Oboro carefully observed the seven Pillars standing before him.
Each one was distinct and unique, largely shaped by their personalities and the Breathing Styles they practiced. He realised that a Breathing Style wasn't just about raw talent or physical constitution—it had to suit the person at a fundamental level.
Take Rengoku Tenjuro, for instance. As a descendant of a long line of demon hunters, he certainly possessed the ability to learn Water Breathing, yet it would never truly fit him. His understanding and progress in that style would inevitably be much slower.
Then there were their Nichirin Blades. While some were traditional katana, others clearly defied standard classifications.
For example, the masked man dressed in tight combat gear standing behind Oboro wielded weapons resembling double-pronged hook blades with intricate guards. A thin chain ran between the two long hooks, attached to small mechanical parts. It looked as though the weapons could be disassembled and reassembled into entirely new forms as needed.
And the woman standing atop the wrecked palanquin. Her blade was slender and twisted like a gnarled branch; when she swung it, the speed was so immense that the weapon seemed to vanish completely from sight.
Indeed, every Pillar and every Breathing Style took on a unique character depending on who wielded it.
However, what truly caught Oboro's attention was their extraordinary sensitivity to Demonic Aura. He had assumed that even if Ubuyashiki sent swordsmen to eliminate him, once they saw his current state—appearing fully human—they would lower their guard or even stand down. He had not expected this level of awareness.
While Oboro was studying them, their eyes were also locked firmly onto him.
All of them had personally experienced the immense power and peculiar nature of the breathing techniques he had introduced to the Corps. Naturally, they were deeply curious about the man who had brought them such knowledge—perhaps even the one who created it.
"We meet again!" A bright, hearty voice rang out as Rengoku Tenjuro raised a hand in greeting.
Oboro smiled and nodded in return.
"I deeply regret that I failed to stop you from becoming a demon back in Seirin-machi!" Tenjuro declared frankly, his expression earnest and sincere.
"Even though you taught us these incredible techniques... given what you did to those villagers and what you have become... I am truly sorry, but we must eliminate you here and now!"
Tenjuro's voice was loud and ringing with unshakable conviction.
"If you have any last words or messages you wish to pass on to others, tell me. I shall ensure they are delivered faithfully!"
The Flame Pillar thumped his chest proudly, his vibrant hair standing out starkly against the night.
Tch.
Beside him, the Lightning Pillar—with his spiked crew-cut hair—clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Why are you being so friendly with a demon?"
"Because I believe... before he turned, he must have been a truly good man," Tenjuro replied earnestly, offering a reasoning that sounded utterly absurd to the others.
"Hah?" The Lightning Pillar looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
"There is something very wrong about this man," the Stone Pillar spoke suddenly from behind Oboro, his voice low and heavy.
"Agreed," joined Kawai Ichiei, the Water Pillar. "Back in Seirin-machi, his aura was overwhelmingly powerful and distinctly demonic. Now... it is faint, barely detectable. He shows none of the usual physical traits of a demon, and his eyes, which were once crimson, have returned to normal. He feels almost human... yet my instincts scream that he is not truly human. And he is incredibly dangerous."
As he finished speaking, his grip on his sword hilt shifted into a ready combat stance.
"It is faint... but it is undeniably the aura of a demon. I am certain of it," affirmed the Rock Pillar in a deep rumble.
"I shall lead the attack alongside Tsukahara. The rest of you, act as the situation demands," declared Otomo Kazumi, the Lightning Pillar, stepping forward with fierce resolve.
In terms of combat style and Breathing techniques, Lightning and Stone were the perfect vanguard—one offered blinding speed, the other unmatched stability and defence.
Tenjuro and Ichiei were still recovering from serious injuries, meaning their contribution to this difficult battle would be limited.
"Be very careful," Ichiei warned softly. He and Tenjuro had witnessed Oboro's terrifying speed and power firsthand.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Just as the Pillars prepared to strike, Oboro suddenly planted his walking staff firmly into the ground and began to applaud slowly and rhythmically.
"Wonderful... The look in your eyes... it is truly wonderful!"
"..."
"Individually, your strength is quite lacking... but the conviction you radiate, that unyielding will to purge every last demon from this world... it actually makes my blood race with excitement. Now I understand... I finally understand why Muzan has been unable to do anything about you all these years. Generation after generation, you rise up, wave after wave, each holding the same belief, moving toward the same goal."
"Looking at your life energy... externally, your power is severely restricted, but your souls are incredibly resilient and tough. Bound by the limits of this world, you have reached the ceiling of your growth. But if your souls were born into a higher world... every single one of you would grow into transcendent beings of immense power."
"..."
Oboro's calm demeanour and his sudden flow of high praise left the seven Pillars stunned and confused.
What was with this lofty, judgmental tone? Was he looking down on them?
"I already thought highly of the two I met before... but it seems there are even more exceptional wills among you."
In this moment, Oboro finally understood people like Hisoka and Biscuit from his previous life. Discovering such magnificent 'soul embryos' felt exactly like a collector finding a priceless treasure—something rare and beautiful that made one want to cherish it deeply.
Of course, unlike them, Oboro wasn't obsessed or addicted to it. He was simply speaking the absolute truth.
Initially, he thought this world was rather dull and lacking in value, but the longer he stayed, the more he was discovering its hidden joys and wonders.
Especially now. Even with such a faint trace of demonic aura left within him, they had sensed him instantly. It felt almost as if these seven warriors were brought before him specifically to demonstrate the brilliance of Legacy—guided perhaps by the very will of this world itself.
If even these seven possessed such strength of spirit, Oboro could hardly imagine how magnificent the souls of the legendary generation to come—the strongest era of the Demon Slayer Corps—would be.
"However... having a strong will is not enough. You must also possess the ability, the intelligence, and the raw power to act upon it..."
Oboro lowered his hands and gripped his staff firmly. He looked toward the Lightning Pillar, whose eyes burned with killing intent and overwhelming pressure.
"Let me test you... Show me the resolve you carry to uphold the legacy of those who came before you. And tell me... what price are you truly willing to pay?"
"Shut your mouth! Stop acting like you're some high and mighty being!"
Otomo Kazumi crouched low, his body coiled like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.
With a deep intake of breath, arcs of lightning crackled visibly across his skin and muscles.
In the instant his blade cleared its sheath, it flashed brilliantly like a bolt of lightning tearing through the darkness, burning itself into Oboro's retinas.
When the blinding light faded, Otomo was already right in front of him. His blade twisted sharply in mid-air, aiming directly at Oboro's neck.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
Oboro recognised this move instantly. It was the technique that would later be perfected and glorified by Zenitsu Agatsuma in the future.
Fast.
It was blindingly fast—striking like lightning itself.
With such velocity, the strike carried immense momentum, increasing its power exponentially. Combined with his breathing technique, the blade seemed to heat up from friction, surrounded by crackling electricity as it cut through the air.
Otomo's eyes gleamed with fierce excitement. The tip of his blade was less than a hair's breadth from Oboro's neck, yet the man hadn't moved an inch. At this range, with this speed, it was impossible to react. There was no time, no room for escape or defence.
All eyes were fixed on Otomo's attack, waiting to judge the true extent of their enemy's power.
But what happened next sent a sudden chill running down the spines of the remaining six Pillars—starting from the soles of their feet all the way to the very top of their heads.
Snap.
To everyone else, it seemed impossible for anyone to react to such speed. Yet, the moment the blade was about to make contact, Oboro casually raised his hand and pinched the sharp edge of the Nichirin Blade firmly between three fingers, as if plucking a stray leaf from the air.
Waves of heat radiated outwards from beneath his black haori, making the fabric ripple violently as if caught in a sudden, scorching breeze.
Otomo pulled hard, muscles bulging, but the blade didn't budge an inch. It was as if his sword had been welded solidly between Oboro's fingers.
His pupils contracted sharply, his expression shifting from confidence to utter shock.
"What...?"
"What surprises you? Did you truly believe you could defeat me with a single strike? Not after everything you know about me..."
"And tell me... why did your spirit waver and lose focus right at the end? Before drawing your blade, you should have prepared yourself for every possible outcome. You should have anticipated failure..."
"Including... your own death."
Oboro's voice drifted softly into Otomo's ears, light and airy, yet piercingly clear.
Their eyes locked.
The Lightning Pillar found himself unable to read the expression in those eyes—they were deeper than the deepest ocean, mysterious and unfathomable. Like a bottomless abyss veiled by shadows, devoid of all emotion, yet containing everything at once.
Splat.
A thin red line appeared across Otomo Kazumi's throat.
Blood began to trickle down his neck, staining his uniform and chest.
"My blade... struck you long before yours reached me. But you didn't even notice. You simply assumed I was only defending myself..."
Oboro held up his other hand, pinching a single blood-stained leaf between his fingertips. He smiled gently.
Thud.
Hearing those words, the Lightning Pillar collapsed lifelessly to the ground, his sword clattering loudly beside him.
Silence descended upon the scene.
Before Otomo moved, no one had imagined this outcome.
One strike.
He had been killed instantly.
What terrified them most, as Oboro had pointed out, was that they had all been deceived. They had only seen Oboro catch the blade—the information he wanted them to see—an illusion planted in their minds. None of them had noticed him flicking the leaf that slit Otomo's throat.
More importantly... the killing strike happened before he caught the sword.
In that split second, the experience and intuition of the remaining Pillars told them one undeniable truth: Even if all six of them attacked together, they would most likely die here.
Was there any point in continuing such a hopeless battle?
Logically, they should be afraid. Fear of death was natural and human. In Oboro's past life, aside from a few maniacs, every enemy he faced felt fear when cornered.
"Will they retreat? Or try to use guerrilla tactics?" Oboro wondered. Surely such a terrifying display of power had shaken their resolve.
Swish.
Oboro got his answer immediately.
Almost the exact moment Otomo fell, a graceful figure darted down from above, landing right over Oboro's head with breathtaking agility.
Oboro looked up, meeting a pair of eyes blazing with restrained fury yet perfectly calm and composed.
It was Sayuri, the Sound Pillar.
There was not a hint of hesitation or retreat in her gaze.
If anything, seeing her comrade die had only sharpened her fighting spirit and strengthened her absolute resolve to exterminate demons!
Oboro's calm expression finally shifted. He was genuinely moved.
"Magnificent..."
He stared up at the woman, momentarily stunned by what he saw.
Such raw emotion... such brilliant passion... such captivating bonds between people!
In his previous world, people were loyal to their friends—like himself and his companions like Menchi—but perhaps due to the nature of that world and its power system, their personalities were different. Everyone was rational, calculating. Even revenge was carefully planned, information gathered beforehand. Every move was analysed.
It was rare to see such simple, pure, and beautiful aspects of humanity expressed so openly.
This was the brilliance inherent to being human.
No hidden agendas, no complicated calculations... simply seeing someone dear hurt, and instinctively wanting to protect them, wanting to unleash the purest emotions from the heart... emotions reinforced by an iron will.
Oboro didn't just see how powerful or intense her soul was in that moment. He saw how beautifully it shone.
It was the essence of human emotion! Humanity.
This was exactly what he had come to understand and appreciate toward the end of his journey in the Hunter world... and also what he had lost sight of while relentlessly pursuing his own strength and will.
"Sound Breathing, Fourth Form: Jeweled Brilliance."
Sayuri whispered softly, synchronising her breath as she dived down, aiming a strike directly at the top of Oboro's skull.
Her technique was dazzling. As she spun, the shimmering fabric of her haori caught the moonlight, radiating blinding light as if embedded with thousands of gemstones. Even in the darkness of night, it was breathtakingly brilliant.
In an instant, Oboro's vision was flooded with swirling colours and blinding radiance. He could see nothing.
Her Nichirin Blade had seemingly vanished completely from sight, moving too fast for the eye to track.
She has blinded me.
However, Oboro didn't just stand there helplessly. He calmly raised his arm to defend himself...
"Stone Breathing, Fifth Form: Measure of Iron."
Just as he moved to counter, a figure appeared right in front of him with flawless coordination and timing.
Oboro's ears twitched, catching the sound of mechanical movements and shifting metal. Before the Stone Pillar even closed the distance, he had disassembled his dual hook-blades and reassembled them with blinding speed into a flat, circular disc, hurling it directly toward Oboro's elbow joint to disable his defence.
Oboro deflected the projectile easily, but it snapped back toward the Stone Pillar via its connecting chain, creating just enough of an opening for the massive warrior to close in for the kill.
Oboro barely took half a step back, when two more attackers closed in from the front and rear simultaneously, leaving him no escape routes.
One blade burned with roaring flames; the other surged like crashing ocean tides.
Through the perception of his powerful soul, Oboro saw four distinct energy signatures blazing with intense emotion closing in on him in the blink of an eye.
The will radiating from them was not merely about killing him. There was killing intent, certainly, but what burned even hotter, brighter, and stronger was Rage.
"Comrades..." Oboro murmured, half understanding the depth of their feelings.
So that was it...
Everything they felt—trusting their allies, protecting their friends, fighting side-by-side—came first. Only then came the desire to kill him.
Every single one of them was fully prepared to die first if it meant victory or saving another.
Now he understood why, just moments ago, the Lightning Pillar had looked at him with eyes that held shock, but also defiance and serenity in the face of death.
They accepted death with such ease...
It contradicted everything Oboro had learned and experienced in his previous world.
These were souls forged and refined through centuries of passing down will and legacy from one generation to the next.
Unlike in the Hunter world, where in such situations, most individuals prioritised their own survival and victory above all else.
This kind of pure feeling... he had seen traces of it in Gon Freecss, but even then, it was never this unadulterated, always clouded by personal desire or selfishness. Ultimately, it still fit the general atmosphere of that world.
"One should never underestimate any world... no matter how low its level seems," Oboro sighed softly, genuinely moved and impressed.
And then, four distinct and overwhelming sword auras crashed down upon him from all directions at once.
____________________
For more advance chapters visit my patreon
patreon.com/kane45
Tier: 10$ Casual Reader - +20 Advance Chapter
20$ Intermediate Reader - +40 Advance Chapter
40$ Expert Reader - +80 Advance Chapter
Update: "Monday to Friday - Update 3 Chapters a Day"
"Saturday and Sunday - Off"