Deep within the twisted corridors of the Infinity Castle, silence trembled beneath the weight of shadows.
Muzan stood tall before the only three Uppermoons left—Kokushibo, Douma, and Akaza.
The flickering crimson lamps cast eerie glows across their pale skin.
"We are nearing the end," Muzan said, his voice like poison silk.
Douma smiled playfully, fanning himself. "Oooh? So dramatic today, Muzan-sama. Does it have something to do with… him?"
Akaza's jaw clenched. He said nothing, but his fists tightened.
Kokushibo remained silent, his many eyes locked with Muzan's.
Muzan's voice deepened. "Sahiru has disrupted the balance. But he cannot protect everyone."
He turned, the folds of his cloak trailing like bleeding shadows.
"I am not sending you three. That would be wasteful. He has already fought several of you and survived."
Douma blinked. "Then who, dear Muzan-sama?"
"I will unleash ten thousand demons," Muzan declared. "All at once. Not Uppermoons… but enough to swallow villages, cities… the entire land in chaos."
Akaza narrowed his eyes. "You're creating a bloodstorm."
"Yes," Muzan said, his expression unreadable. "Let the Demon Slayers drown in corpses. Let Sahiru exhaust himself trying to save them. Let their morale break. And when they are too scattered to resist…"
His voice dropped, low and sharp.
"Then we strike."
Kokushibo finally spoke. "When does it begin?"
Muzan's mouth curled ever so slightly.
"Tonight."
And with that, the dark god of demons vanished into the living walls of the castle.
The first winds of hell stirred across Japan.