"Blade Prison: Molten Flame."
Zheng!
Rust-colored wings unfurled behind Kawanishi, radiating an austere, metallic killing intent.
Then, a deep gray flame ignited along the iron-rust wings. At his command, the wings trembled, and clusters of flame flew down, latching onto the Nichirin Blade in his hand.
Bathed in gray fire, the blade twisted and warped, its form slowly dissolving. It was weakening. This flame clearly had a special property—it was terrifyingly effective against metal.
Kawanishi touched it, but felt no heat. It seemed the Molten Flame of Blade Prison could only affect weapons, not people—completely unsuitable for direct attack.
"This doesn't make any sense…"
"It can melt durable metals but doesn't burn flesh? How is that logical?"
"But then again, I turned into a demon. What's logic worth anymore?"
Ever since becoming a demon, Kawanishi's worldview had been shattered and rebuilt again and again.
"It's time."
After half an hour of smelting, the Nichirin Blade had reduced to a fist-sized pool of molten metal.
Kawanishi activated another ability: Blade Prison – Weapon Creation.
"Blade Prison: Forge Weapon!"
Before his eyes, a 1.7-meter-long battle axe slowly materialized from thin air.
An axe this large could only be called a great axe—the most violent and brutal weapon Kawanishi could wield.
At first it looked faint and translucent, not quite real.
But under Kawanishi's control, the molten Nichirin steel spread and coated the entire axe, especially around the twin blades.
Moments later, the axe was no longer ethereal. It had fully solidified into a tangible, physical weapon.
And what a terrifying weapon it was.
The cold gray metal of the handle led to a twin-bladed head.
The left blade: a large, crescent-shaped edge—broad and thick, easily capable of cleaving through a demon's neck.
The right blade: angled at forty-five degrees from the shaft, straight-edged, with a sharpened inner curve and a small hook at the end.
This configuration allowed it to slash, cut, or even hook into a demon's neck and tear it off in one clean motion.
Both the tip and the butt of the axe's shaft were capped with gleaming blades, radiating cold light.
"Perfect. This is the weapon I've always wanted."
"Compared to this, a Nichirin Blade is just too thin and delicate."
Kawanishi was already imagining how this axe would someday cleave through Muzan Kibutsuji's head.
Boom!
With both hands, Kawanishi raised the massive axe and slammed it down. The curved blade embedded itself fully into the earth, shaking the ground.
He tested the weight, satisfaction on his face.
The only downside? It was still too light.
Though it looked fierce and imposing, it had been forged from just a single Nichirin Blade. Even with Blade Prison's enhancements, it didn't weigh much. For a demon's strength, it felt almost weightless.
"The feel isn't quite right… but if I can gather more Nichirin Blades in the future, I can reinforce it further."
"One day, Muzan Kibutsuji… I'll cleave you apart—flesh and bone alike."
Like a child with a new toy, Kawanishi continued swinging and practicing with the axe. It had been made to his exact liking—aside from the weight, it was perfect.
Something still felt missing though…
"I can't just keep calling it 'the axe.' It needs a name."
Naming was not his strength, and he frowned in frustration.
"You used to be a Nichirin Blade… how about 'Nichirin Axe'?"
"…Nichirin Axe, Nichirin… Axe?"
The Nichirin Blade sounded powerful and cool. Nichirin Axe? It sounded… clunky. Brutish.
Just then, inspiration struck.
"Hmm… this looks like that weapon from a game I used to play…"
"In that case… Black Cleaver. The Black Cleaver. That's your name from now on."
(It didn't look anything like it. But Kawanishi was out of ideas.)
Holding the Black Cleaver, Kawanishi smiled. The name felt strong and weighty, filled with meaning.
Black Cleaver. A blade to cut through blackness. A weapon to sever darkness. A tool to slay demons.
"Black Fang… thanks for the gift."
"Return!"
The Black Cleaver was massive and cumbersome to carry around—far less portable than a Nichirin Blade.
Luckily, Kawanishi had the Blade Prison space to store it.
The axe dissolved into a stream of blood-red energy and flowed into his rusted wings. He could feel it now, resting quietly in the prison within, waiting to be summoned—to fight by his side, to cleave through the necks of demons.
He folded the rust-colored wings and looked up.
"It's time to go."
"Butterfly Shinobu… I wonder if we'll meet again. I hope, when we do… we won't be enemies."
Her eyes still lingered in his mind. Unforgettable.
...
Outside Ishibashi Town, Akaza stood atop a towering Chinese cedar, gazing down at the silent town beneath the night sky, his brow slightly furrowed.
Akaza had the fastest speed and had arrived well ahead of the others. But he hadn't acted yet—instead, he waited silently in the tree's shadow.
The other four demons were still in route, but they'd be here soon enough.
"Weaklings… humans as fragile as ants. Crushing them holds no appeal."
"But when the master commands, I must obey…"
"Still, it's far more interesting to fight members of the Demon Slayer Corps."
Akaza admired the strong—he was in awe of Muzan Kibutsuji's power. But even as he worshipped strength, he detested weakness and had no interest in fighting the helpless.
He lived for combat with worthy opponents, sharpening himself in battle, growing ever stronger. That was his only joy.
To become stronger—that was his obsession.
And although he was a demon, Akaza had never killed or eaten a woman. It was his principle. He had even dared to argue this with Muzan himself—despite the fact that Muzan was notorious for his ruthlessness toward insubordinate demons.
A strange light flickered in his golden eyes. Akaza made a decision: he would not take action himself. He would leave the town's slaughter to the four other demons.
"These weaklings are yours to deal with."
The four may have been unimpressive, but to wipe out a town? That was within their capabilities. Especially that grotesque demon named Duko—he was over a hundred years old, and from the way his punch felt, Akaza could tell his body was sturdy.
"They should have no problem handling it. In fact, the townspeople might not even be enough to satisfy their bloodlust."
"My only worry is… will they follow my orders not to harm the women?"
"After all, I'm not the master. I can't command them like he can…"
A rare flicker of concern crossed Akaza's face. He wasn't worried about the mission failing—he was worried someone might break his rule and kill a woman.
"You better not make me angry…"
(End of Chapter)