pupils contracted as he snapped in furious frustration. "Every last one of you is insane!"
The Hashira were attacking alongside the other Demon Slayers, desperately throwing themselves at Muzan despite their injuries.
Some were only lightly wounded, while others were barely able to stand, but not one of them chose to retreat.
Sanemi Shinazugawa glared at Muzan with his one remaining eye.
His original Nichirin blade had finally shattered completely, so the sword he now held had belonged to a fallen Demon Slayer, who had thrown it to Sanemi with his final breath.
Kanae Kocho pressed a hand against the wound at her waist, tears gathering in her eyes.
A Kakushi was forcibly keeping her behind the front line alongside Tengen Uzui.
Her wounds were so severe that she could no longer even stand on her own, yet as she watched her comrades fight and die before her, frustration and helpless urgency twisted painfully in her chest.
Pshk!
Kyojuro Rengoku was down on one knee, breathing heavily, blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth, when his vision suddenly went dark.
He jerked his head up and found a broad back standing in front of him.
Gyomei Himejima's Nichirin spiked flail and great axe were covered in cracks, yet his massive body still stood like a mountain.
A thorn whip had pierced straight through his abdomen.
Blood poured steadily from the wound.
"Gyomei!" Kyojuro cried out in alarm.
Judging from the height of the attack, if Gyomei had not stepped in, that thorn whip would have gone straight through Kyojuro's forehead.
"Namu Amida Butsu…"
Gyomei gritted his teeth and quietly recited the Buddhist prayer.
His voice trembled faintly, yet it carried a strength that seemed to reach straight into the hearts of everyone who heard it.
"Today is the day we lay down our lives!"
The thorn whip embedded in Gyomei's abdomen suddenly tore itself free, bringing with it a spray of dark-red blood.
Gyomei's body shuddered.
But he did not fall.
"One after another, generation after generation—this is the will of the Demon Slayer Corps. Every life sacrificed today is given so that this world may finally know peace!"
Muzan's expression stiffened.
He stared at that blood-soaked man still standing like an unshakable mountain, and for the briefest instant, something flickered through his crimson eyes—something even Muzan himself failed to recognize.
"One after another…?" Muzan murmured.
Gyomei slowly raised his head.
His sightless eyes seemed to "look" directly toward Muzan.
His voice was not loud, yet every Demon Slayer on the battlefield heard it clearly, and those words reached every heart still beating.
"The day we give our lives is the day every demon is slain! So long as this flame burns, our resolve will never die. The Demon Slayer Corps will live on forever!"
The moment those final words left his mouth, an unprecedentedly terrifying aura erupted from Gyomei's body.
The dark Demon Slayer Mark on his arms, which had nearly faded, seemed to ignite once more.
Tremendous power surged through him and into the Nichirin spiked flail and great axe in his hands.
Their temperature soared.
The Bright Red Nichirin weapons awakened once more.
But the power of the Mark and the bright red weapons came at a price: Gyomei was burning through what little life he had left.
"Gyomei-san!!"
"Lord Stone Hashira!!"
Gyomei's resolve ignited the fighting spirit of every Demon Slayer around him.
Their will blazed brighter as they followed his towering figure and charged toward Muzan once more.
Muzan's pupils shrank violently.
'The Mark.'
'Bright Red Nichirin weapons.'
Both carried an aura that made his very soul tremble.
It was far too similar to the presence of that man from centuries ago.
That determination to face death without hesitation, to sacrifice absolutely everything if it meant killing a demon, dragged the fear Muzan had buried for hundreds of years back from the depths of his heart.
Gyomei's actions were like a spark cast into a field of dry grass.
In an instant, the resolve of every Hashira caught fire.
"The day we give our lives!"
Kyojuro's booming voice rang out.
His Nichirin blade erupted with scorching orange-red light, and a flame-shaped Demon Slayer Mark appeared across his neck.
"If I don't kill this bastard, I don't deserve the name Shinazugawa!"
Sanemi roared as the windmill-shaped Mark on his body flared to life.
At the same time, the blade in his hand turned bright red, emerald-green light exploding around him.
Mitsuri's cherry-blossom-shaped Mark glowed across her skin.
The bloody wound on her face was still painfully visible, but she turned toward Obanai with a smile, both hopeful and nervous.
"Obanai-san… can we do this together?"
"Of course."
Obanai nodded without hesitation.
His gaze fell briefly on Mitsuri's hand. His own fingers twitched, but in the end, he still did not reach out to hold it.
A serpent-shaped Mark wound across his cheek, while his curved Nichirin blade began glowing bright red.
"Brother, I'll protect you and everyone else!"
Muichiro's voice remained calm, but his eyes were filled with unmistakable determination.
Cloud-like markings spread across the young swordsman's face, and the flash of a bright red blade appeared within the haze of Mist Breathing.
Sabito and Giyu Tomioka exchanged a glance.
Water-blue Marks appeared across their bodies like flowing rivers, while their bright red Nichirin blades shimmered beneath the sunlight.
"Master Urokodaki's will is with us!"
One Mark after another ignited across the ruins.
One Bright Red Nichirin blade after another blazed to life.
The figures surrounding Muzan looked like countless burning stars, trapping that dark-red figure at the center.
For the first time, Muzan's body began to tremble.
At last, he understood what had entered his heart.
Fear.
It was faint, so slight that it was almost impossible to notice, but it was undeniably there.
Muzan was afraid.
His gaze swept across the figures burning with Demon Slayer Marks and bright red blades, across the faces of humans who remained standing upright despite being drenched in blood.
They stood beneath the sunlight, and the terror Muzan had buried for centuries surged back into his heart like a returning tide.
It was the same fear he had once felt before Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
The fear of death.
"You…"
Muzan's voice trembled despite his efforts to suppress it.
He never finished.
Because the marked Hashira and more than a hundred Demon Slayers had already raised their swords and surged toward him.
Muzan's body instinctively took a step backward.
It was only the second time since becoming the progenitor of demons that fear of a human had forced him to retreat.
His pupils contracted sharply.
Then a single thought suddenly rose inside him.
'Run.'
Get away from here.
Get away from these lunatics.
The instinct to split himself apart and flee flooded his mind like a tidal wave. Muzan's body began to tremble faintly.
Even though he believed he was now powerful enough to slaughter every person standing before him, something deep inside his mind would not stop screaming the same word.
'RUN!'