"SHOKYU!!! YOU THIEF! TRAITOR! I WILL TEAR YOU TO PIECES!!!"
The terrifying power Muzan unleashed in his rage was absolute.
Even Gyomei Himejima, the strongest of the Hashira, would not dare to face such an attack head-on.
It was an attack meant to annihilate, to erase Shokyu from existence.
And yet, Shokyu merely stood there, that mocking smile never leaving his face.
He made no move to defend himself, no attempt to evade.
He simply watched, as if Muzan were nothing more than a moth drawn to a flame.
Just as Muzan's storm of bladed whips was about to make contact…
FWOOM!
Shokyu's body suddenly exploded—not from Muzan's attack, but from within.
He dissolved into a thick, viscous, and ominous blood-red mist that instantly enveloped the charging, caught-off-guard Demon King.
"What?!" Muzan's voice, a mixture of shock and rage, came from within the mist.
He felt as if he were sinking into an invisible quagmire, his power being rapidly, incomprehensibly absorbed and broken down.
The toxins from Tamayo and Shinobu were already wreaking havoc on his body; this new assault left him staggering, his strength failing.
And in that single moment of Muzan's stunned confusion…
Twang—
The unique, ethereal, and heart-stopping sound of a biwa echoed across the battlefield.
Space distorted violently.
The next second, the eerie blood mist—and the struggling, roaring Demon King trapped within it—vanished without a trace.
As if they had never been there.
The entire battlefield fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone was stunned.
Kibutsuji Muzan, the Demon King, the disaster they had all come to slay… was just… gone?
"MUZAN-SAMA!"
Three roars of shock and fury ripped through the air (well, two roars and one sound of mild surprise).
Kokushibo, Douma, and Akaza, the three Upper Moons most loyal to Muzan, were instantly galvanized.
Abandoning their battles with the Hashira, they turned their full, murderous intent upon the figure who still stood calmly at the center of the battlefield.
"Moon Breathing, Sixteenth Form: Moonbow - Half Moon!"
Kokushibo's six eyes were bloodshot as he unleashed a massive, arcing slash of crescent blades that tore across the field.
"Blood Demon Art: Wintry Icicles!" Douma waved his fans, and enormous, sharp icicles formed in the air, shooting forward to freeze everything in their path.
"Technique Development: Annihilation Style!" Akaza poured all his fighting spirit into his fists, blasting a volley of destructive energy at Shokyu.
The combined, furious attack of the three strongest Upper Moons was arguably even more terrifying than Muzan's own.
Yet, faced with this overwhelming assault, Shokyu didn't even lift an eyelid.
He merely tilted his head, his expression calm, and whispered two words into the void.
"Clear the field."
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The rapid, continuous, and terrible sound of the biwa rang out.
Just as the attacks were about to hit, the very space around Kokushibo, Douma, and Akaza twisted, warped, and then collapsed in on itself.
There was no explosion, no struggle.
The three most powerful Upper Moons, and their devastating attacks, simply… vanished.
They were deleted from the battlefield.
Nakime's Blood Demon Art, now under Shokyu's absolute control, was a far more terrifying and dominant power.
In the blink of an eye, the entire leadership of the demon army—Muzan and his top three upper moons—was gone.
Only a few bewildered lesser demons remained, along with the smiling Kamaro and his master, Shokyu.
This incomprehensible display sent a chill of absolute horror down the spines of every slayer.
Their target was gone.
Their plan to end the war tonight had failed.
The sacrifice of Kagaya Ubuyashiki and his family… had been in vain.
"No! This isn't… No!" Shinichi, his face pale, his body drained from the demonic backlash, struggled to his feet, leaning on his blade.
"Shokyu! Hand over Nezuko and Muzan!"
His cry broke the silence.
The other Hashira, their targets gone, instantly refocused on the new, and perhaps greater, threat.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Sanemi Shinazugawa roared, his blade flashing as he charged.
This was the signal.
The remaining slayers, their grief turning to rage, surged forward to attack.
But just as the battle was about to erupt once more, two staggering, disheveled figures stumbled out of the shadows.
It was Maito and Lee, the missing Upper Moons.
They were in a pitiful state.
Maito's burly body was covered in wounds, his blood armor shattered, a massive, near-fatal hole in his chest.
Lee was just as weak, the poison from Shinobu's blade clearly ravaging his system.
Maito struggled, his fading golden eyes finding Shokyu.
He pushed Lee away and, with his last ounce of strength, tilted his head back and talk, his voice a hoarse, desperate plea.
"Shokyu… the task you gave me… I've… completed it. Shinichi Moriki… has awakened… the Breath of Life. You… you must… fulfill your promise."
'Save them… save my master... bring them back from the Yomi…'
His voice was intermittent, a dying man's last hope.
He had betrayed his comrades, fought his friends, and given his life, all for this one, impossible promise.
At his side, Lee also stared at Shokyu, waiting.
Hearing Maito's plea, Shokyu slowly turned.
He looked down at the demon who was now just a flickering candle in the wind.
On his handsome, Muzan-like face, there was no pity.
Only a slow-blooming, infinitely cold and mocking smile.
He bent down slightly, looking into Maito's desperate, hopeful eyes.
"Maito," he said softly, his voice as light as a feather and as cold as ice.
"I truly wish I could help you. But surely you understand… it's impossible. I've wanted to tell you for a long time. Your 'relatives'… they all vanished into nothingness hundreds of years ago."