The word "Pillar" means the same as "Hashira"
...
The Upper Five initially thought the young man before him was acting carefree because he had exhausted his vitality. Unexpectedly, however, arrogance still radiated from the man's core.
In this world, many people do whatever they please by relying on their status and background. Such social hierarchies nurture the ugliness deep within people's hearts.
"All you care about is evaluating meat based on its price," Oboro remarked. "You probably haven't dealt with souls, have you?"
Without waiting for a response, a blade as thin as flowing light slashed across Oboro's neck, aiming to sever his head.
The heavy butcher's blade from the table flew through the demon's hand as lightly as a feather. Despite cutting through the air, it made absolutely no sound.
Yet the blade missed its target.
Whether from unsteadiness or something else, Oboro leaned back suddenly, evading the attack miraculously.
The blood-stained handkerchief fell to the ground. His drooping eyebrows gradually lifted, revealing cold eyes that regarded the demon with mild surprise.
Just a moment ago, the demon's arm had automatically extended, clearly a form of Blood Demon Art.
"Huh?"
Upper Five was stunned. He had struggled to walk down the hallway before entering, yet he somehow reacted to his attack.
Though Oboro wore a samurai uniform under his black haori, the clothes obviously served only to highlight his status. His mobility was clearly inferior to that of ordinary people.
By normal logic, a body so weakened should be incapable of reacting so quickly.
"Can't you see?" Oboro suddenly asked with a smile, raising one finger. "It's my soul."
How mysterious.
Upper Five attacked again without warning. His right hand transformed into a long snake that coiled and rushed through the confined space. He slashed wildly, filling the small house with silver light that completely enveloped Oboro.
But no matter how fast or sharp the blade
, it couldn't touch Oboro.
The man moved back and forth within the extreme gaps between attacks, navigating the changing angles after each sword flash like a ghost.
"It's his breathing."
The demon noticed Oboro's breathing technique.
It was triggering something within his body.
"Are you from the Demon Slayer Corps?!" The Upper Five exclaimed, abruptly withdrawing his blade.
But that didn't seem right; members of the Demon Slayer Corps all wore uniforms.
The most iconic feature was the Nichirin Blade.
At that moment, however, Oboro was unarmed and had no visible weapon.
Without a sword, even a Pillar-level Demon Slayer posed no threat.
Oboro's physical attributes were compromised by his serious illness, but his skills remained intact. Lower attributes meant his damage output was reduced, though not eliminated. As long as his skills could be supported by this world's power system, they would still be effective.
In other words, regarding "skills" at least, Oboro remained at the peak of his abilities, with no regression.
The experiences and growth he gained in his world over the years had become deeply rooted nutrients in his soul.
His incomparable soul and spiritual will made him extremely sensitive to all external perceptions.
Though his impaired body couldn't support certain movements, he could temporarily overcome those limitations through breathing techniques. The only problem was that, once he used these techniques, he had to act quickly and absorb blood to transform into a demon.
Otherwise, when time ran out, he would certainly die.
His body would be destroyed.
"Hmm?"
The confrontation between the two hadn't concluded when a commotion erupted outside.
Villagers shouted in an attempt to stop and warn someone.
People were approaching.
Two extraordinary auras
from the Demon Slayer Corps!
Oboro's ears twitched, and the Upper Five's gaze darted toward the doors and windows.
When he looked back at Oboro, his eyes had grown even more ferocious. He clearly believed that Oboro belonged to the Demon Slayer Corps.
"It's a Pillar."
Upper Five muttered to himself, then removed the robe he wore.
At first glance, the coat appeared to block blood and filth from corpses, but it actually concealed part of his body.
When he discarded the coat, Oboro saw a large human face on the demon's belly with tightly closed lips stretching across his waist. When the skin split open, a massive mouth filled with sharp teeth and dripping with mucus was revealed.
"Three Hashira's. I'm truly fortunate," said Upper Five. "I didn't go looking for you, but you came here to die."
Rather than panicking, Upper Five seemed extremely excited.
As the inhuman mouth on his stomach opened, another Blood Demon Art activated. A powerful suction force swallowed all the blood and debris in the room, creating chaos.
The oil lamp extinguished, leaving the room in darkness.
The suction was so powerful that it even caused the wooden boards to crack.
Morbid chewing sounds filled the air.
When the suction dissipated, the demon's stomach had grown to more than twice its original size. Opening his mouth again, he spat out several strange creatures made of meat fragments. These creatures retained some human features, but they were far more bizarre.
Some had four legs, while others had seven or eight human heads fused together.
Meanwhile, Upper Five retrieved a scale to accompany his blade.
The rate at which the demon vomited objects from his stomach accelerated. Within moments, seven or eight creatures dropped to the floor, further reducing the room's available space.
"The number of Pillars I've eaten, including you three, will soon exceed twenty. I think the master will be very pleased."
Upper Five looked at Oboro as if he were a lamb being led to slaughter. "Your meat is still valuable. It's not as bad as you say. At least I will enjoy it."
"Let's start with you."
With that, he attacked quickly and decisively, intending to eliminate Oboro first.
The grotesque flesh monsters lunged forward as well.
"Ah, I wanted to play a little longer."
Oboro smiled faintly; his fingers became sharp as blades. With each inhalation, his breath extended from the corner of his mouth.
The villagers outside couldn't stop a Pillar-level swordsman. If the Upper Moon died, Oboro would struggle to obtain the demon blood again.
Additionally, he noticed that his combat thinking showed some aftereffects. When analyzing the target's abilities, his mind didn't immediately consider Blood Demon Art.
Instead, his brain subconsciously categorized them as transformational and reproductive abilities.
To defeat such an opponent, he couldn't delay.
A prolonged war of attrition would be problematic.
"Without even a blade, you still want to—"
Observing Oboro's stance, Upper Five felt an inexplicable unease, yet he remained calm and sneered.
His composure mainly stemmed from Oboro's lack of a weapon.
Moreover, the man's posture wasn't that of someone about to draw a sword.
He simply stood there.
"Soul Breathing, Form Three: Night Parade of One Hundred Demons."
The mist moved.
The muscles in Oboro's legs burst into a cloud of blood mist, and his leg bones made a crisp breaking sound. This didn't impede his sprint, and he appeared before the demon almost instantly.
Two fingers, like a dragonfly touching water, tapped Upper Five's forehead.
The two flesh monsters standing between them disintegrated instantly.
They seemed torn apart by brute force, as fragile as paper.
Due to his low physical attributes, Oboro remained within limited parameters, even with breathing techniques forcibly enhancing his capabilities.
Although the demon couldn't react in time, he witnessed the man approach and destroy his Blood Demon Art–created flesh slaves with his fingertips!
As he closed the distance, Oboro pricked the demon's body in different places before finally touching his forehead.
Most astonishing was the "presence" this human projected while attacking.
It felt as if a swarm of eerie, terrifying spirits had rushed into the small room and begun to devour the demon's body.
Having battled many Demon Slayers, the Upper Five understood this type of "presence" well.
Only swordsmen who coordinated breathing techniques with the harmony of sword skills and bodily movements could naturally employ this presence.
If the blade angle was incorrect or the limbs failed to maintain rhythm during this process, the blade's momentum would suffer.
Not to mention the pressure created by the sword itself.
The three elements of breathing, sword skills, and the wielder must synchronize to form a swordsman's complete breathing technique.
Yet, this gravely ill man without a sword seemed more like an unarmed warrior. How could he possibly use "sword presence"?
It doesn't matter. He has no sword and relies purely on brute force. Even if he strikes me, I can withstand it. As long as I protect my head, he poses no threat.
With this thought in mind, as he watched Oboro approach, Upper Five opened his mouth wide in a sarcastic smile.
When did such a fool join the Demon Slayer Corps?
Oboro's explosive power was terrifying.
He wasn't as fragile as he appeared, transforming from lamb to tiger in an instant.
Perhaps he intended to restrain the demon until the two people outside could assist.
Oboro's attack was lighter than anticipated. Though it looked frightening, when his fingertips touched the demon's forehead, it felt like a mere mosquito bite.
The demon was stunned.
"You—"
He was about to mock Oboro's futile attempt when his pupils suddenly contracted.
Immediately afterward, his eyes lost focus, and his consciousness slipped away.
"Don't worry. I'm merely controlling you with this technique; I'm not trying to hurt you."
Oboro said this before the demon's mind went blank.
Blood immediately spurted from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground.
Demons possess a special physiology. The effects of acupoint pressure and meridian manipulation are significantly weakened when their flesh and organs sense "damage," automatically adjusting and regenerating. This damage naturally includes acupoint shocks. They might shake off "control" in less than a second.
The primary reason Oboro could affect the demon, albeit briefly, was his soul's power; his current strength was too low. Though the skill remained effective, its damage level depended on his attribute foundation.
He could make the demon lose consciousness because acupressure only served as an auxiliary means; the true power came from his soul's intimidation.
It resembled a demon seeing Muzan; the mind subconsciously loses control and experiences symptoms like limb paralysis, rigid thinking, and excessive sweating.
Oboro's soul strength definitely surpassed Muzan's.
When the breathing technique ended, blood flowed from all seven orifices, and Oboro's vision blurred.
Both legs ceased functioning.
Yet such minor inconveniences hardly troubled him.
Before the surrounding monsters could approach, he crawled across the floor, seized the blade that had fallen from the demon's hand, cut a piece of skin from the demon's calf, and bit into it.
The demon remained completely relaxed and utterly defenseless.
Otherwise, ordinary weapons would struggle to penetrate its body.
Gulp. Gulp.
Oboro swallowed slowly.
He had no alternative and no time to search. The blood of Upper Moon Five would certainly have stronger effects than that of a lower-ranked demon.
Whether psychological or not, the salty, fishy blood sliding down his throat gave Oboro the illusion of sweetness.
"Here!"
"Someone's inside!"
Suddenly, loud shouts came from outside.
The shrine door splintered under a long blade as two figures—one leading and one following—violently broke through.
Both appeared extremely alert and angry.
When the two Pillars saw the scene inside, they froze in shock.
A man lay at a demon's feet in a terrible state, seemingly drinking the demon's blood.
The scene was bizarre. They could tell that the man on the ground was human, not demon, yet the demon standing motionless in the room's center appeared mindless.
Swish!
One of them reacted first, swinging his sword to destroy several flesh monsters.
Then he reached toward Oboro, intending to pull him away and maintain a safe distance.
His priority was to rescue the human.
"Rengoku!"
As Rengoku lifted the man from the floor, his companion's solemn voice rang out.
"It's an Upper Rank."
Those simple words made Rengoku jump back as if he had been electrocuted. He retreated to the doorway.
Only then did he notice the trembling pupils above the tall, plump figure gradually regaining consciousness as numbers appeared in the whites of the eyes.
One of the Upper Five of the Twelve Demon Moons!
An Upper Moon!
Rengoku's mind seemed to explode; he was unable to process the scene before him.
They never imagined facing an Upper Rank, let alone a Five, before arriving.
Rengoku snapped to attention and tried to step forward again to save the man on the ground, but his friend stopped him.
Among the current Pillars, none had ever defeated an Upper Rank. Many had fallen to them, and some even to Lower Ranks.
"His legs are broken, and his condition is critical. He can't move."
Rengoku said gravely to Water Pillar Giyu Tomioka, "We must save him."
Unlike the passionate Flame Pillar, the Water Pillar remained calm and collected, analyzing everything within his field of vision.
First, the Upper Five seemed to have lost mobility for some reason, and their consciousness was gradually returning.
He was about to "awaken," his eyeballs slowly rolling downward as if resisting some force.
Second, the man on the ground was acting strangely.
He hadn't been killed.
Moreover, the floor and room showed obvious signs of recent combat.
"He doesn't need our rescue."
The Water Pillar glanced briefly and stated coolly.
There was some relationship between the man on the ground and this Upper Moon.
"Haaah."
Oboro, who had been drinking blood, finally exhaled foul air.
Undisturbed by the sudden intrusion, he extended an arm to support his upper body and slowly turned his head. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and his eyes appeared unnaturally dark.
To Rengoku and Jigoro, this expression radiated evil.
"What an unfortunate coincidence that you witnessed me like this."
Oboro noticed the Pillars' increasingly complex expressions and smiled calmly.
After drinking the Upper Moon's blood, his body felt as if molten iron had been poured into it. As he spoke, his appearance transformed.
Blood vessels bulged, muscles and skin writhed, and his features deformed.
The cells from Muzan's blood became abnormally excited and active.
Not everyone can become a demon. Many perish, unable to withstand the assimilation of Muzan's cells.
Transformation depends greatly on chance.
This posed no challenge for Oboro, of course.
The will accompanying Muzan's genes couldn't control him.
Rengoku and Jigoro remained silent.
Even the slowest observer would understand, witnessing Oboro's words and transformation.
This was the path the man had chosen for himself.