ROAR!
Sizzle!
An emerald-green wind blade flashed.
A lesser demon, its maw wide as it tried to ambush Sanemi from behind, was instantly decapitated, its foul blood splattering across the scorched earth.
"Damn all of you! Annoying bastards!" Sanemi roared in frustration.
The countless, weaker demons swarming the battlefield were a deliberate, draining tactic.
Just fighting the overwhelmingly powerful Kokushibo was already pushing him and Gyomei to their absolute limits; being constantly harassed by this cannon fodder was exhausting.
The other battles were the same.
Only Akaza, in his twisted reverence for a good fight, would occasionally obliterate a lesser demon that tried to sneak up on Giyu or Kyojuro.
The other Hashira were being bled, their stamina and focus constantly diverted by the endless horde.
They fought desperately, their uniforms torn and soaked in a mixture of blood and sweat.
But just as their situation grew most dire…
"EVERYONE, CHARGE! SUPPORT THE HASHIRA!"
A clear, resolute shout, like a thunderclap tearing through the gloom, rang out from the battlefield's edge.
It was followed by the sound of footsteps like a tidal wave and the metallic shing of a thousand Nichirin blades being drawn at once.
From all sides of the ruined Moriki Manor, countless Demon Slayers surged forward, their faces etched with grim determination as they charged headlong into the demonic horde.
The air erupted with the roars of demons, the battle cries of slayers, and the cacophony of clashing steel.
"My, my. It seems the Demon Slayer Corps came prepared," Kamaro observed from the shadows, watching the tide of battle with detached interest as the main force of slayers crashed into the demon army, freeing the Hashira from their predicament.
But the danger was far from over.
The fight between Kanae Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Douma was a prime example.
Douma, with his ever-present smile, was the most vicious of the Upper Moons.
His ice-based Blood Demon Art was a perfect counter to their breathing techniques, and his regenerative abilities were monstrous.
Several times, both women had felt the cold brush of death.
Yet the most infuriating part was his condescending chatter.
"We can still be friends~" he would coo, even as his golden fans unleashed a wave of air so cold it froze the very earth beneath their feet.
The other fights were just as desperate.
The Upper Moons were the embodiment of the chasm in power between the Corps and Muzan.
If they could not be defeated, reaching the source of all evil was impossible.
But the situation was about to change.
Four figures moving with the force of a hurricane finally arrived.
Wreathed in a vast, verdant vitality, a turquoise light that ripped through the darkness, the Forest Hashira, Shinichi, slammed into the battlefield.
"Breath of the Forest, First Form: Iron Birch Slash!"
A hurricane of turquoise slashes erupted around him, mercilessly shredding the demons in his path.
His amber eyes were already locked on the arrogant figure of Muzan in the distance.
Behind him came the Tokito brothers, Yuichiro and Muichiro, and Sabito, his eyes as calm as still water but burning with a silent rage.
Without a moment's hesitation, they split off, charging toward the most critical fights.
Sabito shot towards the battle against Akaza.
"Breath of Water, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!"
Like a spiraling water dragon, Sabito's blade descended upon Akaza, his power, held in reserve during their long run, erupting in a single, perfect strike.
The timing was flawless, catching Akaza just as he was overextended against Giyu and Kyojuro.
Akaza's pupils contracted.
He barely had time to raise an arm to block.
BOOM!
The blue blade of light crashed down, severing Akaza's arm at the shoulder.
"Oh?! Another one?" Akaza grinned, not with anger, but with pure, manic excitement.
"Excellent! I can feel it! Your fighting spirit is magnificent!"
The force of the blow sent him reeling backward, creating distance, his severed arm already beginning to regenerate.
On the other side of the battlefield, the Tokito brothers moved with the perfect understanding of twins.
They shot toward the desperate fight against Douma.
"Mist Breathing, Seventh Form: Obscuring Clouds!" Muichiro's form became a phantom, a wisp of mist that appeared silently at Douma's flank, his blade flashing at an impossible angle.
"Breath of Maple, Fourth Form: Autumn Fire Dance!" Yuichiro attacked from the other side, his style a direct and powerful torrent of fiery, maple-leaf-shaped slashes, aimed at Douma's ribs.
The brothers' attack formed a perfect three-pronged assault with Kanae and Mitsuri in the front.
For the first time, the smile on Douma's face tightened.
He was forced to take them seriously.
"Blood Demon Art: Crystalline Divine Child," he sang. From his golden fans, several small, perfect ice clones of himself sprang to life, each one moving to intercept an attacker.
Clang! Clang!
The sound of steel on ice rang out.
The seemingly fragile ice clones actually blocked their attacks, the recoil so strong it made Yuichiro's arm go numb.
"This guy is strong," Yuichiro grit his teeth.
He and his brother exchanged a look, and without a word, moved to stand protectively in front of the exhausted Kanae and Mitsuri.
This action, however, was met with indignant fire.
"We can still fight!" Kanae's voice was tired, but her determination was unquestionable, her tone losing its gentle edge for a warrior's hard resolve.
"Yuichiro-kun, Muichiro-kun, please don't underestimate us!" Mitsuri added, her own spirit unbroken.
"We're the onee-sans here! We don't need our little brothers protecting us!"
From all directions, the elite of the Demon Slayer Corps charged into the fray.
Though their individual strength was no match for an Upper Moon, their combined will—their shared hatred and their unwavering resolve—coalesced into a mighty torrent, crashing into the infernal battlefield.
Their arrival ignited a desperate hope in the hearts of all who fought.
The final outcome of the thousand-year war between humanity and demons would be decided here, tonight.
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