Several figures clashed violently in the courtyard in front of the shogunate's main building. Their movements created a deadly dance under the moonlight.
Without hesitation, the four inheritors launched their coordinated assault against Oboro. They understood in their hearts that Oboro was carrying out the will he had instilled in them through his very existence. He had witnessed their growth as warriors who could change the world. They recognized the complex web of identity and duty that bound him and understood why he couldn't simply step aside from the conflict.
As he was now their enemy, this man would sacrifice his life to fuel their "will" and burn the last remnants of his existence for their cause. If they couldn't defeat Oboro here and now, there would be no hope of overthrowing the shogunate and transforming this corrupt world. Failure would prove their will insufficient to reshape reality and present their answer to history.
Killing Oboro was their way of showing respect for the man they revered. Even though they knew Oboro was prepared to die resolutely, they understood that it wasn't for the shogunate's sake, but for theirs. This realization ignited their fighting spirit to its absolute peak.
Little did they know that everything was unfolding according to Oboro's careful calculations.
"Hahaha!" Oboro's laughter echoed across the battlefield as he observed the four warriors. He could see the determination in their eyes and sense the changes in their souls. Though they hadn't reached the level of the seven Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, they already possessed the "light of will." How many centuries had the Demon Slayer Corps spent cultivating their strength? Yet these inheritors, who carried his will, had experienced merely ten years of brutal training.
There was no comparison to be made. Oboro was deeply satisfied with their progress.
"Blood Demon Art, Dark Night Wind Flower."
Yasuhara, the man with gaunt cheeks, was the first to unleash his technique. Surrounded by four opponents, he knew physical prowess alone wouldn't defeat Oboro. To overcome the overwhelming physical strength of a demon of his caliber, they needed every advantage. Only one-third of the original inheritors remained; these were the survivors. The fact that they had endured this long under pressure from the Demon Slayer Corps and Muzan's forces proved their exceptional nature. Honestly, each of them possessed power comparable to the Upper Ranks.
All four had encountered members of the Twelve Demon Moons, gaining an intimate understanding of Muzan and his demons. By accepting Oboro's blood, it seemed that they had become immune to Muzan's control; their growth rate surpassed that of their demonic peers. In the purgatory-like environment of the past decade, they consumed tremendous amounts of nutrition and experience.
Still, when facing the man before them, they felt somewhat inadequate. But this was natural; in their hearts, Oboro existed as a transcendent being. Such feelings were entirely expected.
They understood Oboro better than the Demon Slayer Corps or Muzan himself did. The blood flowing through their veins contained the will embedded within Oboro's cells, the will that suppressed Muzan's influence! Thanks to this, they could feel this unique will and comprehend its incredible power during their years of evolution and growth.
It had driven them to extraordinary heights.
Oboro's arms moved rapidly, deflecting the punches and kicks of two Inheritors. From his peripheral vision, he saw Yasuhara positioning himself to launch his Blood Demon Art.
Suddenly, the night sky seemed splashed with thick ink, descending like a liquid curtain to form a zone of absolute darkness. In an instant, vision became impossible.
However, losing sight barely affected his movements. With his vast experience, Oboro could still make precise judgments through his heightened senses.
Beside him, Takaya, with his white hair bound in a traditional topknot, launched his own killing technique the moment darkness enveloped them. Blood spurted from his arm in great quantities. Rather than dispersing, though, the blood formed crimson, interwoven threads that condensed into blades before his palms. The blades then thrust toward Oboro's face.
"Missed!" The sound of wind whistling past cut through the air, and Takaya's pupils contracted in shock.
The next second, a devastating blow struck his abdomen, and blood vessels burst in his eyes from the impact.
Generally, when a person loses vision, even with extreme reflexes, there's a momentary physiological delay that affects their limbs. But this man showed no such weakness. It defied all common sense!
As Takaya flew backward, he unleashed another Blood Demon Art. His white hair swelled like razor-sharp steel wires and shot outward in all directions.
However, the only sound he heard was his companion's muffled groan of pain. His attack had missed Oboro entirely and wounded one of his allies instead.
In the darkness, only Yasuhara, who had also activated the Blood Demon Art, could see clearly. The other three inheritors had lost their vision completely.
Under these conditions, Oboro's combat effectiveness was not only maintained, but enhanced, while the three of them were severely weakened.
In less than a minute, several explosive impacts echoed within the black tent.
Yasuhara watched in horror as Oboro seized Ueno's head and hurled him through the ground floor of the shogunate building like a stone. Walls and furnishings shattered under the impact.
Using his Blood Demon Art, Teshimagaga made the ground surge like water, disappearing into it as if swimming. Just as he emerged behind Oboro with only his head exposed, Oboro delivered a devastating kick, blasting Teshimagaga deep into the earth.
He was too powerful, genuinely too powerful.
This wasn't the same form of life as them, not even close.
Though he had sensed hints of this power within his body before, nothing had prepared him for such an intuitive demonstration.
After all this time and battles with the Demon Slayer Corps and Muzan's forces, the four were no longer inexperienced novices. They had rich combat experience and could accurately judge situations.
The scene unfolding before him filled Yasuhara's mind with absolute certainty. They would die. All of them would die.
Facing this man, they couldn't win.
His eyelids twitched wildly as his previously unshakable belief cracked in an instant. The urge to flee suddenly overwhelmed him.
Gone! Suddenly, Yasuhara's hair stood on end. Through his piercing eyes, he had lost sight of Oboro entirely.
"Why? Are you frightened?" A calm voice whispered in his ear.
Oboro had appeared behind the inheritor without warning.
"If this is your limit, I can't help but feel disappointed. With such a mentality and beliefs that shake so easily, how can you speak of changing the world and overthrowing the shogunate?"
Remember when he killed the Thunder Hashira years ago? None of the remaining six Hashira retreated. Instead, their fighting spirit had intensified.
Oboro's words pierced Yasuhara's heart like a blade.
The panic on his face vanished instantly.
"I understand now," Yasuhara responded with newfound resolve.
Then, his entire body swelled dramatically, like an inflating balloon. His form became grotesquely deformed, completely inhuman.
When Oboro sliced through his skin with his blade-hand, what emerged wasn't flesh and blood but liquid flowing like ink.
BANG!
The surging black substance exploded immediately in all directions.
Oboro lifted his haori to use it as a shield, but the liquid began corroding the ground on contact.
Meanwhile, Yasuhara, who had used the explosion to escape, was left with only torn skin. However, his incredible regenerative ability allowed him to grow an entirely new body.
Before Oboro could pursue him, a streak of light shot toward Oboro like an arrow from the distant, ruined building.
It was Ueno, whom Oboro had launched away earlier.
They weren't giving up! Their determination to kill him had only grown stronger.
Oboro noticed this and smiled. "That's exactly right."
The battle continued, and upstairs, Chiyoko's shamisen playing became increasingly uneven, harsh, and tragic.
An hour later, the area in front of the shogunate building was completely destroyed.
The various Blood Demon Arts finally dissipated one by one.
In the end, victory still eluded them.
The four inheritors were battered and bloodied, looking utterly defeated. Some lay in deep craters; others had half their bodies embedded in walls, bleeding profusely. Their formidable regenerative abilities seemed completely ineffective.
Oboro had used some of the same tactics he'd once used against Kokushibo.
He was the only one left standing on the battlefield. He wore his white shirt and wooden clogs, and his expression was impassive. "Though I feel some sadness about killing you, I won't hesitate because, at this moment, you and I are enemies."
He emphasized the words clearly.
"Today's battle wasn't what we expected. We were completely unprepared," said Teshimagaga as rubble fell around him. He stepped into the wall, smiling with blood at the corner of his mouth as his upper body sagged downward. "However, it also made us realize something important. In the beginning, you gave us 'hope and the mission of rebirth' and strength. Our growth over these years has only made us more resolute. We won't let down the inheritance and continuation of this will. Though we may die here, we've already passed our will on to other, more outstanding candidates."
Even if they hadn't encountered Oboro during the surprise attack on Edo Castle, it wouldn't have been as simple as some expected. There would definitely have been a bloody battle with the Demon Slayer Corps, and failure and death would have been real possibilities.
So, before coming here, they had already made their preparations.
"We may not be able to save this twisted world, but someone will succeed. Your expectations will be fulfilled one day, sir."
"It's not just my expectation; it's the vision of all of us," Oboro said with feigned regret.
"Only those with the strongest wills can save this world and create new life. My lord, you may possess that ability. However, I suspect that, since this happened today, you must have some unknown burden, perhaps bonds or blood itself, forcing you to make concessions. Who can say?"
Teshimagaga crawled toward Yasuhara as he spoke. "You have your reasons, and we have no right to question them, but we accepted your original transformation because we believe in your will! As you said, will is always the most important thing."
So even you, the one we deeply respect, will not retreat when we carry out our will.
We don't want to disappoint you."
Oboro's eyes narrowed as he realized that Teshimagaga was using words to distract him. The other two were simultaneously approaching Yasuhara.
"Because of that burden, my lord seeks death, doesn't he?" Takaya smiled faintly at Oboro; blood still flowed from his wounds. "If you want freedom, crown your will with life."
He had clearly misunderstood something.
Takaya believed that Oboro was unable to oppose the shogunate because of certain ties and was forced to fulfill his responsibilities as a member of the shogunate. After all, Oboro wanted to save the world. He was the source of their will, yet he had to bow his head to reality.
He wanted to choose a true "savior," a "seed" who could kill him, prove the value of his will and identity, and possess the ability to reshape the world.
In this sense, Oboro was contributing to this will in his own unique way.
Therefore, they still respected this great man in their hearts.
Because of that respect, they had to maintain absolute killing intent. Otherwise, it would be a disgrace to Oboro.
Oboro opened his mouth as if to speak, but held back without explanation.
He wielded tremendous influence over these inheritors. His previous words and actions had been designed to mislead them.
Therefore, it was only natural for the four of them to reach such conclusions.
"But we haven't lost yet."
Suddenly, Takaya changed the subject.
The other three, except Yasuhara, looked at their companion who had suffered the least damage, as if connected by telepathy.
Takaya spoke words that made Oboro's pupils dilate and his heart skip a beat.
"Devour us!"
These four simple words carried absolute determination and strength.
At that moment, Oboro's heart filled with intense joy and an unprecedented sensation.
He seemed to see the shadows of the seven Hashira in these four.
But, unlike the Pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, whose strength came from an inherited will, what was happening before his eyes involved successors that he had personally planted and nurtured.
There was a fundamental difference between these two situations.
This was magnificent!