The world fell into a profound silence. The roar of battle, the crackle of lightning, and the screams of the dying all vanished, leaving a quiet so absolute that one could hear the frantic pounding of their own heart. For Chinami, who had believed her imperial bloodline gave her a right to contend for the throne, the world didn't just go silent—it stopped. She felt her consciousness freeze, her body stiffening in a way she had never experienced in her centuries of life. A terrifying realization dawned on her: she had completely lost control of her own body.
Crack.
A sound like shattering porcelain echoed in the stillness. It began with her limbs, then spread to her torso, and finally, her head. In less than a second, her entire being disintegrated, turning into nothing more than motes of dust in the wind. Following her, the remaining powerhouses of the Priest Clan, regardless of their strength, simply exploded, their existence wiped from reality.
"He… Kibutsuji Muzan… is invincible," an Onmyoji whispered, his voice trembling with grief and despair.
All of them—the proud priests, the noble imperial guards, the master Onmyoji—were utterly broken. Just moments ago, they were scheming against one another for power and control. Now, facing an enemy that had transcended mortality itself, they understood that only a dead end awaited them.
"Damn it all!"
"The Japanese Imperial Family… is now extinct!"
"The orthodox legacy of the Onmyoji… is gone!"
Cries of lamentation filled the air as the full weight of their failure crushed them. Their plan had been so simple: seize the three sacred treasures and use their divine power to suppress Muzan. They never imagined that a storm from the heavens themselves would intervene, nor that it would backfire so spectacularly. The divine lightning that was meant to be their salvation had failed to harm him and instead became the catalyst for his final, terrifying evolution. By recalling the blood he had given to his creations, he had amplified his strength a thousand times over in a mere instant.
Even now, the divine lightning continued to pour from the sky, striking Tsukihiko's body again and again. Yet, the endless barrage caused him no harm. However, the storm and the invisible, crushing pressure from the space around him sent a clear message. He was no longer welcome in this world. His power had grown so immense that the very will of the world was rejecting him, pushing him out. He knew he couldn't stay, not even to savor his victory.
"With my current strength, I can probably remain in this world for about five more minutes," Tsukihiko noted, a calm smile gracing his lips. "However, five minutes is more than enough."
With a casual flick of his finger, the remaining experts of the Imperial Family and the Onmyoji erupted in showers of blood. They had seen his power and knew death was coming, but as their lives ended, they couldn't suppress the bitter indignation they felt. They were the most powerful and noble figures in Japan, yet they were being crushed like ants, their legacies erased in a single, effortless gesture.
"Next, it's time to deal with you, Emperor Showa," Tsukihiko said, turning his attention to the last man standing.
He raised his palm, and a boiling power enveloped the emperor. He had recalled his blood from every other demon, but he had saved the sole survivor of the Imperial Family for a different purpose. The Emperor not only held the three sacred treasures but also possessed the pure bloodline Tsukihiko needed for his final act.
"I will leave a new legacy within your body."
As Tsukihiko's smile grew, he extracted every last drop of his old demon blood from the Emperor's body. In its place, he injected a new power, born from his evolution and tempered by the divine lightning. It was not the corrupting blood of a demon, nor was it the same power he had given the Twelve Kizuki. It was something entirely new, a mysterious and transcendent force that even the world's will could not destroy. It was the final contingency he would leave behind.
"Now, there is only one last thing left."
As the words faded, his figure vanished from the sky, leaving behind a silent, broken capital.
Meanwhile, in a quiet fishing village in Hokkaido, two women stirred. Kocho Shinobu and Kanroji Mitsuri, the last of the Demon Slayer Corps' nine Hashira, slowly awoke from a deep unconsciousness.
"You… you're awake," a calm, gentle voice said nearby, startling them both.
"Where… where are we?" Mitsuri asked, her head pounding.
"This is a remote fishing village," an old woman replied. "My daughter found you two collapsed by the shore. She also brought back strange news from the south. She said a great storm of divine lightning came down from the heavens and struck all the evil demons dead."
The two Hashira stared at her, their faces pale with shock. They listened as the old woman recounted the rumors: a bloody battle at the Imperial Palace, a Demon King who absorbed the life force of all other demons, and a final, divine retribution that annihilated him completely.
As they processed the news of Muzan's end, a wave of nausea suddenly washed over both of them. Shinobu and Mitsuri lurched forward, vomiting onto the floor.
"Oh my! Are you two alright?" the old woman cried, rushing to call the village doctor.
After a brief examination, the doctor returned with a diagnosis that left both women speechless. They were pregnant.
Tears welled in Mitsuri's eyes. "Could this… could this be a gift from Heaven?"
Shinobu placed a hand on her own stomach, a flicker of stunned hope in her gaze. "It must be. If these are children bestowed upon us by Heaven, then we must raise them. We'll continue the will of Ubuyashiki-sama and the Demon Slayer Corps through them."
They looked at each other, finding a new purpose in their shared grief. It was all they had left to honor their fallen comrades.
But what was being nurtured inside them was not a gift from Heaven. It was not life as they knew it. Growing within them were two silent, dormant seeds—the final, perfect product of Muzan's ascension. It was a legacy he had implanted within the last of his enemies before he departed.
This was Tsukihiko's final gift to the world he was leaving behind: the promise of a new world, born from the ashes of theirs.
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