Chapter 3: Muzan Escapes
The man's eyes gleamed like scarlet spider lilies—brilliant and impossible to ignore. Every movement exuded elegance, and despite his human appearance, Akira could feel an overwhelming pressure pressing down on him. This wasn't an ordinary man. No, within that seemingly normal frame was an unimaginable power—as if countless demons had descended to consume everything in their path.
With just one look, Akira recognized him: Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of all demons. Only one other person had ever made him feel such fear—his master, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
Beside Muzan stood a woman. Unlike Muzan's contemptuous glare, her gaze carried sadness. She looked at Akira not with hatred, but as if mourning someone already lost to death. Yet Akira had no time for her—her ghostly aura paled in comparison to the abyss standing at her side.
Akira inhaled deeply. The next moment, his body vanished.
In a flash, the Sun Blade cut through the air toward Muzan's neck.
"Sun Breathing, Sixth Form – Burning Bone, Fiery Sun!"
Muzan didn't even flinch. With a casual flick of his wrist, his arm morphed into a whip that lashed through the air faster than lightning.
Akira's eyes widened. He shifted mid-air, redirecting his slash downward. Flames burst from his blade, pushing him back just in time.
Crack!
Trees collapsed in a perfect line as if sliced by an invisible blade.
But Akira's eyes held no fear.
"Such terrifying strength… Truly the Demon King. If I kill you, all the demons go with you, right?"
Muzan said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Akira's breath deepened. Muzan's casual strike had nearly killed him. He had no choice—he had to risk everything.
A sudden burn appeared on Akira's forehead—a scar he didn't notice, but Muzan did.
"A swordsman with a scar?" Muzan muttered, a smirk forming. "Another one, huh?"
"Muzan!" Akira growled, hyper-focused.
His senses sharpened. Time slowed. Muzan's incoming whips felt sluggish, predictable.
He saw it.
Muzan's horrific body—five brains and seven hearts—revealed itself to him. Akira's blood turned cold. Despite all the demons he'd faced, this was beyond comprehension.
But he didn't stop. Dancing on the edge of death, dodging attack after attack, Akira closed the gap.
"MUZAN!"
His Nichirin blade blazed red-hot. His eyes burned with fury. His breath hissed like fire, the will to kill radiating from every pore.
Everything grew silent.
In that silence, Akira knew—if every life had a purpose, then his was to end the monster before him.
All twelve forms of Sun Breathing struck within a single second, targeting Muzan's head, hearts, and brains.
The flames died out.
Muzan's body was shredded—limbs severed, torso torn.
The Demon King looked stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
"I… was struck? By this… insect?"
Rage erupted.
Muzan's wounds began to regenerate—but then, the flames reignited, burning hotter than before.
Twelve more strikes.
His body was torn apart again.
Enraged beyond reason, Muzan regenerated his arms and lunged—his hand wrapped around Akira's throat.
Blood erupted from Akira's mouth. But even as he choked, his blade lashed out, severing Muzan's arm again.
The Demon King's fury reached a breaking point. How could this human—this nobody—make him feel threatened?
Worse—his wounds weren't healing as fast anymore.
Akira, despite the pain, didn't move. He could see it—Muzan was reaching his limit.
Visions of the past flashed before Akira's eyes: grieving families, the night he carried Chitose on his back, his training, and the calm, unwavering face of Yoriichi.
"What does life mean to you?" he demanded.
Muzan didn't answer. His face twisted in rage, veins bulging beneath his skin.
Swish!
Two thorns pierced Akira's arms. Blood dripped from his sleeves.
"You think… you can kill me with this?" Muzan hissed with a sinister grin.
Akira clenched his teeth. The pain was blinding, but he swung again.
And then, in an instant—
BOOM!
Muzan's body exploded into over 1,800 fragments, flying in every direction like shrapnel.
Akira couldn't move anymore. He watched helplessly as the pieces scattered.
Footsteps approached fast.
"Master!"
Akira screamed with the last of his strength, "Don't let him escape!"
Yoriichi said nothing—only swung his blade with blinding speed.
Even so, a few slivers of Muzan's flesh slipped into the earth and vanished.
Akira's heart sank.
His lips trembled. His eyes filled with disbelief.
He had failed.
Muzan Kibutsuji—escaped.