BOOM!
The clash exploded outward. The instant they closed in, the four Pillars were hurled back as if they'd slammed into a giant coiled spring, sent flying by an unseen force.
It was just a wooden staff.
Held firmly in Oboro's hand—the very one crafted for him by Tanjuro Kamado—this simple piece of wood parried, deflected, and shattered their techniques one after another, moving with the precision and sharpness of a finely honed blade.
High above, Sayuri—the Sound Pillar—stared in absolute shock, her eyes widening and her face draining of colour.
She realised what was happening... He wasn't just blocking their attacks blindly; he was countering them using the very principles of swordsmanship. With every movement, he effortlessly pinpointed the flaws and weaknesses within their styles.
Breathing Techniques were meant to enhance physical capabilities, boost power, and elevate swordplay to supernatural heights. But for a swordsman, the technique itself—the skill and application of the blade—remained just as vital. And different types of Nichirin Blades required entirely different approaches and methods of use.
Take her own weapon, for example. Powered by her breathing style, her fighting style relied heavily on swift feints, precise jabs, and sudden piercing strikes. Meanwhile, the Stone Pillar wasn't necessarily the most skilled swordsman in terms of form, but his true strength lay in his versatile weaponry—how he could transform, combine, and adapt his tools in the heat of battle, keeping opponents constantly guessing.
Tenjuro and Ichiei each possessed their own distinct characteristics and strengths as well.
Yet despite all this diversity, Oboro overcame them instantly, not through superior strength or overwhelming power, but through sheer technical mastery. He was crushing them simply by being better.
Who exactly was this man? His battle experience was unfathomable.
One after another, all four Nichirin Blades were knocked clean out of their owners' hands.
As Ichiei was thrown backward, he planted one hand firmly on the ground, twisted his body mid-air, and landed in a low crouch before launching himself forward again to catch Sayuri as she fell from the sky. Meanwhile, the Stone Pillar hit the ground much more heavily, sliding backward for over a dozen metres, covering himself completely in dust and dirt. Tenjuro, still hampered by his unhealed injuries, crashed straight onto his back with a heavy thud, his expression grim and pained.
But the moment their attack crumbled, the Wind Pillar and Rock Pillar were already moving. With incredible reflexes and perfect coordination, they immediately moved to fill the gaps, launching a coordinated assault to prevent Oboro from pressing his advantage further. Even as Sayuri was caught by Ichiei, another figure was already darting forward, intent on keeping him pinned down.
The Wind and Rock Pillars flanked Oboro, positioning themselves perfectly to attack from both front and back simultaneously.
Sharp, dense flashes of steel swirled around him like a torrential storm, converging from all directions at once.
Yet Oboro remained standing exactly where he was. Holding his wooden staff in one hand, he simply moved it left and right, fluidly deflecting every single strike. To the onlookers, the speed and intensity of the Wind and Rock Pillars' attacks created an impenetrable wall of blurred motion surrounding him—dozens of strikes being unleashed in mere seconds.
Even stranger was the fact that Oboro was wielding nothing but a simple wooden stick. Logically, it should have been sliced apart instantly by the razor-sharp Nichirin Blades, yet somehow it held its ground, parrying blow after blow without so much as a scratch.
The sound of metal striking wood rang out continuously, sharp and clear.
"Incredible!"
The Wind Pillar focused every ounce of his attention, his eyes tracking Oboro's slightest movement. The longer he watched, the more unsettled he became.
He realised something terrifying... This man didn't actually know any formal sword styles at all!
His staff wasn't technically 'blocking' the blades either. Instead, just before impact, Oboro would subtly shift the angle of the wood so that the flat side or edge of the stick met the flat side of the blade, never the cutting edge against the wood.
Furthermore, with every parry, deflection, or counter, Oboro seemed to instantly analyse exactly how much force was being applied, the precise angle of the strike, and the trajectory of the blade. With this understanding, he could identify the weakest point in the attack and apply just the slightest touch or flick to completely neutralise the force, altering the blade's path effortlessly.
He did this every single time. Without fail.
Even when the Wind Pillar anticipated the counter and changed his attack pattern mid-strike, it made absolutely no difference.
This man... never made a single mistake.
Against Oboro, the techniques and breathing styles that the Wind Pillar had dedicated his life to mastering seemed utterly ridiculous, like clumsy play-fighting.
He couldn't understand it. His techniques and breathing style had been passed down through generations of warriors, refined over centuries through countless battles against demons—built upon the collective experience and wisdom of the Corps. Unless Oboro possessed an intimate, profound knowledge of Wind Breathing specifically... how could he possibly counter it so perfectly?
And it wasn't just him. The Rock Pillar was facing the exact same predicament.
They were fighting together, coordinating perfectly as a team—not individually. Even if Oboro knew Wind Breathing inside out, how could he possibly know Rock Breathing equally well?
"Rock Breathing, Eighth Form: Sky Splitter!"
Sensing the slight wavering in his comrade's focus, the Rock Pillar suddenly leaped high into the air and unleashed a move of his own creation—a custom technique he had developed by combining the principles of Rock Breathing with his immense physical strength and fighting style.
It was common practice for the strongest Pillars throughout history to develop their own unique forms. While the fundamentals of each Breathing Style remained the same, the variations and advanced techniques derived from them were highly personalised, shaped by the individual strengths and traits of the user.
"That's right!"
Hope flared in the Wind Pillar's eyes.
The best way to disrupt the rhythm and advantage held by an opponent was to introduce something entirely new and unexpected.
Even if Oboro knew everything there was to know about Rock Breathing, the technique currently being unleashed was unique to the Rock Pillar himself. No one had ever seen it before. Surely... surely this would catch him off guard!
Clearly, the Rock Pillar felt the exact same way. His eyes burned with fierce determination as he brought his weapon down.
His Nichirin Blade was an enormous axe, broad and heavy, designed purely for overwhelming destruction. While such a massive weapon should logically be slow and cumbersome, in his hands it moved as light as a feather. Fueled by his breathing, the strike carried terrifying momentum, as though it possessed the power to literally cleave the earth in two.
He intended to split Oboro cleanly in half from above.
However, the moment the massive axe-head came crashing down, Oboro simply raised his wooden staff and gently tapped the side of the blade with its tip. Just that single touch altered the weapon's trajectory, throwing the Rock Pillar's entire upper body movement off balance and instantly dissipating the terrifying momentum behind the strike.
BOOM!
Before the Rock Pillar's feet even touched the ground, he was sent flying backward like a dark arrow, kicked clean away by Oboro's foot.
In the very next instant, the Wind Pillar's vision blurred.
Oboro spun around and drove his fist straight into the man's face.
The impact snapped the Wind Pillar's head violently backward, twisting his features grotesquely as blood and saliva sprayed from his mouth. He was sent flying, landing hard alongside the Rock Pillar.
Though it seemed to take a long time to describe, the entire sequence of events occurred within mere seconds.
Yet, even after the Wind and Rock Pillars were swiftly dealt with, the remaining warriors didn't lose heart or back down. If anything, their resolve only hardened and strengthened further.
All six remaining Pillars moved together, weaving around Oboro in a frantic, coordinated dance of death.
Blades flashed, killing intent thick enough to taste filled the air, and the clash of steel echoed endlessly.
But despite their unyielding will and flawless teamwork... trying hard does not always guarantee victory.
In the face of absolute power, reality had to be accepted.
And the reality was this: while they fought with everything they had, pushing their bodies and minds to the absolute limit... Oboro moved among them as though taking a leisurely stroll. His movements were natural, effortless, completely relaxed.
Several of the Pillars deliberately tried to place themselves in harm's way, planning to sacrifice their lives to create just one small opening for their comrades. But frustratingly, Oboro didn't even give them the chance to die. Rengoku Tenjuro, in particular, tried multiple times to intentionally take a blow from Oboro's staff, hoping to grab hold of the weapon or latch onto Oboro himself to restrain him.
Yet every single time, his attempts were thwarted before they could even begin.
It was as though Oboro could see exactly what was going through each of their minds.
Standing before him, they felt completely exposed—stripped naked, their intentions laid bare for him to read like an open book.
Flames roared, waters surged, blinding lights flashed, and heavy axes thundered... yet amidst the chaos of six distinct Breathing Styles and powerful techniques, the man in the black haori remained untouched.
Remarkably, even after fighting for so long, his haori hadn't even slipped from his shoulders.
His footwork was sublime—sometimes light and graceful, other times exploding with sudden bursts of power—moving effortlessly through the narrow gaps between their attacks, gliding across the battlefield without the slightest hint of strain.
His staff moved continuously, deflecting fatal blows with casual ease.
As time dragged on, a feeling of utter despair began to creep into the hearts of the Demon Slayers. It felt as though a giant invisible hand was slowly pushing them deeper and deeper into an abyss.
They could see clearly that Oboro didn't actually possess advanced swordsmanship or formal styles. He was simply using a stick in the way he thought was best—his movements sometimes looking awkward, clumsy, even stiff and unrefined... yet somehow, they always worked perfectly against them. He countered everything effectively, holding them back and keeping them under tight control.
Furthermore, his physical body didn't seem overwhelmingly powerful or demonic either. He was stronger than an average human, certainly, boosted temporarily by his breathing... but not to a degree that should be impossible to deal with.
And yet... why?
Why couldn't they win?
The exact same thought crossed the minds of all six Pillars simultaneously.
It all came down to technique. Because his skill was vastly superior, Oboro could defeat powerful blows with the smallest amount of effort—using the principle of deflecting a thousand pounds of force with merely four ounces of leverage.
While they were expending every last drop of energy with every strike, Oboro barely seemed to exert himself at all. Under such uneven conditions, exhaustion inevitably began to set in, and weary expressions appeared on the faces of Tenjuro and the others.
Sayuri, who had the physically weakest constitution of them all, was reaching the absolute limit of her endurance.
Still, they refused to give up!
They would never give up!
"Wonderful," Oboro murmured softly, smiling to himself.
Originally, his plan had been to kill another one or two Pillars after the Lightning Pillar, intending to use their deaths to crush the survivors psychologically. He wanted to test if witnessing such hopeless slaughter would finally shake their resolve. But the reaction he had received after killing the Lightning Pillar had already given him his answer.
So, there was no longer any need to kill them.
It was perfectly clear now: no matter how many he killed—even if he killed five or six out of the seven—the last one standing would still never retreat or surrender.
This kind of spirit was truly rare and precious.
It was the power of collective bonds—the brilliance of an inherited will—something he had never truly experienced or understood deeply back in his previous world.
Considering the need to nurture these 'seeds' and maintain the balance between demons and demon slayers, Oboro had decided not to cause any more losses among the top-tier combatants of the Corps.
What surprised him even more, however, was that the more exhausted and desperate the six Pillars became, the stronger and more intense their fighting spirit burned. As their physical strength drained away, what remained—pure spirit and sheer force of will—only grew brighter and more powerful.
This was the true marvel about them, the part truly worthy of admiration.
Such illogical occurrences were almost impossible to witness in his previous world... because they defied the fundamental rules and atmosphere of that reality. It wasn't quite the same as the post-mortem Nen abilities, or the extreme Vows and Limitations used by someone like Gon in his desperate transformation... It was something else entirely.
---
They fought all through the night, until dawn began to break.
The strategy of the six Pillars was painfully obvious—stall for time.
They were doing everything they could to drag the battle out. In their eyes, Oboro was undeniably a demon, which meant that victory belonged to them as soon as the sun rose.
By the second half of the night, they were completely spent physically. They were running entirely on sheer willpower, driven by the single-minded determination to make sure Oboro fell here and now. Even if it cost them their lives.
They also knew perfectly well that Oboro wasn't even trying his hardest. He clearly possessed the strength to break through their encirclement and leave whenever he wished.
Yet he didn't.
They didn't understand why, nor did they have the energy to care.
So when a faint line of golden light finally appeared on the horizon, signalling the arrival of the new day...
Even though Oboro had just landed a heavy blow right across Tenjuro's face, splitting his skin and sending blood streaming down his features, the Flame Pillar couldn't help but shout at the top of his lungs: "We did it!"
"We have won!"
It was too late for him to escape now.
There was absolutely no cover or shade anywhere nearby.
The remaining Pillars slowly lowered their weapons, turning their faces toward the rising sun.
Their eyes shone with anticipation and relief... eagerly waiting to see the demon burn away into nothingness under the sunlight.
Only one person remained calm and collected.
Kawai Ichiei, the Water Pillar.
His expression was peaceful, showing neither joy nor triumph. It was as though... he had already guessed the truth.
Rays of golden sunlight stretched across the skyline, illuminating the world and falling directly upon Oboro's body. The morning breeze stirred his hair and the hem of his black haori.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, stretching his muscles, a faint amused smile playing upon his lips. "After all that movement... my muscles still ache. It seems that even though the sickness is gone, this body is still completely unrefined and weak."
The sunlight bathed him in warmth, the golden rays seeming to revitalise him and wash away the traces of fatigue.
"..."
Meanwhile, the six Pillars stood frozen, staring in utter bewilderment.
He wasn't burning.
He wasn't disintegrating.
He wasn't a demon!
Rengoku Tenjuro sank heavily to his knees, his eyes wide and unblinking, his mind struggling to process the reality before him.
Every single one of them bore injuries inflicted by Oboro throughout the night. Tenjuro and the Rock Pillar looked especially terrible. The Rock Pillar was covered head-to-toe in drying blood, gripping his massive axe-like weapon so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Even standing upright was a struggle, his knees trembling uncontrollably, threatening to give way at any moment.
Sayuri's Nichirin Blade lay embedded in the ground dozens of metres away, while she herself had collapsed unconscious some time ago.
With the sun rising directly behind him and the six Pillars standing before him, Oboro appeared wrapped in radiant golden light, looking magnificent and ethereal against the backdrop of the dawn.
He was clearly human. And that meant the Demon Slayer Corps had absolutely no jurisdiction over him.
Oboro had killed the Lightning Pillar, yes. Technically, they could report him to the local magistrate's office and request his arrest. The only problem was... Oboro was the highest-ranking official of the magistrate's office here, and held immense influence within the Shogunate itself.
There was nothing they could do.
It seemed the only way to exact revenge would be... to kill him themselves.
"Impossible... How can he be human?!" the Stone Pillar muttered hoarsely, refusing to believe his eyes.
It was one thing if just he had misread the situation... but every single one of them had been absolutely certain Oboro possessed the aura of a demon.
Oboro adjusted his haori comfortably, his gaze sweeping calmly across their stunned faces. "I hope you will all remember the lesson taught to you today. After fighting through the entire night, you must have gained some measure of insight and understanding."
With those words, he turned and began walking away down the road.
"Could I trouble you to send my two handmaidens to Ueno or the pleasure district where I reside?"
The Entertainment District was essentially the red-light quarter of the city, rather than a specific location. Edo had its own famous district known as Yoshiwara.
The Magistrate's Office was divided into Northern and Southern administrative zones, and Oboro held supreme authority over the North. His residence was situated quite far from Edo Castle, in an area he was now certain was the exact birthplace of Gyutaro and Daki—the Upper Rank Six demons.
In this era, there were only a handful of major entertainment districts scattered across the country, mostly located in the warmer southern regions.
There was only one major district in the North.
Oboro had already visited Yoshiwara in Edo—it was well-organised, strictly regulated, and completely devoid of the slums and poverty found elsewhere.
By contrast, the Northern region was bitterly cold and covered in snow for much of the year. Everything—the climate, the environment, the conditions—matched perfectly with what he knew of the original story.
Whoosh.
Seeing him simply walk away like this, the Wind Pillar instinctively raised his blade and stepped forward, cutting off his path.
"You cannot leave!"
"You are a murderer!"
Veins bulged prominently on the Wind Pillar's forehead
____________________
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