More importantly, sparring with that Muzan bastard?
Was the ‘Muzan bastard’ the author mentioned really Kibutsuji Muzan?
Could that actually be possible...?
Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.
The fact that a demon can use [Total Concentration Breathing] is one thing, but what the author said bothers me even more.
Has any demon ever so casually referred to their king as ‘Muzan’ by name?
Every demon I’ve faced so far has avoided uttering Muzan’s name entirely.
In fact, they were terrified even to speak it.
The records state as much: demons were strictly forbidden from speaking the name of their king.
The moment they uttered it, they would be struck down by a curse.
Only those permitted—the Twelve Kizuki, Muzan’s direct subordinates—could do so.
Yet even they, should they show any hostility toward Muzan, faced immediate death.
But the demon before me spoke of Muzan with disdain and bore him ill will—and yet, he lived.
The more I confronted this being, the more my common sense crumbled.
Not only could he employ [Total Concentration Breathing], but he could openly show hostility toward Muzan.
With such mastery of [Total Concentration Breathing], he must have been a Hashira in his human life.
Yet the Demon Slayer Corps’ records never listed a single Hashira who had succumbed to demonhood.
Then who in the world is this author...?
“Gyoumei, I wish you were the only one to know of this...”
No, wait.
It is true that officially, no Hashira ever turned into a demon.
But...
No, I still cannot be certain.
There is the heavy scent of blood, the fragile breath of living life, and the undeniable fact that the author before my eyes is a demon.
If this is a misjudgment, it could lead to an irreversible catastrophe.
Whirr— Whirr—
I accelerated the rotation of my iron flail even further.
Hoooooo
As if reacting to the speeding flail, the demon prepared to strike.
The first attack came from [Moon Breathing].
11th Form: Moon-Splitting Radiance • Ten-Thousand-Strike Majesty.
With my vision obscured, I had no way of knowing exactly what kind of assault he would unleash.
So, I sharpened every sense except sight.
Then, [Rock Breathing].
With a light stamp, I swept the courtyard before establishing my domain of stone.
3rd Form: Skin of the Dark Flail.
I forged a territory around me and commanded the chains with impunity, swinging my axe and flail.
I discerned the battlefield through the sound of whirling chains and clashing weapons.
And I deflected every attack the demon threw at me.
“So you can block to this degree.”
Then, [Moon Breathing].
1st Form: Dark Moon Palace.
He leapt and slashed horizontally, forcing me to evade in midair.
“Dodged into the air...?”
Once more, [Rock Breathing].
Whirr—! Whirr—!
I spun the axe and flail fiercely on both sides.
5th Form: Rotating Wheel Armor.
Relying on the weapons’ weight and momentum, I drove them down with enhanced force.
Whang! Whang!
Four times in total.
The axe and flail struck the earth four times.
Yet...
“To use Rotating Wheel Armor like that.”
It didn’t work at all.
I gritted my teeth and spun the weapons faster.
[Rock Breathing].
1st Form: Rock Gate • Twin Pillars.
Once again, I hurled the axe and flail toward the demon’s throat.
[Moon Breathing].
3rd Form: Blazing Moon • Erasure.
With two swift swings, the axe and flail were thrown off course.
But the first attack had been a feint.
He passed through the strike, reappearing behind me just as I threw the axe and flail again.
This time, the attack was genuine.
The axe struck him head-on, but he parried with his sword, nullifying my offense.
[Rock Breathing].
4th Form: Flowing Rock Gate • Rapid Devastation.
I shifted the flail’s trajectory and pulled it back, striking from the side.
The flail descended violently from the flank, but...
[Moon Breathing].
7th Form: Mirror Flower, Water Moon.
The attack failed to crush its target.
The flail seemed to connect perfectly, yet he vanished like a mirage.
No matter what I unleashed, I couldn’t graze even the edge of his garment.
I realized it at last.
This man has never shown his full power.
He is toying with me.
Given the ferocity of that kick and the demon’s skill, there were countless moments he could have ended me.
Yet he simply chooses not to kill me.
He harbors no intent to kill.
It was as if he were testing me, waiting for me to draw out more of my techniques.
I couldn’t read any murderous intent—it was simply absent.
I clenched my teeth.
Can I truly never kill this man?
Even so...
As a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, I owe everything to my elders.
If I fall, who will protect the people left behind?
I cannot give up.
Even if my body burns to ashes.
Namu Amida Butsu.
Then...
Screeech—
What is this burning smell and the heat I've felt since earlier?
It is definitely coming from my axe and flail...
“What is this? You can manifest this?”
The demon’s voice sounded bewildered.
This bizarre phenomenon of the [Nichirin] weapons heating up.
Does he know about it...?
Then...
“Please, stop—!!!!”
The sudden cry of a girl.
Her voice cut through the space between the demon and me.
Bang!!! Bang!!! Bang!!!
With each impact, the entire house shook.
From the moment the cloaked figure wielding a violet blade kicked the monk with the axe and flail into the courtyard, the bangs never ceased.
Each time the house trembled, we were forced to cling to each other more tightly.
The men outside carried on fighting as if we were nothing to them.
The clash of sword against iron and the heavy thuds of the flail and axe landing on the ground...
Those sounds, ones I’d never heard before, tormented us further.
It was as if we were being reminded that this was no nightmare, but reality.
What was even more agonizing...
Whenever I dared to open my tightly closed eyes, I saw Father and Mother—cold corpses—shaking with each impact.
Seeing them helplessly swayed by the tremors, I felt my heart tear apart.
Why did this have to happen to us?
Was it such a grave mistake to believe the path of happiness stretched endlessly before us?
Was it too much greed to think we could be happy for a long time?
Anger boiled up in my chest.
I bit my lip.
The two men fighting outside—the sword-wielder and the monk—were not at fault.
Surely the monk attacked because of some misunderstanding.
That made me even more furious.
Our forever-happy lives had been shattered so easily, and we could never return to that time.
Father and Mother lay here in death, and those two men continued to fight without any concern for us.
So, I slipped from my sister’s arms.
“Wait, Shinobu, you can’t...!”
I shook off my sister’s hand as she tried to stop me.
I carefully stepped over Mother and Father so as not to trample them, and dashed outside.
The scene was dreadful.
A cloud of dust billowed, and the ground bore great scars.
Dust swirled with whomping and rustling sounds as lingering images drifted about.
Though the two men were nowhere in sight, the afterimages told me they were still fighting.
Please...
Stop fighting...!
Enough...
I steadied my trembling legs and gripped the doorframe.
Then, drawing a deep breath, I shouted at the men.
I had never shouted so loudly in my life.
“Please, stop—!!!!”
Did my cry reach them?
The dust cloud dispersed, and at last, the two men ceased their flurry of strikes.
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