Chapter 264: Neither Human Nor Demon

"Water Breathing, Ninth Form: Splashing Water Flow."

Makomo’s delicate voice rang out without any flourish, but the blue glow of her blade shone fiercely.

Wrapped in a slash shaped like a torrent of water, she emerged from the haze, pointing the sword at Muzan’s face.

Muzan’s eyes turned cold in an instant, and several scarlet whips burst from his waist at once, lashing across Makomo’s chest.

Boom!

Amid a dull roar, Makomo was sent flying like a kite.

After smashing through several pillars, she was buried beneath the wood and dust.

Without sparing her a second glance, Muzan turned his head, preparing to advance toward Nakime’s position.

That was when subtle sounds echoed behind him: boards shifting aside and footsteps advancing without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Muzan whirled around.

Makomo stepped out from the ruins, expressionless.

Muzan’s pupils contracted as he noticed that the girl’s clothes showed not the slightest damage.

On instinct he examined his whips... there were no bloodstains, no scraps of flesh.

What kind... of body was that?

A direct hit of that magnitude would have split any Upper Rank in two.

"Muzan-sama, she isn’t human... nor is she a vampire."

Kokushibo remained atop a fractured beam, his eyes wide open.

Unfolding Transparent World, he pierced through Makomo’s figure with his gaze.

"She doesn’t even... have a physical body."

Muzan tilted his head, showing a rare expression of bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

Kokushibo furrowed his brow.

Even with his vision, Makomo’s silhouette appeared translucent within his field of sight, like smoke about to disperse.

He couldn’t make out bones, muscles, or blood flow; only a thin line of mist extending from her chest until it fastened to the sword.

"It should be... a spiritual entity," Kokushibo ventured with uncertainty.

Muzan’s face contracted violently. "A ghost?"

Kokushibo turned his wrist, pointing his deformed blade toward the floor as a hint of ferocity crossed his gaze.

"Or some kind of existence bound to that sword."

With that said, the wood beneath his feet shattered to pieces.

Swish

Turned into a swift shadow, he reappeared in front of Makomo, unleashing a suffocating pressure. With his katana wrapped in crescent-moon blades, he brought down a slash straight at her head.

Makomo raised her sword.

Clang!

The clash of the blades threw off sparks.

Against such force, Makomo’s legs bent slightly and the wood beneath her feet began to fracture.

Against Kokushibo, the difference in power was vast.

And in the instant the blade pushed down, Kokushibo rotated his katana, locking the spine of her sword with the branching offshoots of his own edge.

The two blades became entangled.

"In that case..."

Kokushibo stared fixedly at Makomo.

"It’ll be enough to destroy the sword itself... the moment the blade breaks, this entity will scatter."

The light from above dimmed and an enormous shadow enveloped them both.

Without looking up, Makomo sensed something extremely large and cold falling from above.

It was ice.

A gigantic Buddha statue made of ice!

A massive fist came down mercilessly on the spot where the two blades clashed.

Atop the sculpture, Douma sat cross-legged, his fans folded.

Boom!

The deafening roar turned the impact into a shower of shards, while the shockwave razed the surrounding structures.

A crack echoed through the hallway.

Kokushibo stood a few steps away, staring fixedly at a section of his katana’s hilt: the blade molded from his own flesh lay in pieces on the wood.

As the dust settled, he turned his eyes toward the crater left by the fist of ice.

The Makomo-sword, however, rested atop the rubble, completely intact!

The corner of Kokushibo’s eyes twitched.

How is this possible?!

The density of that sword far exceeded ordinary steel... Since when was the Swordsmith Village capable of forging such an anomaly?

With an unmoved expression, Makomo stepped back and made a slight gesture with her fingers.

The sword rose from the floor and flew straight into her hands.

"Ara~ it doesn’t break?" Douma’s voice came from up high.

He leaned half his body out from the statue’s head, watching the scene with curiosity. "Looks like your sword wasn’t so tough after all, Kokushibo-san. Want me to help you freeze it?"

Ignoring him, Kokushibo kept his gaze fixed on the fragments of his blade.

Far off, Muzan gritted his teeth in irritation.

Immortal, indestructible... Where was Marcus getting such monstrosities?

But he couldn’t waste any more time; he had to reach Nakime before he lost control of the Infinity Castle!

"I’m leaving her to you," he ordered in an icy voice. "Hold her down."

His patience had run out.

Swish

Driving his whips into the floor, he propelled himself toward the depths of the fortress like a meteor.

Yet, mid-flight, a sharp whistle tore through the air behind him.

Muzan looked up abruptly and saw the strange sword streaking across the sky at full speed—not to strike him, but to overtake him from above.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young woman in the distance still holding her stance after hurling the sword.

Muzan sneered in contempt.

You think you can kill me with this?

What he didn’t know was that the demons still remaining at that moment had been frightened.

The young woman’s figure dissolved like ripples in water, transforming into a thread of blue smoke.

The next instant, a white mist billowed from the sword soaring through the air above Muzan.

Makomo emerged from out of nowhere, gripping the hilt with both hands!

And gathering all her strength, she drove it brutally downward.

Squelch!

The blade slammed brutally into the back of Muzan’s neck, shattering his cervi,cal vertebrae until blood spurted from his mouth.

Planting her feet on the demon progenitor’s back, Makomo crouched, looking at Muzan’s face.

"Where do you think you’re going, Muzan?"

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