Pain… stabbing pain… as if his heart were being carved out with a knife. Kibutsuji Muzan collapsed to his knees, gasping over and over—"Ngh… nngh…"—his breath ragged and broken.
He groaned in agony and toppled sideways, curling into himself like a bowstring.
Nakime stopped playing. Nearby, Kokushibō had been practicing—day after day, honing his swordsmanship. The moment he sensed it, his hand tightened; Kokushibō's blade, Kyokokukamusari, snapped back. Moonlight flashed, and a faint crescent slash spilled out, shaving off a corner of the floorboards in an instant.
"Crack—" the wooden floor seemed to drop into nothingness, until Nakime lightly pinched her strings and the space reset—restored as if it had never broken. The demon woman, hair hanging like a curtain over her face, felt Muzan's blood inside her tremble and boil. She murmured softly:
"Muzan-sama."
At the headquarters of the Eternal Paradise Faith, Dōma—dressed as a "holy leader" and indulging himself—froze. In the Pleasure District, Gyūtarō and Daki froze. Across the world, countless demons created by Muzan or the Upper Moons—whether they were feeding, hiding from sunlight, or hunting—stopped in perfect unison, as if rehearsed.
Hands went to chests—where Muzan's blood nested.
And they felt it.
A sudden emotion, sharp and alien, blooming and swelling into a tidal wave—fear. Panic.
Everything pointed back to Muzan.
In a haze, demons everywhere realized:
"That Lord… is afraid."
"My lord…" Kokushibō's heart surged—but with sheer will, he crushed it down.
He moved in a blur—purple-and-black patterned haori, black hakama, wooden geta tapping once—and appeared at Muzan's side, hooking an arm under him to haul him up.
The demon king—who had once been indifferent to everything, who ruled life and death with a thought—was pale and trembling, clutching Kokushibō with a desperate grip, half his weight hanging on him.
"It's Kamado Roy!" Muzan hissed through pain.
"He did something… I can feel it, Michikatsu—he's harming me from the shadows!"
Kokushibō's six eyes narrowed. He remembered that gaze—through the Eye Demon, across distance, after the Mugen Train battle—when he'd met the boy's eyes, and steel had sung.
"Clang—" his blade slid free, cold light gathering.
He stepped forward and planted himself between Muzan and the empty floor ahead, shielding his master.
"My lord, do not fear. Whatever he did—ask him, and we'll know."
Transparent World… open.
Snap.
His perception tore past physical limits. Spirit and sense rose into something almost philosophical—Kokushibō's lifetime of insight fused into one razor-clear "sight," letting him see through fire and fog, straight to truth.
In front of them, on the bare wooden floor, a wisp of mist appeared from nowhere—mist that drew itself into the outline of a boy. His eyes flared—two burning suns.
It was Roy.
An awareness-clone, split along the curse's line of causality, using Ubuyashiki Kagaya as the anchor—forcing a sliver of consciousness into Infinity Castle.
"Muzan, you—?! How are you here?!" Muzan snapped, baring his teeth. Rage and terror twisted his face as he lashed out—
A whip of bone-spikes erupted from his arm.
[Thorn Whip]: bone spines stretched into a whip—attack and defense in one, flexible, hard as stone, with a wide range (ten-meter radius). Its spikes could shift position and shape at will; its swing speed was terrifying. It carried Muzan's blood—cells that wouldn't turn the victim into a demon, but instead destroyed their cells outright. One hit could kill. Worse: countless mouths opened along the whip, generating suction strong enough to form a vortex in midair—slowing enemies, shredding the surroundings, and compressing the space needed to swing a sword.
"Whoosh—" the Thorn Whip screamed in, its mouths inhaling—pulling at Roy.
And then, faster than the whip itself, a blade-light flashed—followed by hundreds of crescent moon-blades that ignored distance. With the whip's vortex pinning Roy's shape, Kokushibō's moon slashes cut down toward him.
Roy's fire-red hair whipped backward in the storm of steel and suction. He didn't panic. He tasted the sensation of his current state, thinking.
Nature. Backlash. Causality. Cycles.
"Cause… effect… only with cause comes effect…"
At the same time, as Kagaya's curse-blackness was burned away by the sunfire swords Roy had sent into him, Roy's consciousness rode the causal line—a drifting, half-accidental journey. Something clicked—still hazy, but closer to clarity.
He opened a hand and manifested his blade—Daybreak (the "Eclipse" short sword)—and murmured:
"Release."
"All things become ash. The sun rises in the east."
A red sun rose from the tip of Roy's blade at his light touch—slow, inevitable.
The Thorn Whip and the moon-blades became like rats fleeing into a corner… only to meet a waiting cat.
They dissolved. Collapsed. Vanished—erased.
"Sun Breathing?!"
"No—this isn't Yoriichi's technique!"
"There's no such move in Sun Breathing!"
Muzan's face caught the light—and began to burn.
He howled, "Nakime!"
"Zing—" a biwa note snapped.
The world shifted.
Space rearranged. Roy drifted backward on his own, widening the gap as Muzan and Kokushibō were whisked away across shifting boards.
Roy watched them retreat, and beneath the scent of causality, he caught something else:
space.
On his panel, the En line and the Yin Release line stirred, restless.
[Notice: Detected 2 demons, 1 Demon King. Monster Codex unfolding…]
Name: Kibutsuji Muzan
Demon King
Physique: 841 (ordinary person = 1)
Blood Demon Arts:
1. "Bestowal" – inject demon blood to force-transform others, greatly boosting physique
2. "Dominion" – absolute control over his demons; can "flip through" memories, delete/alter limits, or take life with a thought
3. "Multiple Organs" – grows multiple organs; won't die unless all are destroyed
4. "Self-Splitting" – can self-detonate and scatter into countless pieces; if even one survives, he can revive
5. "Whip Arts" – can turn body parts into Thorn Whips / Tube Whips for attacks
6. "Infant Proliferation" – can revert to infant form and endlessly multiply flesh (extremely weak; used only in desperation)
A chime. A line of information. A new "talent" to be taken.
Roy was pushed back by Nakime's biwa-space, watching Muzan and Kokushibō retreat farther and farther.
His body flickered—because Kagaya's curse had just been fully purged by the sunfire swords.
He wavered. Faded. Disappeared completely.
His awareness snapped back—
Roy opened his eyes and exhaled hard, turning to Kagaya.
"Mission accomplished. The curse is gone."
A sound like a shackle snapping echoed from inside Kagaya's body.
Kagaya swayed. His hunched back straightened. The death-pale color in his face lifted into a faint flush. He breathed out a long, heavy breath—and felt his whole body loosen, as if a lock had been broken.
A soft, uncontrollable hum of relief escaped him. The change was instant, visible, undeniable.
It moved everyone—especially those kneeling in the room. Gyomei, Sanemi, Tengen… all of them wept, choking on words.
"I… I feel better."
"Roy-sama… Kagaya-sama… Anata—!"
Voices shook the wisteria forest with disbelief and joy.
Meanwhile, Roy's panel kept chiming: Gyomei, Sanemi, Muichirō… even Giyu—their follower panes expanded, loyalty numbers climbing, promotion conditions lighting up.
Roy's hand grew warm as Kagaya clasped both hands around his, gripping tight.
"Roy… I…"
He couldn't even finish. The man who could face death with a smile—who could bring his whole family to die—was now speechless.
Roy patted Kagaya's fists, smiling softly.
"I understand. You don't need to say anything."
"Right now, you only need rest—and you need to rebuild what you've lost over the years."
"Namu Amida Butsu…" Gyomei's voice trembled with gratitude as he helped Kagaya lie back down, making room as Amane led the children forward.
One by one, Roy's sun-aspected aura formed sunfire swords again, and he purified the same black curse-core inside the children's "heartfield."
They shuddered—then felt the same sudden lightness, the same clarity.
"Thank Roy-sama!" Amane scolded—voice breaking.
The children bowed deeply.
Kagaya lay on the bedding, silently watching—and for the first time, tears welled in his blind eyes, and spilled down his cheeks.
"Please, don't—"
"No, Roy-sama. You must accept it," Kagaya insisted.
No one disagreed.
Roy fell silent—and accepted their bows.
Afterwards, Amane led the children back inside to rest.
The broad corridor emptied until only Kagaya, the nine Hashira, and Roy remained.
Kagaya sat up with a cushion, breathing easier now. He looked straight at Roy.
"Roy-sama… are you truly not going to reconsider?"
"I'm not," Roy waved it off. "I don't have the time to manage logistics and strategy."
Still faintly caught in that half-formed insight about causality and En, Roy's attention drifted—until Kagaya's gaze passed over the Hashira, and Gyomei and Sanemi moved first.
Right hands to chests. One knee down.
"Gyomei Himejima / Sanemi Shinazugawa / Tengen Uzui… pay respects to our lord."
Kagaya smiled and added calmly:
"Then we'll have two lords. Both can be lords."
Roy: "…"
"I'll lead my Demon Slayer Corps. You lead your followers. Who said one person can't serve two masters?"
Behind Roy, Kyojuro's eyes lit up like fire.
"I agree!"
Then, loudly—
"Praise the sun!"
Gyomei and Sanemi echoed instantly:
"Praise the sun!"
Roy stood there alone, the only one not kneeling, and shot a look at Giyu.
"Senpai, you—"
"All separate," Giyu said, still kneeling, still cool, still calm. "You can call me 'Senpai' or 'Giyu' if you like."
"But I only acknowledge you… as 'my lord.'"
Roy: "…"
~~~
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