Akaza's eyes widened in disbelief.

In front of him stood a man who should've long since reached his limit.

Yet Tachibana Kyūjō was still there—his blood-soaked Nichirin Blade raised high, pushing back against Kokushibō, the strongest of the Upper Moons.

Even matching him—blow for blow.

"This human… he's a monster."

That thought echoed in Akaza's heart.

He had never seen Muzan-sama's full power.

But right now, it felt like the peak of what this world could offer… was radiating from Kyūjō.

— — —

Meanwhile, Kokushibō, who had been locked in this endless battle since dusk, was beginning to feel it—not just in his body, but deep in his heart.

They had been fighting all night long.

The sky, once lit by a full moon and a blanket of stars, was now pitch-black.

Dawn was coming.

Why won't you die?

Why do you keep dragging this out?

Do you actually believe this will change anything?!

The thoughts raged inside Kokushibō's mind, but he no longer had the will to shout them aloud.

All he cared about now… was ending this battle before the sun rose.

Every second Kyūjō stayed alive… every second closer to morning… only tightened the noose around his neck.

"Moon Breathing – Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon – Incessant!"

A massive arcing slash, laced with rage, screamed toward Kyūjō.

But Kyūjō didn't block.

He shifted—just barely.

Reading the flow of the attack, he moved with precision, conserving every bit of energy he had left.

His body… was far past its limit.

Every muscle in him screamed like it was tearing apart.

Even his Nichirin Blade—it had never felt so heavy.

He was fighting on willpower alone now. His body should've given out long ago.

"Just a little more… just a few more seconds…"

Kyūjō counted.

Every breath.

Every heartbeat.

Every moment closer to the rising sun.

"Moon Breathing – Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail!"

A tidal wave of slicing energy burst from Kokushibō's twisted sword—Kyokokukamusari.

The long-range strike split the ground as it roared toward Kyūjō.

To Kokushibō, the man in front of him looked more like a corpse than a warrior.

But even so, he couldn't stop the furious snarl that formed on his face.

"Just die already! No human could ever defeat me!"

Kyūjō didn't move.

He couldn't.

But in those black-and-white eyes—so clear and calm—there was no fear.

"About five minutes until sunrise… It's time."

Kyūjō drew his entire consciousness inward.

He could feel it.

The dull thud of his fading heartbeat.

But he didn't hesitate.

He forced his heart to beat harder—to burn brighter.

He lit his soul on fire.

He pushed beyond the limit.

Flame Hashira Rengoku Kyojurō, in another time, would one day use this same forbidden technique against Akaza.

A technique that burned away the user's very lifespan in exchange for overwhelming power.

But Kyūjō… already bore the Demon Slayer Mark—a sign that marked him for death before age twenty-five.

And he had only nine years left.

Is that enough time?

Can I buy even a few more minutes before the sun rises?

That's why he had waited this long.

"I've already changed the course of this world's future…

Whether for better or worse—I don't know."

"But if I'm going to die here—then I'll give everything I have."

A burst of golden-blue lightning exploded from Kyūjō's chest.

His heart thundered to life.

Thump.

Thump.

Each beat surged with power.

His body trembled as strength flooded back in—a storm rising from within.

His eyes blazed.

Lightning patterns glowed across his skin—marking his arms, his face, his very soul.

Kyūjō raised his blade and roared:

"KOKUSHIBŌ!!"

Electricity surged once more.

His Nichirin Blade turned crimson—

A Crimson Blade, glowing with the power to slay demons.

He slashed once—and shattered the massive crescent slash coming toward him.

In that moment, from the force of his aura alone—

Kokushibō saw him again.

The shadow of that man—the one person who had once stood above him.

But this time, the feeling was even stronger.

— — —

Off to the side, Akaza watched in silence.

His emotions twisted and tangled.

Kyūjō had fought all night long.

By all logic, his body should've collapsed hours ago.

And yet…

…each time he fell, he stood back up.

Stronger.

Faster.

And now… now he was pushing back one of the most powerful demons in existence.

Part of Akaza didn't want to interfere.

This was something sacred.

But the man who had saved his life just hours ago—Kokushibō—was now…

…being cornered.

The demon swordsman's back was against the wall.

And Akaza hesitated.

Even as he hesitated, Kyūjō's blade sliced through Kokushibō's right arm—severing the hand holding his sword.

One more step—

Kyūjō's next slash aimed straight for Kokushibō's neck!

But the demon wasn't done yet.

He twisted his body—manipulating the blades growing from his flesh—to barely deflect the killing blow.

His face twisted with rage.

How long had it been…?

Since someone had pushed him this far?

Since his brother—the only one who had ever truly defeated him?

No other swordsman had ever reached this level.

But now…

Kyūjō stood at death's door—and still threatened to kill him.

I can't lose!

No matter what!

Even if he had to throw away all pride—

Even if it meant abandoning all honor—

As long as he won, that would be enough.

He clenched his jaw and shouted into the night:

"AKAZA!!"

"What are you doing just standing there?! The sun's almost up!"

"Don't tell me you're planning to defy Muzan-sama's orders?!"

Akaza turned toward the east.

The first golden light of dawn was beginning to peek over the distant mountains.

There was no time left.

His fists tightened.

He didn't want to interrupt this duel.

Didn't want to sully the battle between warriors.

But…

He owed Kokushibō a life.

And now, that debt had to be paid.

He jumped into the fray.

In an instant, the pressure bearing down on Kokushibō lifted.

And Kyūjō—

—now faced a crisis.

No matter how strong a Hashira he was…

No matter how high his power soared...

He wasn't a demon.

If he ignored Akaza—

A single strike could be fatal.

And now, with time running out…

The real fight was just beginning.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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