Smoke swirled. Blood splattered the stones. The air trembled under the roars of battle.
And yet—
There he stood. Still.
Muzan Kibutsuji.Immaculate. Silent. Drenched in gore — yet untouched.
Behind him, a dozen eviscerated Hell Knights twitched. Mangled. Torn. Burned.
He hadn't moved in minutes. Not out of fatigue.
But contempt.
Muzan (softly, cold):"They think this is war. This is an insult."
His crimson eyes narrowed toward the breach.
Something was coming.
Something big.
The broken wall shook.
And then he emerged.
Ten feet tall, skin etched in ancient glowing scripture. Horned. Hulking.
Clad in black armor forged from hell's deepest flame, he carried a massive crimson warhammer — pulsing with embers and madness.
The Marauder-General of Malebranche.A personal executioner of the Dark King himself.
Marauder-General:"So... You're the one they call Muzan."
He stepped into the courtyard, metal boots sinking into the blood-soaked stones.
Marauder-General (mocking):"A pale imitation. A shadow playing king among insects."
He raised his warhammer over one shoulder.
Marauder-General:"The King of Hell sends his regards… pretender."
For a full second, Muzan said nothing.
He simply turned his head.
A wind passed through.
And then, his eye twitched.
Muzan (whispering):"…Pretender?"
His voice was low. Calm.
But his aura exploded.The sky around them dimmed. The very air shook, thick with murderous intent.
The Marauder-General flinched. Just a hair.
Muzan walked forward.
Muzan (quietly):"I existed long before you crawled from the bile of that pit."
Muzan:"I do not reign by permission. I reign by birthright."
WHOOSH—
The Marauder lunged, bringing down the warhammer like a falling mountain.
BOOOOM—!
The stone courtyard cratered, a shockwave rupturing the entire wing of the headquarters.
Dust. Shrapnel. Silence.
Then—*
SLASH.
A whip-like tendril of flesh and blood lashed out from the smoke—
And tore through the Marauder's shoulder plate, drawing a splatter of black blood.
Marauder-General (growling):"Tch—Fast."
Muzan stepped out of the smoke, now partially transformed.
His arms rippled into monstrous, writhing limbs — fanged, spiked, beautiful in their horror.
Muzan (low):"You came to my domain… to insult me."
Another tentacle launched — the Marauder blocked it—
But the third one wrapped around his leg and slammed him into the wall.
Muzan:"You call me a shadow. You speak of the King of Hell…"
His form shifted more.
Dozens of eyes opened across his body.
His skin pulsed with infernal heat, each breath now trembling the ground.
Muzan (roaring):"LET ME SHOW YOU THE TRUTH!!"
The Marauder Fights for His Life
The Marauder-General tried to swing his warhammer again—
But Muzan was already there.
A spike shot through his wrist. Another through his knee. A dozen through his ribs.
He howled.
Marauder-General:"IMPOSSIBLE—!"
Muzan (cold):"You believed the propaganda of your King."
Muzan grabbed his face.
Muzan:"Let me teach you something."
He slammed the demon's skull into the stone floor.
Then again.
Then again.
And again.
Until black ichor painted the courtyard red.
The once-proud Marauder now wheezed, choking on broken teeth and blood, his warhammer lying shattered beside him.
Muzan raised one finger.
Muzan:"Go back to hell…"
Muzan (softly):"…And tell your king…"
Muzan (voice cracking with fury):"THE FIRST DEMON STILL STANDS!"
CRACK—
He drove the spike straight through the Marauder's head.
Silence.
Even the nearby demons paused —
Muzan stood over the corpse, blood trickling down his face, eyes glowing.
Muzan (to himself):"You call me pretender…"
Muzan:"…Then come take my crown."