Muzan could not understand what kind of bewitching delusions Oboro had filled these people's heads with.
Talk of a sick world, remaking the order… claiming that their sufferings and experiences from their human lives were all the fault of the outside world and never their own… It sounded utterly ridiculous to him.
The world had always been unfair. If you had no power, no status, and were weak, then suffering was exactly what you deserved.
You should look within yourselves for the problem!
Yet every single one of these inheritors believed firmly in Oboro's doctrines and ideals. Deep down, it was because their hearts yearned to be saved, to escape the darkness they lived in.
They hoped that somewhere in this world, there was someone who could offer them even a little warmth.
Even if it was only pity…
"Pathetic."
Muzan looked at Ayameko with pure disdain and gave his judgment.
Truly, humans were weak and absurd creatures.
Ayameko's rage exploded instantly. The patterns spreading out from her across the ground seemed to carve countless pathways through the earth. In the next breath, her figure vanished completely.
She reappeared immediately behind Muzan.
This was her Blood Demon Art: Shattering Space.
She could instantly teleport anywhere the markings covered, or even transport any living thing that stepped within her territory.
It was not extreme speed, but absolute control over space itself.
BOOM!
Ayameko's arm swelled to the size and thickness of a stone pillar as she smashed it down toward the back of Muzan's head.
As a demon herself, she knew exactly where their kind was most vulnerable.
But with a loud crash, a towering wall made of living flesh erupted from the ground directly behind Muzan.
To Ayameko's shock, when her fist struck it, the material—though clearly organic—felt as hard and rigid as metal.
"He actually reacted in time?"
Ayameko's pupils contracted sharply.
This movement did not rely on speed; there was no trajectory to follow and nothing to predict.
Under such conditions, how had Muzan even perceived her attack?
"Hmm… Not only do you possess a superb Blood Demon Art, but you can also alter your physical form… The freedom to reshape and release your body is worlds apart from the useless trash I turned myself."
Muzan turned his head slightly, one crimson eye glancing at the dark figure floating in the air as he spoke calmly.
Ayameko's ability to expand her limbs felt strangely familiar to Muzan.
Because it was a power he alone should possess. Others like Akaza or Doma—even as Upper Ranks—were limited: Akaza fought using battle aura and martial arts, while Doma relied entirely on his Blood Demon Art.
Their own flesh and blood could not easily multiply cells to form new limbs or shapes, while retaining enough density and killing power to fight effectively.
But these inheritors had devoured so many of his demons… evolving to this level was only natural.
"Let me show you… something interesting."
Seeing her attack blocked, Ayameko prepared to activate her art again and vanish.
But Muzan spoke suddenly.
Immediately, the wall of flesh that had stopped her blow softened abruptly, flattening out like a carpet and expanding across the ground at terrifying speed.
In the next instant, soft, living flesh surged up from every direction, sealing off the entire space. It formed a massive cocoon around them, even blocking out the sky above.
Ayameko's heart skipped a beat—she realized she could no longer use her Blood Demon Art.
She landed and looked around. All she saw was writhing, fresh skin and muscle tissue. She and Muzan stood inside what was effectively a building constructed entirely of meat.
"He only left fragments of his will within your cells to grant you immunity to my control… But the source of your power still comes from me. The path of your evolution only leads you closer… to what I already am."
Muzan spoke slowly as he turned around.
Ayameko's composure was gone.
She sensed that this massive structure of flesh had not been separated from Muzan's original body.
It felt… more like a Blood Demon Art.
Yet it was different. It was a far superior technique.
The power of the soul could elevate Blood Demon Arts and allow them to be used to their absolute limit, bringing them to a transcendent level.
Take Ayameko's own ability, for example—the power to change position instantly and move anywhere at will was practically invincible.
Even Kokushibo might not have been able to counter it easily.
But how long had Kokushibo lived?
And how long had this woman been alive?
After touching upon the power of the soul, Muzan found he was capable of doing things… things he had never been able to do before.
Like what he was doing right now.
With merely a single drop of blood, catalyzed by his soul, it multiplied in the blink of an eye like spores. The speed was incomparable to before.
Blood generates flesh; flesh generates bone.
If he released enough blood, Muzan could theoretically build an entire castle out of rapidly grown biological tissue.
He could control and reshape every part of it with his mind.
Ayameko tried to break through the wall and escape. But then, a thin crack appeared in the fleshy surface. It widened abruptly, revealing a single eyeball as large as she was tall.
The eye rotated, and its gaze locked directly onto her.
In an instant, Ayameko's body stiffened; she could not move a muscle.
Tendrils of fleshy matter sprouted from the ground beneath her feet, slowly wrapping themselves around her limbs and tightening.
Muzan watched the scene in silence.
Squelch!
From above, countless spikes of white bone shot downward, piercing straight through Ayameko's body.
Then the space around her began to shrink as the walls pressed inward, eventually enclosing, crushing… and swallowing her whole.
Upon closer look, the fleshy walls secreted a thick, slimy fluid. The whole structure functioned exactly like a stomach or intestine.
The inheritor was defeated without even a chance to struggle or scream.
A gap opened in the massive cocoon.
Muzan stepped out, dressed in his fine clothes, wearing a smile.
It was a smile of genuine delight.
For years, he had run and hidden—from the inheritors, from the Demon Slayer Corps… But now, he could finally hold his head high again. Naturally, he was overjoyed.
"AHHHHH!"
Suddenly, a wail of agony echoed from behind him, as if Ayameko had just realized what was happening to her.
The entire cocoon shook, resembling a stomach churning to digest its food.
"This… is the power of the soul."
Muzan's eyes gleamed.
"Now, I can look directly upon the very source of your soul. In other words, the pressure and dominance you once exerted no longer have any effect on me. My biology determines that I am capable of ascending to a higher level of life… But what about you? Stripped of Oboro's protection and the shelter of his will, you are nothing more than a human."
"And humans… have limits."
Muzan ignored the piercing screams. Instead, he looked up toward the night sky and spoke to himself.
Every time he killed and absorbed an inheritor, he delved into their spiritual consciousness and clashed with the remnants of Oboro's will within them.
Through this, he gained a more intuitive understanding of the power wielded by both sides. He was slowly becoming familiar with this force, and with every encounter, he grew stronger.
"I hope… you know your place."
---
"Another one dead?"
"And so quickly…"
Oboro, now appearing as an elderly man in the twilight of his life, walked along the road under the night sky. He paused for a moment, his expression a faint, knowing smile.
Then, following the direction of his perception, he continued walking forward.
____________________
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