"…"
Emiya remained silent, offering no response to the demon's question.
Not because he intended to hide some great secret, but simply because he himself didn't understand why Muzan's blood had failed to transform him into a demon.
"If you refuse to speak, then I shall simply devour you and uncover the truth myself."
It would be no different from how Muzan, by devouring Tamayo, learned the nature of the poison she had planted inside herself—or how Douma had discovered Shinobu's terrifying transformation upon consuming her.
Whenever a demon devoured a human, it gained access to all their memories and secrets.
A chilling breeze howled mercilessly down the empty corridor.
Battles involving an Upper Moon needed no interference from lesser demons.
After Kokushibō had saved her, Nakime had vanished instantly. The space had then gradually expanded, reshaping itself into a battlefield suited for their confrontation.
Just standing before him, Emiya felt unprecedented pressure—like the demon could effortlessly slice him apart at any moment.
And in truth, Kokushibō could indeed do precisely that.
Tap—!
In the blink of an eye, the soft sound of footsteps echoed beside Emiya.
An eerie, crimson-eyed katana bearing multiple crescent-shaped blades swept silently across his vision.
Shkk—!
A dreadful tearing noise followed, blood splattering skyward.
A deep gash sliced diagonally down Emiya's forehead, across one eye, and down the side of his face, blood spurting forth like a fountain.
Instantly, Emiya's vision on the left side vanished completely.
"To evade such a lethal strike without entering the Transparent World or awakening a Demon Slayer Mark… No wonder Lord Muzan desires to forcibly turn you into a demon."
Kokushibō calmly wiped the blood off his blade, as though discussing a trivial matter.
At the instant of the strike, Emiya's instincts had saved him—jerking his head back and forcing his body into desperate retreat, trading one eye for survival.
Yet Emiya knew very well that Kokushibō's strike had been casual; he hadn't even employed any breathing technique yet.
With Emiya already severely weakened, only his iron will kept him from collapsing immediately. His legs were numb, blood loss critical, and every movement wracked him with searing agony.
The gap between them was too vast.
There's no time to hesitate!
Emiya drew a deep breath, and instantly the serrated blades vanished from his hands, replaced by a golden Nichirin Blade shimmering with lightning-like patterns.
"Interesting," Kokushibō remarked impassively. "A human who wields a power akin to Blood Demon Arts?"
In this world, only demons with Blood Demon Arts could conjure items from nothingness; no breathing style or magic existed capable of projection. Thus, Kokushibō naturally concluded that Emiya's projection magic was some incomplete Blood Demon Art.
"Perhaps your transformation is simply unfinished?"
As Kokushibō voiced his curiosity, a fierce aura of golden lightning surged around Emiya.
Fwoosh—!
Emiya shot forward like an arrow, his body bathed in fluid, crackling gold lightning. Piercing the air like a luminous spear, he charged straight toward Kokushibō.
Eyes gleaming fiercely, Kokushibō raised his unsettling katana without hesitation, unleashing a suffocatingly powerful slash toward Emiya.
"[Moon Breathing—First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace]!"
It was a iaijutsu strike executed so swiftly, the blade became invisible, leaving trails of crescent-shaped moon blades along its path.
Should this blow land, Emiya would have no hope of survival.
From start to finish, Emiya had never stood a chance of countering Kokushibō's power. Unless he could project Kanshou and Bakuya, Emiya had no possibility of matching Kokushibō in his current state.
Even if he managed to block this terrifying strike, he would likely be cleaved in half along with his blade.
This was the sheer, insurmountable difference between himself and an Upper Moon.
Hum—!
Yet, at the moment Kokushibō unleashed his deadly strike, Emiya moved—not away, but forward. Ignoring defense or evasion, he threw himself head-on toward the lethal attack, seemingly indifferent to his own life.
The golden Nichirin Blade, in an instant, hovered mere centimeters from Kokushibō's neck.
Emiya intended to trade his life for Kokushibō's.
Kokushibō was genuinely caught off guard. He had previously faced Hashira who, after repeatedly battling him, resorted to such suicidal tactics, knowing they could never close the vast gulf in power.
More often, Demon Slayers facing him would choose to flee at first sight, rather than fight to the death.
Yet this man, Emiya, had chosen to stake his life without hesitation during their very first encounter.
Such resolute decisiveness shocked Kokushibō deeply.
Extraordinary talent and impeccable resolve—but their difference in power was absolute.
Even Emiya's desperate, suicidal attack was, in Kokushibō's eyes, nothing more than a child's reckless gamble.
"The gap in strength cannot be overcome!"
Kokushibō saw no need to alter his stance. Within his Transparent World, Emiya was riddled with openings. Before Emiya's blade could even graze his neck, Kokushibō's own strike would sever Emiya's head clean off.
There was no real threat.
Shkk—!
The unmistakable sound of flesh being cut resonated through the empty space. Blood sprayed freely, coating the air and splattering onto Kokushibō himself.
The arm wielding Emiya's golden blade flew upward, severed cleanly from his body.
Kokushibō's eternally calm expression finally showed a flicker of astonishment—Emiya had somehow dodged the lethal strike at the last possible moment.
But the true surprise had yet to come.
As the severed arm soared through the air, a thunderous boom—like divine judgment descending from heaven—exploded beside Emiya.
BOOM—!
The floor shattered like glass, spider-webbing cracks spreading in every direction. A powerful gust of wind erupted, sweeping violently outward.
"[Thunder Breathing—First Form: Thunderclap and Flash – Godspeed]!"
A brilliant bolt of lightning, as thick as a tree, surged past Kokushibō in a flash.
Then everything fell silent.
Thud—!
Emiya's severed arm hit the floor with a dull sound.
Only then did Kokushibō glance at the window through which Emiya had disappeared.
It wasn't that Kokushibō hadn't reacted; on the contrary, he'd prepared immediately to counter Emiya's reckless charge and even planned the precise moment to remove his head.
Yet Emiya, placing his very life as a wager and sacrificing his own arm, had chosen not to strike—but to flee.