Upper Rank Three's left arm had been completely severed from the middle finger to the forearm, but he didn't even glance at it. His eyes remained fixed intently on Kyojuro Rengoku, like a peerless master long deprived of a worthy opponent who'd suddenly encountered a formidable foe. The interest radiating from him was palpable.
"That's a fine blade!"
The demon spoke, a hint of excitement coloring his voice.
At the same time, he casually swung his left arm. The two severed pieces closed up instantly, healing completely. The speed was incomparable to Coulson, whose scattered body parts required considerable time to reconnect even after being pieced together.
This sight gave the group—who'd finally managed to calm down—a very bad feeling.
Could this demon be one of those super-powerful boss types?
"Don't be afraid! I will protect you!"
Kyojuro's resounding declaration, delivered with unwavering confidence, once again calmed the uneasy crowd.
"I have to admit, this guy's pretty damn impressive," Tony muttered with a reluctant expression.
Coulson smiled broadly, looking at the figure in front of him as if watching his idol in action. Most of the other special forces members also breathed sighs of relief, their gazes toward Kyojuro's back holding a different kind of emotion now—respect, admiration, hope.
Only Tamayo and Yushiro remained solemn.
The Demon Slayer Corps had existed for nearly a thousand years. While battles between Hashira and the Twelve Kizuki weren't common, they'd happened enough times. The fights with Lower Ranks could go either way—victories and defeats on both sides.
However, that only applied to battles against Lower Rank demons.
The Hashira had never won a single battle against Upper Rank demons.
Even though this Flame Hashira seemed stronger than his predecessors, it was hard to be optimistic about whether he could defeat an Upper Rank demon who'd never lost.
"You've got it wrong!"
Compared to everyone else's tension, the Upper Rank demon appeared relaxed and nonchalant.
He placed his left hand on his waist and extended his right hand forward. "I hate weaklings. Seeing weak people makes me sick to my stomach.
But you're different. I can tell at a glance—the battle aura surrounding you has been tempered through countless trials. You're approaching the supreme realm. You're a Hashira, aren't you?"
"I am the Flame Hashira of the Nine Pillars—Kyojuro Rengoku!"
"Flame Hashira... I am Akaza, Upper Rank Three of the Twelve Kizuki!"
After their introductions, Akaza continued, "I can't understand why you, with such tremendous power, would protect these incredibly weak creatures.
If you're truly strong, you should be able to sense my power!
Do you really think you can defeat me while dragging around all this dead weight?
Or perhaps I've misjudged you, and you're actually so weak you can't even perceive the gap between us?"
"Isn't it natural for the strong to protect the weak? We simply have different values. That's all there is to it."
Kyojuro gripped his Nichirin blade tightly, his expression serious.
"I see."
Akaza's smile widened, as if he'd grown even fonder of the man before him.
"It's such a waste for someone like you to die here. I have a proposal: how about you become a demon and join us?"
The question sent chills down everyone's spines.
Demons possessed powerful bodies and immortal lifespans. Even if Kyojuro didn't care about power, immortality was something countless people dreamed of. Could he resist such temptation?
If not, their already dire situation would become utterly hopeless.
But before that thought could fully form in their minds, Kyojuro's righteous refusal reached their ears.
Without the slightest hesitation, he refused. Everyone felt relief wash over them, and their respect for him deepened even further.
Even Tony had to admit that this Flame Hashira truly was as resolute and virtuous as Tamayo had described the Demon Slayer Corps to be.
"Don't be so quick to refuse."
As if he'd anticipated Kyojuro's answer, Akaza showed no surprise. "Do you know why you've failed to reach the supreme realm?
Because you're human.
You age. You get sick. You get injured. You die.
But if you become a demon, all these limitations disappear. Whether it takes a hundred years or two hundred, you can train consistently and continuously grow stronger."
"Decline, aging, and the march toward death—these are beautiful things that only short-lived beings like humans can experience!"
Faced with Akaza's temptation, Kyojuro remained unmoved, his gaze firm. "It's precisely because people age and die that life is so precious and dear.
The word 'powerful' isn't just an adjective describing physical strength.
These people bear the responsibility for humanity's future. They're willing to risk their lives fighting enemies far stronger than themselves... They're not weak at all, and I won't allow you to insult them.
I'll say it as many times as necessary: your values and mine are completely different. No matter what reasons you give me, I will never become a demon."
Upon hearing this, everyone looked at him with profound gratitude.
They'd all dedicated themselves to protecting humanity's future, but no one had ever respected them quite like this. Sure, people respected them—but not like this.
At least, no one had ever actually cared what they thought about it.
"I see!"
Akaza sighed softly, his tone filled with regret.
Then he stomped his right foot, and a twelve-pointed snowflake pattern rose from the ground.
"Technique Deployment: Destructive Death—Compass Needle!"
Akaza stood with his legs in a figure-eight stance, knees slightly bent. His left fist clenched at his waist while his right hand extended forward in an open palm. His target—Tamayo!
"Lady Tamayo!"
Yushiro shouted in alarm, instinctively rushing forward to shield her.
But someone moved faster.
Kyojuro took a deep breath. His body radiated heat as if on fire, the surrounding air distorting and warping. He positioned himself completely between Akaza and Tamayo.
There wasn't actual fire or extreme heat—but Kyojuro's absolute determination to protect Tamayo made his spirit and willpower so intense it created the illusion of protective flames surrounding them.
Despite this display, Akaza remained relaxed.
"Don't be so tense!"
Akaza smiled. "My master's orders are to bring that woman back as my priority. But honestly, I really hate dealing with women. So here's the deal—just have her promise not to run away while I fight you, and I won't attack her first."
Everyone's eyes immediately turned to Tamayo.
Tamayo's expression remained unchanged, as if this had nothing to do with her. She said calmly, "I trust Mr. Kyojuro."
In truth, it didn't matter whether she agreed or not.
If she refused, Akaza would attack her first, forcing the Flame Hashira to protect her while fighting, making an already difficult battle nearly impossible to win.
"I will never betray Miss Tamayo's trust."
Kyojuro's voice rang out with absolute confidence.
"If that's settled, then there's nothing to worry about!"
After speaking, Akaza kicked off the ground. His figure became a blur as he charged toward Kyojuro.
His speed was so incredible that even his afterimage distorted and stretched. This was nothing like the previous Lower Rank Five.
BOOM!
Before anyone could react, Akaza had already appeared in front of Kyojuro and engaged him.
He wielded no weapon—only his fists colliding with the blade, producing violent metallic clangs.
"Excellent! Excellent!"
Akaza's thirst for battling a strong opponent was being satisfied. He grew even more excited, swinging his fists in rapid succession, constantly clashing with the blazing blade. Shockwaves burst outward, sparks flew, and the sound of metal on metal rang out continuously.
The two exchanged dozens of blows in an instant. Fist shadows filled the air like a storm, and sword energy streaked like lightning.
Within their fighting range, it was like another dimension entirely. Any creature that tried to enter would be instantly shredded.
CLANG CLANG CLANG...
The two fighters moved with reckless abandon, deploying exquisite boxing techniques and swordsmanship in conjunction with their footwork. They ranged across hundreds of meters of ruins and rubble, generating sparks and heat waves wherever they went.
So fast... so incredibly fast...
The surviving special forces members had planned to provide sniper support once the battle began, but when they raised their weapons and tried to aim, they realized they couldn't track the fighters at all.
No—it wasn't just that they couldn't track them. They could barely even see blurred shadows.
The sounds of violent impacts were constant, but all they could see were sparks and shockwaves flashing everywhere.
They could only hear the battle, not see it.
Even Coulson—who'd been transformed into a demon with greatly enhanced neural response and vision far surpassing normal humans—was shocked to discover he couldn't follow the fight at all.
What the hell?
Hadn't he become extraordinary?
Why did he feel like he wasn't even at the level of an ordinary person compared to these two?
Coulson wasn't the only one questioning reality. Tony was also starting to doubt life itself.
His physical abilities were just those of a regular person—probably couldn't even match a trained soldier in a straight fight.
But his brain was unparalleled. His thinking speed and computational power had allowed him to conquer cold fusion technology overnight and miniaturize it to the size of a goose egg.
With that brain and Jarvis's assistance, he could handle supersonic aerial combat without any discomfort.
From the moment the battle started, he'd been constantly calculating Akaza's positions and aiming.
But he was stunned to discover that even when he could predict the demon's next move—hell, even his next three or five moves—and locked on perfectly, he still couldn't hit him accurately.
Because they were too damn fast.
It wasn't that they were faster than bullets, but they'd reached the point where they could dodge after the bullet was fired.
The laser that had severed the tired demon's head before could probably hit them.
But that was Tony's trump card—and the energy reactor could only use it once.
He'd already used it. He didn't have that option anymore.
"Sir, if you want to help, close combat is your only option. But I need to remind you—the opponent's punch force has reached the upper limit of your armor's defensive capabilities. The same area cannot withstand more than three direct hits."
"Well, that sucks!"
Hearing Jarvis's report, Tony felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
His previous enemies had been ordinary terrorists, fighter jets, attack helicopters, or the Iron Monger. Among those enemies, supersonic jets were incredibly fast—much faster than these two fighters, actually.
But bulky machines couldn't be as agile as human bodies.
A fighter jet needed to fly a certain distance before it could turn to avoid an attack. A person only needed to step back or tilt their body.
Supersonic aerial combat and supersonic hand-to-hand combat were two completely different concepts.