Murata was unwilling to accept defeat.
How could he fall here? He had family behind him!
Murata's hands frantically clawed at the dark ruins, trying to find even a wooden stick.
Suddenly, Murata's fingertips touched something cold.
The sensation… was strange.
It wasn't wood, nor ordinary iron. It was smooth, dense, with a strange texture on its surface, and surprisingly, it felt warm in the cold night.
It was Old Man Sato's most treasured possession. Everyone said he was mad, spending his later years researching some "ultimate steel combining modern alloy technology," supposedly to commemorate a friend who forged swords.
Murata gripped the hilt. Perfect weight. A chilling sharpness.
"Die!" The demon had already charged forward, its long sword slashing down at Murata's head. In that split second, I swiftly pulled the sword from the ruins.
It wasn't a traditional Nichirin Blade.
Its blade was a deep, dark blue, yet the edge shimmered with a silvery sheen reminiscent of tungsten steel. The blade was straight, without excessive curves, exuding a brutal, modern industrial aesthetic.
The air seemed to freeze.
Just as the demon's blade was about to touch my scalp...
Inhale—
This time, the air flowed smoothly. This sword seemed like a giant amplifier, drawing upon all the remaining power within me.
Full Concentration - Water Breathing.
Murata didn't get up; instead, using his lying position, he swung his sword fiercely.
"Second Form - Modified - Waterwheel - Reverse Roll!"
In that instant, the previously weak flow of water, amplified by this new weapon, erupted with a roar like a high-pressure water gun!
Swoosh!
A perfect arc of blue light sliced through the night.
The demon's long sword, without a tsuba (handguard), was sliced in two like tofu. A flash of blue light swept across his waist. Murata, leaning on the new sword that gleamed with a chilling blue light, staggered to his feet from the ruins. The moonlight shone on the blade, reflecting a light that was no longer the murky brilliance of the past, but a precise, cold glint, like that of a scalpel.
Murata wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes as cold as ice.
"This is definitely not the Nichirin Blade of yesteryear."
Murata gripped the hilt tightly, feeling the power emanating from the blade, a power that seemed capable of cutting through the very air.
"Damn old bastard!!" Fear instantly transformed into the frenzied struggle of a cornered beast. The demon dropped the broken piece of scrap metal, landing on all fours, his back muscles bulging unnaturally, his old uniform ripping apart with a ripping sound.
His spine twisted like a snake, using all four limbs, lunging at me in an ergonomically flawed posture.
Faster than before!
Like a giant, crazed spider!
"I'll tear you to shreds! I'll rip your guts out!!" A stench filled the air.
If it were Murata, who had been wielding the broken sword, he probably wouldn't have had time to react before being torn apart.
But now, the world became clear to Murata.
The sword's balance was absurdly good. I didn't even need to use much wrist strength to control the tip's direction; it seemed to have a built-in navigator, guiding my arm.
Stay calm. Murata, you're a survivor. You've seen hell.
Murata didn't retreat. Instead, he lowered his center of gravity and slowly exhaled, the white aura condensing into a long, white line in the night.
That was a level only the Pillars could achieve—the Perfect Balance (though Murata couldn't maintain it for long).
Just as the demon's fanged maw was about to crush my skull, I moved.
Full Concentration: Water Breathing.
I don't possess Giyu's talent for creating new techniques, nor Tanjiro's adaptability to multiple breathing styles.
All I can do is hone the most basic techniques to perfection.
"First Form: Water Surface Slash!"
No unnecessary flourishes.
Only a horizontal, chilling blue light.
This modern alloy-forged blade, when it pierced the demon's neck, felt no resistance whatsoever.
It didn't feel like chopping bone; it felt more like slicing through hot butter.
That smoothness even gave Murata the illusion of swinging into nothing.
"Whoosh—" The demon's body continued its forward momentum, but its head remained in place, slowly sliding off under the force of gravity.
The world fell silent.
The headless body, propelled by inertia, passed Murata and crashed heavily onto the Sato family's warehouse floor, twitching a few times before going still.
Murata remained in the final, deadly stance, until the head that had rolled to the ground let out an incredulous murmur.