The mountaintop was in ruins. The shrine and the giant trees had collapsed, and everywhere monks trapped beneath broken beams and rubble cried out for help.
The mark on Giyu Tomioka's face had already faded. He knelt on one knee, gasping for breath, feeling as though his entire body had been drained dry.
In contrast, Asuka looked completely unaffected. Not only that, even the wounds he had suffered earlier had already healed. He stood there as if nothing had happened.
That sword…
Giyu was curious, but in the end he held his tongue.
As long as it could kill demons, nothing else mattered.
Asuka flicked Nugata, shaking off the last traces of demon blood it had not yet devoured, watching as it returned to its colorless Nichirin Blade form.
"Swordsman, what's your name?" Hakuji adjusted the boar mask and brushed the dust off it. "Your strength has improved again. It seems you've already stepped into the supreme realm…"
"Hey! You damn demon! Give me back my mask!" Inosuke charged forward recklessly, trying to snatch it back, but Hakuji simply tilted his body slightly and easily dodged the stumbling tackle.
"Hahaha, not now, kid! Let me use it for a few more days!"
Seeing how familiar he acted, Asuka felt a strange sense of unreality.
He could not understand why an Upper Rank demon would betray Kibutsuji Muzan and help the Demon Slayer Corps kill his own kind.
The only thing he could be certain of was that the spiritual pressure around this man carried no malice. That was the reason Asuka had not attacked.
He sheathed Nugata and examined the so called Fist Hashira.
"My name is Asuka."
Through the eyeholes of the boar mask, Hakuji looked at him and raised his hands, revealing fists covered in deep blue tattoos.
"I am a disciple of the Soryu Dojo. the Hashira of Fist Breathing, Hakuji. Pleased to meet you."
"Are you joking? What exactly are you planning?"
"Of course not. To be honest, I've even fought in a Blood Battle for rank replacement. Being a Hashira should be no problem for me."
"Answer my question." Asuka's eyes turned cold as he pressed the demon sharply.
Hakuji let out a soft laugh.
The arrogance that once filled his laughter was gone, replaced instead with a trace of resolve.
"My plan? It's simple. Every cell of flesh and blood inside my body keeps reminding me that I'm a demon with blood soaked hands."
"That kind of sin… even if I kill ten thousand pieces of trash like Doma, it still won't wash it away."
He stopped five steps away from Asuka, the distance he reserved for those he considered strong.
"I just suddenly understood something. Since I'm destined for hell anyway, I might as well do a few more things before I get there. At least then I can face my disappointed master, my lover, and my father."
Hakuji raised his head and looked at the night sky hidden behind thick clouds.
"When I send that man to hell, I'll follow him there myself and atone forever."
Asuka fell silent.
In Rukongai, he had seen countless wandering souls who would do anything to survive. He had also seen scum who struggled within their own sins.
At this moment, he sensed something in the other man that felt utterly lifeless.
A kind of determination that desired nothing except revenge and self destruction.
"...For now, I'll accept your explanation. But you must move together with me." Asuka said in a low voice.
He could not fully trust a former Upper Rank demon. If the fluctuations of his spiritual pressure ever showed signs of losing control, Asuka would immediately cut him down.
"Hey! Are you two done talking yet!" Inosuke jumped up angrily again, pointing at Hakuji. "My mask! Give it back! That's my family!"
Like a beast whose territory had been stolen, he pawed the ground furiously and prepared to charge again.
"Hahaha, kid, go train a few more years and come back!" Hakuji laughed, imitating Master Keizo's teasing tone as he toyed with Inosuke, making the boy scream in frustration.
For a brief moment, Hakuji felt the warmth of being human again.
Not long after, the figure of Kanao Tsuyuri arrived at the mountaintop with several members of the Demon Slayer Corps.
"Asuka! Teacher… she's safe!"
At the same time, thousands of miles away in Tokyo.
Crack!
The crisp sound of shattering glass echoed sharply through the dead silent night.
Kibutsuji Muzan, currently disguised as a child, stood in a room filled with stacks of books. His red vertical pupils stared fixedly at his right hand.
Just moments ago, he had felt a violent tremor rising from deep within his bloodline.
It was the death knell of a Twelve Kizuki soul.
"Doma… Doma's presence disappeared? How is that possible!!"
Muzan's voice was low and twisted. He could not believe what he had sensed.
Doma, whose personality was detestable but whose strength firmly secured his place among the Upper Ranks, had actually been erased?
"Ahhh!!"
In rage, he slammed his fist into a bookshelf, flipping it over with a crash as he roared furiously inside the room.
"Impossible! How is this possible! Who did it? A swordsman with a red blade? Was it Tanjiro Kamado!"
What angered him most was when he attempted to search through the blood connection between himself and Doma to see if any memory fragments remained, even just scattered images…
There was nothing.
Only a chaotic darkness and bone piercing cold answered him.
What the hell was going on?
Before he could even recover from the shock of Doma's death, a second wave of pain suddenly tore through his nerves.
It came from the direction of the Entertainment District.
"Daki… and Gyutaro as well?!"
The veins on Muzan's pale, almost sickly face bulged violently.
Beneath the elegant sleeve of his shirt, the skin began to writhe irregularly, revealing the extreme shock and fury within him.
In the flashes within his consciousness, he saw flames covering the entire Entertainment District.
A gaudy man holding two blades and covered in glittering ornaments… and a swordsman wrapped in bandages with a snake coiled around his body attacking Gyutaro together.
Blade light flashed. A swarm of snakes hissed.
Even though Gyutaro's poison had reached terrifying levels, it had failed to immediately bring down that cursed dual blade swordsman. The enemy seized an opening, and the two of them together drove their blades into Gyutaro's neck.
Daki… that stupid woman!
She was an Upper Rank demon! How could she not even deal with Tanjiro Kamado with those earrings!
"Red blade… another red blade!"
Tanjiro's sword burned with cherry red flames. Together with that ugly guy using Thunder Breathing, they cut off Daki's head.
"Trash! All of you are useless trash!"
Muzan flipped the desk in front of him in fury.
Countless precious medicines that had taken months to prepare spilled onto the floor, releasing pungent smoke. The materials he had painstakingly gathered were scattered everywhere.
One hundred and thirteen years.
For one hundred and thirteen years, the ranks of the Upper Moons had never changed.
That absolute dominance was the foundation of Muzan's confidence as a god.
But tonight, two pillars had collapsed one after another.
He forced himself to calm down and closed his eyes, attempting to enter the mental network of the Upper Rank demons.
He would retaliate. Those foolish demon hunters would pay the price.
Where was Akaza? Where was Hantengu? Where were those worthless beings?!
His consciousness began searching frantically through the sea of awareness.
According to the original arrangement, whether Akaza or Hantengu, both should have been monitoring the movements of the Demon Slayer Corps or searching for clues to the Blue Spider Lily.
But now, consumed by rage, Muzan only wanted the nearest demon to act immediately.
"Akaza… where are you? Kill them! Kill that boy with the earrings, kill that black haired swordsman!"
However, when his consciousness finally touched the demon blood signal belonging to Upper Rank Three…
What he saw made the thousand year old Demon King experience a feeling close to absurdity for the first time in his life.
Muzan's consciousness crossed thousands of miles.
He saw the ruins of Mount Myoko. He saw the shattered remains of Doma's ridiculous shrine.
And then he saw Akaza.
But it was no longer the familiar figure who always bowed his head obediently and pursued nothing but strength.
In the image, Akaza stood bare chested, with a filthy and extremely ridiculous boar mask on his head.
He stood there calmly, and beside him stood a Hashira level swordsman from the Demon Slayer Corps.
As if sensing something, he suddenly looked toward the empty air.
"Yo, boss."
##Discount##
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