Doma and Kokushibo had witnessed the dramatic transformation that had overtaken Muzan since his awakening. The demon king's presence had evolved into something unnervingly familiar; his aura bore an uncanny resemblance to Oboro's overwhelming dominance.
Just a single glance from Muzan now possessed the power to stir something deep within one's soul, as if his spirit could manifest as a tangible force and bend reality to his will. The comparison was inevitable; however, from Doma's perspective, a significant gap still existed between Muzan's newfound power and Oboro's absolute authority.
The memory of being dominated by Oboro brought a twisted smile of admiration mixed with fear to Doma's face.
The blood Muzan distributed to them bound them through the ancient curse that controlled all demons. Yet this control was far from absolute. If Muzan had complete dominion over his creations, he would have no need for restraint. He could have transformed humans endlessly, building an unstoppable army to crush the Demon Slayer Corps without hesitation.
The fact that Muzan remained cautious revealed the truth: The stronger a demon became, the weaker Muzan's grip on it grew. This was especially true for the Upper Moons, whose power approached the threshold where rebellion became possible.
Doma's intuition whispered a dangerous truth: when Muzan finally faced Oboro, Oboro would emerge victorious. Though he lacked concrete evidence, he was certain in his bones. Oboro's power, as he had displayed it when effortlessly handling both Doma and Kokushibo, transcended anything Muzan had recently acquired.
The seed of rebellion had taken root in Doma's mind. Perhaps serving under a new master wouldn't be such a terrible fate.
Kokushibo's inaction regarding Gyutaro spoke volumes. The First Upper Moon shared the same treacherous thoughts; their minds were aligned in betrayal. Having endured Oboro's dominance firsthand, Kokushibo understood that man's true strength better than anyone else.
If someone who had served Muzan longer than any other Upper Moon was considering defection, it only confirmed Doma's suspicions about their master's chances.
"What are you planning to do?" Doma asked, suddenly leaping forward toward the battlefield.
Kokushibo's eyes darkened as he recognized the implication behind Doma's movements.
"Naturally, I'm considering our new master's interests," Doma replied, covering half his face with his iron fan. His multicolored eyes gleamed with a calculating light as he sighed wistfully. "It's unfortunate about Akaza. Despite our years together, I considered him a friend, even though he seemed to despise me. I never held his hostility against him; that's simply his nature."
You've always misunderstood me in that regard."
Kokushibo remained silent, watching as Doma disappeared into the chaos of battle.
The confrontation between Gyutaro and Akaza had reached a fever pitch. Gyutaro's arms were wreathed in spiraling blood slashes; his Blood Demon Art, Circular Slashing and Spinning, creating a deadly dance of crimson death as he engaged Akaza in brutal close combat.
Akaza's fighting spirit blazed around him like visible armor; his Blood Demon Art, Destructive Death, pushed his physical capabilities to their absolute limits. Destructive Death pushed his physical capabilities to their absolute limits. The collision of blood-red shadows and devastating fist techniques sent shockwaves through the ground, creating massive craters and filling the air with choking dust.
Daki found herself completely outmatched. Her silk ribbons disintegrated the moment they approached the two combatants, shredded by the sheer intensity of Akaza's fighting spirit before they could make contact. The snowflake-like compass pattern beneath Akaza's feet continuously expanded, creating a domain where his battle aura reigned supreme.
Despite the apparent equality of their exchange, Gyutaro was slowly losing ground. His flesh was constantly torn apart by Akaza's overwhelming fighting spirit, creating wounds that only his incredible regenerative abilities kept from being fatal.
"Destructive Death: Final Form!"
Akaza's frown deepened as he realized time was running short. He created distance between himself and Gyutaro, settling into his ultimate stance. The compass pattern beneath his feet erupted in brilliant light, casting blue and silver afterimages across the battlefield.
This technique would unleash hundreds of devastating projectiles in all directions, each moving at impossible speeds with enough force to level buildings. Even with Gyutaro's exceptional footwork and agility, escape would be impossible.
The technique demanded enormous physical reserves, but its decisive power made it worthwhile. If this ultimate attack failed to eliminate his opponent, Akaza would have no choice but to retreat toward Doma and Kokushibo's hiding place. His depleted condition would leave him vulnerable to even Daki's attacks.
"Need some assistance?"
Just as Akaza prepared to unleash his devastating technique, an annoyingly familiar voice whispered in his ear. A figure had appeared directly behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder with casual familiarity.
The timing was perfect, deliberately interrupting him at the most critical moment.
"Get away from me!" Akaza snarled, his every pore radiating murderous intent. The veins on his forehead bulged with barely contained rage.
Doma had obviously orchestrated this interference. He had been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sabotage Akaza.
Akaza's hand shot up, aiming to crush Doma's head.
However, the interruption shattered his concentration, and Gyutaro's blood-red storm was already bearing down on them. As Akaza moved to dodge, he felt Doma's hand press down heavily on his shoulder, pinning him in place.
"You treacherous bastard!" Akaza's expression twisted with homicidal fury.
The crimson death storm reflected off his face as it approached.
"Don't be so angry," Doma said cheerfully. His head had already begun to regenerate from Akaza's earlier blow. "It's rare for us to work together like this. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to strengthen our friendship."
Bang!
Without hesitation, Akaza threw a lethal punch, creating a gaping hole in Doma's chest and sending him flying through the air.
But the damage was done. Akaza noticed the temperature around him plummeting rapidly.
Looking up, he saw several towering statues materializing around the battlefield. Doma's Blood Demon Art had activated.
Even while being launched backward, Doma had managed to execute his technique perfectly.
Ice crystals formed in the air as the statues opened their mouths and released massive clouds of freezing mist that instantly engulfed Akaza. Within seconds, Akaza was encased in a thick layer of solid ice, his limbs locked in place.
Gyutaro's storm of slashes arrived as planned, tearing through the frozen Upper Moon with relentless precision.
"So unfriendly. I thought we were comrades," Doma muttered as he examined his healing wounds and watched the ice sculpture being shredded by countless blood-red cuts.
The razor-sharp attacks shattered the ice and carved deep gouges across Akaza's body. Though his fighting spirit still burned within him, his frozen limbs were numb and unresponsive, preventing him from mounting an effective defense.
Blood erupted from dozens of wounds as the slashing storm continued its devastating work.
Akaza managed to launch himself from the storm's center, using every ounce of remaining strength in his legs, and escaped the worst of the damage. However, the attack had cleaved him in half, leaving only his upper torso to crash-land outside the battlefield.
Despite losing the lower half of his body, Akaza's incredible regenerative abilities kept him alive. Using only his arms, he crawled across the ground with surprising speed; his exposed organs had already begun to heal.
The battle was over, not because he lacked the will to continue, but because the odds had shifted dramatically. Doma clearly intended to use this opportunity to eliminate Akaza permanently.
As Akaza fled with only half his body intact, Doma calmly dusted off his clothes and made no move to pursue him. His attention had already shifted to Gyutaro, who was studying this new enemy with calculating eyes.
Another Upper Moon had entered the fray.
"Hello there," Doma said warmly, raising his hand in a friendly greeting toward Gyutaro.
Perhaps they could become allies in the coming storm.
As for Akaza, Doma glanced in his direction with amusement. Surely Kokushibo wouldn't allow Akaza to claim all the credit for this operation.
Several minutes later, Akaza's body had fully regenerated. His complexion remained pale as he realized neither Gyutaro nor Doma had pursued him. He had successfully escaped the immediate battlefield.
The confrontation between Gyutaro and Doma was undoubtedly beginning in earnest.
His current condition was far from optimal for further combat.
"I'm going to kill you, Doma!" Akaza's voice echoed with murderous intent.
The bastard had orchestrated everything perfectly. Even if the assassination attempt failed, Doma could take over Akaza's weakened position and complete Muzan's mission with fresh strength. Either way, Doma would emerge as the operation's greatest hero.
No wonder he had remained hidden, observing the entire battle from the shadows.
The more Akaza dwelled on the betrayal, the more his rage consumed him. Doma had to die.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, every instinct screamed danger. Akaza raised his arms instinctively just as a blade sliced through the air, severing his limbs and head in one fluid motion.
The attack came from nowhere, catching him completely off guard while his mind was focused on getting revenge on Doma.
Who could have done this?
As his severed head rolled across the ground, Akaza's blurred vision finally focused on a familiar figure:
Kokushibo.
But why? The question burned in his dying thoughts.
Doma's betrayal made sense; they had never gotten along, and Doma's interference had directly caused his demotion in rank. However, Kokushibo had no reason for this treachery.
Since joining the Twelve Demon Moons, Kokushibo's position as First Upper Moon had never been challenged. People came and went, but Kokushibo remained constant. Even Akaza acknowledged that he didn't have the strength to threaten Kokushibo's supremacy.
Moreover, Kokushibo had always been Muzan's most loyal servant, strictly maintaining discipline and hierarchy among the Upper Moons.
"Did Muzan order this?" Akaza's severed head managed to speak.
"Did Lord Muzan command you to eliminate me during this operation?"
Kokushibo lifted Akaza's head from the ground and studied it with cold eyes.
"Your existence is no longer necessary," Kokushibo stated flatly, offering no further explanation.
"Why? What did I do wrong?" Akaza demanded.
"Even if you kill me, I wouldn't survive the return to the Infinity Castle anyway because of Lord Muzan's nature."
Something was terribly wrong with this entire situation.
"Answer me! Answer me, Kokushibo!"
Kokushibo ignored Akaza's desperate shouts and began walking back toward the battlefield, carrying the severed head with him.
Meanwhile, after his long journey, Oboro had finally reached one of the Inheritor Faction's strongholds. However, when he stepped into the compound, Muzan was nowhere to be found.
Only cold corpses and smoldering ruins greeted him.
The killer had long since departed.
Muzan's campaign against the Inheritors had become common knowledge. The Demon King was systematically eliminating them, one by one, to unlock the deeper mysteries of soul manipulation through their deaths.
Therefore, any territory belonging to living inheritors should have drawn Muzan's attention, making it the perfect place for Oboro to intercept him.
However, Muzan's movements were impossibly swift. By the time Oboro arrived at a potential location, he only found the aftermath of slaughter.
This was clearly intentional on Muzan's part.
"He's not here. I thought you might show some courage after your recent growth and changes," Oboro murmured disappointedly, closing his eyes to sense the surrounding area.
Was Muzan planning to eliminate every inheritor while avoiding direct confrontation and then face Oboro only when he was at his strongest and had assembled his forces?
Such extreme caution was almost insulting.
"Chasing him seems pointless. I'll find an inheritor's territory and wait there. When he's ready, he'll come to me."
Oboro revised his strategy completely.
After some time, he left the town via the main road. As he passed the base of a mountain, he came to an unexpected halt.
Two familiar figures blocked his path—figures he hadn't anticipated encountering alone.
"Muzan isn't with them, just these two."
Oboro's surprise was genuine. If Muzan were present, there would be no way to hide his aura.
The First and Second Upper Moons, Kokushibo and Doma, stood before him without their master.
"My lord, we meet again," said Doma, stepping forward and bowing respectfully.
Kokushibo and Doma were obviously aware of Muzan's plans and movements. They had likely anticipated Oboro's arrival and positioned themselves to intercept him.
Muzan had sent them to capture Gyutaro while avoiding direct confrontation with Oboro. The Demon King's fear was palpable; he lacked the confidence to engage in a one-on-one battle and required everything to be perfectly arranged before facing his greatest threat.
Instead of finding Muzan, Oboro encountered his two strongest subordinates.
The timing was too convenient to be a coincidence, and their respectful address of "Lord" made their intentions clear.
Oboro couldn't help but smile at their audacity.
"You're certainly bold. I imagine Muzan must be furious," Oboro said, smiling. "So, what exactly have you two done?"
This development exceeded even Oboro's expectations. While Muzan had been working tirelessly to prepare for their inevitable confrontation, his most trusted lieutenants had already switched sides.
The irony was delicious.