"My lord, what shall we do next?"

  The black-haired demon casually tossed Kawagishi beside Kie, then suddenly spoke in a respectful tone.

  At that moment, atop the cabin’s roof and braving the raging storm, stood a man in a black patterned suit and a white top hat. The face revealed beneath the hat’s brim was strikingly handsome. Not even the swirling wind and snow could dishevel his hair or wrinkle his immaculate clothes.

  This man was Muzan Kibutsuji—the primordial demon who had existed since a thousand years past, the absolute ruler of all demons, the Demon King.

  Muzan Kibutsuji lowered his head slightly, his eyes filled with an inscrutable expression as if lost in deep thought. In the blink of an eye, his figure appeared inside the cabin, his back turned toward Kawagishi. Glancing down at his feet, Muzan noticed a smear of red—the ground upon which he stood was stained with blood.

  It seemed that the protector of the Kamado family had truly perished.

  “Too bloody, Black-Haired. Maintain your elegance.”

  At once, the black-haired demon fell to his knees, ignoring the blood and dust scattered about. His whole body trembled—a complete contrast to his earlier haughty demeanor—as his twisted face registered pure terror.

  “My lord, forgive me—I promise to be more careful next time.”

  Muzan Kibutsuji replied in a flat tone, “There is no next time for you.”

  The black-haired demon paused, his fear intensifying on his face.

  “My lord.....“ he began, but before he could finish, a thick arm violently emerged from his mouth, inflicting unbearable pain. Demons, when it comes to the sensation of pain, feel it just like ordinary people.

  The black-haired demon, already doomed, gradually turned into red-black ashes that scattered throughout the snowbound cabin. Until his death, Muzan Kibutsuji didn’t spare him a single glance.

  Muzan first surveyed Kie and Kawagishi, then shifted his gaze to the corpses of Nezuko and the others on the other side. At that moment, his usually unflinching eyes suddenly lit up with interest.

  “This little girl—you will bear my hopes and continue to live as a demon.”

  Muzan’s target was a tiny girl with cheeks as round as a child’s palm. Her once vivid, contrasting eyes had grown lifeless, and her once rosy, plump face had turned pale and sickly from blood loss. This was Nezuko. Yet on her small face lingered the peaceful smile she had worn while sleeping beside her family. In her sleep, her neck had been broken without a trace of pain.

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  Taking a few light steps, Muzan moved toward Nezuko. But then he felt a sudden tension around his ankle. He froze and looked down to find Kawagishi, his bloodstained hands gripping Muzan’s ankle tightly.

  “Hmm? You still have some consciousness left?”

  Muzan found it odd—he remembered clearly how the black-haired demon’s fingers, as hard as steel, had shattered Kawagishi’s facial bones. Such an injury, if left untreated, would certainly be fatal. Yet despite his grievous wounds, Kawagishi had managed to retain enough awareness to impede him.

  “Your strength may be weak, but I do appreciate the desperate struggle you offer for your loved ones,” Muzan remarked with a hint of amusement.

  Kawagishi’s consciousness was fading, his mind growing hazy and incapable of coherent thought. Muzan crouched down beside him and spoke softly.

  “You seem to be in great agony. Let go—death can be a relief. You lack the power to change what has happened. Remember: weakness is the greatest sin.”

  At that moment, Kawagishi’s life force completely ebbed away, and his body stiffened. Muzan stood up and attempted to break free of Kawagishi’s grip by moving his leg, but Kawagishi clutched Muzan’s ankle with unyielding determination. Muzan tried once more, only to find the result unchanged.

  Shaking his head, Muzan swept his hand with a flash of cold light. In an instant, Kawagishi’s arm—from shoulder to fingertips—was shattered, rendering him unable to hold on any longer.

  “Even in death, you won’t let go. How amusing.”

  “Since that’s the case… I will turn both you and that little girl into demons. As you grow, you will serve me together.”

  With a swift motion, Muzan slashed his own wrist. A crimson thread of blood flowed from the wound and split into two, drifting separately into the mouths of Kawagishi and Nezuko.

  “I look forward to our next meeting.”

  Lowering his top hat slightly, Muzan’s figure shimmered and then vanished from the dilapidated cabin, leaving behind only a pool of blood, lifeless bodies, and a pair of siblings beginning their transformation into demons.

  ......

  "Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!"

  After a while, Kawagishi slowly opened his eyes, and his vision was tinged with blood. At that moment, his arms had fully regenerated, and the five bloodstains on his cheeks—as well as the fractures in his bones—had vanished without a trace. His body bore no signs of injury.

  Muzan Kibutsuji had transformed Kawagishi into a demon using his own blood. Aside from a few specialized methods to suppress them, demons are virtually immortal, healing their wounds with ease.

  In his haze, Kawagishi’s instincts took over, driving him to feed on the blood spilled on the floor. Soon, unsatisfied with merely the pool of blood before him, he followed its trail until he found its source.

  It was a face he would never forget—it was Kie. Fresh blood streamed continuously down her neck. When Kawagishi saw Kie’s pale, lifeless expression, a violent shock jolted him awake.

  "What have I done?!" he cried.

  In that moment, his previous actions replayed in his mind with agonizing clarity, filling him with revulsion. Clasping his mouth tightly with both hands, he let out a low, hoarse cry of anguish. Yet just seconds after this awakening, the sweet aroma of blood grew even more potent, and the hunger in his stomach remained far from quenched.

  As his consciousness blurred again, the bright red of his eyes deepened into a blood-soaked hue. He struggled to control his body and pull away from Kie, but the demonic nature within him was far stronger. Unable to restrain himself, he dropped his hands from his mouth, opened it wide to reveal his razor-sharp fangs, and—despite the pained contortion of his features—slowly advanced toward her. His lips split to the very edge, as if ready to bite down.