Demon Slayer: Breath of Desire

’Technique Development: Compass Needle.’

A gigantic snowflake-shaped compass unfurled across the courtyard, exceeding thirty feet in diameter.

Facing his former superior, Hakuji opened with his ultimate move.

’Destructive Death: Leg Type — Explosive Flurry.’

His feet were wrapped in blue flames as his figure blurred into a mirage.

Swish

The air exploded and the shockwave tore up a strip of grass. In the blink of an eye, he was right up against Kokushibo.

Yet the First Upper Rank merely took two steps to the left, and with just that, Hakuji’s foot grazed his face by mere inches.

As they crossed, Kokushibo’s six eyes regarded him coldly.

"So it seems—turning into a vampire didn’t make you any stronger."

Hakuji twisted his body in midair and drove both feet into the ground, pulverizing the flagstones.

Crouched in the crater, he lifted his head, no rage in his eyes and not a single word on his lips.

’Destructive Death: Final Form—’

The pattern beneath his feet shifted from blue to red, as piercing as blood.

He clenched his fists against his waist, then unleashed them with force.

’—Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow.’

Hakuji held nothing back.

"Aaaaahhh!"

He threw punches like a man gone mad, facing Kokushibo and his own demonic past alike.

Hundreds of blows landed, dragging blue gusts that covered every inch of the area.

The air detonated and the ground was reduced to dust.

This move, just as its name says, is pure destruction.

Yet as the barrage died down, a voice rang out behind him: "Your Destructive Death is useless against me."

Swish

A flash gleamed—not from Kokushibo’s position, but from Hakuji’s own body.

A crescent-moon-shaped cut spread from the crown of his head down to his groin.

A line of blood split his body in two.

Kokushibo stood behind him, holding his long, eye-covered katana—an extension of his own flesh.

On his forehead, the Demon Slayer Mark glowed a dark crimson.

Lowering his gaze to his body, Kokushibo saw more than a dozen holes across his chest and abdomen.

Though he scorned Hakuji’s attack, his flesh betrayed the damage he’d taken.

Pressed by Muzan’s orders and Marcus’s eventual arrival, he’d chosen to trade blow for blow.

He watched Hakuji regenerate and raised his blade without expression.

’Moon Breathing, Fifth Form: Moon Spirit Calamitous Eddy.’

A vortex of lunar blades erupted from the sword, wrapping countless tiny cuts that devoured Hakuji, grinding flesh and bone in midair.

But in that instant, a figure appeared behind Kokushibo.

’Rampant Arc Rampage!’

Gyutaro’s sickles spun, hurling dozens of high-speed cuts that pierced Kokushibo’s back from the nape down to the knees.

Blood spurted violently.

At that moment, every one of his blades carried necrotic venom.

Taking advantage of the front wounds that still hadn’t healed, Gyutaro moved like an assassin from the shadows and unleashed a hundred consecutive cuts.

And yet... Kokushibo didn’t so much as flinch.

Withstanding the damage head-on, two sharp blades sprouted from his back.

Swish

At that distance, Gyutaro was unable to dodge them and was sliced into four pieces.

"Onii-chan!"

Accompanied by Ume’s heart-wrenching scream, dozens of sashes lashed wildly at Kokushibo.

The swordsman destroyed the fabric with precise cuts, but in an instant his eyes narrowed.

Not far off, Ume had used her sashes to drag away Hakuji, who was recovering, while she pieced together the remains of her brother.

"Go slow... it doesn’t fit right," came Gyutaro’s muffled, strangled voice.

Looking at Hakuji, Kokushibo tightened his grip with a certain surprise. "Your strength hasn’t increased much, but your recovery speed is greater."

The wounds on Kokushibo’s own body still hadn’t closed, whereas Hakuji—who’d been cut in two and turned into minced meat—was already almost fully recovered.

A speed comparable to Muzan’s own.

"However..." Kokushibo raised his katana and the blade began to extend, branching out until it became a giant sword over thirteen feet long. "Every recovery has its limit!"

The pressure around him doubled.

’Moon Breathing, Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail.’

Without any wind-up, several giant spiraling blades shot out in a sweeping attack that covered more than half the courtyard.

!

Hakuji lunged to block their advance.

With his fists wrapped in blue flames, he struck the lunar blades one by one.

He broke the first at the cost of his left arm; he broke the second losing his right leg; the third grazed his ribs, shaving off flesh and laying the bone bare.

Even so, he managed to halt the onslaught.

He ended up half-kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, lifting his gaze only for his pupils to contract.

Kokushibo had vanished.

Behind Ume, a shadow fell over her.

"Besides—I came to capture people."

At the same time, in the other half of the courtyard, the cold air was growing dense.

Douma’s golden fan gleamed under the moon as he stood there with a broad smile, his multicolored irises curved into crescent moons.

Shinobu attacked him from every side.

’Insect Breathing, Dance of the Centipede: Hundred-Legged Zigzag.’

The thrusts came as thick as a storm, tearing out one cloud of blood after another.

Douma didn’t even try to dodge; he lowered his gaze to the wounds blossoming across his body and smiled all the wider.

"Fast, fufufu... You’ve gotten quite a bit faster, my little butterfly."

If he’d been unable to block Shinobu’s speed before, after her transformation he was even less able to.

He decided to abandon his defense entirely; after all, thrusts wouldn’t kill a demon.

Like Kokushibo, he’d realized that the best way to accomplish the mission was to trade damage for damage.

Ice crystals spread beneath his feet, blanketing the grass in frost and creating needles in the air.

’Blood Demon Art: Scattering Lotuses.’

As the fan opened, a fierce wind laden with frozen shards burst through the air. The gust forced Shinobu back and swept toward Kanao as well.

Kanao gripped her katana and leaped, clearing the ice shards to strike with a dazzling arc of pink light.

’Flower Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirling Peach.’

She spun in midair as petals fell from the blade. The horizontal cut went straight for Douma’s neck, and his head flew off—still wearing that smile.

Yet as she watched the head rise into the air, Kanao felt not the slightest joy.

Something was wrong!

__________

Throw your stones, drop them ALL! 💎

And don’t forget to comment, I wanna know if you liked the Chapter 👀

______

And if PS aren’t your thing but you still want more Chapters...

P-a-t-r-e-o-n → Athome790