Watching the change that came over Muichiro Tokito, Kokushibo gave a quiet nod.
"A Mark…? At your age, and you can already control it freely. You really are a prodigy."
Kokushibo did not hold back his praise, continuing to study Muichiro as if he were examining a rare blade.
At that moment, Muichiro launched his attack.
"Mist Breathing, Seventh Form!"
"Obscuring Clouds!"
A massive surge of colored haze burst outward, wrapping the two of them in layered mist.
Kokushibo's interest only deepened as he watched Muichiro's movements transform within the fog.
He had avoided the earlier forms because, over centuries, he had learned nearly every Breathing Style and sword art in existence.
But what Muichiro used now…
It was something he had never seen before.
Kokushibo remained where he stood, calmly observing.
In the next instant, Muichiro's teal blade rested against Kokushibo's neck.
Muichiro was about to succeed.
But in a blink, Kokushibo vanished again.
"Your rhythm is excellent. Your movements are intangible, hard to read at a glance."
Kokushibo's voice was quiet, almost appreciative.
"Did you create this yourself? I don't recall any Mist Breathing user having this form."
He continued to evaluate Muichiro's killing move as if savoring a performance.
"Smooth, even elegant. A genuinely brilliant technique."
"If I still don't draw my blade, that would be disrespectful."
As he spoke, Kokushibo's right hand settled on the hilt at his waist, the handle carved with eye like patterns.
"Moon Breathing, First Form!"
"Dark Moon, Evening Palace!"
A red blade flashed.
Moon shaped crescents, glittering like scattered starlight, rode the slash as it cut toward Muichiro.
Muichiro's pupils tightened.
He could barely see it.
But his own sword form was already committed.
He clenched his teeth.
Even if it cost him an arm, he would finish this strike and take Kokushibo's head.
Muichiro forced the blade through.
Just as the attack was about to sever his wrist, a battered, nicked Nichirin blade suddenly appeared in front of him.
Clang!
Kokushibo's strike slammed into that blade, ringing out sharp and clean.
Kokushibo's eyes widened in surprise, his body twisting aside on instinct.
Even so, Muichiro's slash still carved across Kokushibo's shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
But to Upper Rank One, it was not even a scratch.
In the next instant, the wound regenerated.
Kokushibo turned his head toward the uninvited intruder.
Muichiro also looked over.
Vincent Fox stood between them, staring at Kokushibo with cold indifference.
A silver gray aura rose from his body like quiet smoke.
Strands of silver threaded through his hair.
Even his eyes had changed, icy, distant, inhumanly calm.
Muichiro's gaze shook.
What… is that?
Is he activating a Mark too?
If that's the case…
Muichiro gave a bitter smile.
Then his own Mark probably did not even count as a lower grade imitation.
"I, Lord Inosuke, have arrived!"
A wild voice thundered in.
"Every filthy demon, get on your knees and wait for me to carve your head off!"
A blur of athletic motion followed, as Inosuke Hashibira vaulted through the hole Vincent had smashed open.
He spun through the air, a full two rotations, and landed smoothly.
"Hurry up and make way for Lord Inosuke!"
"Be careful," Muichiro warned. "This one is strong."
Muichiro was not close with Inosuke, but he had fought alongside Vincent before, so his tone was less hostile than it might have been.
Seeing them arrive, Muichiro felt relief that he had not lost an arm.
At the same time, he started to worry for them.
"Oh?" Kokushibo sheathed his blade again, all six eyes sweeping over the newcomers.
"Strong muscles, but poor sword foundation… The scent of Doma lingers on you."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"So you were the ones who killed Doma."
"What?" Inosuke's face twisted in disgust. "I smell like that guy? Ugh, you trying to gross me out?"
He waved his hand as if brushing away filth, then picked up the Nichirin blade Vincent had thrown.
"My sword is for killing demons, not for throwing like a spear! Do that again and I'm coming for you too!"
As Inosuke barked, Kokushibo's attention shifted fully to Vincent.
The moment he truly looked at him, all six eyes widened at once.
Shock.
This was a state he had never seen before.
It carried the enhancement of the Mark.
It carried the danger sense of the Transparent World.
And the offensive power felt doubled, perhaps more.
This realm…
It surpassed him.
It might even surpass his younger brother, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
"So you were the one who threw that blade to block my strike," Kokushibo murmured.
"Yes."
"Perhaps in the entire Demon Slayer Corps… only you have that level of strength."
As he stared at Vincent, Kokushibo felt something inside him stir, something that had been dead for centuries.
His battle instincts.
His hunger.
Since the day he lost to his brother, Kokushibo had never met an opponent who could excite him again.
Even the battles where the Upper Ranks shifted and challenged one another, they only fought among themselves.
No one dared point a blade at him.
They all knew what he was.
A demon's body.
An original swordsman's mastery.
Now, at last, Kokushibo had found a worthy opponent.
How could he not be exhilarated?
He had not felt this since the moment Yoriichi died of old age right in front of him.
"Come," Kokushibo said, voice low with anticipation. "Let me taste your strength."
He lunged straight at Vincent.
"Moon Breathing, Fourth Form!"
A single slash exploded outward, and countless crescent blades burst into existence, flooding toward Vincent like a storm.
"Watch out!" Muichiro shouted, already moving.
"Too slow."
A voice spoke from behind Kokushibo.
Kokushibo's pupils contracted violently.
At some point he could not even pinpoint when, Vincent was already behind him.
The next moment, Kokushibo felt it.
His spine snapped.
A massive, burning hole opened in his abdomen.
His organs spilled out, then were instantly reduced to ash by roaring flame.
"So fast…"
Kokushibo's voice turned hoarse, almost delighted.
"This numbness in my body… the paralysis that comes from fear."
"I haven't tasted that in a very long time."
Then he laughed softly, even as his broken blade regrew in his hand.
"Thank you for not crushing my head."
"Like this, you can't kill a demon."
He lifted the weapon slightly.
"This blade was forged from my flesh and blood."
"As long as I live, it will never disappear."
"Just as you can never kill me unless you take my head."
Kokushibo's six eyes locked onto Vincent.
"And you…"
"In this state…"
"How long can you last?"
----------------------------------------------------
The deeper he goes, the more the truth unravels. Don't wait read ahead and witness Vincent's rise before the world catches up!
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