Chapter 231: Despair

Fire lit up half of Swordsmith Village, plunging a once-peaceful place into chaos.

Luckily, the demon uprising had broken out at the entrance, letting the Hashira clear the rear area as they advanced. With Gyokko nowhere near, the lesser demons were left to the lower-ranked slayers.

But even fighting with focus and no distractions... the four of them were unable to corner Muzan.

Despair threatened to take hold of them.

At the front, Sanemi barked an order through gritted teeth: "Keep your coordination—a little faster!"

"Don’t split up, we attack together," Obanai’s voice rang out from the left.

’Wind Breathing, Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm.’

Three blades of wind shot out from Sanemi’s blade.

Muzan’s whips wove together to shield him.

Bluish gusts and gravel slammed into the demon’s bony carapace, scattering turbulence and dust everywhere.

’Serpent Breathing, Fifth Form: Slithering Serpent.’

The real attack came from behind.

Obanai’s blade traced two arcs, slipping between the blades of wind. Taking advantage of the haze, the blade snaked its way to Muzan’s flank. The front whips didn’t manage to pull back in time, forcing him to rely on the side ones to blunt the impact.

’Mist Breathing, Second Form: Eight-Layered Mist.’

Muichiro emerged from one flank, unfurling multiple mirages.

The whips swept a silhouette away, but two more appeared. Though he didn’t reach the main body, he managed to neutralize several attacks.

’Love Breathing, Fifth Form: Swaying Love, Wildclaw.’

Mitsuri descended, coiling her flexible blade around four of the front whips. The blade spun, tangling them and squeezing them together to leave Muzan’s back undefended.

At the same moment, Obanai finally found his opening.

Crouching low, he lunged toward the single gap.

But Muzan had arms too!

Even amid the dust that filled the sky, even from behind Muzan, Obanai could still feel those crimson eyes, staring right at him.

But he attacked anyway!

This was an opening his comrades had risked their lives to create!

And yet... was it really an opening?

When his blade reached Muzan’s neck, a whip came down on the metal, striking it with such overwhelming force that it nearly tore the weapon from his hands.

Obanai’s eyes went wide.

Clearly, all of the whips were restrained...

Why?!

Muzan glanced sideways.

His arms had transformed into fang-covered whips.

One guarded his back while the other lashed forward, whipping across the slayer’s body.

Obanai brought his sword up against his chest, but the collision sent him flying through the air, spitting blood.

Sanemi seized the moment.

Dropping from above, he gripped his katana with both hands and brought a slash down onto Muzan’s head.

Squelch

The blade sank in two inches before jamming between two crossed whips.

Unable to drive the sword any deeper, Sanemi kicked off Muzan’s chest to launch himself back, freeing the blade and flipping through the air before landing.

The four of them pulled back once again.

Muzan remained in the same spot, but with a wound on his head...

No!

He no longer had any wound at all!

The cut Sanemi had inflicted had already regenerated the very instant he pulled the katana free.

The four of them were panting hard.

Obanai had internal injuries and was spitting blood; Sanemi’s hand was torn open, and Muichiro was missing a chunk of flesh from his calf.

Only Mitsuri, attacking from a distance, had avoided serious harm.

Muzan, on the other hand—his clothes were still spotless, he had no wounds, and his feet hadn’t so much as moved from the start.

After coordinating three waves of attacks, the Hashira’s only accomplishment had been breaking his cane.

"Are you finished already?"

Never!

But despair had them paralyzed: they didn’t know how to face Muzan.

"I overestimated you." Muzan shook his head. "I thought that, with someone like Marcus emerging in this generation, your overall strength would be considerably higher. But in the end..."

He regarded them with profound contempt.

"In the end, it’s only Marcus..."

Silence flooded the place.

Mitsuri and Muichiro kept their composure, while Sanemi and Obanai felt their faces flush with rage.

"I’d planned to play with you for a while and kill you once I found Marcus," Muzan added, curling his lips. "But I’ve lost the mood for it."

The tips of the whips flared open all at once and, for the first time, Muzan settled into a combat stance.

From the tips of his whips, a bloody glow began to seep.

"Now it’s my turn."

Watching this...

A small finger stirred among Mitsuri’s braids.

In that instant, on the back mountain, Marcus sighed.

Cellular destruction...

Muzan coated his limbs in his own blood so that, on impact, it would destroy the target’s cells within minutes.

He hadn’t even resorted to that basic ability in the earlier clash.

The gap was truly abysmal.

Marcus, leaning against the cabin wall, was holding Nezuko, asleep after playing.

He knew the situation thanks to the intense smell of blood. Still, Muzan’s unexpected appearance left him torn between continuing to watch and launching a surprise attack, unsure whether his current state would be enough to force him back.

But there was no time left.

Without the Demon Slayer Mark, these Hashira wouldn’t last three minutes.

His green pupils shifted to gold.

His frame grew taller, his shoulders broadened, his arms lengthened, and two pink horns sprouted from his forehead.

He completed the Demonization in a second.

Seeing Muzan’s onslaught and the Hashira’s defensive stance, he settled Nezuko down, covered her with his haori, and took a deep breath to switch places with the finger hidden in Mitsuri’s hair.

Unexpectedly, that deep breath left him frozen in place.

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