The battle between them grew more and more brutal. Uzui Tengen's breathing turned ragged, his wounded back bleeding nonstop until half his haori was dyed red.
Akaza's fists rained down like a storm, his black fighting aura nearly solidified. Each collision numbed Tengen's arms, and even the vibration of his twin Nichirin blades began to falter.
The Sound Hashira had clearly fallen behind—his score's calculated openings were shrinking, his dodges growing slower and sloppier.
From the shadow of a broken wall, Tomioka Giyu gripped the hilt of his Nichirin sword tightly, knuckles pale and stiff. He could feel Akaza's killing intent as clearly as the air itself—and he could see Tengen faltering.
But the shared awareness among demons was a blade over his neck. If he intervened to help, Muzan would sense it instantly. The punishment for betrayal was death—swift and absolute.
All he could do was clench his sword harder and silently pray for a change, for anything that might turn the tide.
"Huff… huff… this is… so damn un-flashy…"
Tengen gritted his teeth, blood spilling from his mouth, but he refused to loosen his grip on his blades.
Just as Akaza's fist neared his chest, a burning sensation shot through his body. His blood roared as if it were fire. His heart thundered so hard it felt like it might burst from his ribs.
Then, across his forehead and cheeks, red markings began to appear—patterns like musical notes etched in flame.
It was a Mark.
The moment it awakened, his aura exploded. Power surged through his exhausted limbs, his blades thrummed with renewed life. The vibration frequency of his weapons spiked, their silver-violet light turning razor-sharp.
"Sound Breathing, Sixth Form: Fiery Arrow Burst!"
He slashed fiercely, blades scattering like broken soundwaves, each strike twice as fast as before.
Akaza's pupils narrowed—he could feel it instantly. "What is this? A human's power can still rise higher?"
Caution replaced arrogance. Black aura gathered around his fists once again, and he drove forward, meeting the onslaught head-on.
The once one-sided battle balanced out again. The clash of metal and the thunder of exploding energy filled the air, shaking the ruins until wooden beams crumbled and stone walls collapsed.
But Akaza's patience wore thin. He began unleashing his Blood Demon Art in rapid succession.
"Destructive Death: Leg Type—Crown Splitter!" His toes flared with energy, slashing toward Tengen's wrists like blades.
"Destructive Death: Eight-Layered Demon Core!" He punched with both fists, black aura bursting into a storm of light pillars aimed to crush Tengen entirely.
Tengen sensed the intent immediately and increased his tempo, blades whirling so fast the air screamed.
"Sound Breathing, First Form: Roar!"
The twin Nichirin blades vibrated at a piercing pitch, soundwaves erupting outward while a flood of violet light rained down upon Akaza, a storm meant to break his rhythm before he could finish forming his attack.
But Akaza thrived on speed. Instead of being disrupted, he grinned, excitement gleaming in his eyes as he adapted to the chaotic tempo.
The battle reached its boiling point.
Tengen caught a narrow opening—his blades crossed in a deadly arc toward Akaza's neck.
This was his final chance, his strongest strike under the Mark's awakening.
But Akaza had already anticipated it. Just before the blades could touch his throat, he triggered another technique.
"Destructive Death: Leg Type—Flying Meteor Thousand Wheels!"
The energy at his feet condensed into bladed force, his kick slicing across both Nichirin swords.
With a pair of sharp cracks, both blades shattered. Fragments of steel spun through the air, embedding deep into the shattered wall behind him.
Tengen's eyes widened. In an instant, he had lost his weapons—and his advantage.
Akaza didn't give him a moment to recover. His body twisted midair, black energy spiraling violently around him.
"Destructive Death: Final Form—Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow!"
Waves of black aura exploded outward, crashing down like a storm of meteors.
Tengen couldn't dodge in time. Dozens of strikes tore into him, each impact cracking bone and bursting blood.
His body was hurled through the air like a broken kite, slamming into the wall behind him. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and crumpled to the ground, his strength spent.
"You've lost, Tengen."
Akaza looked down at him, voice calm but solemn. "I respect the strong. I'll give you a swift death."
Akaza landed heavily on the ground and stepped toward Tengen. He stretched out his hand, ready to crush Tengen's heart and devour his body—strong Hashira were the finest "nourishment" for demons.
From the shadows, Giyu stood frozen. The struggle within him had reached its breaking point.
If he saved Tengen, his identity would be exposed, and Muzan would erase him instantly.
If he didn't, Tengen would die.
He watched Akaza's hand close in on Tengen's chest. His grip tightened around his Nichirin sword. Just as he was about to rush forward, a clear young voice cut through the air:
"Mist Breathing, Fourth Form: Shifting Flow Slash!"
A pale-blue flash of light sliced through the night like mist, so fast it was almost invisible.
Akaza felt a sudden chill at his shoulder. When he looked down, his right arm had been severed clean off, black blood gushing into the air.
He whipped his head up, eyes narrowing. A boy in a long Demon Slayer uniform stood beside Tengen—Tokito Muichiro.
"Another Hashira?" Akaza's face darkened. Black vapor swirled from his stump as his arm began to regenerate rapidly.
Before Giyu could react, something massive crashed down from above—a weighted chain hammer, smashing into the earth right beside him. The impact cracked the ground open in a deep crater.
It was Himejima Gyomei's meteor hammer.
"Amitabha… Mushiki. This time, you will not escape."
Giyu barely steadied himself when a sharp green flash streaked toward him—so fast that even his demonic reflexes couldn't fully evade.
"Wind Breathing, Sixth Form: Black Wind Mountain Mist!"
Shinazugawa Sanemi's voice rang out, followed by the sharp slice of metal meeting flesh.
With a tearing sound, Giyu's left arm was severed clean at the shoulder. Black blood splattered across the rubble, the severed limb twitching on the ground before going still.
He clutched the wound tightly, black mist pouring from the cut as his regeneration began.
Before him stood the Stone Hashira, the Wind Hashira, and the Mist Hashira. He understood instantly—this was no coincidence. The Hashira had planned this ambush long before, waiting for the chance to strike at both him and Akaza.
Akaza's golden eyes lit up with pure battle ecstasy. His right arm fully regenerated, he clenched his fists, dark energy swirling around him once again.
"Good! Very good! Three Hashira at once! Perfect! I'll fight until I'm satisfied!"
Tengen, still lying on the ground, forced a weak grin. "You guys… finally made it…"
Muichiro knelt beside him, checking his injuries. "Tengen-san, stay calm. The Kakushi will be here soon."
Gyomei raised his flail and axe, his expression solemn, eyes focused entirely on Giyu. "Mushiki, you betrayed the Corps and sided with demons. For Oyakata-sama's sake, we'll purge you here and now."
Sanemi stepped forward, Nichirin sword in hand, his eyes burning with fury. "You slipped away last time. But not again. I'll personally take your head this time!"
Giyu stood silent, the wound at his shoulder still closing, steam-like mist curling from it. His gaze shifted from the three Hashira to the bloodthirsty Akaza beside them.
There was no retreat left.
Fine, then—he would test just how far the Demon Slayer Corps had grown since he last stood among them.
He raised his sword, faint blue ripples of water glimmering along the blade's edge. His dark-blue pupils hardened, calm and fearless.
"Come at me with everything you've got."
The air thickened, the battlefield falling into absolute silence.
The three Hashira faced off against two Upper Moons.
A new and even fiercer battle was about to erupt.