Demonization?
It seemed like it—and yet, it wasn't.
When Nezuko transformed, horns sprouted from her forehead, and demonic markings carved themselves across her skin, clear signs of her inhuman nature.
But Chika showed neither of those. Her body remained within the limits of humanity—aside from her crimson eyes and subtle changes in form.
Still, the power surging within her undeniably came from the realm of demons.
Whatever this was, she could study it later. For now—she had never felt stronger.
Not since her reincarnation had she ever felt so alive.
Her grip tightened on the crimson blade, her blood-red eyes locking on Akaza in the distance.
His hands clenched instinctively.
For every bit of exhilaration Chika felt, Akaza felt the opposite—a gnawing sense of dread.
That aura of hers—it wasn't demonic, not entirely. But the portion that was… it rivaled the Upper Moons.
That alone wasn't what unsettled him.
It was the feeling that radiated from her presence—
an oppressive, suffocating weight.
It wasn't the same as Muzan's domination, but it was close.
"What the hell… are you?!"
Akaza slammed a foot into the ground, activating Destructive Death: Leg Type!
The ground shattered beneath him, rocks exploding into the air as he propelled himself forward like a blue comet, aiming straight for Chika.
But Chika didn't flinch.
No fear, no hesitation—only a wild grin spreading across her face.
Her pupils gleamed with manic excitement as she raised her sword and dashed forward to meet him head-on.
"Destructive Death: Annihilation Type!!"
Akaza's fist, wreathed in blue battle aura, struck like a cannon.
And Chika—didn't dodge.
BAM!
His fist sank into her abdomen.
Blood sprayed in every direction, droplets splattering across his face.
"Nee-san!" Tanjiro's voice cracked as it echoed through the battlefield.
Everyone watching froze. None of them—least of all Akaza himself—had expected her to take the blow without blocking.
You have a sword. Why didn't you use it?!
Akaza's eyes widened in disbelief.
But before he could pull back, Chika's lips curled upward, that mad grin unshaken.
Her crimson blade flashed.
SLASH!
No breathing form—no technique name. Just a single swing.
But this was a crimson blade.
Akaza's remaining arm hit the ground with a thud.
The searing heat of the blade's cut burned into his nerves, agony unlike anything he'd felt in centuries crawling up his body.
He tried to retreat—too late.
Chika's flames surged around her as she swung horizontally, fire spiraling with her motion.
"Hinokami Kagura – Dance!"
Akaza's eyes twitched. His Compass Needle barely guided him away in time.
He leapt backward, panting, staring into those glowing red eyes.
His instincts screamed danger. For the first time in centuries, he hesitated.
And that hesitation made him furious.
He looked down. His entire left arm—gone.
The burning pain from the cut pulsed like molten iron.
And Chika?
The wound he'd punched into her moments ago was already closing—flesh knitting itself together at a speed even demons would envy.
And she wasn't even wincing.
Could it be willpower?
No… it wasn't that.
Chika simply couldn't feel pain.
Ever since her reincarnation, she'd noticed it.
Even when she'd awoken covered in the grievous wounds Muzan had left her, there had been no pain—only awareness.
At first, she thought it was adrenaline, or the final numbness before death.
But days passed. She healed. She stood. She lived—still unable to feel pain.
The loss of pain was dangerous, yes. Pain warned you when you were close to death.
But right now… she couldn't imagine anything better.
A crazed gleam filled her eyes as she flexed her hand around the crimson blade.
Power surged through her veins, boiling, radiant. The world itself seemed sharper, alive with movement and color.
How to describe this feeling?
Strong?
Overwhelming?
No.
The only word that fit—was madness.
Her body regenerated faster than Akaza's strikes could wound her.
Her blade, burning with solar wrath, carved through his flesh like butter.
Each clash was a duel between insanity and rage.
Chika—the crimson-eyed mad beauty—slammed her foot into the ground.
CRACK!
The earth splintered beneath her as she shot forward again.
"Come on, Akaza," she muttered, her voice low and fevered.
"Let's have a proper Hollywood duel."
One punch.
One swing.
Let's see who falls first.
For a heartbeat, Akaza staggered back.
The Upper Moon—retreated.
And in that moment, realization struck him like ice.
Did I just step back?
Am I afraid of her?
No… Impossible! I can't lose! I won't lose!
Grinding his teeth, he forced his blood to surge, his battle aura rising beyond its limits.
And deep in his fading humanity, something flickered—
a memory.
A girl's face.
Soft eyes.
A hand reaching toward him through the dark.
"Who… was that?" he thought, dazed for half a second—before the image was swallowed by darkness.
He roared, snapping his focus back to the fight.
"Destructive Death: Final Form – Blue Silver Chaotic Afterglow!!"
This punch was stronger than any before—his full power unleashed.
If his earlier strike was 120%, this was at least 150%.
Hundreds of compressed shockwave projectiles burst forward like a meteor shower, screaming toward Chika.
"DIE!!" Akaza howled.
And the night was consumed in blue and crimson light.