The world stands still.
Ren and Jigen face each other in absolute silence, locked in a battle of presence alone.
The sky above twists into a hellish canvas—deep crimson clouds churn, as if soaked in fresh blood.
The air is thick, heavy, and suffocating. The very fabric of reality seems to tremble beneath Jigen's existence, his presence stretching into something beyond mortal comprehension.
Ren does not flinch. He does not react. He simply stands, unwavering. A statue of calm amidst the rising storm.
The wind howls, carrying the scent of something unnatural, something wrong.
The ground beneath them, once solid, begins to crack as if rejecting the confrontation about to unfold.
Then—Jigen moves. Not a step, not even a shift of his weight. Just the slightest motion of his lips.
And the world listens.
"Long time no see… legendary slayer."
His voice is unnatural—inhumanly deep, yet eerily quiet, as if whispering directly into the soul.
Jigen takes a step forward. The motion is slow, deliberate, yet somehow instantaneous. His expression remains as it always has been—empty. Void of anything remotely human.
"The strongest one… the god among men."
Then—
"Tell me…" Jigen's blood-red eyes seem to pierce into Ren's very being.
"Do you feel lonely?"
The world shudders.
The ground splits.
Then—
A single drop of rain falls from the darkened sky, evaporating before it touches the ground.
Kasumi grips his sword so tightly his knuckles turn white, his rage boiling over like an uncontrollable storm.
His eyes, wild with fury, lock onto Ren. "Hajime-san! That's him! I'll kill him right now!!"
Jigen remains still, his expression unreadable, his presence suffocating. Then—he speaks.
"Oh? A walking corpse?" His voice is calm, almost mocking, yet hollow. Cold. Inhuman. "You're already dead, and yet you believe you can kill a shinigami? A literal devil?"
Kasumi's heart pounds. His rage explodes.
"JIIIIIGGGGEEEENNNNN!!!"
The battlefield erupts with mist.
"MIST BREATHING, SEVENTH FORM: OBSCURING CLOUDS AND HAZE!"
Kasumi vanishes.
The fog spreads in every direction, drowning the battlefield in an endless sea of white. Silence follows—except for the faint whisper of movement. A shadow darts behind Jigen.
The blade gleams under the blood-drenched sky.
A perfect strike. A fatal one.
Or so he thought.
Jigen does not turn. Does not move.
Yet in the next instant—
CRACK!
A sickening sound.
A single punch.
Jigen's fist crashes into Kasumi's stomach with monstrous force, shattering his blade before he even realizes what happened.
"BAARRRFFFF—!"
Blood erupts from Kasumi's mouth, his body folding inward as if crumbling under the sheer weight of the attack.
Then—he is launched.
The shockwave from Jigen's strike shatters the earth itself. The trees are torn from their roots. The very mountain beneath them splits in two.
Kasumi's body rockets through the air like a ragdoll, crashing into a massive boulder with a thunderous impact. Bones snap. His vision flickers. His limbs refuse to move.
The world is spinning.
Through the haze of pain, Kasumi sees him.
Jigen.
Standing there. Unmoved. Expressionless.
His glowing crimson eyes pierce through the mist like hellfire.
"You're an insect," Jigen says, his voice void of anything human. "Do not get in my way."
His words crawl into Kasumi's mind like a death sentence.
Jigen tilts his head slightly, his gaze cold. "You're already dead in advance. I don't talk to corpses.
Six years from now… you will die. My contract has already sealed your fate some years ago."
Kasumi's eyes widen. His hands tremble.
Even after all these years.
Even after all this training.
I was nothing…
Jigen's cold, lifeless eyes locked onto Ren. The wind howled around them, as if the very air carried the weight of their unspoken truths.
Jigen, standing opposite him, remained a figure of pure emptiness—expressionless, emotionless, as if he were nothing but a void given form.
"Do you think that being the strongest is a curse?"
Ren said nothing, ignoring his questions.
Jigen took a step forward, his voice steady, cutting through the storm like a blade.
"There's no use in being the strongest… if you can't even save the ones you love."
The words hit like a hammer.
"There's no use if, even with all your strength, you still can't get the one you love the most."
His gaze didn't waver.
"There's no use if, despite all your power, you're still just as lost, just as broken, just as alone as the weakest among us."
Jigen let the silence settle between them. Then, in a voice colder than the void itself, he whispered,
"You are no different from me, Hajime. We are the same—broken, hated, forsaken. Strong enough to shake the world, yet weak where it matters most."
He took another step closer, his presence suffocating.
"We are two faces of the same coin. But the only difference between us?" His expression remained unreadable. "You still cling to your humanity… while I have long since cast mine away."
Kasumi watches in horror, his body paralyzed. "Why aren't they fighting? Why isn't Hajime-san attacking him?"
Jigen lifts his hand, pointing his index finger toward Ren. His voice, devoid of emotion, cuts through the silence.
"I shall put this to an end. Fight me."
In the midst of darkness, a blinding glow ignites at his fingertip, radiating an ominous light.
"My attacks move at the speed of light. Now, behold my power!"
A violent explosion of light surges forward, a searing beam cutting through the air. It tears toward Ren at an incomprehensible speed—
And then—
Ren vanishes.
Not a blur. Not a dodge.
Just gone.
Jigen's eyes slightly narrow.
"SUN BREATHING: THIRTEENTH FORM."
In an instant—
Ren is behind him.
His sword gleams with a crimson glow, flames roaring from the blade like the wrath of a god.
Jigen's pupils slightly dilate. "He... He dodged light? Impossible. Nothing is faster than the speed of—"
SHING!
A single swing.
Jigen's body collapses.
His female form falls to the ground, limbs severed, head detached, joints split apart. Blood spills like a crimson river, pooling at Ren's feet.
Kasumi stares in shock, his entire body trembling. His grip on his sword weakens.
"W-What?! H-He… He killed him… in a single strike?!"
Ren tilts his head slightly, his gaze resting on the severed body before him. Blood pools around the fallen woman, her once-glowing crimson eyes now lifeless.
He crouches down, his fingers brushing gently against her cold forehead.
"I had no other choice," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because of him… I was forced to kill an innocent."
A heavy silence looms over the battlefield.
Then—
A presence.
A suffocating, otherworldly weight presses down upon them.
Ren's instincts scream, and his maroon eyes flick upward.
Above, high in the dark, bloodstained sky—
A silhouette floats.
Jigen.
His form is nothing but a shifting mass of blackness, a shadow against the crimson heavens. His presence alone distorts reality, warping the air around him.
Ren's fingers tighten around his sword. He blinks—
And the world changes.
Through the Transparent World, the sky is no longer dark. The crimson veil fades into an unnatural clarity. There is no blackness, no shadow—only light.
And Jigen…
Jigen has no body. No organs. No soul. Only emptiness.
Ren exhales slowly. "That's not him."
His grip tightens.
It's impossible to kill him like this… That form isn't real.
A slow, deliberate movement.
Jigen lifts his hand.
His voice, deep and void of emotion, echoes through the sky.
"It is time to curse you, Hajime."
A suffocating force surges through the air, twisting reality itself.
"Nothing escapes my curse… not even the strongest."
Suddenly!
A whisper of movement—
Behind him.
Jigen reacts instantly.
He sidesteps—
SHING!
A blinding flash of light.
A thunderous crack splits the air.
And then—
A clean cut.
Jigen's body splits in half. Blood splashes through the air like a crimson storm.
His severed torso hovers for a moment before plummeting.
He coughs violently, eyes darting to his attacker.
A figure stands before him, bathed in lightning.
Zenitsu Agatsuma.
Electricity surges around him, the ground beneath his feet scorched by pure voltage. His old, white hair flows wildly in the heavy air, his presence radiating absolute speed.
Jigen's glowing eyes narrow.
"This old man…?"
Before the thought fully forms—
Jigen's body regenerates in an instant. Flesh reattaches, organs mend, muscles knit themselves back together. He lands lightly on the ground, not a single trace of hesitation in his movements.
His vision sharpens—
[Zenitsu Agatsuma]
[Age: 60]
[Remaining Life: 6 years left]
He sees everything—
Every muscle twitches. Every shift of breath.
And even his soul.
"He's the only Demon Slayer who survived the Infinity Castle battle… decades ago."
Suddenly—
A harsh clang.
Something tightens around him.
A heavy, unyielding force.
Thick chains coil around Jigen's limbs, restricting his movement.
He tugs.
Nothing happened.
He pulls harder. But the chains refuse to break.
"Why…?"
His cold, crimson eyes shift—
And they land on a towering figure behind him.
Kenzo Fuji.
The Stone Hashira.
His massive frame looms over the battlefield like an unshakable mountain, his grip firm on the enormous spiked flail resting in his hands. His expression is unreadable—solid as stone, unwavering.
Jigen's eyes widen slightly.
"Wait… This man…
He's thestrongest Hashira alive… A warrior who can even rival my own power."
Kenzo rolls his shoulders, spinning his enormous flail effortlessly. The sheer force sends shockwaves through the air.
He glances at Ren, then back at Jigen. His voice is deep, firm.
"Did this guy hurt you, Hajime?"
Ren remains silent, eyes locked onto Jigen.
Zenitsu grips his sword tighter, sparks crackling in the air.
Kenzo adjusts his stance, the weight of his flail shifting.
"THUNDER BREATHING, SEVENTH FORM: FLAMING THUNDER GOD!"
"STONE BREATHING, FIRST FORM: SERPENTINITE BIPOLAR!"
A violent storm of lightning and stone erupts.
Zenitsu and Kenzo launch forward, their sheer power causing the ground to tremble beneath them. The air cracks with raw force.
Their blades gleam under the bloodied sky, slashing toward their target—
But—
He evaporates.
A shadowy vapor, darker than the abyss itself, dissipates into the air.
"Huh?!"
A split second—
And then—
A blinding rush of black smoke surges toward them at an unnatural speed.
They react on instinct—sidestepping just in time—
But—
SHING!
A crimson blade materializes out of nowhere.
Faster than sight.
The next thing they know—
A thin, red line appears across their arms and chests.
As a second passes—
Blood bursts from the wounds. The cuts are shallow but cold, as if the very essence of death seeped into their skin.
Silence envelopes everything.
Slowly—
Their gazes rise.
High above them, a figure looms in the night sky.
"Now, what's that?" Kenzo mutters, his grip tightening on his weapon.
The entity floats effortlessly, his long, dark robes billowing violently in the raging wind.
His eyes—glowing a searing crimson—pierce through the darkness like twin dying stars.
His pale skin glows under the moonlight, its unnatural radiance making him seem almost unreal.
His long, obsidian hair cascades down his waist, whipping through the air as if possessed.
But his face—
No emotion.
No humanity.
Poker face.
In his hand, a crimson blade radiates with pure malevolence, pulsing like a beating heart.
Kasumi's eyes widened. His breath is shallow.
"Finally… he has shown himself to everyone."
Jigen.
His gaze is cold. Colder than death itself.
A walking nightmare—a force beyond reason.
He does not breathe.
He does not live.
He simply exists—like an ancient, malevolent devil watching from beyond the veil of time.
Surreal.
Terrifying.
Jigen slowly lifts his hands into Dharmachakra Mudra, his fingers curling with eerie precision.
He closes his glowing crimson eyes—and the battlefield falls deathly silent.
A chilling whisper escapes his lips, slow, deliberate, suffocating.
"Blood Demon Technique: Resurrection…"
Then—
Maharaurava!
A monstrous silhouette erupts from behind him.
Thin—ghastly—inhuman.
Its crimson eyes ignite, mirroring Jigen's own but even more unnatural.
Then—
It rises.
Higher.
Higher.
It pierces the heavens, its mere presence blotting out the sky itself. The mountain looks too pale in size.
Then, it roars—
A sound so unholy, so primordial, that the air itself seems to shatter.
The entire battlefield quakes.
For miles—mountains tremble, the ground ruptures, the very fabric of the world strains under its presence.
"Agh… What's that thing now?!"
Even the wind stops moving.
Yet—
Ren does not move.
He does not react.
His gaze remains still. Cold. Unwavering.
Jigen's eyes snap open.
And—
They glow.
Brighter.
Blindingly.
His fingers interlace at his chest, forming Vajrapradama Mudra—a gesture of absolute, unshakable power.
Then—his voice echoes—reverberating across the land like a funeral hymn.
"Blood Demon Technique: Soul Necromancer…"
A nightmare unfolds.
From Jigen—billions of souls surge forth, an endless flood of wailing, damned spirits.
They drown the mountains.
Drown the battlefield.
Even the sky itself becomes a suffocating, writhing mass of the dead.
A ghastly hurricane of lost souls, all screaming, all trapped, all wailing in eternal torment.
Yet—
Ren does not hesitate.
His grip tightens.
His blade—burns.
Glowing. Bright. A crimson inferno.
His eyes narrow.
"Now's my chance… he isn't invincible anymore."
In a microsecond,
Ren lunges.
SHING!
With impossible speed, his blade tears through the spirits—each cut slicing through the shadows of the dead, severing their cursed existence.
One strike—
A million souls vanish.
Another—
A billion more.
But—
Jigen merely watches.
Calm. Expressionless.
Then—
He moves.
A single, fluid step—
And in an instant, he ascends.
Maharaurava's massive, otherworldly form shifts, and Jigen seats himself upon its shoulder.
Then—
With one colossal bound, the entity leaps into infinity.
And disappears. Gone.
The world shakes.
The sky howls.
A storm erupts—immediate, monstrous.
Torrential winds howl in every direction, tearing through what remains of the battlefield.
Then—
Silence.
The storm ceases.
The sky clears.
The sun rises.
Golden rays spill over the land, washing away the nightmare as if it had never happened.
And there—
Beneath the dawn—
Ren stands still.
Unwavering.
His silhouette bathed in the morning light, his figure glowing—almost holy, almost divine.
Like a savior.
Yet—
His expression remains calm.
As if this battle… was far from over.