Demon Slayer: Breath of Desire

"Muzan! Are you still not coming out?"

"Your daddy’s home—why don’t you go get my slippers?"

Marcus’s voice echoed throughout Infinity Castle.

Muzan stood on the highest platform, hands resting on the railing, his face livid and trembling from head to toe.

He didn’t understand.

Infinity Castle was his ultimate refuge, an isolated dimension no one could access. Not Kagaya, not the Demon Slayers, not even Yoriichi himself had ever managed to locate it.

...How had Marcus gotten in? A slip... on Nakime’s part?

His gaze settled on the long-haired woman holding the biwa behind him.

"Nakime."

She raised her head, and instantly Muzan’s bone whip slashed across her face.

The wound opened from her left cheekbone to her chin, spattering blood over the instrument.

Nakime’s body swayed, but she righted herself in silence, without complaint.

"This is your domain." Muzan gritted his teeth. "How did he get in?"

Nakime didn’t defend herself.

Or rather, she didn’t dare defend herself.

Nor did she know how.

Only the blood ran down her split cheek, dripping onto the strings, producing a very faint sound.

A few steps away, Kokushibo watched the scene and, after two seconds of silence, spoke up: "Muzan-sama, I suspect Marcus’s Blood Demon Art consists of exchanging body parts. Perhaps, during some retreat or when we opened doors to capture people, he managed to send a fragment of himself over. Being so insignificant, it escaped Nakime’s sight."

Muzan kept silent.

He looked at Kokushibo, turned to Nakime, and struck again.

Swish

The whip landed squarely on her neck, leaving her head on the verge of coming off.

"Useless," Muzan hissed, retracting the bony limb. "Incapable of doing a single thing right."

His chest rose and fell in agitation.

He wasn’t only cursing Nakime, nor only Kokushibo, but all of them.

Of course, it didn’t occur to him that Marcus had infiltrated because of his own doing; he simply assumed his subordinates had brought Marcus in by accident.

He breathed deep, trying to contain the frenzy of his rage.

"Summon everyone. Bring back the demons outside."

Douma, off to the side, rested his fan against his chin, keeping his smile. "Muzan-sama, there’s a group fighting the Hashira that’s about to win—them too...?"

Swish

Muzan’s whip pierced through Douma’s shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

"Shut up."

Muzan’s voice turned cold, with an unmistakable trace of hysteria. "He’s here! And you mean to prioritize what’s happening outside?!"

Nakime, kneeling, clumsily set her head back in place. She placed her fingers on the biwa’s strings and strummed.

TWANG!

The note vibrated through pavilions, corridors, and staircases, spreading into every corner of the fortress.

In the distance, Marcus clearly heard the note, followed by the clatter of multiple sliding doors opening in unison.

Seconds later, he felt the vibrations: a constant rumble emerging from every direction.

Standing in the open space between the pavilions, Marcus raised his head to watch the creatures spilling out of the shadows.

One... ten... hundreds of them.

Greenish-gray skin, rabid glares, and saliva dripping from their maws. Some walked upright, others crawled or moved on all fours.

They squeezed between the columns, surged up from beneath the staircases, and descended headfirst hanging from the beams, surrounding Marcus completely.

There were between three and five hundred demons.

Watching them, Marcus laughed, amused.

"You still won’t show your face, even now?"

"Are you that afraid I’ll find you?"

"Muzan... oh, Muzan... did you really... hide yourself well?!"

His taunt earned nothing but the unified roar of the ferocious demons in reply.

Marcus shook his head and drew his swords.

From his mouth billowed a pink mist that spread to cover his blades.

’Desire Breathing, First Form: Valkyrie.’

The mist on the blades turned into pink flames that began to expand.

Three feet... fifteen... thirty... until they reached sixty-five feet long!

Two colossal blades blazed with a fluorescent glow, lighting up the place.

The tide of demons halted.

Though they lacked intellect or fear, the scorching brilliance blinded them momentarily.

But it was only for a moment; the very next instant, they hurled themselves forward again.

Seeing the mass charge in from every flank, Marcus crouched.

The ground fractured beneath his feet and, an instant later, he shot up into the air, dragging the gigantic blades with him.

’Desire Breathing, Fourth Form: Crimson Curtain.’

The blades began to trace circular paths. The pink flow didn’t form a flat surface, but a perfect sphere eighty feet in diameter.

A colossal halo enveloped Marcus, spinning like a high-speed shredder.

The horde threw itself at him like a plague of locusts, but the instant they neared the pink sphere, the demons were torn apart and then disintegrated into ash before touching the ground.

On the platform, witnessing the carnage through their shared vision, Muzan felt his eye twitch.

He’d grown stronger!

That damned bastard had grown stronger yet again!

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Throw your stones, drop them ALL! 💎

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