"So… some of them have arrived already?"
At that moment, a voice drifted into the clearing.
Doma stepped out from beneath the moonlight, his tone light and mocking.
His appearance made the remaining Twelve Kizuki tense up even further.
Muzan had only told them to come and kill Kokushibo tonight—he never mentioned that both traitors would be present.
Doma had also come alone, without any followers at his side.
Though few among his disciples were strong enough to take part in a battle of this scale, the Paradise Faith had grown vast in numbers—surpassing even the largest organizations of the Inheritors—and wielded enormous influence across the human world.
Otherwise, he would never have dared ask Oboro to make him his sole successor.
If he had relied only on overwhelming numbers, his chances of defeating Muzan would have been far greater.
But Doma clearly had no intention of doing so.
He wanted Muzan to be defeated without any excuses, and to die right here on this very ground.
"All new faces, aren't they? The latest batch of the Twelve Kizuki… Hmm, not many look worth noticing," Doma said as he walked over to stand beside Kokushibo, glancing coldly over the Upper and Lower Ranks surrounding them.
His words drew sharp, hostile glares from the more hot‑tempered demons.
"Oh dear… did I hurt your feelings? I suppose I should have phrased it more gently…" Doma feigned surprise, covering his mouth with his iron fan and smiling brightly.
SWOOSH!
The moment his voice faded, one Upper Rank lunged straight at him like a streak of light.
Carved into the pupil of his left eye was the number Three.
Upper Rank Three.
The rest of the Twelve Kizuki simply watched from the sidelines. Whoever struck down Doma or Kokushibo first would earn great merit.
They knew their enemies were formidable, but they held the advantage in numbers—six against one, and victory seemed possible.
And with Doma bringing no reinforcements, the opportunity was perfect!
Doma met the incoming killing intent with eyes that had suddenly lost their usual vibrant colors, turning as clear and cold as ice crystals.
His spirit, amplified by the power of his soul, erupted with a crushing force that washed over the entire space before him.
To his surprise, this Upper Rank Three cut right through the invisible wave of soul pressure like a sharp blade—remaining fully conscious, his speed and movements unhindered.
Clearly, his own mental strength was immense enough to withstand such pressure. He too had mastered techniques of the soul.
Soul power had become a standard ability for almost every powerful being in this new world.
"Hand over your head!" the demon roared as he closed in on Doma, who appeared too slow to react.
He held an old‑fashioned brush in his hand, channeling his Blood Demon Art, and touched the tip directly to Doma's chest.
Instantly, a bright red character—DEATH—etched itself across Doma's skin.
The next moment, it was as if a thousand blades were slicing into his flesh all at once.
Every part of his body was being torn apart by an invisible force. Doma trembled violently, yet what sprayed from his wounds was not blood…
…but fine shards of ice.
Upper Rank Three's eyes widened in shock. Before him, Doma's entire form was slowly turning into a solid sculpture of ice.
It had never been his real body!
The scattering ice crystals caused the temperature in the air to plummet.
As they touched the ground, frost spread outward in all directions, turning the entire area for nearly a mile into a world of gleaming white and silver.
The Upper Rank felt his own body growing cold; wherever ice touched his skin, frostbite set in instantly.
He tried to leap back—but no sooner had he jumped than a pair of enormous arms wrapped tightly around him.
There was no warmth at all, only a bone‑chilling cold.
He twisted his head and found himself face‑to‑face with a towering ice statue of a Buddha, its expression gentle and serene.
Worse still—this statue, made entirely of lifeless ice, suddenly opened its eyes… revealing hollow black sockets beneath its peaceful smile, sending a shiver of terror straight through his heart.
He struggled, but the statue's grip only tightened, and freezing cold spread rapidly from his feet all the way to the crown of his head.
"No!"
He screamed in despair.
In just a few seconds, he was frozen solid—becoming one with the statue itself.
And from the shadows behind the Buddha figure, Doma stepped out slowly, smiling as always.
Completely unharmed.
The rest of the Twelve Kizuki were struck numb with fear.
Upper Rank Three's Blood Demon Art was widely considered the most lethal among them.
The mark left by his brush was carved directly onto the soul itself—using soul power, it could not be dodged or avoided by any ordinary means.
Yet Doma had brushed it off as if it were nothing.
How was that possible? Could even such an attack not hurt him?
Doma opened his palm to reveal a tiny replica of the same ice Buddha statue.
But as they watched, the small sculpture was already cracking all over… then shattered into pieces with a crisp sound.
And as it broke, everyone present seemed to hear the faint wail of a departing soul.
"Lord Muzan really should have taught you how to cultivate your souls and use this power properly," Doma said softly.
The mark had indeed been placed upon his soul, but the difference in mastery between the two was too vast.
Within Doma's body resided countless souls of the beings he had devoured. He could simply use the soul of another to absorb and nullify any damage meant for himself.
Since both sides used soul power, and souls were fundamentally connected… it worked perfectly.
Soul techniques had been widely known and practiced for years now, not to mention the Twelve Kizuki had Muzan himself guiding them from behind.
Yet even after all this time, Muzan remained so stingy with his knowledge—afraid that more power would only lead to more rebellion.
And even without Muzan's guidance, Upper Rank Three should have advanced much further.
Compared to Doma and Kokushibo from the previous generation, the new Twelve Kizuki were simply far weaker.
Forced into a corner, Muzan had lowered his standards when choosing his subordinates.
Doma gave a casual flick of his iron fan.
In an instant, a surge of freezing mist erupted, followed by a blizzard as fierce as an ocean tide.
The entire area was swallowed up in a raging storm of snow and ice.
Whether standing on the ground or perched in the trees, every member of the Twelve Kizuki found their vision completely blocked, blinded by whiteness—too late to flee.
Sharp icicles shot up from beneath their feet, while frost coated every surface in seconds. When the storm finally cleared, not a single demon still drew breath.
They stood frozen still, transformed into beautiful glistening works of art under the night sky.
With one single move, Doma alone had annihilated the entire Twelve Kizuki.
This was his true strength now!
The power of his Blood Demon Art was leagues beyond what it had been when he served under Muzan.
Sometimes Doma himself wondered—back when he followed Muzan, he could never have imagined he would one day wield such incredible might.
Everything changed the day he and Kokushibo first met Oboro.
That was the day he saw power far beyond anything he had ever conceived.
All of this was a gift bestowed by that man.
The world today was far more interesting than it had been a hundred years ago.
At the very least… the power one could attain had risen to an entirely new level.
Beside him, Kokushibo showed no surprise at Doma's overwhelming strength.
Though they had not met in ages, the moment Doma appeared, Kokushibo sensed the immense yet chaotic aura radiating from his soul.
Chaotic because it was not one single soul.
There were countless others dwelling inside his body.
It was an extremely dangerous practice—like walking a tightrope.
Lose control for even a second, and his own body could be taken over and devoured by the souls he had absorbed.
But it was also the fastest and most effective way to strengthen one's soul.
And judging by how stable Doma's mind remained after all this time, he had clearly mastered his method perfectly.
It was a technique Doma had created himself: Soul Separation.
He stripped the souls from those he consumed, bound them, and turned them into his own strength.
Something Kokushibo himself could not do.
Just as every demon had their own unique Blood Demon Art, the path of soul cultivation varied for everyone—and Oboro had never given out any instructions.
Doma, Kokushibo, and even Muzan all had to grope their way forward, learning through experience and creating their own techniques.
Suddenly, both Doma and Kokushibo raised their heads, their eyes shifting toward different directions in the darkness.
Several familiar presences were drawing near.
"At last… things are going to get lively," Doma said with delight.
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