Crack! Crack!
As the sound of the dream-illusion shattering gradually faded from his ears, endless darkness surged in like a tide, swallowing up every fragment of that warm courtyard, the drifting wisteria petals, and those gentle violet eyes.
Shinichi felt his body falling, passing through layer after layer of emptiness.
His consciousness struggled repeatedly on the edge between blur and clarity. He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
Yet as traces of light began to appear, his body gradually started to warm again.
And then… swish!
Shinichi opened his eyes.
What came into view was a dim room. The ceiling was very high, and candles embedded in the walls gave off a faint glow.
The air in the room was icy cold, carrying a strange smell mixed with blood, decay, and something indescribably eerie.
Shinichi was lying on a cold stone platform. The surface beneath him was uneven, carved with some kind of complex patterns.
His Nichirin blade was still in his hand, and he could clearly feel the cold metallic touch of the hilt.
Slowly sitting up, Shinichi moved his stiff neck and looked down at his body. He did not seem to be injured, and his strength was gradually returning little by little.
His real memories still lingered on the scene of fighting Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
But what remained even harder for Shinichi to forget were the fragments of the illusion still lingering in his mind: the courtyard under the sunlight, the silver-bell laughter of the two children, and the gentle warmth of Shinobu leaning against his shoulder.
"That really was a beautiful dream," Shinichi murmured softly, rubbing his temples.
Then he stood up, spun the Nichirin blade once in his hand, and lowered the tip lightly to the ground to use as support.
He began surveying his surroundings.
The room was not small, and there was also quite a bit of clutter.
Besides the stone platform he had just been lying on, there were all sorts of strange objects scattered around: transparent glass containers filled with dark red liquid with bubbles floating on the surface, twisted iron racks from which hung what looked like animal bones and a large pile of books covered in dense handwriting.
Seeing this, Shinichi frowned.
So… he had been brought to Shokyu's lair?
As if on cue, no sooner had Shinichi thought of Shokyu than he immediately sensed a familiar fluctuation of power coming from outside the room.
Tightening his grip on the Nichirin blade, Shinichi paused for only a second before resolutely walking toward the room's only exit.
His footsteps echoed in the empty chamber. The dim candlelight reflected on the surface of the Nichirin blade, giving off a cold, ghostly gleam.
Passing through the corridor, Shinichi seemed to enter another, slightly smaller secret room.
There was no stone platform here, no strange instruments—only two figures, like sculptures, suspended in midair and bound fast.
Nezuko.
Tamayo.
Nezuko was bound to a blood-red pillar, countless dark-red threads as fine as hair wrapped around her limbs and torso, pinning her firmly in place.
She wore her signature pink kimono.
Her eyes were closed, and the corners of her mouth curved upward, as if she were having a very pleasant dream.
Tamayo's situation was much the same, but her dream seemed to be a terrible nightmare.
Her face was so pale it was almost transparent, her lips completely bloodless, and her whole body looked like porcelain that might shatter at any moment.
Just as Shinichi was looking at the two of them—
"So, you actually woke up?"
A low, slightly lazy voice sounded from the other side. Shinichi's gaze moved away from Nezuko and Tamayo and turned toward the source of the voice.
In the shadows, Shokyu was reclining in a blood-colored chair, one hand propping up his chin, his crimson eyes fixed on Shinichi with a half-smiling look.
His appearance was even stranger than the last time they met. Shinichi could sense many conflicting fluctuations of power coming from him.
"You woke up faster than I expected," Shokyu said slowly. "I thought you would stay in that land of tenderness a little longer. After all, that dream really was beautiful, wasn't it?"
Shinichi did not answer.
He looked at Shokyu with a calm expression, yet showed no sign of raising the Nichirin blade in his hand.
Shokyu seemed to notice something.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he raised a hand to point at Nezuko and Tamayo, who were bound there.
"The two of them weren't as fortunate as you," he said. "That little girl, and Tamayo… they've both sunk deeply into their own dream-illusions and can no longer pull themselves free."
Following the direction of his hand, Shinichi looked at Nezuko and Tamayo and asked flatly.
"Can they still wake up?"
Shokyu chuckled. There was no answer in that smile—only a kind of lofty mockery. Its meaning was obvious without words.
The two faced each other across the empty floor.
The secret chamber was very quiet—quiet enough to hear one's own heartbeat.
Yet strangely, although the mastermind behind everything stood right there before Shinichi, and although cutting off his head should have brought this long war to an end,
Shokyu merely lounged lazily in his chair, with no guard up, no intention of fleeing, and not even the slightest intent to fight.
And Shinichi, unexpectedly, did not attack either.
He directly sheathed his Nichirin blade at his waist and then sat down cross-legged right there across from Shokyu.
Shokyu raised an eyebrow.
A trace of surprise flashed through his crimson eyes, but it was quickly replaced by deeper interest.
"What?" he asked. "Not going to make a move?"
"Don't ask such a stupid question. If you were really here, I would have drawn my blade and cut you down the moment I saw you, rather than sitting here in front of this shell that only carries your aura," Shinichi said calmly.
"Even if I shattered you, it wouldn't do much damage to your true body."
Shokyu smiled, and there was a trace of appreciation in that smile. "Smart. I originally thought that in the Demon Slayer Corps you'd turn into nothing more than a crude brute full of muscle and nothing else."
Shinichi said nothing.
He only watched him quietly.
Shokyu seemed to grow interested as well. He shifted into a more comfortable position, folded his hands over his abdomen, and lifted his crimson eyes toward the vault of the chamber hidden in darkness above.
"Shinichi, do you remember why I pursue the power of Yomi?" he asked, his tone like that of someone telling an ancient story rather than answering a question from an enemy.
Shinichi did not respond.
He knew Shokyu would continue on his own. And sure enough, Shokyu did not wait for an answer.
"You and I are both 'strangers' who accidentally came to this world from Yomi. But our starting points were different. You were merely a catalyst I found, while I truly wandered for countless ages in that sinking Yomi! And that feeling was not pleasant at all!
"In Yomi, I was like a corpse that could not rot. I could do nothing. Every single moment, every second, I was feeling the torment of the entire underworld pressing down on me. So from the moment I became aware, I swore that one day, I would make the whole of Yomi submit to me and be used by me! I would control Yomi and become the true god of life!"
His voice echoed through the chamber, carrying an almost mad fanaticism.
Shinichi shook his head. "If you truly sank within Yomi, then you should have learned reverence."
Shinichi's voice was soft, yet it was like a basin of cold water thrown over Shokyu's head. "You have no reverence for life, and no reverence for death either. Someone like you—even if you temporarily borrow a fraction of Yomi's might—the price will descend on you very soon."
Shinichi continued, "Yomi is not the source of power. It is the destination of life. You're trying to control it, yet you don't even respect its most basic laws. You think you're walking toward godhood, but in reality, you're only accelerating your own destruction."
Shokyu did not refute him. He only gave a cold smile.
"I will not revere it. I will only control it! Watch carefully, Shinichi. You will see the moment when I truly take control of Yomi. When that time comes, I…"
Slash!
The Nichirin blade was drawn once more, and a blue-green flash burst out!
The blade-light passed through Shokyu's body.
There was no resistance, and no blood. Shokyu's body simply scattered like smoke blown away by the wind.
It was only a phantom projection, after all.
As Shokyu's phantom dispersed, his voice still echoed through the chamber:
"Shinichi Moriki, I hope you can remain this decisive from here on. Oh, and let me remind you of one thing—you'd better hurry. Otherwise, your comrades… will die very, very quickly."