A terrible stillness lingered after the Slayer's voice thundered across the estate.
"Stop."
His single word had silenced everything.
But silence wasn't something Sanemi ever wore well.
Teeth clenched. Face twitching.
His pride was screaming. His instincts were begging him not to move.
But fury…
Fury made fools out of warriors.
"You dare—" Sanemi hissed, stepping forward. "You think you can speak in our council? You think you can glare down me?"
No one stopped him.
Because no one could believe what he was about to do.
Tanjiro whispered, "No… no, don't…"
But it was already too late.
Sanemi roared and leapt, swinging his Nichirin Blade with all the fury of a storm, aiming straight for the Slayer's neck.
The strike landed—
CLANG—
—then snapped.
Not just bent. Not just deflected.
The blade shattered on impact like glass striking a tank.
A jagged, broken hilt flew from Sanemi's hands.
And the Slayer hadn't even flinched.
Not. A. Scratch.
His furred, wolf-hide cape danced in the wind behind him, bloodstained and ancient. His black thorned armor gleamed under the morning sun, soaked in dried gore. Where the blade had landed, not even a smudge remained.
Sanemi stood frozen.
Then—
A massive gauntlet closed around his throat.
With one arm, the Slayer lifted the Wind Hashira clean off the ground like he weighed nothing more than a scarecrow.
Sanemi gasped, legs kicking in the air.
Veins bulged in his arms as he tried to pry the hand away, but it didn't budge.
He had fought Upper Moons.
He had survived Muzan's minions.
But now—
He felt like a child in front of a hurricane.
The Slayer turned his helmet slowly, eyes glowing behind the visor, and spoke.
Not shouted.
Not roared.
Just declared, with words that froze every soul present:
"Slayer. The Doom Slayer."
A chill washed over the entire estate.
Even Gyomei, the massive Stone Hashira, took a step back.Obanai's eyes widened under his bandage.Mitsuri gasped audibly, one hand to her chest.
Tomioka Giyu, always quiet, muttered, "That sword was Sanemi's… it's never been broken. Not even in battles against Upper Moons."
Rengoku's voice was low, like reverence. "His armor… didn't even flinch."
The weapons on the Slayer's back caught their eyes now—tools of war never seen before.
A buzzing saw shield, coated in dried demon blood.A shotgun etched with markings foreign to this world.A gauntlet humming with unnatural energy.A brutal flail with chains twitching like they were alive.
The very air around the Doom Slayer was different.
It wasn't just strength. It was a presence forged in endless battle.A will honed through dimensions.A name whispered in hellscapes and feared even by the damned.
The surrounding demon slayers—mere soldiers—watched from the walkways, frozen. Some dropped their weapons. Others knelt unconsciously, as if bowing to a god they didn't believe in.
Even the birds stopped flying overhead.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki's soft smile deepened, touched by wonder.
"A warrior… of such immense wrath and control," he murmured. "He is no demon. He is no man. He is… consequence."
Tanjiro stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest.
He watched as Sanemi, one of the most powerful men Tanjiro had ever met, was choked silent with a single hand.
And yet—
The Slayer didn't squeeze.
He didn't crush.
He let go.
Sanemi dropped to the ground, coughing and stunned.
The Slayer turned his back on him. Not out of mercy. But disinterest.
He had no time for meaningless challenges.
Only the mission.
The Hashiras stared, shaken, uncertain.
For the first time in Demon Slayer Corps history—
A man had entered a Hashira meeting…
...shattered a Hashira's blade...
...and walked away unopposed.