"I don't see that bastard Muzan anywhere!"
"Are those the two Upper Moons who used to serve under him?"
"Looks like they've already started fighting each other."
Seven or eight shadows materialized from different directions, each with its own fighting stance and aura. The moonlight caught the edges of weapons and the gleam of predatory eyes as they surveyed the frozen battlefield.
They were all heirs.
Among this gathering, some bore the mark of the first generation of transformation-those who had been personally transformed by Oboro during his early years in this world. Their spiritual pressure carried a different quality, honed by decades of soul cultivation and bitter experience.
Others represented the second and third generations-inheritors who had been transformed by their predecessors and had clawed their way up through the chaos of recent years. These newer converts often burned with fiercer ambition, desperate to prove themselves worthy of the power they'd inherited.
One by one, their eyes locked on Kokushibo and Doma with calculating intensity.
The Heirs had also noticed the Twelve Demon Moons, now frozen as ice sculptures scattered across the battlefield like grotesque art installations. The sight sent a clear message about the level of power they were dealing with tonight.
"To have survived this long, you're really something," a heavyset man said, crossing his massive arms as he studied Doma with reluctant admiration. "Most demons didn't make it past the first Purge."
Surviving from the most turbulent Edo period to the present required unquestionable strength. Beyond mere strength, the fact that Doma had endured Muzan's relentless hunt while building his own organization spoke of remarkable cunning and resilience.
The Inheritors were well aware of the founder of Eternal Paradise-not only because of his actions in popularizing the techniques of Soul Force, but also because some of the doctrines preached by his cult bore striking similarities to the will of the Inheritors themselves.
There were even persistent rumors that Doma claimed to be the only true successor of the God of Swordsmen.
Such a proclamation was nothing short of a blasphemous provocation to the other heirs.
Several first-generation heirs had crossed blades with Doma before his betrayal of Muzan, testing their skills against his ice techniques in battles that had left scars on both body and soul. But the second and third generation of heirs knew less of him personally. Though they believed in "changing the world" through demonic transformation, they had been less directly influenced by Oboro and had never actually met the so-called God of Swordsmen.
They had only heard fragments of stories about the originator of their common will.
"So... you're the one who leaked Muzan's location," a woman with waist-length hair said coldly, her snow-white kimono pristine despite the frozen battlefield around them. "Doma."
These heirs had all come here with one burning purpose: to kill Muzan. Beyond revenge for his systematic hunting of their kind, they hungered to devour the Demon King and evolve into something greater. With enough power, they could break through the protective barriers that the Demon Slayer Corps had erected around the government, dismantle the existing order, and remake the world according to their vision.
Of course, while the Heirs shared the same basic will, they were neither companions nor friends. Each commanded his own forces, followed his own methods, and had his own ambitions for the world after Muzan.
For the moment, they had reached only a temporary truce for the common goal of eliminating their ancient enemy.
They had received information that Muzan - always cautious to the point of paranoia - would come to Ueno tonight for reasons he couldn't avoid. They hadn't expected Doma and Kokushibo to show up as well, and when the woman spotted Doma's familiar smile, the pieces fell into place.
Muzan wanted to clean house and eliminate his rebellious former subordinates.
Doma and Kokushibo plotted to bring down their former master for good.
The three-way conflict between them was no longer a secret to anyone who moved in the shadows of this world.
"We mobilized so many troops... but all we can find are small fry like the current Twelve Demon Moons?" Another Heir looked around with obvious disappointment, his frown deepening as he took in the scene. "Are you mocking us, Doma?"
He fixed the ice demon with a hostile stare, one hand resting on the weapon at his side.
"Still, even if Muzan doesn't show up, killing these two would be a significant prize," another added, licking his lips with predatory hunger. His eyes gleamed at the prospect of devouring powerful demons and absorbing their strength.
"Don't worry..." Doma greeted the heirs with his characteristic enthusiasm, waving his iron fan in an almost cheerful gesture. "Master Muzan will definitely appear tonight."
If Muzan chose not to fight, he would certainly face execution at Oboro's hands. This fight was the only way for the Demon King to survive.
Kokushibo's frown deepened as he absorbed this information. He hadn't expected that Doma would deliberately lure these troublesome characters to the battlefield. He had assumed that only Gyutaro would join the conflict, not this entire gathering of ambitious predators.
However, he began to understand Doma's strategic thinking. The two of them alone couldn't guarantee victory against Muzan, especially with the Demon King's enhanced soul power abilities. But Kokushibo did not like this method of calling for "reinforcements"-it felt like an admission of weakness.
"This has been tacitly approved by this person," Doma said, seeming to read Kokushibo's thoughts with uncanny accuracy. His smile carried layers of meaning that only someone who knew Oboro's methods could fully appreciate. "This is a test - a trial for all of us, for you and me, and especially for Muzan. Each of us has compelling reasons to win and the qualifications to face death with dignity."
Kokushibo looked at him but said nothing.
The former Upper Moon One understood Doma's temperament well enough by now. He had already guessed some aspects of tonight's true purpose, though the full scope of Oboro's plan remained hidden even from them.
"Ah... our last guest has arrived," Doma said suddenly, his voice full of anticipation as he sensed a familiar presence approaching.
The Inheritors followed his gaze, tension rippling through their ranks.
Then they saw her - a cold and breathtakingly beautiful woman walking slowly under the silver moonlight. Her appearance commanded attention in a way that transcended mere physical beauty.
She wore elaborate makeup applied with artistic precision, a gold hairpin securing her dark hair in an intricate arrangement, and a pair of platform shoes - wooden clogs that raised her a full foot off the ground. Every element of her presentation spoke of wealth, status, and vanity.
Daki, the courtesan.
Although Daki appeared alone, everyone present understood that the siblings were inseparable. Where one went, the other followed - an unbreakable bond forged in blood and shared trauma.
Gyutaro's fame was well known throughout the demon world and beyond.
This pair of siblings answered to no one, belonged to no faction, and commanded no subordinates. They seemed to exist solely to hunt down Doma and Kokushibo, an obsession that stretched from the Edo period to the present day. Their mission to eliminate the original Upper Moons had become the defining purpose of their existence.
More importantly, Gyutaro held a unique position in the power structure of this world. He was called an Heir, but he wasn't really one of them. Unlike the others, Gyutaro had no interest in saving or changing the world. All he wanted was destruction - the complete annihilation of all that existed.
His goal was to turn the world into a hellish realm of endless slaughter.
But he wore Oboro's distinctive black haori with unmistakable pride.
His fighting techniques and philosophy had been taught to him by the God of Swordsmen himself.
This was a treatment that no other heir had ever received, and it marked him as something beyond their understanding.
At Daki's entrance, the inheritors' expressions changed subtly, betraying their unease. In their minds, Gyutaro was less a fellow traveler than a mad dog whose violence knew no bounds.
What they truly feared was not the elegant courtesan before them.
They feared the monster she carried in her shadow.
Daki maintained a blank expression, treating the assembled demons and heirs like furniture - present but unworthy of recognition. Impatience flickered between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows as she stepped onto the ice-covered battlefield, her wooden clogs clicking against the frozen surface with deliberate rhythm.
Her beautiful eyes locked with laser focus on Doma and Kokushibo, and she clenched her fists as cold fury colored her voice.
"This time, you two cannot escape!"
The declaration was filled with both arrogance and absolute conviction.
Everyone had heard stories about Daki's personality over the years. She possessed that supreme confidence because Gyutaro's devotion knew no bounds. Her brother would tear apart the world itself before he would allow any harm to come to her.
In the current era, where secrets about both demons and humans were common knowledge, Gyutaro's story had long since been exposed to public scrutiny.
On the surface, Daki seemed cold and calculating, but when she spoke, her childish immaturity was immediately apparent. After all, the tactical situation was obvious to anyone with basic intelligence.
Daki, of course, had come here after hearing rumors of tonight's meeting. Any competent strategist would recognize this as a trap carefully set by Doma to lure multiple enemies into a confined space.
But Daki truly believed that she had taken the initiative to corner Doma and Kokushibo through her own cleverness.
As expected, perfection remained elusive even for demons. Nature had given this woman a face of breathtaking beauty, a figure that inspired poetry, and an aura of regal bearing.
But it had not endowed her with the intelligence to match these gifts.
In a word, foolish.
Daki paid no attention to the heirs, dismissing them as irrelevant to her purpose. She and Gyutaro had not come for Muzan or to join forces with anyone else.
What ignited Daki's anger was Doma's complete lack of response to her dramatic entrance - a display of disrespect she found intolerable.
She could sense the contempt lurking beneath Doma's colorful pupils, the amusement he found in her presence.
Doma and Gyutaro shared a long history as adversaries. He knew Daki's strengths and weaknesses with intimate clarity. Without her brother's protection, this woman would have perished decades ago, reduced to ashes by any number of enemies who had learned to exploit her limited strategic thinking.
"Don't be angry," a hoarse voice whispered with gentle reassurance. "If you're upset, it makes me sad too. Don't worry - I'll make him pay dearly for showing you such disrespect."
As Daki's face darkened with murderous intent, a large hand suddenly appeared and caressed her head with surprising tenderness. Then a figure emerged from her body in that familiar, impossible way - sharing the same physical space, yet remaining distinct.
Distinctive green hair caught the moonlight, and the black haori draped over his shoulders seemed to absorb the darkness itself. The overwhelming stench of blood that permeated the air the moment he manifested caused several Inheritors to instinctively step back.
The atmosphere became suffocating with barely contained violence.
Gyutaro had arrived.
"Let him breathe," Daki ordered, extending a perfectly manicured finger to point directly at Doma. Her voice carried the petulant tone of someone accustomed to having her every whim immediately satisfied. "I want to kill him with my own hands."
"Hehehe..."
Gyutaro's lips curved into that unmistakable grin, his attention shifting to Doma with predatory interest. "You see? You've made my sister very unhappy. As her brother, there's only one thing I can do to remedy the situation."
His voice carried the promise of indescribable agony.
"I truly envy your relationship," Doma replied with that infuriating smile, his tone suggesting genuine admiration for their bond even as he prepared for the violence to come.
The moonlight painted the frozen battlefield silver as multiple factions prepared for a conflict that would forever reshape the demon world. In the shadows beyond, other forces stirred - forces that would soon determine not only who lived or died tonight, but the very nature of the world these creatures would inherit.