As Nakime's head hit the ground, her glowing eye faded, and for the briefest moment—
she remembered.
She sat alone in a shadowy room, a simple biwa in her lap.
No audience. No applause. Just silent tears echoing in the strings.
The memory of poverty. Of loneliness.
Of her life stolen when Muzan had offered her power in exchange for obedience.
No freedom.
Only a song of death.
The strings snapped.
Her past ended.
And so did she.
CRACK.
The Infinity Castle trembled violently. The walls pulsed erratically—no longer guided by Nakime's power. Entire towers began to collapse in on themselves. Floors warped. Cracks tore through the space.
From all directions, slayers screamed.
Some were separated from their comrades.
Others—crushed in the chaos.
"Get out! The castle's collapsing!" someone yelled.
In the chaos, a light opened above—
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The walls cracked, and then—vanished.
The entire structure imploded, and in a deafening blast of debris and cursed energy—
Everyone was thrown back to the surface.
The sky above was still dark—clouded by demonic energy—but the slayers found themselves lying amidst the shattered ruins of the Infinity Castle, now merged into the earth like a scar. Broken spires jutted from the ground, blood and stone mingled.
A chilling silence followed…
Then came the weeping.
A few dozen young slayers had been crushed beneath the debris.
Their comrades screamed. Others prayed. Some went numb.
But there was no time to mourn.
Thud.
A wave of heat washed across the earth.
Thud.
The ground shook. Something enormous approached.
Thud.
From the dust and ruin, a figure emerged—more monstrous than anything they had ever seen.
His body towered over them. Veins pulsed black across pale skin.
Massive talons scraped the ground. His face twisted in a permanent smirk—half-human, half-nightmare.
Final Form—Muzan Kibutsuji.
Hair wild. Flesh armored. Blood aura suffocating.
He was no longer pretending to be human. He was the devil incarnate.
Tanjiro slowly rose, Giyu at his side. The two were the first to land safely—bruised, but alive.
Tanjiro's knuckles tightened around his blade.
Giyu's mouth formed a thin line, silent but ready.
Muzan chuckled, deep and cruel.
"I've waited centuries for this. You gnats thought you could destroy me in that little tower of mirrors?"
He looked around—at the bodies, the wounded, the weak.
"Pathetic."
Tanjiro stepped forward, eyes burning.
"This ends today, Muzan. We'll finish what our ancestors began."
Giyu joined him, blade drawn.
Muzan simply smiled wider.
"Come then," he said, raising a clawed hand. "Let the final massacre begin."