Right now, Muzan was going berserk, launching a relentless barrage of attacks with the whip-blades sprouting from his back.
The entire arena was filled with his strikes—one moment of carelessness could mean instant death if any hit a vital point.
The speed of those whipping tendrils made it hard even for the surrounding swordsmen to follow with their eyes. They could only rely on instinct to evade. Even so, injuries were unavoidable—sometimes they had no choice but to sacrifice a limb or take a blow to the body to survive.
Yet Muzan did not feel triumph at injuring the Demon Slayers.
He had been fighting like this for a while now. He had injected his venomous blood into the wounds of these damned hunters—so why!?
Muzan screamed in rage and intensified his attacks.
Why isn't my blood destroying their cells!? Why haven't these wretched vermin succumbed to my poison and died yet!?
Furious, he continued his onslaught—but the Demon Slayers didn't just resist the blood venom, they were growing stronger as the battle went on.
"Listen up!"
Joseph Joestar braced behind his shield, pouring Ripple energy into his weapons and armor without holding anything back, tanking Muzan's attacks head-on.
He stood firmly at the frontline, directing the Demon Slayers in combat.
"Observe Muzan closely! If you master your Breathing Techniques, you'll be able to see it! The Transparent World!"
Joseph continued shattering Muzan's whip-blades with Ripple-infused strikes, creating space for allies to breathe.
He shouted further:
"And the Crimson Blade! Grip your Nichirin Swords with everything you've got! Don't hold back on stamina—someone will support you!"
"If you grip hard enough, your blades will turn red—that thing counters demon flesh!"
While fighting, Joseph continuously relayed critical combat intel to those around him.
And Joseph himself...
In this kind of all-out, reckless, Ripple-infused combat, even he could feel his Ripple getting noticeably stronger.
"You damn… filthy creature!!!" Muzan howled in rage.
Now, he was facing opponents who recovered quickly from injuries, were immune to his poison, had seemingly infinite stamina, and were only getting stronger.
What's worse, many of them now had red, orange glows shimmering around them.
And behind the Demon Slayer Corps and Joseph Joestar stood the legendary man supporting them all—
Kazuma, devouring supplies in a corner room of the arena.
"OOOOHHHH!! UNLEASH MY FULL POTENTIAL!!!"
In a chamber off the side of the Colosseum, Kazuma was furiously cramming every available item into his mouth. His [Quick Eat] skill was nearly smoking.
Max Potions, Ancient Potions, Antidotes, Herbal Medicine, Cleanser Fruit, Well-Done Steak, Rations, Dash Juice, Demon Drug, Might Seeds, Adamant Pills, Armorskin, Sushi Fish Scales…
Food and drink—an abundant feast.
If he choked, he chugged a potion. If potions became too much, he bit into a pill or some stamina-restoring steak...
Kazuma—this man, toiling behind the hunters and Demon Slayer Corps—was a hero of tireless support…
"Why?! Why won't you vermin just die already!?"
Muzan, unable to kill the relentless Demon Slayers no matter what, was starting to break down.
Why are these swordsmen so strong?!
Most of them haven't even manifested Marks, so why are they surpassing all the Hashira of the past?!
Now, empowered with layers of buffs from Kazuma's item spamming, the Demon Slayers had begun finding their rhythm in battle.
Even Tanjiro… was beginning to faintly glimpse the Transparent World.
In a flash of insight mid-combat, he could vaguely see inside Muzan's body—five brains and seven hearts, each located in different areas.
Muzan was repeatedly struck by Nichirin Swords wielded by warriors who were only growing stronger. Though he regenerated quickly, the accumulating damage was real.
Then came it—hunger. An intense, maddening hunger.
Not since becoming a demon had Muzan felt this level of starvation.
The nutrients he'd forcibly absorbed from the demons inside the Infinity Castle had already been largely consumed. His body was screaming for sustenance.
Starvation—combined with the realization that his life was truly endangered—was driving Muzan mad.
And just then, he saw something that made him even more enraged.
The one who used that strange, Blood Demon Art–like shield.
The one who had cocooned off his prey and kept him from reaching the Demon Slayers for nourishment.
That guy—
—was falling from the sky into this damned arena.
"Joseph! I've come to assist you!"
Naofumi Iwatani, after all his battles, had finally hit his stride.
After landing, he finished assembling his Heavy Bowgun, slammed in special ammo, and leveled the barrel straight at Muzan.
"Clear out!"
Joseph warned the Demon Slayers and made space for Naofumi to unleash.
At first, the slayers didn't quite understand—until the next second made everything obvious.
The special ammo unleashed like a mounted machine gun, hammering Muzan.
A spiritual shield slammed down behind Muzan, sealing off his retreat and forcing him to take the full barrage.
The hail of bullets, while not inherently demon-countering, shredded his body, forcing him to regenerate, and compelled him to raise his whip-blades defensively to block the onslaught.
In that instant, Naofumi's Heavy Bowgun gave the Demon Slayers their breathing space.
"I LOVE THIS WEAPON TO DEATH!!!!!!!"
Naofumi laughed wildly, unleashing bullet after bullet, slowly advancing, relentlessly suppressing Muzan.
"DAMN YOUUUUUU!!!"
Muzan shrieked in helpless fury, spawning more and more whip-blades to try to block the torrent.
Even Joseph Joestar was at a loss for words.
He'd seen Season 1 of his grandfather Jonathan's bizarre adventure with Dio.
And watching this—he honestly felt Muzan's powers were wasted.
He hated Dio for killing his grandfather, but at least Dio had ambition.
After becoming a vampire, Dio dared to aim for world domination.
He'd pushed his powers to the limit—basically inventing vampire abilities out of sheer will.
But this guy, Muzan?
Ridiculous regeneration, total body modification, the ability to unleash Blood Demon Arts…
…and he's using whip-blades to fight.
Joseph clicked his tongue.
What a damn waste.