In the endless corridors of the Infinity Castle, walls bent and folded like living flesh, twisting rooms echoing with whispers.
Nakime's pale fingers plucked the strings of her biwa—
Clang!
The world shifted.
From the shadows, Akaza appeared, summoned once more. His teeth ground together, muscles flexing beneath his skin.
"Again?! The seventh time this month… I am the Upper Moon One! And they drag me here like a dog!" His voice reverberated, bitter rage laced with frustration.
A low, measured voice slid through the silence.
"Akaza…"
He froze.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a towering figure materializing—not stepping, but emerging from the darkness as if he'd always been there, unseen.
Kokushibo.
Akaza whipped around, shouting, "What the hell do you want now? Another pointless mission—"
But his words broke off.
A suffocating weight pressed against his chest. Kokushibo wasn't attacking, wasn't even glaring. His mere stillness was more terrifying than bloodlust. His three pairs of eyes stared with unnatural calm, unmoving, like moons that stripped away every false strength.
Akaza's breath hitched. His goosebumps prickled like knives stabbing his flesh.
"D-Did he just appear?!" his thoughts raced, his fists trembling. "I didn't sense him at all… His presence is nothing like a demon—it's something… beyond. He has become a lot stronger.
If I dare use my Compass Needle on him, I'd drown in his aura before I could even breathe."
Kokushibo took a single step forward. The wooden floor beneath his sandal creaked—and for Akaza, it was louder than thunder.
"This isn't about you, Akaza. Not your missions." His deep voice lingered, calm yet absolute. "This is a summons for the Upper Moon Meeting."
Akaza stomped the floor, masking his unease with anger.
"Another meeting?! When Muzan-sama ruled without question, there wasn't a single meeting for a hundred years. And you… It's the fifth meeting in a decade! What the hell do you want?!"
Silence.
Then Kokushibo spoke, slowly. "This meeting… is held by Muzan-sama himself."
Akaza stiffened. His fury evaporated, replaced by a cold tremor that shook even his immortal flesh.
"M-Muzan-sama…? Himself…? Why… now?"
But then—
"Akaza-dono!"
The voice rang lighthearted, almost mocking.
From the shifting shadows, Douma stepped out, his rainbow-colored eyes glinting with wicked delight. His fan fluttered lazily in his hand as though this eerie gathering were no more than a stage play.
"I was missing you~. It's been, what, a year since our last reunion?" His voice was honeyed with false warmth, each word dripping with dishonesty.
"Tch…" Akaza turned his head away, disgust carving lines into his face.
Douma's grin widened, but when his gaze flickered to Kokushibo, the colors in his eyes dimmed. His smile faltered, ever so slightly. Even his careless posture straightened.
For Kokushibo's mere presence was suffocating—a reminder that one misplaced jest could end him.
The silence was so heavy, it seemed the castle itself dared not breathe.
Kokushibo finally spoke, his voice as deep and inevitable as death.
"Midnight… Stop hiding. Show yourself."
Akaza and Douma whipped their heads around. "Huh? No one's around…"
But then—
A dark figure leapt from the shifting walls, landing soundlessly upon the wooden floor. His long coat stirred faintly with the castle's breath.
Midnight Winter.
Upper Moon Six.
His entrance was silent, but his aura carried weight. He immediately dropped to one knee before Kokushibo, bowing his head low, his voice steady and resonant.
"I am here, Kokushibo-sama."
Douma's smile returned, wider than before, his fan tapping lightly against his lips. "Ooh~ Midnight Winter himself… our newest Kizuki."
He leaned down, resting a hand playfully on the younger demon's shoulder.
"Tell us more about yourself, won't you? I'm dying to know what sort of little monster has joined our ranks."
But Midnight remained still. His head bowed, his silence unbroken. Not a word escaped his lips.
Akaza frowned. "But where are the other two moons?"
Before Kokushibo could answer, his voice rumbled like stone grinding in a tomb, echoing through the endless corridors.
"Eliza… you may cease your watching. Come down."
A soft, angelic voice drifted from above, carrying both apology and grace.
"Pardon me, Kokushibo-sama… I did not mean to disturb this gathering."
Everyone turned upward.
There she was—Eliza.
Seated elegantly atop the corridor's arch, her silhouette bathed in the eerie glow of the shifting castle.
Akaza's eyes widened. "What?! I couldn't sense her at all… not even her heartbeat. When did she get here?!"
With a weightless leap, she descended. Her white gown, woven like threads of moonlight, rippled around her. The instant her feet touched the floor, the suffocating tension of the chamber shifted—what had been heavy and oppressive now felt almost dreamlike, mythical.
She knelt before Kokushibo with flawless grace, her head bowed in reverence.
From the corner, Douma let out a lilting laugh. "My, my, Eliza-chan, you always manage to steal the spotlight. Everyone's eyes are drawn to you the moment you appear~."
Eliza tilted her head, her crystal-blue eyes lifting, edged by long lashes painted in dark mascara. Her serene, almost ethereal voice flowed like a hymn.
"…Thank you for the compliment, Douma."
For a moment, even Douma faltered. His grin stiffened, his eyes flickered in mild surprise. "Oh? You called me Douma directly? No formalities today? Hah! I rather like this version of you."
Her gaze shifted away, narrowing slightly, the glow in her eyes dimming like a star behind clouds. Her thoughts whispered, "My mood soured the instant I learned this meeting was called by Muzan himself."
At her side, Midnight Winter instinctively took a step back. His usual composure wavered as he lowered his gaze, retreating from her aura. "She's a high ranking upper moon. Staying too close around her would be disrespect itself."
Kokushibo's voice boomed through the warped halls.
"Muzan-sama is coming. Prepare yourselves."
Akaza asks. "But where is the Upper Moon Three?!"
Kokushibo's many eyes glimmered in the gloom.
"He will pay for his late arrival..."
He raised his sword, slicing across his own palm. Blood spilled, glimmering like liquid rubies as it floated unnaturally in the air.
Then—
The blood began to whirl, a storm forming in the shape of a man. The Infinity Castle shook violently, as if in pain, as the wind shrieked and the corridors bent like ribs around a heart.
From the storm emerged Muzan.
His eyes blazed, piercing every living and unliving thing in the chamber.
In an instant, Kokushibo, Douma, and Akaza collapsed to their knees. The pressure of his presence pinned them like insects beneath a divine weight.
His dark curls writhed as though each strand carried its own malice, shifting unnaturally in perfect rhythm. He looked down upon his chosen with contempt colder than the void.
His voice thundered.
"WHERE. IS. JIGEN…?!"
The question rattled the halls, making Nakime's biwa string snap from the vibration.
Then—
A voice answered. Not near. Not far. Not even within.
"Muzan-sama… I've been here since the beginning."
The temperature plummeted. The oppressive darkness swelled.
Muzan's gaze lifted—glaring into the shifting air ahead.
Black coils of shadow twisted violently, spiraling into a form. The castle groaned under the pressure, its walls cracking as if rejecting what was manifesting.
Jigen.
He walked forth slowly, step by step, from the nothingness itself. His crimson eyes burned in the dark like twin abysses. With every step, the Infinity Castle itself wilted, its lanterns dimming and corridors collapsing into black.
A faint curve tugged at Eliza's crimson lips—serene, knowing.
Without a word, Muzan lashed out. His arm elongated like a serpent, shredding countless rooms into dust as his strike roared forward with apocalyptic force.
But—
The blow did nothing.
In an instant, Jigen was no longer there.
He now stood directly before Muzan, his true form revealed—not a shadow, not a silhouette, but a tall, ethereal man draped in unearthly stillness. His long obsidian hair cascaded as if moved by unseen tides, his expression utterly blank.
He knelt.
"Muzan-sama." His voice was calm, deeper than silence itself.
Muzan's glare sharpened, his voice a blade of wrath. "Tell me, Jigen… what were you thinking all this time?"
Behind them, Akaza, Douma, and Midnight froze.
Akaza's teeth clenched. "Muzan-sama… we… we can't see Jigen."
Muzan's eyes narrowed, glowing like suns about to ignite. "What? He kneels before me. He is right here."
Jigen's voice broke through, echoing like it came from everywhere and nowhere.
"They cannot perceive me. They are bound to a lower plane. I am at a higher plane of existence. Only I decide who may see me… and who may not."
Akaza's veins pulsed, his instincts screaming. I feel it—something immense pressing between us… but it isn't Muzan, Kokushibo, or Eliza… It's him. Jigen. But why can't we see him?
Then his gaze shifted to Eliza.
Her crystal-blue eyes shimmered faintly—reflecting not this room, but patterns, shapes, entire realms unseeable to others.
Her eyes… as though she's staring into another world entirely…
Kokushibo's gaze narrowed, his mind razor-sharp. "I can see Jigen… but when I pierce him with the Transparent World—he vanishes. No presence. No organs. No life. I wonder… does this being even exist in this reality?"
Muzan's crimson gaze settles on Kokushibo.
"I'll start… with you, Kokushibo."
His presence weighs down like a mountain, each word dragging the air into silence.
"Kokushibo… you've failed as a demon."
The words hit harder than any blade. Douma's smile fades. Akaza stiffens. Even Midnight feels the suffocating weight behind them.
Muzan's voice deepens, venom dripping from every syllable. "It has been centuries, yet you have failed to kill him. Do you realize how I am forced to exist—caged within my own cells, hiding like a rat… because he still walks this earth?"
The castle itself trembles with Muzan's fury.
Kokushibo remains eerily composed, though his eyes flicker.
"…Muzan-Sama, I offer my deepest apologies. But I have not found him yet. And truthfully… I am not prepared to face him. I can battle him, but I cannot guarantee victory. His Thirteenth Form… there is no counter. Still, I swear I will—"
"Shut up! You dare excuse yourself with reason? You dare stand before me, my strongest demon, and admit you cannot kill him? Shame… shame on you, Kokushibo!"
The tension thickens like blood.
Muzan suddenly turns, his gaze cutting to Akaza.
"And you… Akaza."
Akaza stiffens, fists clenched. "M-Me…? What have I—"
"You've failed too." Muzan's tone is cold, merciless. "Decades have passed, yet you've done nothing. Not one kill that mattered. The only command I could give you was to end him… and even you… could not kill him."
Akaza lowers his head, his jaw trembling with frustration.
Midnight feels his throat tighten. His own thoughts spiral.
Who is he talking about? Who is this man… this 'him' that Muzan-Sama himself fears? Someone greater than Kokushibo-Sama, than Akaza-Sama, than all of us combined?
His hands shake uncontrollably. He stares down at his palms, drenched in sweat.
Why am I trembling? Why does the mere mention of this man hollow out my insides? Could someone truly exist… someone who terrifies Muzan-Sama himself?
Midnight closed his eyes.
And then—he fell.
An endless, tormented ground opened beneath him, seething with corpses, gore, and fire.
The abyss roared.
Hell's fires licked jagged black stone, casting shadows that writhed like screaming souls. Demons shrieked and howled, a cacophony of hunger and despair. Wings of bone scraped the starless sky. Claws dragged across molten rock. The air itself stank of charred flesh and sulfur, each breath a curse.
Midnight stood amidst the nightmare, his body trembling though no wind blew.
"What… what is this place? Is this… Hell?"
At the center of it all rose a throne of obsidian flame. Upon it sat the Demon King—Muzan Kibutsuji—veiled in living fire. His curly hair slithered like black serpents, his eyes rivers of molten blood. Around him, legions knelt in endless ranks—fangs, claws, and twisted bodies, each a nightmare carved from sin. Their voices merged into a single chant, a hymn of despair that shook the world.
Midnight collapsed to one knee and lowered his head instinctively. The throne's heat scalded his soul.
But then—
The fire died.
Not extinguished… but devoured, ripped away by a silence so absolute it crushed the world flat. The screams of demons faltered into whimpers. Darkness swallowed the pit whole, erasing even the stink of sulfur.
"Huh…?"
In that void… a light appeared.
At first, faint, like a single candle in a cathedral of bones. Then, it swelled—blinding, unearthly.
A white radiance tore open the sky of Hell, burning holes through the endless dark. From that wound in reality descended a figure robed in light, unmarked by flame or shadow. His face—calm, gentle, unyielding—was that of Ren.
Midnight's body trembled harder. "Who… what is this thing? He looks… terrifying…"
Every demon shrieked at once. Some clawed their own eyes out, gouging until they bled. Others dragged themselves backward into the void, their bodies unraveling under the holy glow. The ground itself cracked, unable to bear the weight of his presence.
Muzan Kibutsuji rose from his throne. His vast shadow quivered like a dying beast. His voice faltered, breaking against the silence. His body—immortal, eternal—shook.
Ren did not speak.
He only looked.
And in that gaze, the legions of Hell understood: they were not predators. They were prey.
Midnight's mind screamed. "Why is Muzan-Sama so scared? Why are all of them afraid? Who the hell is this man?"
Suddenly—
The memory struck like a blade. All at once, the whispers, the forbidden stories, the fragments of history—they poured into him.
Almost every demon forgets their past, their names, their sins when they fall into Muzan's curse… except one thing.
Yoriichi.
His blade still haunts them as a primal fear. Even in Hell, his image echoes through the darkness like a ghost that never dies.
Midnight's eyes widened. He dared not breathe. "W-What kind of monster is this…? No demon even speaks his name. I'd rather bite my own tongue off and die than stand before him…"
The white glow spread, swallowing flame, throne, and shadow alike.
Even the Demon King's terrifying form bent beneath it, his claws digging into stone as though to anchor himself to reality.
Still, he could not stand.
————
Midnight opened his eyes, his hands trembling as if the vision still clung to him.
Muzan's gaze shifted, locking onto Douma. He stepped toward him, his presence crushing the air.
"And you… Douma."
Douma smiled brightly. "Yes, Muzan-Sama…"
Muzan's brows furrowed, his voice venomous.
"You are the most useless Kizuki of all. I don't even need an explanation from you. You've failed in everything. I should tear you apart here and now."
Douma tilted his head, pouting. "Ah, that's too harsh…"
Then, Muzan turned sharply—his eyes narrowing upon Jigen.
"And now… you."
The air thickened. Even Douma's grin faltered. Midnight felt his stomach drop.
Jigen raised his head slowly. Their crimson eyes met. His face remained unreadable—expressionless.
Muzan's voice cracked like a whip. "Who do you think you are? You're trying to rule this world when it clearly belongs to me! You're just a mere demon, and you think yourself above me?"
Jigen bowed slightly deeper, his voice calm, unwavering. "That's not true, Muzan-Sama… This world is too boring to rule it. Existence is boring… Claim it as yours. Besides, I didn't intend to surpass you at all…"
Muzan's eyes burned, yet Jigen's tone carried no defiance.
"You've violated my laws, twisting them according to your will. You even have no fear in your eyes, no respect for me at all."
Jigen's reply was even, respectful. "I hold nothing above you, Muzan-Sama. Not fear, not reverence. Simply truth."
A tense silence fell. Then—
Muzan straightened, his anger barely restrained. And then, his lips twisted into a thin, dangerous smile.
"Despite your arrogance… your idea pleased me. Spreading demons across the earth. A shadow over every nation. You already have power to transport anything to anywhere. This way we don't lose more demons and control the fear of mankind on our own."
Eliza's azure eyes flickered, troubled. "The hell… It was hard for me to convince Jigen-San to not do this, and now Muzan is doing the same thing. Don't they even care about this world?"
The plan is to expand demons. But since Japan isn't that big, it's not ideal to turn only Japanese people into demons. If they make demons from all the countries, it will not only increase the number of demons but also help in controlling the fear of mankind. They can use demons whenever, wherever, and however they want.
Muzan's voice deepened, cutting the silence like a blade.
"Tell me, Jigen… where is the Blue Spider Lily?"
Every demon froze.
Jigen's voice did not waver. "I had it. But…"
Muzan's pupils dilated, his voice thundered. "But what?!"
"…it was destroyed when you struck me earlier."
The room dropped into silence. Muzan's face drained, his fury erupting instantly.
He lashed out, his arm stretching with monstrous force, tearing through walls, through space itself—
But the strike passed through Jigen like smoke. He remained kneeling, untouched.
Muzan roared, his fury rattling the very Infinity Castle.
"I want it NOW!"
Jigen bowed his head slightly, his voice steady, almost gentle.
"It will take five more years to find another, Muzan-Sama."
Eliza thinks, a faint smile on her lips. "He's lying… And I'm glad about it. Muzan mustn't become immortal."
The air quivered with his words, not from defiance, but from inevitability.
Muzan's claws scraped the floor, his rage volcanic.
"Jigen… you have failed me."
And yet—Jigen only remained kneeling. Silent. Unmoving.
Kokushibo stood nearby, his six eyes half-lidded, unwavering. Not once did his composure break, not even under Muzan's wrath.
Muzan's gaze slid toward her.
"Eliza," he said, voice heavy and absolute. "It's your turn."
But Eliza did not look at him.
Her gaze lingered elsewhere, untouched, as though Muzan himself was beneath her notice.
Muzan studied her for a long, unbroken moment.
Her head remained tilted slightly, her long dark hair cascading like silk over her shoulders. Her eyes—azure, crystalline, aglow with an ethereal light—looked far beyond Muzan, as if he were nothing more than a shadow cast on the wall.
The stillness around her was unbearable. Serene. Sacred.
Finally, he asked, his voice lowering. "You haven't changed a bit, you're still like that… as always… Do you still hate me?"
Eliza's lips parted. Her tone was gentle, serene, yet filled with a coldness more lethal than steel.
"How about you mind your own business… and leave me alone?"
Every demon froze. The air snapped tight.
"She—she dares—!"
"Against Muzan-sama…?!"
Their whispers scattered like frightened insects.
But Eliza's gaze did not waver.
Her thoughts rippled silently. "I've already observed everything. Muzan won't strike me here… not now. And even if he tried, Jigen-San is here to protect me."
Muzan says. "Only you would speak to me like this. I made you a demon to be my greatest creation. Greater even… than Kokushibo."
He leaned closer, his voice thick with persuasion.
"Tell me… what do you think of ruling this world through the fear of demons?"
Eliza didn't hesitate. "Absurd. Childish. Something came out from a child's play. No original idea. Irrelevant thought woven into an idea. Boring. Cringe cruelty. Only made to worsen this world. Makes me feel vomiting. Wanna hear more?"
Muzan smirks. "Only made to worsen this world? Now that sounds interesting. I'll make sure this plan succeeds."
Then, after a moment, his voice turned hollow, dismissive.
"I can expect nothing from you anymore… You've passed."
Akaza's eyes widened. "Passed…? But why?"
Muzan moved past her, stopping before Midnight Winter.
"I haven't seen you in action yet. But I have high expectations of you. Complete my objective… with Jigen's help."
Midnight knelt, his tone calm but firm.
"I understand, Muzan-sama. I will meet your expectations."
Muzan's gaze lingered only a moment before he declared, "…You've passed as well."
And then his form unraveled—his flesh dissolving into grotesque strands of meat, his body fading away until nothing remained.
The chamber fell into an eerie silence.
Kokushibo's voice broke it, deep as thunder.
"The meeting is over. You shall leave now."
With that, he vanished instantly.
Nakime plucked her biwa.
Akaza disappeared into the shadows.
Douma stretched lazily, grin unfading. "Ahh, that was fun! I'll be waiting for next time."
He too dissolved into nothing.
The Infinity Castle grew silent once more.
Nakime raised her hand to strike again—
But froze.
Her hand trembled mid-air. Her body refused to move.
Eliza had raised her hand, her azure eyes burning like celestial fire. Light spilled from her form, painting the chamber in a divine glow that eclipsed the malice of the castle itself.
Her voice was soft, but it resonated like a hymn.
"Jigen-sama… why did you appear in this form? And why is it that only three of us could see you?"
Jigen rose, his figure calm, eternal, untouched by emotion.
"You already know the answer."
Her lips parted, a flicker of warmth curving them.
She stepped forward, her presence almost blinding.
"Then tell me… where will you go?"
Jigen's voice was quiet.
"…Back to my library."
Her glow softened, her gaze unwavering. "Then I will come too."
The grip of her telekinesis released. Nakime gasped, her hand free once more.
She struck her biwa.
And in that moment—
Both Eliza and Jigen vanished into the void.
———————————————————————
A dim chamber flickered with the glow of countless candles. Sweet incense coiled through the air, masking the faint scent of blood. Dozens of men, women, and children knelt on the cold floor, foreheads pressed to the ground.
Their whispers blended into a rhythmic murmur, half-prayer, half-breath, devoted entirely to the figure sitting above them.
Douma sat cross-legged on a carved wooden dais, smiling with that serene, painted grace only he could wear. His eyes glimmered with cruel amusement, but his voice, soft and melodic, carried the cadence of a hymn.
"Rise, Mai."
A girl barely into her teens lifted her trembling head. At his call, the crowd shifted slightly, eyes following her as if she were already marked.
She stood, her small frame trembling as she approached the dais.
"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, voice cracking.
Douma leaned forward, his smile widening with theatrical warmth.
"You have left behind everything, haven't you? Your home, your family… even your own name as they once knew it."
His fingers stretched toward her, brushing her cheek with mock tenderness. "And why? Because you were chosen. Not by me, little one, but by God Himself."
The congregation gasped, a ripple of awe and envy spreading through the crowd. Murmurs rose—
"She is chosen…"
"A vessel of purity…"
"Blessed…"
Mai's eyes welled with tears, her chest heaving as if she were both terrified and honored. She whispered, "I… I am chosen?"
"Yes." Douma's smile split wider, a hint of fang glinting in the candlelight. "Special among the nameless. A lamb for the divine. Through your devotion, you shall cleanse this world of sorrow."
The people pressed their foreheads harder to the ground, some weeping with reverence, others trembling at the promise of holiness. The air thickened with ecstasy and fear.
And above them all, Douma smiled.