The Kasugai Crow beat its wings and vanished into the night.
The madness on Shinazugawa Sanemi's face reached its peak.
As long as I can hold out. Just hold out until the Demon Slayer reinforcements arrive—then we can win!
"COME ON!!! You pieces of trash!!!"
Sanemi roared, every muscle in his body tightening as Wind Breathing was driven to its absolute limit.
Facing Upper Rank Two Dōma behind him, and the Daki–Gyutaro siblings in front of him, he didn't retreat even half a step—instead, he charged forward.
"Wind Breathing, Third Form—
Clear Storm Wind Tree!!"
A violent gale exploded outward from Sanemi's body. Invisible blades of wind lashed out indiscriminately at every demon around him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Gyutaro swung his blood sickles wildly, colliding again and again with the Nichirin Blade, sparks flying.
Daki's sashes slithered in like venomous snakes, slipping through gaps, trying to sever Sanemi's limbs.
"What admirable fighting spirit…"
Dōma lightly leapt backward, evading Sanemi's slash.
He wasn't in a hurry to act. Gently fanning himself, he watched Sanemi struggle as if enjoying a play.
"A pity… far too reckless."
Fighting two Upper Ranks alone, Sanemi actually managed to hold his ground against the siblings' assault.
His swordplay was brutal and ferocious—purely a life-for-life exchange. Even when Daki's sashes carved bloody lines across his body, he still forced deep, bone-revealing wounds into Gyutaro.
"Die! Die, you ugly freak!!"
Sanemi bellowed, his eyes bloodshot.
The battle was deadlocked. Every second felt as long as a century.
Dōma, who had been lingering at the edge of the battlefield, suddenly shifted his gaze—to Kotoha, standing far off to the side.
That gentle woman was staring blankly at her kimono, now stained with the filthy blood that had sprayed from Gyutaro's severed arm.
The teasing look in Dōma's eyes vanished instantly.
It was like a clear sky suddenly collapsing into a blizzard.
Whoosh.
Dōma disappeared.
The next instant, he appeared beside Kotoha.
"Oh dear… it's dirty."
Amid the brutal battlefield, Dōma's voice was absurdly gentle.
He took out a spotless white handkerchief from his sleeve and, with the care one would use on a priceless treasure, carefully wiped the blood from Kotoha's kimono.
"Don't be afraid, Kotoha-chan.
It might not come out completely, but I'll make you a new one when we get back."
His tone was full of heartache, as if the stained clothing mattered more than the battle itself.
Kotoha's face was pale. She looked at him and asked in a trembling voice,
"Lord Dōma… that person… what is going on?"
"Shh."
Dōma raised a finger to her lips and smiled reassuringly.
"It's nothing."
"That man is a bad person who bullied Inosuke.
He beat up our son in the Demon Slayer Corps… and even drove him out."
"All the wounds on Inosuke's body—he caused them."
At the mention of Inosuke being hurt, pain flashed through Kotoha's eyes.
Dōma gently patted her head and guided her toward Nezuko.
"Nezuko, make sure you protect Mommy, okay?"
Then—
Dōma turned around.
The instant he did, every trace of warmth vanished from his face.
In his rainbow-colored eyes, there was no longer even a hint of gentleness—only the exhilaration of slaughter.
"All right."
Dōma looked toward Sanemi, still fighting desperately in the distance, and snapped his golden fan shut.
"Time to help Inosuke…
let off some steam."
At the center of the battlefield
Sanemi had just forced Gyutaro back with a slash and was gulping for air, trying to adjust his breathing rhythm—
When suddenly—
The temperature plummeted.
The air turned piercingly cold; even his breath came out as white frost.
"Oh my, White-Haired Sir—
having fun, are we?"
A light, floating voice sounded above him.
Sanemi jerked his head up, pupils shrinking violently.
Dōma was hovering in midair, gently waving his golden fan, his posture elegant—like a dancer beneath the moon.
"Blood Demon Art—
Lotus Leaf Ice."
Countless crystal-clear ice lotuses rained down from the sky, each one radiating visible freezing air.
Stunningly beautiful—and lethally poisonous.
"Tch! Flashy nonsense!"
Sanemi instinctively tried to shatter the ice lotuses with his Breathing.
He sucked in a deep breath, chest swelling, preparing to unleash a powerful strike.
"Total Concentration—Wind Breathing—"
But—
The moment he inhaled—
Cough—cough—COUGH!!
An indescribable agony exploded from his throat and spread through his lungs!
It felt as though he had inhaled countless shards of glass instead of air.
"Ghh—!!"
Sanemi clutched his chest and staggered backward, vomiting a mouthful of blood mixed with icy fragments.
His complexion turned bluish-purple in an instant.
His lungs… were frozen.
"Oh? You didn't know?"
Dōma landed lightly on the ground, crushing an ice flower beneath his foot, explaining with an innocent look:
"The ice crystals created by my Blood Demon Art are extremely toxic.
If you inhale them directly, your alveoli will necrotize."
"For swordsmen like you, who rely on Breathing techniques…"
"They're practically a gift~"
Sanemi's heart sank straight into the abyss.
For Demon Slayers, Breathing was life itself—the source of all strength.
Now, every breath felt like knives carving his lungs. Oxygen couldn't circulate. His power was rapidly draining away.
Can't breathe.
Can't use Total Concentration.
Facing three Upper Ranks…
How am I supposed to fight this?!
"Already despairing?"
Dōma walked toward him step by step, frost forming beneath each footfall.
Gyutaro and Daki silently stopped attacking and withdrew to the sides, sealing off Sanemi's escape route. They knew—Lord Dōma was about to act personally.
Sanemi struggled to glance backward.
Several hundred meters away, Genya was still grappling with the crazed Masasaburō.
Genya didn't know Breathing techniques—he was relying purely on his body. Now he was already covered in bites, screaming in pain.
"Run?"
"If I run… Genya will definitely die."
Veins bulged on the back of Sanemi's hand as he gripped his blade.
He looked at Dōma—like an insurmountable mountain.
At those emotionless, rainbow-colored eyes.
I can't win.
There's absolutely no way.
"Hey, White-Hair."
Dōma stopped five meters in front of him.
He put his fan away at his waist. On his refined face was a mix of curiosity and cruel amusement.
"That day at the Demon Slayer Corps…"
Dōma extended a long finger and pointed to his own abdomen—where Inosuke had been injured.
"You used your fist…
to hit Inosuke right here, didn't you?"
"Hit him pretty hard, too…"
Sanemi stared back in silence, forcing himself to endure the searing pain in his lungs, desperately squeezing out what little air he could.
"I don't like hand-to-hand combat.
It's crude. Doesn't suit my status."
Dōma tilted his head. His smile twisted, like a demon finally baring its fangs.
"But for you—"
"I'll make an exception."
BOOM!
Dōma vanished again.
Sanemi's vision blurred. Instinctively, he tried to raise his blade to block—
But his current speed, to Dōma, was no faster than a snail.
BAM!!!
A pale, slender fist slammed brutally into Sanemi's abdomen.
A fist.
Pure, personal—driven by grievance.
"BWAAH!!"
Sanemi's body folded instantly like a shrimp. His eyes nearly popped out as a massive spray of blood—mixed with shattered organs—splashed across Dōma's clothes.
The pain nearly knocked him unconscious.
"This punch,"
Dōma said coldly,
"is repayment for hitting Inosuke."
Before Sanemi could even be sent flying, Dōma grabbed his signature spiky white hair and violently yanked him back.
BAM!
Another punch smashed into Sanemi's face.
The sound of his nasal bone shattering rang out clearly.
"This punch—
is your welcome gift."
Bam! Bam! Bam!
A one-sided massacre.
Dōma beat him like a punching bag—every strike landing solidly, carefully avoiding vital spots, yet delivering maximum agony.
Cracking sounds of ribs breaking rang out one after another. Sanemi's face was soon a bloody mess, swollen like a pig's head.
"How is it? Does it hurt?"
Dōma laughed as he struck him. The demonic brutality he'd suppressed for over a decade finally found release.
"When you hit my son, did you ever think this day would come?"
"When you cursed him, did you imagine being trampled under my feet?"
Hiss—
As Sanemi's wounds multiplied, an overwhelmingly rich fragrance spread across the battlefield.
Rare blood.
To demons, it was the finest aged wine.
Gyutaro and Daki—who had been watching—instantly froze, eyes glazed, saliva uncontrollably dripping.
"So fragrant… so fragrant…!"
Even Masasaburō, who was facing Genya, stopped moving, greedily sniffing the air, madness deepening in his eyes.
Dōma's hand paused.
He hadn't eaten humans in over ten years.
For Kotoha.
For Inosuke.
He had endured it.
But this scent…
It was too tempting.
Like an oasis to a traveler lost in the desert.
Like a banquet to a starving demon.
"Wow~~~"
Dōma licked the blood clinging to the back of his hand.
The sweetness instantly overstimulated his nerves, sanity beginning to crumble in his eyes.
"Rare blood? What a delightful surprise…"
"Hahahaha! Hahahahaha!!"
Dōma laughed wildly, his voice echoing through the night.
"Perfect! I'll beat you to death—then eat you!!"
"That way, Inosuke's grudge is settled, and I get a full meal!!
Kotoha won't blame me, right? After all—you struck first!"
Dōma raised his fist, preparing to deliver the final blow—to completely end this lesson in love—
Just at that moment…
◇ You can read Full Book on P@treon if you're interested:
patreon.com/CanonBreaker
✨ Bonus Chapter Goals ✨
10 Reviews = 1 Bonus Chapter
100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter