"Though I'm not particularly interested in you... let's start with you first."
Almost simultaneously with Oboro assuming an offensive stance, he vanished and reappeared in front of Doma.
The newly appointed Upper Rank Six's pupils immediately contracted to pinpricks.
He had completely underestimated the speed of a human. Even his previous encounter with Kanae Kocho, the Flower Hashira, paled in comparison—it was like comparing mud to clouds.
"Blood Demon Art: Withered Garden Draped in Snow!"
In an instant, two sharp, metallic-looking fans appeared in Doma's hands. He spun them, his arms dancing, carving a circle around himself.
Bone-chilling frost surged towards Oboro with every strike of the fan blades.
This attack was also a form of self-preservation.
"Very composed," was Oboro's assessment of Doma. In this aspect alone, he was far superior to Muryo. Doma possessed a wealth of combat experience, knowing precisely which techniques were most effective in any given situation.
However... Doma's counterattack ultimately proved ineffective.
Oboro's staff ignited with a fiery glow, radiating extreme heat that instantly melted the thick, dispersing ice crystals, leaving Oboro completely untouched.
The fans struck the staff with considerable force, yet failed to cleave through the wooden weapon.
Doma noticed a subtle shift in Oboro's wrist upon impact. He had skillfully deflected the force of the strike, and by rotating the angle, the wooden staff itself evaded the fine line created by the fan blades.
It smoothly parried the attack.
"Blood Demon Art: Spreading Lotus!"
Doma's mind worked incredibly fast, and he instantly created crystalline ice vines, intending to bind Oboro. He simultaneously attempted to retreat.
"I hear... that you have been unable to comprehend human emotions since childhood, lacking joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. Is that true?"
Before him, the man slightly raised his head, his deep eyes looking over.
A smile played on his lips.
"Can you not even feel fear?"
With these words, Oboro's fiery blade exploded with astonishing heat, as if his grip had caused the wooden staff itself to undergo some transformation.
Oboro wasn't using soul power; he was simply pushing his blade's destructive force to its absolute limit to overwhelm his opponent.
Bang!
The swirling ice crystals dissolved into steam. With a resounding crack, the wooden staff, now like a blade, struck Doma's neck.
The sheer force of that single blow threw Doma's body off balance, causing him to instantly tumble backward. He plummeted as if falling from a thousand meters, crashing violently into the dirt of the courtyard.
The entire residence trembled slightly.
Through the rising dust, Oboro stepped one foot onto the figure in the crater. He retrieved his staff, rested it on his shoulder, and evaluated, "You are quite good."
In the crater, Doma's beautiful eyes showed no shock, no fear... only emptiness.
The smile on his face, however, remained.
Indeed... this guy truly couldn't feel fear. The concept of fear simply didn't exist in his vocabulary.
A distorted soul...
Doma's soul was fundamentally incomplete, with inherent deficiencies. But this also gave him an abnormal "potential" in certain aspects.
"You are so strong," Doma gasped, still pinned beneath Oboro's foot. The wound on his neck, half-shattered by the Sun Breathing and the staff, was slowly regenerating, but at an incredibly sluggish pace.
Doma's exclamation was genuine.
Indeed, by employing Sun Breathing, and channeling its power into a conduit—a weapon—Oboro could achieve this feat even without a Nichirin Blade.
This was something even Yoriichi Tsugikuni, if reborn, might not be able to accomplish. Oboro was using wood, not a traditional weapon.
While Yoriichi might have been able to transform an ordinary katana into a scarlet blade, wood was an entirely different matter.
The primary reason lay in Oboro's profound understanding of "life energy."
The penetration of power from a higher-level world into a lower-level world was almost absolute.
He was a virus, riddled with bugs.
Oboro stepped over Doma's body, heading towards Kokushibō, who was still frozen atop the gate, utterly stunned.
Sun Breathing... The moment Kokushibō sensed it, his limbs went numb. A faint, yet deeply ingrained image flickered in his mind, etched into his very soul.
He couldn't make out the face, but the feeling was disturbingly familiar... and filled with dread and panic.
With just one strike, Oboro had incapacitated Doma. Kokushibō, with his extensive experience, could see that the man could have killed Doma, but deliberately spared him.
Everything had happened too fast!
"Are you not going to kill me?"
Seeing Oboro walk past him as if he were nothing, Doma slowly crawled to his feet, looking at Oboro's retreating back, seemingly ready to attack again.
"You are merely lacking a soul, not devoid of one... Being born human, you lost some emotions, but not all of them. Even as a demon, you retain some basic human feelings, albeit very faint ones. For example, right now, you feel a deep discomfort inside... a strong dislike for how I am treating you." Oboro didn't even turn his head, simply waved his hand dismissively.
He had discerned this from the fluctuations in Doma's soul.
Doma smiled, a broad, joyful smile.
He was about to charge, attempting a surprise attack with his Blood Demon Art.
But suddenly, his brain surged, as if the world was spinning. His five senses faltered.
He froze completely in place.
"Just stay put," Oboro's voice resonated.
Seeing Oboro approaching step by step, Kokushibō's eyes narrowed. He immediately bent at the waist, his legs tensing with power.
He drew his enormous, flesh-like demon blade behind him, poised for an explosive strike.
His demon blade, "Kokushibō's Sword," also transformed, sprouting three additional blade segments from its original edge.
Oboro's display was enough to prevent any underestimation. Thus, if he attacked, he would use his full power.
"Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Lunar Phase!"
A high-speed dive!
Kokushibō leaped down from the gate, and as his blade slashed, several cutting attacks tore through the air.
These attacks not only targeted Oboro but also encompassed all possible escape routes and the surrounding ground.
Each strike, in terms of its power and range, made Oboro seem incredibly small in comparison.
However, even this seemingly perfect offense was easily countered by Oboro.
While Kokushibō's blade's might was terrifying, in Oboro's eyes, it was full of flaws.
The most direct point was that it lacked a truly comprehensive coverage.
There were still gaps... And wherever there was a gap, there was a weakness.
Oboro advanced into the slashes. The blade's aura seemed to pass through him, yet no blood was shed.
It was an illusion.
The reason was that, just as the blade was about to hit, Oboro executed micro-footwork, dodging and then instantly returning to his original position, making it seem as if he hadn't moved at all.
However, as the strongest among the Twelve Demon Moons, Kokushibō was not so easily dealt with. After his slashes, he landed directly above Oboro, pressing his attack.
Relying on the immense size of his blade and its advantages, combined with his exquisite swordsmanship, he engaged Oboro in a fierce struggle.
Oboro's wooden staff was too small and fragile; it would break with even the slightest touch of a blade. Therefore, just as he did when fighting Pillars like Ichiei and Tenjurō, he relied purely on "skill" to clash with Kokushibō.
"Hm?"
But what surprised Oboro was that his skill... seemed to offer no advantage against Kokushibō.
The demon quickly observed his fighting style and adapted instantly.
Bang!
Moments later, Kokushibō's demon blade pressed heavily onto Oboro's wooden staff, continually increasing its force. Oboro's arm bent under the pressure, the formidable blade blocking him at a distance of less than ten centimeters.
Kokushibō's grotesque face drew closer, scrutinizing Oboro, and he said coldly, "You cannot wield a sword."
"Indeed," Oboro replied.
A small splinter of wood broke off his staff, which was on the verge of snapping.
His "technique," though divine, was ultimately channeled through a "blade" as its medium. This meant it was weakened and couldn't toy with Kokushibō as it had with the Demon Slayer Pillars.
After all, Kokushibō had lived for centuries, possessing considerable experience both in battle and in life.
Furthermore, a demon of Kokushibō's caliber had physical attributes far exceeding his own. Therefore, Oboro was at a significant disadvantage.
The most crucial factor remained physical strength.
Without employing soul power, the body was the driving force behind everything. Technique itself was built upon raw attributes.
Moreover, he hadn't used Sun Breathing again. He wanted to see the true extent of Yoriichi Tsugikuni's older brother's abilities.
Now, he had a clear idea.
"Since you put it that way, then... I won't use a blade." Suddenly, Oboro released his wooden staff, dropping his weapon.
His action momentarily stunned Kokushibō.
Then, Kokushibō realized with a shock that the man before him had changed!
His aura had changed.
In that instant, a thought flashed through his mind: the blade... was not a means to enhance this man's power. Instead, it was as if it sealed a part of his strength!
Crack-crackle.
Next, in Kokushibō's vision, the man's muscles and bones quivered violently, emitting thunderous cracks.
His entire back and musculature seemed to spread open like wings, and the black haori on his body suddenly trembled wildly.
Furthermore, the man's body temperature surged rapidly, and copious amounts of heat emanated from beneath his clothes.
Oboro's eyes, glinting with a cold light, fixed on his opponent.
"This is the first time I've been even a tiny bit serious... I hope you... can help me recapture a little of that old feeling."
Divine Fist!
Hearing these words, goosebumps involuntarily rose on Kokushibō's skin, and his hair stood on end.
"Eighth Form: Lunar Rings, Revolving Tail!" Kokushibō bellowed with a deep roar.
He channeled all his power into his demon blade, creating a swirling, crescent-moon-shaped radiance.
However, just as the blade's glow appeared, he was struck as if by a massive blow. Blood instantly gushed from his mouth, and his eyes lost focus.
A single punch had directly shattered his blade's power, leaving a horrifying, gaping hole in his chest. It not only pulped his internal organs but also left his entire upper body hanging by little more than a layer of flesh and skin.
Even his skeletal structure was shattered.
Not only that, the sheer force generated by this punch continued unabated.
It blasted through the gate and the wall behind it, completely obliterating them.
Kokushibō's wounds rapidly regenerated, but by then, Oboro's large hand had already reached out and grabbed him by the hair.
"Don't rush... Take your time."
With that, he lowered his arm. Kokushibō found himself completely unable to resist this brute force. His entire face slammed directly into the ground.
How could a human possess such strength?
That was the only thought he could form.
Thump, thump, thump.
What happened next was simple.
Doma, standing nearby, witnessed the gruesome scene with his own eyes.
In his perception, the being who possessed incomparable power, the revered Upper Rank One, was being brutally thrashed by a human—utterly powerless to resist.
It was a cruel, bloody, and incredibly impactful sight.
In Oboro's hands, Kokushibō was no longer a demon; he was a tattered rag doll, carelessly abused.
Even with Muzan's blood flowing through him, even with a demon's astonishing regenerative and recovery abilities, he couldn't keep pace with the man's destructive power.
"How beautiful..." Doma couldn't help but say, a smile on his face.
It was a kind of beauty he had never perceived before.
Oboro's residence was vast, and the area where he was "educating" Kokushibō was just a small part of it. Yet the destructive power he unleashed spread widely, leaving some carefully arranged rock gardens in disarray.
A few minutes later, Oboro lifted a bloodied Kokushibō by one hand, pulling him closer.
The latter's body was already riddled with holes... and, strangely, his injuries were no longer regenerating.
"Since my body recovered, this is the first time I've felt even a little enjoyment from combat."
"How about you? Are you happy?"
Oboro asked with a soft, smiling voice.
Although his physical strength was not as high as it had been in his previous world, and he was far from using his full power, the destructive force he unleashed should, by rights, have been far greater. If he had been at his peak, it would have been even more astonishing than it was now.
The main issue was the "world's limitations." In lower-level worlds, energy compatibility was relatively restricted.
However, even so... for Kokushibō and Doma, this was already on a level they couldn't comprehend.
Thud.
Oboro released his grip, and Kokushibō's mangled form collapsed to the ground.
"I'm a bit tired. I'm going to get some sleep. You two stay here for now."
Oboro stretched his shoulders, bent down to pick up his haori, and walked back into the house.
"..."
Doma was unable to move, and Kokushibō couldn't regenerate, so he simply lay there.
Before coming, neither of them had imagined they would end up in such a predicament.
"Um... what do we do?"
"Senior... do you have any ideas?"
"It seems we're going to die here..."
Doma looked at the battered Kokushibō, asking with a cheerful tone.
Kokushibō, however, paid him no mind.
He seemed to still be in a state of shock and confusion.
____________________
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