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Chapter 23 - Muzan Escape

Chapter 23 – Muzan Escape

"Truly… how tragic."

Kibutsuji Muzan's voice slipped through the cold air—silky smooth, yet disturbingly hollow.

But in the blink of an eye—

His face distorted grotesquely, lips tearing toward his cheeks, revealing rows of gleaming fangs beneath pulsating flesh.

A silent cruelty.

The children inside were still laughing, unaware.

The mother stood lost in her grief, blind to the monster standing right at her doorstep.

And then—

A gust of wind tore through the clearing.

Muzan's instincts flared. He leapt back instantly, danger prickling at the edge of his senses.

A blade sliced through the spot where he'd just stood, whistling sharply through the frozen air.

His step halted.

Before him, a young man stood firm, his dark hair swept by the wind, haori fluttering behind him like a shadow given form.

"Demon Slayer Corps… again?"

Muzan's eyes narrowed. His voice was cold, sharp—his blood-red gaze locked onto the intruder.

"Not them," Hikaru answered calmly, spinning his blade once with practiced ease. "Just me."

"…Y-You…"

The Kamado mother looked bewildered, still processing what was happening. But the moment she saw Muzan's face twist into that monstrous snarl, her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

Her children stopped playing. They turned toward the voices—confused, but too young to understand.

"Mrs. Kamado," Hikaru said firmly. "There's no time to explain. Please—take your children inside and lock the door. Leave this to me."

"O-Of course!"

Though frightened and confused, the mother didn't hesitate. She gathered her children close and hurried inside.

Thud!

The door slammed shut behind her, causing a gentle tremor in the roof. Snow tumbled from the edge, cascading softly to the ground.

Muffled chimes rang from the bell above.

"A Hashira I've never seen before…"

Muzan raised his hand, extending a crimson tongue to lick his pale fingers, as though tasting the scent of blood that lingered in the air.

His eyes caught on the Wisteria pendant dangling at Hikaru's waist—the unmistakable mark of a Hashira.

He knew it well.

He had slaughtered countless Hashira in his long life.

And though he was a cautious being by nature… one Hashira alone was rarely enough to concern him.

Even if this one felt… different.

He had hidden his presence completely.

But that alone wouldn't save him.

"After I kill you, they'll follow. It makes no difference."

Muzan's voice remained composed, but laced with disdain. He began to move.

Hikaru took a long breath—then slowly slid his blade back into its sheath.

He understood.

This was a gamble.

A high-stakes bet.

But panic wouldn't help him.

Active Skill: Focused Serenity.

The wind howled harder.

Snow swirled violently, forming a pale mist across the mountain path.

Then—

Snap!

Muzan's hand lunged forward.

His flesh twisted, ripping itself open into dozens of blood-born tentacles—jagged, writhing, and deadly.

They shot toward Hikaru like a net of spears.

Hikaru moved instantly.

A flash of silver streaked through the storm.

He leapt forward, blade slicing through the air with full force.

Hikaru-Style—a personal hybrid of multiple combat disciplines, forged in solitude.

The tentacles shredded under his strike, chunks of flesh flinging into the snow.

But he didn't stop.

Bending his knees, he vaulted upward, raising his sword above his head—then swung it down, straight at Muzan.

A burst of light followed the arc of his blade.

But Muzan didn't move.

His face remained neutral.

His red eyes blank.

"…Fool."

His words were cold.

And then—

BOOM!

From beneath the snow, a trap was sprung.

Blood tentacles exploded from both flanks—hundreds of them, erupting into a cage of death around Hikaru as he hung midair.

There was no escape.

"A Hashira I don't recognize… how disappointing."

Muzan's voice cut through the chaos.

Not mockery.

Just cold fact.

Slash!

The tendrils struck.

But—

Nothing.

No impact.

It passed through… nothing but light.

Muzan froze.

Hikaru's body—

Wasn't real.

It shimmered. Then vanished.

A mirage.

An illusion of light.

Only then did Muzan realize…

He had been tricked.

His lack of combat instinct—as someone who rarely fought directly—had cost him a moment of clarity.

But he remained calm.

He was the Demon King.

And he still held power.

Until—

CRASH!

Snow exploded from the side!

Hikaru burst from beneath an icy mound, hair flowing behind him, blade drawn—and the air trembled with his presence.

For a moment, Muzan's expression cracked.

But he didn't move.

His gaze hardened.

His hand lifted again.

"…Impressive," Muzan muttered under his breath.

He saw Hikaru charging.

He saw the blade flashing toward him.

He prepared to counter—

But then…

Hikaru's wrist turned sharply.

Active Skill: Void Breathing – Mirror Moon, Flowing Water.

Illusion and light became one.

And from the cloudy skies, sunlight—faint and scattered—reflected off the ice mirrors Hikaru had placed earlier.

Dozens of beams converged.

All onto one point.

His blade.

It was weak sunlight—but still sunlight.

Now focused. Sharpened.

And combined with his Anti-Demon skill, Hikaru's Nichirin Blade shone with holy light.

That glow—

Stopped Muzan in his tracks.

The reflection of the blade shimmered in his crimson eyes.

And for the first time…

His expression broke.

Those eyes—so used to looking down on the world—

Now widened in fear.

That light.

That was sunlight.

The one force he could never overcome.

A flash of memory tore through his mind.

A memory he could never forget.

A breath. A blade. A man who once scarred him deeply.

Sun Breathing.

The image seared into his consciousness.

He had to run.

RUN.

That was all his instincts screamed.

Without a second thought, his body moved.

SLAASH!

Hikaru's blade carved through the space Muzan had stood a moment before.

The ground trembled.

Snow and dirt exploded outward.

But—

There was nothing there.

Muzan was gone.

Hikaru stood still, sword raised, chest heaving with each breath.

He scanned the area cautiously.

Mirror Moon was still active.

His blade still bathed in the faint glow of captured sunlight.

Silence.

Long, cold silence.

Then—nothing.

Muzan was truly gone.

He had abandoned this night's hunt.

…For now.

That was Kibutsuji Muzan.

The coward hiding behind absolute power.

Far above, a black crow glided across the sky.

And from the shadowed mountain trail…

Giyu Tomioka finally appeared.

Hikaru lowered his blade.

Took a deep breath.

And let himself rest, just for a moment.

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