Chapter 102 102: Slaying Muzan

[Ding! Intense negative emotions detected from Akaza before death. Obtained 25,000 emotion points!

Intense negative emotions detected from Kokushibo before death. Obtained 32,000 emotion points!

Intense negative emotions detected from Muzan Kibutsuji. Obtained 30,000 emotion points!

A total of 52,000 Demon Power has been obtained. Thirty percent will be fed back to the Sword Master!]

The moment the system notification rang out, Asuramaru knew.

This was over.

Muzan could run. He could scheme. He could claw at every last thread of survival with the desperation of a beast trapped in fire.

But the result had already been decided.

Ahead, Tanjirou's body changed again.

The improvement was not as violent as before. It did not tear through him like a storm or remake him from the bones outward. Perhaps he had already reached the limit this world allowed a human body to touch.

Even so, that small step forward was terrifying.

The strength flowing through him now was enough for him to fight Muzan Kibutsuji barehanded.

His feet touched the earth.

Thunder Breathing surged through his legs.

One step.

Then another.

His speed kept rising.

The forest blurred into darkness. Tree trunks flashed by like shadows thrown across a paper screen. The wind split against his face, and the ground cracked beneath every step.

In front of him, Muzan's expression twisted.

What the hell?

Why was he still getting faster?

Was he playing with me before?

Fear and fury tangled together in Muzan's chest. Before, this boy had merely reminded him of Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Now, the resemblance was almost exact.

The only difference was that this monster had yet to wield those horrifying sword forms with the same perfection.

Muzan clenched his teeth and forced his body to change again. Eight additional bone whips burst from the outsides of his legs, stabbing into the ground and trees to propel him forward. His body became less human by the second, more insect than man, more curse than living creature.

Behind him, Tanjirou slid his spare Nichirin sword into its sheath and focused his strength into his legs.

He was about to strike.

"Tanjirou, wait."

Asuramaru's voice cut sharply through his mind.

"Give it another hour. The medicine may not have taken full effect yet. The safest moment to kill him is when he can no longer split himself apart."

Tanjirou's fingers tightened around his sword.

"For now," Asuramaru continued, "make yourself look weaker little by little. Don't push him into desperation too soon."

Tanjirou understood.

His breath steadied.

The killing intent in his eyes did not fade, but the explosive force gathering in his legs slowly withdrew. Instead of cutting Muzan down immediately, he stayed behind him.

Close enough to threaten.

Far enough to let hope rot inside Muzan's heart.

Like a death god keeping pace with a condemned soul.

No matter how Muzan fled, no matter how his body twisted or how many limbs he grew, Tanjirou remained behind him.

Never losing him.

Never letting him breathe.

The terror of death pressed harder with every passing minute. Muzan's thoughts grew frantic. He was so focused on escaping Tanjirou that he failed to notice the subtler change inside his own body.

Every so often, Tanjirou slowed.

Only slightly.

But to Muzan, it was a crack of light in a sealed tomb.

His state is weakening.

He can't maintain it forever.

I can survive.

That hope dragged Muzan forward.

One hour passed.

Inside the sword, Asuramaru finally opened his crimson eyes.

The medicine had taken effect.

The drug created specifically to suppress Muzan's ability to split himself apart had fully spread through his body.

It was time.

"Do it, Tanjirou."

Asuramaru's voice was calm, but underneath it burned a long, cold satisfaction.

"End it. Let out everything you've been carrying."

"I understand."

Tanjirou inhaled.

All sound vanished from his world.

The trees. The wind. Muzan's frantic steps. Even the pounding of his own heart sank into silence.

Power gathered in his legs.

Thunder Breathing ignited.

In the next instant, Tanjirou vanished.

Muzan felt him appear behind him.

"What?!"

The hope Muzan had clung to collapsed in a single heartbeat.

Why?

Why had he not done this earlier?

He tried to split.

One of his arms swelled grotesquely, flesh ballooning as he attempted to scatter his body and escape in fragments.

Then it shrank back.

Perfectly normal.

Muzan's pupils trembled.

"How...?"

He tried again. His cells rebelled against him. The command he had relied upon for a thousand years failed to activate.

"The medicine..."

His voice cracked.

"It wasn't just a medicine to turn demons back into humans?"

Only now did he understand.

Too late.

Every step had been a trap.

Every delay had been intentional.

Even his final means of survival had been stripped away.

"Damn it..."

Tanjirou had already arrived.

His hands closed around the hilt of Asuramaru.

The world changed.

One-Sword Rakshasa.

All twelve forms of Sun Breathing were drawn into a single instant.

Tanjirou stepped beyond his limit.

Color drained from the world. The forest, the earth, Muzan's body, the air itself, everything turned gray, as though time had stopped breathing.

Only Tanjirou moved.

Slowly.

Pain tore through him.

Blood spilled from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. His muscles split beneath his skin. His bones screamed under the pressure. Every part of his body protested, begging him to stop.

He did not stop.

His will moved the blade.

Asuramaru pushed Demon Power to its absolute limit.

The sword burned red.

The Transparent World opened.

Muzan's seven moving hearts and five brains had nowhere left to hide.

For a single impossible moment, Muzan saw him again.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

The man from a thousand years ago.

The man who had brought him to the edge of death.

It felt as though that ancient sword strike had never truly ended. It had simply crossed a thousand years of time to land here, now, upon him.

Tanjirou's voice rang out.

"One-Sword Rakshasa!"

Muzan refused to wait for death.

A gigantic mouth split open from his left shoulder down to his right leg. Flesh tore apart, teeth formed, and a violent shockwave erupted from within, powerful enough to force human muscles into spasms and tear apart a body from the inside.

Tanjirou saw it.

He ignored it.

At that moment, nothing mattered except killing Muzan Kibutsuji.

The blade fell.

The shockwave and the sword strike collided.

The forest disappeared beneath dust, smoke, and shattered earth.

For several breaths, nothing could be seen.

Then the dust settled.

Tanjirou stood in the center of the destruction.

His clothes were soaked in blood. His muscles had torn open across his entire body. Blood dripped from his jaw, his fingers, the edges of his sleeves. He looked as though he had been dragged through death and had simply refused to stay there.

Before him lay Muzan Kibutsuji.

The Demon King had been hacked into pieces.

His hearts were shredded.

His brains were sliced apart.

His body, once capable of endless regeneration, now trembled in scattered chunks across the ruined ground.

And still, Muzan did not die immediately.

With a mangled arm, he propped up what remained of his head and stared at Tanjirou.

His eyes burned with hatred.

Or perhaps, at the very end, something closer to understanding.

He remembered words once spoken by a former head of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Only will was eternal.

Flesh perished. Blood dried. Bodies became dust.

But will could cross generations.

At this moment, staring at Tanjirou, Muzan seemed to grasp the meaning of those words.

His voice came out low and broken.

"I will die soon."

His lips trembled.

"To the very end, I failed to fulfill my dream."

He stared at Tanjirou with eyes full of resentment.

"You call me a monster... but the real monsters are you people."

Tanjirou did not answer.

Muzan continued, his voice growing more urgent.

"My flesh is about to perish. But you are different. You inherited Sun Breathing. You are aided by that sword. Even so, you still cannot overcome the limit of lifespan."

His eyes sharpened.

"Become a demon."

The words slithered through the night.

"I will give everything to you. My blood, my power, all that I am. You will fulfill my dream."

Tanjirou looked down at him in silence.

"You and Nezuko share the same bloodline," Muzan said, almost pleading now. "You can do it. Only you can become the strongest ultimate lifeform."

His voice rose.

"A god."

The temptation was real.

No one was more suited to Muzan's blood than the Kamado family.

Nezuko had conquered the sun.

Tanjirou had reached a height no human should ever touch.

If he accepted, perhaps he truly could become something beyond every demon that had ever existed.

But Tanjirou only sheathed his sword.

Then he crouched in front of the dying Demon King and looked into his eyes.

"I will not become a demon."

His voice was quiet.

Unshakable.

"All I want is to live out my life peacefully with my family and my friends until the very end."

He paused.

"That is enough for me."

Muzan stared at him.

He could not understand.

He truly could not understand.

"No..."

His voice shook.

"No, you will regret it! Accept my blood! Become the strongest existence! Tanjiro Kamado, you are the one chosen by god!"

He shouted.

He tempted.

He raged.

Tanjirou remained unmoved.

The night wind passed between them.

At last, Tanjirou closed his eyes.

His voice softened, carrying a relief so heavy it nearly broke him.

"Mom... Hanako... Takeo... Shigeru... Rokuta..."

A tear slipped down his bloodstained cheek.

"I have avenged you."

.....

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