Infinity Castle…
The name surged instinctively into Dōma's mind as he plummeted through the void, gazing around with childlike wonder.
He had just taught the horned demon a lesson and was preparing to leave when, without warning, the ground vanished beneath his feet, swallowing him into this mysterious realm.
The place resembled an underground city, its architecture defying all laws of physics: corridors bending infinitely, rooms suspended in midair, staircases shifting of their own accord.
A grandiose, surreal spectacle.
"Wow… this is so awesome, haaa!" he shouted, carried away by genuine excitement.
Dōma wasn't exaggerating; he wasn't feigning anything or using any power to amplify his emotions.
A sudden note from a biwa sliced through the air, cloaking the place in an eerie solemnity just before he gently landed on a wide wooden platform.
He scanned the space.
The rooms around him overlapped, interlocked, and transformed endlessly.
Golden-glowing lanterns pushed back the darkness, casting shifting shadows.
"I really want to explore all this…" he thought, instinctively bringing a hand to his cheek.
A genuine smile curved his lips, far removed from his usual unnatural ones.
It all felt unreal… like a scene straight out of a manga that Jay would have dismissed as mere fiction.
'No… wait, I'm actually in a "manga."'
A truth Dōma often forgot.
Beside him, the horned demon was painstakingly regenerating its body, trying to mask the deep fear Dōma inspired.
*Bam—*
The biwa's strings resonated again, and several indistinct silhouettes emerged.
Before Dōma could greet them with enthusiasm, a door high above creaked open.
Behind it, seated like a monarch beyond mortal reach, was Muzan Kibutsuji in his masculine form.
"Muzan-sama."
The greeting was instinctive, etched into his demonic genes. Dōma bowed politely.
The other demons, caught off guard, hurriedly mimicked the gesture.
But two details struck Muzan:
- Dōma said "-sama" while the others used "Master."
- He didn't prostrate himself fully; his bow resembled the deference of a subordinate to a superior in Japanese society rather than ordinary worship.
Muzan noted all this with a calm gaze. He already knew Dōma was… peculiar.
After all, he suffered from a mental condition that prevented him from fearing Muzan.
Every "polite" act from Dōma was mere performance.
"Raise your heads."
The voice, calm yet authoritative, echoed in the silence.
Dōma straightened, then knelt comfortably, hands resting on his thighs, and looked up with a polite smile.
Muzan wore a black kimono with subtle patterns; his dark, slightly wavy hair brushed his shoulders.
His plum-colored eyes, impassive, seemed to probe the souls of the demons before him.
'He's cool today… but I prefer the other appearance,'Dōma thought, his face still placid.
As if in response, Muzan turned his head toward him and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
A butterfly effect… born from a simple thought.
Typically, only Kokushibō was permitted to offer suggestions to Muzan, but he rarely spoke.
A flaw of his reserved personality, bound by hierarchy and respect for rules.
That's why Dōma's neutral opinion seemed to cross an invisible barrier.
An act only possible because Muzan saw him as a "fool."
To Muzan, Dōma's opinions were untainted by emotions like fear or ambition.
Thus, they were "pure."
Dōma noticed Muzan's attention on him. So, he decided to test his "vanity paradise" a bit further.
He pushed his "experiment" on Muzan's observational powers by using various offensive thoughts.
'Let's see how far he can hear me…'
He started with harmless critiques, like Muzan's hairstyle or the crease in his kimono.
Seeing no retaliation or sign of displeasure, he went further.
His heart raced with excitement, as he was literally dancing with death.
Fortunately, Muzan didn't react.
This was proof of the effectiveness of his power in shielding his mind.
Yet, he needed one more test.
Dōma wanted to know if Muzan could detect him using his power on others in his presence.
Through his "Vanity Paradise" art, he sensed the horned demon's emotions.
He had easily accessed its blood, thanks to its current pitiful state.
The Demon King briefly furrowed his brow as he glanced at Dōma.
"Oh… sorry, Muzan-sama. I was just curious about this place and the others," he said with disarming sincerity.
A faint doubt crossed the Demon Progenitor's mind, but he let it pass.
The demons gathered by Nakime trembled under Muzan's passively oppressive and aggressive aura.
Only Dōma stood out in this shapeless crowd, unaffected by that aura.
It must be understood that the fear and respect demons felt for Muzan were genetic.
Thus, Dōma's behavior was the true anomaly here.
Beyond that, he stood out with his appearance, too beautiful for a demon.
This singularity earned him a second approving glance from Muzan, as he truly stood apart.
Muzan recalled the speed at which Dōma had gained power since receiving his blood.
'Perhaps I underestimated him…'
A versatile and intriguing power, undeniable talent.
Dōma was indeed a valuable pawn from the Demon Progenitor's perspective.
Muzan finally shifted his attention from him to the horned demon.
"I saw your battle."
This filled the atmosphere with the solemnity typical of monarchs.
The horned demon froze, then prostrated itself like a frightened dog.
"Oh, really? I'm delighted~ But… did my performance please you?" Dōma interjected, intruding into the conversation.
Shocked glances surrounded them.
Yet Muzan remained unfazed. He simply probed the memories of both demons, gleaning details of the fight… and some memories Dōma had carefully scrambled.
A nearly imperceptible frown creased Muzan's brow when he stumbled upon several… hentai-like scenes.
'This idiot uses my "gift" in such a way?'
Though annoyed by Dōma's use of demonic body manipulation for… questionable acts, Muzan was slightly intrigued by the positions Dōma employed.
It must be understood that Muzan is immortal.
Few things interested him beyond his quest for true immortality and perfection.
The Demon Progenitor had been married multiple times and always believed he'd tried everything, but Dōma proved otherwise in his memories.
It must be said that Jay was a man of culture.
Though hesitant, Muzan stopped fixating on Dōma's acts with Kaguya.
The only other noteworthy thing in Dōma's dull life was his ingenuity in creating ice-based techniques.
However, Muzan deemed he lacked time to fully understand the theories behind techniques like Miko.
He decided to revisit it later.
After all, Muzan had plenty of time to read the mind of the emotionless demon.
Unfortunately, the horned demon had nothing interesting to offer.
'Boring…'Muzan concluded mentally.
His gaze sharpened, having grasped the horned demon's true worth… a failure.
"Suigetsu, your progress is too slow," he said indifferently.
"Master, I… I can do better! Grant me—" The horned demon tried to plead, but this only irritated Muzan further.
The Demon Progenitor did not appreciate his judgment being questioned.
Especially not by a titleless demon.
"You are… boring." Muzan's words sealed the demon's fate.
Before the demon's next sentence could finish, Muzan exploded its head.
Brain matter splattered across the platform.
The other demons held their breath, petrified, but one exception stood out again.
"What a shame… his power would've been effective against swordsmen and close-range fighters."
Even as he said this, Dōma mentally cursed the horned demon.
'…Tch, now my clothes are ruined. If you're going to die, die cleanly.'
Muzan merely sighed, already accustomed to Dōma's mental commentary.
The Demon Progenitor decided to avoid unnecessary conversation with the fool, then made a swift move toward him.
Muzan's right arm morphed into a thorny whip, piercing Dōma's head.
"A… again?" Dōma said, recalling their first encounter.
Without responding, Muzan injected his searing blood.
The pain was intense; veins bulged on Dōma's forehead, his body trembled… but his strength grew.
"You have great potential. I look forward to seeing how far you'll go."
Muzan's whip retracted.
His plum eyes swept over the assembly.
"You all have the qualifications to become one of the Twelve Kizuki. Today, I offer you that chance."
A shiver ran through the room.
*Zheng—*
The biwa's music resonated again, and the shifting walls parted.
Two tall platforms rose slowly.
On each stood several figures, their pupils etched with a single character.
The Twelve Kizuki.