"Become human again?" Akaza's expression shifted. "Grow old and die?"
"You'll grow old and die… but before that, you'll live. And love. And lose. And start over again. Having lived for hundreds of years… How many fights have you had in all that time?"
"…"
"Do you remember them?" Marcus stared at him intently. "Do you remember the face of the first one you killed? The name of the last one who made you bleed? The exact feel of every blow that's left a mark on your body?"
Something old stirred in Akaza's gaze, something that hadn't moved in a long time.
"…What are you trying to tell me?"
Marcus smiled. "That you've lived so long… that you've forgotten how to live."
"…"
Akaza lowered his gaze, and for a moment he seemed smaller than he was… More human.
And then he laughed—from deep within him, a wild laugh burst out. He even threw his head back and laughed with his whole body, as if trying to drown out something he didn't want to hear.
"Well said…!" He wiped the corner of his mouth. "Very well said, Marcus!"
Bending his knees again, his combat stance returned.
"Come!" he roared. "Since neither of us is going to convince the other… let's finish this the way we know how!"
The battle erupted again, and this time… both of them meant it.
Destructive Kill: War Style.
Akaza's fists came down like a storm. And there weren't just a few. There were hundreds.
Marcus answered by firing his Arrows to slow the impact, while deploying [Crimson Curtain]
The Curtain interposed itself just in time, taking the shock waves of every blow head-on.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The din of metal rang out like a blacksmith's hammer on the anvil, fast and relentless. While sparks shot off in every direction.
The silhouettes of the two crisscrossed without pause in the darkness of the night.
Blood and sweat splattered the ground.
Marcus's sword moved faster and faster, slipping between Akaza's fists and opening a fresh wound with every pass.
Shoulders.
Chest.
Abdomen.
Arms.
Legs.
Neck.
Even eyes.
But every one of those wounds closed instantly.
"HAHAHA!" Akaza was getting more and more excited. "You're a truly extraordinary guy!"
But Marcus, who was genuinely giving it everything he had, couldn't afford to waste energy answering him.
His breathing was already starting to grow ragged.
Stamina was his biggest problem.
He could cut Akaza a hundred times, but it would only take one solid hit from him for Marcus to never get up again.
And after taking a hundred cuts head-on, Akaza didn't so much as flinch.
Destructive Kill: Leg Type – Cap Tip Slice.
A descending kick came crashing down on Marcus.
Once again, Marcus used his Arrows—three of them specifically—to slightly alter the direction of the kick before leaping away.
Although the Arrows were shattered instantly, it was enough to buy him a little relief.
But not much.
Destructive Kill: Dual Layered Demon Wick.
Eight shock waves, each three meters in diameter, bloomed from his side like petals of a deadly flower, fanning out toward him.
Spinning in the air, Marcus met them with [Crimson Curtain]
Destructive Kill: Crush Style – Ten Thousand Leaves Flashing Willow.
Quickly, Akaza brought a powerful strike down against the ground.
Boom
The earth burst beneath his fist, and a new shock wave spread out in every direction, kicking up dust and stone.
Marcus leapt again.
But this time he didn't just dodge. In mid-flight, he sent every fragment within his sight hurtling violently toward Akaza.
Destructive Kill: War Style.
Moving his arms like lightning, Akaza destroyed it all. In seconds, the air was filled with splinters and dust… and Akaza emerged from the cloud, already charging straight at Marcus.
The shock waves came again, hammering the air with the persistence of rain against a window.
Marcus answered in the same language: flashes of blade bloomed around him in a cascade, weaving themselves into a Curtain that nothing could pierce.
One second.
The clash shook the space between them, blades and waves canceling each other out in a burst of red light and wind.
Two seconds.
Neither gave way. Every impact spawned the next, and the next…
Three seconds.
Marcus landed, stumbling a step before recovering his balance.
He looked at his hand. The wound had gotten worse, open wider than he remembered, and his arms were dotted with bruises that were starting to darken beneath the skin.
In his side, at rib level, a dull pain throbbed. Just a moment ago, one of the punches had grazed him, and even so he wasn't sure if his ribs were still intact or if something had snapped.
Akaza landed in front of him.
His body was covered in cuts, but every one of them closed up quickly, the flesh sealing over itself as though the damage had never existed.
He watched him pant. He took in his wounds and noted his unsteady stance, the legs that could barely hold him up.
"The human body…" He sighed. "Truly fragile. Become a demon and none of these problems will be problems anymore."
Breathing in deeply, Marcus raised his head.
"You really do love to talk."
"Hahaha, sounds like you know me! Let's enjoy this!"
"¡Destructive Kill: Leg Form — Flowing Light Flash!"
"Breath of Desire, First Form: Valkyrie!"
The battle went on for another ten minutes.
Ten minutes that felt like hours. Every collision between the pink of the flames and the blue of the waves left a mark: craters opened beneath their feet, bottomless fissures branched across the earth like dark veins, and the rails were nothing more than twists of metal sunk into the dust.
And little by little, something began to give.
Marcus's breathing was growing more and more erratic. His speed dropped with every exchange. His swords were starting to feel heavy. And his sight was blurring, slowly narrowing the world down to Akaza's face.
But he was still standing, and still cutting.
Akaza, on the other hand, didn't show the slightest sign of wear. If anything, his eyes shone brighter with every clash.
It had been too long since he'd run into someone like this.
And it wasn't an equality of physical strength: he'd known that from the first blow. It was something else, something that went beyond muscle and speed.
It was technique. It was will. It was spirit.
"In all my years, I've never crossed paths with a human as born to fight as you. Not even the Pillars I killed come close."
"And yet…" A hint of dissatisfaction, almost pity, surfaced in his eyes. "How much longer can you hold out?"
His gaze resolute, Marcus raised his swords.
"Continue—"
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He turned his head… it was Rengoku, and he wasn't looking at him, but at Akaza.
"You've already done more than enough!... From here on out, I'll handle it."
But Marcus shook his head.
"There's still one Form I haven't tried."
Rengoku raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
But Marcus didn't explain. He looked forward again, at the figure of the demon waiting with disturbing patience. "Let me try, and if I can't beat him, you step in."
Rengoku watched him for a few seconds.
Something crossed his gaze—worry, or recognition—but in the end he let go of his shoulder and took a step back.
"All right."
Atop the locomotive.
"Senpai…"
Tanjiro stared worriedly at Marcus's back, his fists clenched.
Beside him, Inosuke had his eyes locked on Akaza.
"…they're really strong."
"W-What dumb crap are you spouting, stupid pig?!" Zenitsu, curled up in a corner, was trembling nonstop. "What do you mean they're really strong? What do you—?!"
But not even he believed his own protest.
Meanwhile, Enmu watched Marcus with an expression that was hard to read.
He saw how, even though he could barely stay on his feet anymore, even with the blood and the tremors and the swords that seemed to weigh more than he did, he kept moving forward.
"This lunatic sure knows how to put on a show."
In the eye of the storm, everything seemed to come to a halt.
Sheathing the sword in his left hand, Marcus gripped Makomo's hilt with both hands and lowered his body into a stance unlike any of the previous ones: legs bent, elbows tucked against his torso, and the tip of the blade pointed straight ahead like a spear.
"A thrust?" Akaza narrowed his eyes. "Thrusts aren't very effective against demons."
But Marcus didn't answer, he just held the position, his breathing turning slow, deep, until his lungs seemed to sync up with something beyond himself.
Immediately, a pink mist began to flow around him. It coiled around his legs, climbed up his arms, danced around Makomo's edge. Denser and denser. More. And more.
The temperature shifted and an unsettling buzz arrived.
And the mist took shape.
A bee.
But not just any bee—a colossal one. Its translucent wings vibrated at a frequency so high that the very air rippled around it, giving off that piercing buzz.
And its stinger was none other than the sword in Marcus's hands.
"Breath of Desire, Seventh Form…"
Swish
Marcus vanished.
No afterimage. No trajectory. No sound except for a single flash of pink light slicing through the air, a straight line so brief that the human eye barely managed to register it.
Like teleportation, he hurled himself forward in a thrust at Akaza.
"…Beauty Bee!"
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