A sharp, tallic chi echoed inside Yukinoshita Akira's mind.
[Ding!]
[You have gained 5% Inheritance Progress!]
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! You have acquired the skill: Crimson Blade!]
[Crimson Blade] — Increases the sword's temperature, transforming it into a "Crimson Blade." Attacks made with this weapon inflict significantly greater damage on demons and drastically slow their regeneration in the wounded area.
The five percent increase pushed Akira's inheritance progress past the halfway mark.
And along with it, he had obtained a new power—Crimson Blade.
At this point, Yukinoshita Akira had essentially mastered every technique and ability once possessed by Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the original creator of the Sun Breathing Style.
Yet, even as power surged through his veins, one thought flickered in the back of his mind.
If only fifty percent of the inheritance had already granted him all of Yoriichi's techniques and swordsmanship... then what could the remaining half possibly contain? Was it just raw, physical strength—sothing even greater than this?
"…Thank you…"
A faint, fading voice broke through the silence.
It ca from what little remained of Akaza's body—only a mangled head and fragnts of his upper torso.
His lips barely moved, but those words… carried no hatred, no resentnt.
Just peace.
Yukinoshita Akira slowly nodded.
Though this being had lived as Akaza, a demon of unimaginable cruelty, at his core he was still Hakuji—a warrior who had once fought for love and honor.
For that reason alone, Akira offered him a warrior's final respect.
Not far away, Yukinoshita Yukino stepped closer. She stared at the fading demon, confusion written all over her face.
Why… would a dying demon thank the very man who killed him?
"…Is it over?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Akira said, exhaling deeply. A gentle smile crossed his face. "It's over."
Their gazes t—briefly, silently—and both smiled in relief.
Then—
Footsteps echoed from the distance, growing louder and faster.
Akira and Yukino turned.
From the edge of the forest, Shizuka Hiratsuka appeared, sprinting toward them with her Nichirin Blade drawn, followed closely by Hikigaya Hachiman, who looked both exhausted and bewildered.
"Where's the demon?! What happened?!" Hiratsuka shouted the mont she arrived.
But instead of answering, Yukino's expression twisted between disbelief and exasperation.
"Hiratsuka-sensei," she said flatly. "Since when did you start working with the police? Always arriving after everything's over."
"E–Eh?! I—I ca as fast as I could!" Hiratsuka stamred, cheeks burning with embarrassnt.
As a teacher, even she couldn't deny how pathetic that sounded.
"Forget it," Akira said calmly. "It's done. Upper Moon Three is dead. Now, only Upper Moons One, Two, and Five remain as threats."
"Wait—what?!" Hiratsuka blinked in shock. "That thing was Upper Moon Three?!"
"Yes. His na was Akaza."
"Unbelievable… a demon that's lived for centuries and devoured hundreds—killed by you?"
"Is there a problem?"
"N–No… nothing at all…"
Hiratsuka's voice trembled. She couldn't hide her astonishnt.
Her student—her own student—had just slain one of Muzan's elite demons.
anwhile, Hikigaya Hachiman stood silent, his mind spinning.
Just from their brief conversation, he'd already learned too much. Upper Moon Three… Upper Moon One, Two, Five… centuries-old demons… and a high school student capable of defeating them?
The world suddenly felt too vast. Too dark. Too terrifying.
"Tell , Hikigaya Hachiman," Akira said softly, his tone calm but firm. "After witnessing all this… what's your decision?"
"…Do I even have a choice?"
Hachiman t Akira's eyes. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping.
He'd seen too much to turn away.
Monsters that fed on humans. Immortal demons that walked in the shadows of modern society.
And if he couldn't pretend they didn't exist… then the only option left was to gain the strength to survive.
At least enough to protect himself. And his sister, Komachi.
"Good," Akira said with a small smile. "Once we return, your training begins. Tomorrow, I'll explain the basics."
"Understood," Hachiman replied. "From now on… you're the one I'll follow."
He had accepted it—his fate.
Whatever happened next, Yukinoshita Akira would be his teacher… and perhaps the only shield between him and death.
Shizuka Hiratsuka, however, stood frozen.
As a teacher, every instinct in her scread to stop them—to pull her students away from this madness.
But she couldn't.
Because she knew… this wasn't so reckless adventure or delusional fantasy. This was war.
A real, rciless war against monsters that could slaughter them without hesitation.
And today, if not for Yukinoshita Akira… they all would have died.
— — —
A thunderous crash shattered the silence elsewhere.
BOOM!!
Inside a dim, luxurious villa, a golden sofa exploded into fragnts under a single, furious strike.
In the center of the destruction stood a woman with inhuman beauty—and eyes filled with bottomless hatred.
Kibutsuji Muzan.
The Demon King.
Her perfect face twisted with rage, though behind that fury lurked sothing else—fear.
"Sun Breathing…" she hissed, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury. "That damned technique still exists?! Kill him. Kill him NOW!"
The walls shook with the sheer weight of her fury.
Monts ago, she had received word that Akaza was dead.
One of her most powerful Upper Moons—gone.
But what truly unsettled her wasn't the loss of a subordinate.
It was what she saw in Akaza's final mories before his death.
A man wielding Sun Breathing.
The technique that once brought her to the brink of annihilation.
Centuries ago, she had faced a man with a single sword… and for the first ti in her immortal life, she'd known fear.
It was that man—the original Sun Breather, Yoriichi Tsugikuni—who had nearly ended her existence.
Even now, the mory of that burning light haunted her.
That day, she fled into the shadows of history, waiting—hiding—until Yoriichi's death by old age.
She even took his own brother, Kokushibo, under her wing, binding him in blood and darkness.
All because of one thing she could never admit aloud:
She was afraid.
Terrified.
The irony of immortality—an endless life shackled by the fear of death.
And nothing frightened Kibutsuji Muzan more than the idea of that fear returning.
"Akaza…" she snarled. "Pathetic trash. I gave you my blood, my power—and still, you die? Worthless."
Her words dripped with venom. There was no grief in her voice—only wrath.
Because that was who Kibutsuji Muzan truly was:
Arrogant. Self-absorbed. rciless. A being without empathy.
"Did you summon , Lord Muzan?"
A deep, calm voice echoed from the shadows.
From the darkness erged a tall man in tattered robes, six eyes glowing faintly.
Muzan's anger cooled the mont she saw him.
Of all her creations, only this one could stand beside her without fear.
Kokushibo.
"The heir to Sun Breathing has appeared," Muzan said coldly.
"…An heir?" Kokushibo's tone sharpened. His pupils contracted.
He knew that na.
Though he was the elder brother of Yoriichi Tsugikuni—the man who created Sun Breathing—he had never been able to master it himself.
His body had been too weak, too human.
And now… soone new had inherited that fla.
A new Sun Breather.
"How… unexpected," Kokushibo murmured, his six eyes narrowing as a cruel smile began to form.
"Then," he said quietly, "allow to extinguish the sun once more."
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