A terrifying light erupted from Yoriichi Tsugikuni's Nichirin blade. It was not the light of a simple fire, but the blinding, holy radiance of a miniature sun, so brilliant it seemed capable of making gods tremble and demons weep. As he unleashed his final technique, the blade rose and fell in a perfect, continuous loop, a cycle of twelve forms merged into one ultimate, thirteenth strike.
A cataclysmic wave of energy tore through the Infinity Castle. The very structure of the pocket dimension groaned and shattered under the immense pressure. This was the strongest attack Yoriichi could ever perform, the culmination of a lifetime of swordsmanship condensed into a single, awe-inspiring moment.
But this was not the true peak of his power. In reality, Yoriichi's life had ended decades ago, in his final confrontation with Kokushibo. That failed sword swing, followed by his body being sliced in half by his demonic brother, should have been his end. And it was.
However, the Priest Clan possessed secret arts that defied the natural order. They had captured the last wisp of Yoriichi's lingering obsession—his duty to kill Muzan—and used it as an anchor. They froze his life force and preserved his consciousness at the moment of his death, effectively trapping his spirit. Then, through their forbidden research, they painstakingly rebuilt him a physical vessel.
Even so, this second chance was a fleeting one. His reunion with Kokushibo was always destined to be his final battle. For Yoriichi, this was a limited-time return, a borrowed life granted to him for the sole purpose of finding peace for his past regrets. He knew his true opponent had never been his brother, nor the corrupted Ubuyashikis. It was, and always would be, Kibutsuji Muzan.
But Muzan was more elusive and terrifying than ever, and he had yet to show himself. Very well. If the demon progenitor would not appear, Yoriichi would force his hand by removing his strongest servants from the board. Once Kokushibo, Kagaya, and Amane were gone, Muzan would have no choice but to face him.
The solar inferno of his attack solidified into a violent tornado of light and heat, ripping through the Infinity Castle with impunity. Even with Nakime's control and Muzan's enhancements, the dimension suffered irreparable damage, splintering and collapsing in on itself.
Far away, in another part of the fortress, the remaining Demon Slayers felt the world shake.
"What in the world was that!?" Shinobu Kocho exclaimed, steadying herself as the ground trembled. Tanjiro and the others, who were being steadily pushed back, stared in the direction of the blast with faces full of shock. "Whose power is that? It's terrifying... Could it be reinforcements?"
A desperate sliver of hope ignited in their hearts. If someone that powerful had arrived to help, then maybe all their sacrifices would not be in vain.
In the eye of the storm, Chinami, the God Lord of the Priest Clan, retreated abruptly, her expression a mask of cold calculation. The sheer destructive force of Yoriichi's attack was enough to annihilate anything in its path. Things had progressed to a point of no return. She knew Yoriichi was aware that the Priest Clan was using him, yet he fought on anyway, his desire to slay demons overriding all else.
But her clan's goals were far more ambitious than simply killing demons. If Yoriichi were ever to learn the truth—that the Priest Clan was the true mastermind orchestrating events from the shadows—she couldn't predict how he would react. They had preserved his spirit for one reason: to use this fated rival as the ultimate weapon to restrain Muzan. They had never anticipated, however, that Muzan's own schemes would be so terrifyingly effective.
While Chinami still held other trump cards, she couldn't help but feel a tremor of shock.
It's a pity… if Kibutsuji Muzan were here, he would have been severely injured, she thought. Yoriichi's ultimate attack was so overwhelmingly powerful that even she felt she couldn't resist it completely. If Muzan had been caught in that blast, his power would have been greatly diminished. And in that moment of weakness, the Priest Clan would have struck.
Her thoughts turned to the Elders, who were already moving on the Imperial Palace. Their plan, a millennium in the making, was finally reaching its climax.
The incandescent light finally faded. The air, thick with swirling dust, slowly began to settle.
In the center of a vast crater of rubble, Yoriichi Tsugikuni stood gasping for breath, clutching his Nichirin blade. The attack had consumed all of his borrowed life. His handsome, youthful face seemed to age a thousand years in a few seconds. Deep wrinkles etched themselves across his skin, and his dark hair bleached to a stark, brittle white. A fleeting beauty, vanished in an instant.
Not far away, a figure struggled to crawl from beneath a pile of rubble. It was Kokushibo, his body tattered and his sword broken. His aura was weakened to a flicker; the powerful blood Muzan had given him was failing to stabilize his life force. Yoriichi's final attack carried a destructive energy that annihilated life itself, and it was still eating away at him from the inside.
On the other side of the crater, Kagaya Ubuyashiki staggered forward, his steps heavy and broken. Above him, the defensive shield of Amane's Blood Demon Art flickered and died. Her ethereal form, which had protected him, became transparent and then shattered into nothingness like fragile glass.
Amane was dead.
"Come… Come to hell with me," Yoriichi's voice was a hoarse whisper, like the rasp of a vengeful spirit. He looked at his brother, at the descendant of the man he once called a friend. "What… What do you even consider life to be…?"
Before he could say another word, a flash of movement appeared behind him. Countless sharp spikes of flesh erupted from the shadows, piercing through Yoriichi's body in an instant. The sound of crunching bone and tearing flesh echoed in the sudden silence.
"What is life?" a cold, familiar voice mocked from the air. Muzan's perfected form materialized, hovering over the scene. "A dying man like you has no right to ask that question."
With another sickening crack, Yoriichi Tsugikuni's body exploded into a cloud of blood and dust. He was dead, and this time, it was absolute. No matter how powerful their secret arts were, the Priest Clan could never reassemble a man who had been reduced to nothing more than scattered atoms.
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