The chamber was dead silent.
Then—
CRACK!
A teacup shattered in Muzan's grip, porcelain shards falling like snow. His crimson eyes pulsed with unfiltered hatred.
"Daki. Gyutaro. Gone."
He stood slowly, the veins on his pale neck twitching with fury.
Akaza knelt before him, blood pooling beneath his knees from self-inflicted wounds in penance.
"My lord, it was… unexpected. A swordsman appeared—using Sun Breathing. He was… not from the Corps. I—"
"SILENCE!" Muzan's voice boomed with demonic authority.
The candles flickered out. The walls groaned.
"Upper Moon Six… annihilated by children. And that man…"
Muzan's claws dug into the armrest of his throne.
He had glimpsed it—through Gyutaro's blood. That man. Those eyes. That blade. That power.
"The one who carries the scent of old flames… is alive."
His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
"Find him. I want his heart torn from his chest and served to me. Now."
Back at the Butterfly Mansion, the surviving group recovered.
Tanjiro lay bandaged, his body heavy, sword broken beyond use. Nezuko sat by his bedside, a gentle flame in her eyes.
Tengen stood before the Demon Slayer Leader, kneeling respectfully.
"We lost an arm, a few liters of blood, and nearly died. But we won."
Kagaya Ubuyashiki, his breath thin, smiled faintly.
"You've done well. And the children?"
"Exceptional," Tengen said without hesitation. "Especially Kamado. And the others… they're ready for more. If I may suggest… the Hashira Training should begin for them."
The room was silent for a moment.
"Let them grow stronger," Tengen continued. "Before more Upper Moons come knocking."
Kagaya nodded slowly.
"Yes. But Tanjiro will first need a new blade."
Tanjiro sat on the porch of the Butterfly Mansion, looking down at his broken Nichirin blade.
"You're still with me," he whispered. "But I need to fight. I need to protect."
He had written a letter to Hotaru Haganezuka, his swordsmith, requesting a new blade.
A reply came swiftly.
A single line:
"You've broken another one? Fix it yourself! Don't contact me again!"
Tanjiro blinked, slack-jawed.
Zenitsu cackled.Inosuke didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.
But Tharion—standing behind him—crossed his arms.
"Then we go to him."
Tanjiro turned.
"To the Swordsmith Village?"
Tharion nodded.
"If the forge won't come to you, you go to the fire."
Within days, the team made ready.
Tanjiro, Nezuko, Genya (assigned by the Corps), and a curious silent addition—Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito—would join the secret escort to the Swordsmith Village.
"Danger level is high," Tharion warned. "The demons are moving."
As the carts rolled through the early morning mist, Tharion remained behind, for now—still pursuing his solo investigation across Japan.
But he watched them go.
"Forge your edge, Tanjiro. You'll need it… for what's coming."
From a high cliff far from them, cloaked in moonlight, a figure stood watching.
Sharp horns. Ink-black skin. A flickering tongue.
Upper Moon Four.
And deep within the mountains, someone else stirred. A dormant rage, a hunger—coiling beneath the earth.
The demons were moving. The game was far from over.