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"Why do you keep chasing me?! Must you really push me to the brink?!"
Muzan's body was now completely shrouded in blood-soaked fur and grotesque markings, his flesh erupting with gaping, fanged maws. A dozen blood-red tendrils lashed violently from his back, thrashing through the air with murderous rage.
His entire being radiated a suffocating bloodlust, an aura so oppressive it could make ordinary people collapse in fear.
Opposing him stood an elite squad of exorcists from Tokyo's Five Great Clans.
They didn't dignify his outrage with a response, only silently hurled talisman papers, streaking through the air toward him.
Muzan was seething.
He had only just awoken from a thousand-year slumber, stomach gnawing with hunger. He'd picked a random victim from the night market to satiate himself, planning to scout the current era afterward and decide whether to remain dormant or seize dominion.
He hadn't even gotten far before a group of exorcists from the Five Great Clans appeared out of nowhere to cut him off.
Now cornered and unwilling to fight, Muzan fled with every ounce of strength he had, even as hatred boiled within him.
The barrage of talismans came fast and furious, each one designed to explode on contact. But Muzan, with his freakish speed, narrowly avoided them all.
The wounds he'd sustained in the ambush were already healed, his monstrous regeneration in full effect.
"Out of my way!!"
With a piercing shriek, Muzan unleashed his tendrils toward the exorcists.
It was clear now.
These exorcists weren't here to capture him, they intended to kill.
If he showed even the slightest weakness, they would carve him up without hesitation.
So Muzan fought back.
His tendrils lashed out and coiled around one of the exorcists before the victim could react. In a brutal instant, the tendrils tore the person's chest wide open, sending blood arcing into the air like a geyser.
The blood that splattered onto Muzan's tendrils was quickly absorbed into his body, and he let out an involuntary moan of satisfaction.
To his surprise, devouring the flesh and blood of these exorcists was far more delicious than any ordinary human, and even seemed to strengthen him.
The rest of the exorcists, realizing the imbalance of power, backed away several steps.
But Muzan was no longer in retreat mode, he was enraged.
His mind flashed back to his glory days, when he terrorized a city with impunity. That is, until beings like gods and devils began showing up. Even ordinary humans had awakened holy relics.
The constant threat forced Muzan to live in perpetual fear.
Eventually, to stabilize his nerves and avoid drawing attention, he dug a grave in some godforsaken countryside, climbed inside, and hibernated for centuries.
Who would've thought, he hadn't even been awake for an hour and he was already cornered.
…
"You're all going to die!!"
Muzan cursed viciously, then launched himself like a bullet toward the exorcists.
He couldn't cast magic or spells, but his blood demon arts were no less deadly.
Still, the true foundation of his survival had always been his monstrous physical strength.
Muzan leapt high into the air. The exorcists assumed he was going in for melee combat, but suddenly, the muscles in his right leg swelled grotesquely, veins bulging.
With a snap, eight bone whips exploded out from his body, swinging with such force that they tore through the air, creating thunderous sonic booms.
Even the ground beneath them cracked from the shockwaves.
The exorcists didn't stand a chance.
They were flung like rag dolls, smashed into trees and pavement, bones shattering, bodies crumpling. No one could say if they were alive.
But Muzan had paid a price.
Several explosive talismans stuck to him mid-charge and detonated, hurling him through the air in a fireball.
Yet ordinary fire wasn't enough to kill someone with his vitality, it only made him look more like a monster.
"I didn't want to reveal myself! But you forced my hand!!"
Muzan's fury exploded as he charged toward a nearby exorcist girl, ready to devour her,
Only to stop.
A flash of icy steel shimmered in the air.
And his head hit the ground.
Even beheaded, Muzan didn't die instantly. His eyes blinked in stunned disbelief, locking with the man now standing before him.
Rod.
"Not exactly strong," Rod muttered, "but still annoyingly hard to kill."
And wasn't that the truth?
There were countless beings in this world stronger than Muzan.
But very few could keep fighting after being decapitated.
Muzan's severed head twitched. Did this guy just say… "not exactly strong"?!
He was the original Demon King!
A being of infinite regeneration, capable of toppling mountains!
Hadn't he just turned those arrogant exorcists into red smears?
His decapitated body surged at Rod, firing dozens of tendrils and bone whips like artillery shells, all aimed at Rod's head.
Petty as ever, Muzan wanted to return the favor.
But in the next instant, every single tendril was severed midair.
A searing pain screamed through his nerves.
His attack had been completely neutralized, before he could even register it.
Then came the dread.
Shit!
He had messed with the wrong guy.
Grinding his teeth, Muzan's body inflated like a balloon,
And exploded.
His humanoid form shattered into thousands of tiny meat fragments, scattering in all directions.
It was a classic misdirection, part escape tactic, part decoy.
To the average opponent, it looked like a desperate self-destruction.
But the truth? Muzan could regenerate from even a single piece of flesh.
And he had just split into 1,800 pieces.
To truly kill him, his enemy would have to destroy all 1,800 fragments in a matter of seconds.
Unfortunately,
Rod had already activated Ultra Acceleration the moment Muzan exploded.
In his eyes, the pieces hadn't even finished tearing apart. Some were still clinging to bits of bone.
Still vulnerable.
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