As soon as Kagaya Ubuyashiki and the Demon Slayers vanished, several figures emerged from the nearby shadows. They were dressed in the traditional robes of Onmyoji, their faces hidden by the darkness. At their lead was the Priest Lord, Chinami, flanked by her six Protectors. They were the hidden masters of the Priest Clan.
"Things didn't go exactly as planned, but the situation is still manageable," one of the Protectors said. "Our only miscalculation was that Kibutsuji Muzan refused to show himself."
"It doesn't matter anymore," Chinami replied, her voice calm and steady. "Events have moved beyond what even he can control. The final battle is coming."
Another Protector spoke, a hint of doubt in his tone. "That's true, but the power we gave to Kagaya Ubuyashiki… it seems to have taken a greater toll than we anticipated. It may not have been as effective as we hoped."
"Don't be so sure," Chinami countered softly.
For generations, her clan—a forgotten branch of the great Onmyoji legacy—had operated from the shadows. Ages ago, they were suppressed by rival schools and forced into hiding. In their ambition to return to power, they had engineered the birth of the first demon, Kibutsuji Muzan, hoping to use him as a tool. But their creation proved to be a disappointment. For all his strength, Muzan's abilities were crude and insignificant compared to the true potential of a master Onmyoji.
The Priest Clan had always seen themselves as saviors, so they chose a different path. They allied with the Ubuyashiki family, allowing them to be the public face of the fight against demons while they pulled the strings from behind. They controlled everything, even developing techniques that could grant ordinary humans extraordinary power for a short time. The incredible strength Kagaya had just displayed came from them, a power channeled through their leader, Chinami herself.
However, even she could not create such warriors easily. Her methods were vastly different from the simple process of turning a human into a demon. Unfortunately, the priest who created the original demon-transforming medicine was killed by Muzan immediately after his success. The Priest Clan managed to save a portion of the formula, but they could never replicate the original result. If they could have created another demon as powerful as Muzan, they would not have let him run rampant for centuries.
But now, the time for waiting was over. Muzan's ambition was growing, and he was on the verge of plunging all of Japan into a new, dark era. The Priest Clan could no longer afford to stay hidden. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to step onto the stage.
Meanwhile, deep within the twisted reality of the Yoshiwara Red-Light District, the final pieces were moving into place. The Infinity Castle had merged with the district, creating an impossible labyrinth of overlapping rooms and shifting corridors. At the very highest point of this chaotic space, the Twelve Kizuki were summoned, teleported there in an instant.
Buzz…
Before them, a throne of ice and blood materialized from thin air.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Without a moment's hesitation, every member of the Twelve Kizuki fell to one knee, bowing their heads in perfect submission.
"We greet you, Master!" their voices echoed in unison.
Summons from their king were not uncommon, but this time felt different. In recent years, under their new leader, the entire dynamic of the demon world had changed. They were no longer creatures hiding in the dark. They now held significant power and controlled vast human and material resources across Japan.
Even Kokushibo, who had once been a powerful samurai in the Sengoku period, felt a chill run down his spine. Whatever his original reasons were for serving the Demon King, his loyalty now belonged completely to the demon sitting on the throne—Tsukihiko. He was loyal not out of fear, but out of awe.
This feeling was shared by the other Upper Ranks. The reverence that Doma and Akaza held for Tsukihiko had reached its peak. He was the absolute ruler of all demons, and his every move decided their collective fate. The previous king, Muzan, had lived in constant fear of his own creations, never daring to gather them in large numbers in case they rebelled. But Tsukihiko was different. He had not only united them but had actively encouraged the creation of more demon groups, strengthening their numbers and influence.
After all, becoming a demon had its advantages. No demon ever had to fear growing old, getting sick, or dying from anything other than a Nichirin sword or the sun.
"You may all rise."
Tsukihiko's voice cut through the silence. He was lounging on his icy throne, his expression completely calm.
"Thanks to your combined efforts, the time has come. The age for demons to rule Japan is finally here."
Even as he spoke of their ultimate victory, his face remained a mask of detached composure. It seemed as though nothing in the world could bring him true joy or pain.
"As you command, Master!" the Twelve Kizuki responded, rising to their feet. Their expressions were a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and unwavering loyalty. Tsukihiko observed them silently. Muzan's choices for his strongest subordinates had been flawed. They were powerful, certainly, but each was crippled by some deep-seated psychological issue. Even Kokushibo, the strongest of them all, was forever trapped in a cycle of arrogance and inferiority that not even eternal life could fix.
"Now," Tsukihiko continued, his voice as cold and calm as ever, "prepare for the final operation. After this battle, the nation of Japan will enter the Demon Era."
At that very same moment, at the Ubuyashiki Estate, Amane stood over a small table, reheating a flask of sake for the countless time. Her movements were slow and deliberate, a familiar ritual she had performed for years. But tonight, everything was different.
She didn't know if the man she had shared her life with would return. This was the first and only time he had ever gone into battle himself, sword in hand. She couldn't begin to imagine the look on her own face if he failed to come back as he had promised.
Whoosh!
A sudden, fierce gust of wind tore through the garden, startling her. In the distance, a figure stepped out of the swirling air. A strange yet familiar presence washed over her.
It was Kagaya.
But the man who stood before her was not the husband she knew. He was a withered old man, his hair as white as snow and his face a canvas of deep wrinkles. He looked like he was on the very edge of death.
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