The world shifted.
Tharion's feet landed on a cold, dew-covered stone path in a forest heavy with mist. The scent of blood long spilled and incense barely clung to the air. In the distance, a crow's shrill caw sliced through the silence like a blade.
[Location: Swordsmith Village Region – Demon Slayer Timeline][Time Remaining Until Rengoku Event: 31 Hours]
"Right on the edge," Tharion murmured, adjusting the fabric of his traveling cloak. "Good."
The forest bent to his will. Shadows coiled but did not touch him. He was not from this world, but it knew not to fight him—only to observe.
His gaze lifted toward the rising peaks of hidden smoke-stacks deeper into the village. A forge was burning. Somewhere in the heart of that quiet mountain town, the blade he needed awaited.
The Swordsmith Village was asleep.
Not by slumber, but by protection. Veiled in illusion, protected by the old crafts passed down through blood and steel. And there, beneath layers of enchantment and woven traditions, stood the modest workshop of the village chief swordsmith.
Inside, a katana rested upon a stone dais, untouched, unclaimed.
Forged not for any existing Hashira—its balance was too aggressive, its core too intense. It radiated truth, not just destruction.
Tharion approached with reverence, stepping barefoot across the forge floor.
The katana glimmered under moonlight filtering through open slats. The sheath, obsidian black. The guard, a radiant sunburst forged of gold and scarlet iron. The blade? Untouched, but humming with possibility.
He reached out. Not a single word spoken. No spell, no plea.
Only silence—and the understanding of flame.
His hand gripped the sheath, and the katana sang.
[Sun-Infused Nichirin Blade Acquired – Compatibility: 100%]Forged to endure and channel all Thirteen Forms of Sun Breathing.
Tharion bowed, a gesture of quiet respect to the unseen master of the forge. Then he vanished, as if he were never there.
Behind him, the forge flared once—one final salute of fire to the man destined to wield it.
[27 Hours Remain]
The following montage unfolded in fragments:
– Tharion, bare-chested, standing in a mountain stream, letting icy water rush around him as he trained his breathing technique—each exhale measured, calm, like the sun's steady rise.
– Fire spiraling from his blade as he practiced Form One: Dance, turning the mountain air into golden ribbons of light.
– A sparring illusion of Akaza created via the Garden's mirrored projection stones, and Tharion shattering it repeatedly, pushing each Sun Form into smoother transitions.
– Quiet evenings sitting beside a temple bell, listening to wind chimes… remembering what was at stake. Not just a man—but the soul of honor and hope.
[13 Hours Remain]
He traced Rengoku's movements using System echoes—every slash, every expression, every heartbeat.
Tharion whispered to the flames, "I won't let you fall."
[Location Set: Mugen Train – Outer Perimeter][Time of Event Convergence: Soon]
Tharion stood beneath a full moon, blade sheathed across his back.
The train, distant but drawing near, rumbled like the awakening of a dragon.
Rengoku would board soon. So would the demon. And fate would stir, eager to devour a flame.
But not tonight.
Tonight, terror would know fear.