With a thud, she dropped to her knees and shouted loudly.
"No, no, I won't go!"
As soon as she said that, Tamayo's voice abruptly cut off.
Her entire body crashed toward the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
In a flash, Scribe appeared beside Tamayo just in time and steadily caught her.
Although he was curious about why this had happened, he had already gleaned quite a lot from Tamayo's words.
Tamayo's earlier behavior had been like that of an employee refusing an order from her superior out of disgust.
And there was only one superior capable of issuing orders to demons.
Kibutsuji Muzan had issued some kind of command to all demons without distinction.
The scope of this order was so broad and its level so deep that it had even affected Tamayo.
It seemed he needed to find the right time to completely free Tamayo from Muzan's control.
After helping Tamayo onto the bed, Scribe sat beside it and quietly pondered.
Over the past sixty years, Muzan had not had much time to recover from his injuries because of Scribe's pursuit.
As a result, his control over Tamayo had dwindled to almost nothing.
Yet even at that level, this order had still caused Tamayo to end up like that.
Muzan, what kind of major move are you planning?
Glancing at the moon outside, Scribe touched the Nichirin Blade resting across his lap.
No matter what tricks Muzan was trying to pull, he would use Sun Breathing and the Nichirin Blade in his hand to crush them all.
While Scribe was considering Muzan's intentions, Muzan slowly opened his eyes in a mountain far from him.
"My lord, is it over?"
Kokushibo, who was standing guard, spoke when he saw Muzan awaken.
Muzan nodded, indicating that he had already issued the command.
Rising to his feet, he brushed the dust from his clothes.
Though there was clearly no life before him, Muzan still spoke coldly.
"Have you confirmed the Demon Slayer Corps' base?"
The moment his words fell, the ground trembled, and a large pit sank into the earth two meters in front of Muzan.
From within the pit emerged a demon with an extraordinarily bizarre appearance.
This demon had claws growing from its arms, sturdy and powerful thighs, and a short tail behind it.
Its eye sockets were sunken, with dark circles around its eyes as though it had not slept in years.
It looked like a marmot.
After coming out, the marmot demon first bowed to Muzan and Kokushibo, then grinned.
"Of course. I've already found it."
Muzan nodded, seeming quite satisfied with the marmot demon's efficiency.
"Very good, Rat-Earth. You'll lead the way when the time comes."
After saying that, Muzan waved his hand, signaling that the other demon could leave.
Lowering his head, Rat-Earth turned around, dug a hole, and departed.
Once Rat-Earth had left, the excitement on Muzan's face could no longer be restrained.
Kokushibo beside him was the same, his fingers running excitedly over the Demon Blade at his waist.
Ever since Yoriichi had brought Breathing Techniques to the Demon Slayer Corps, the demons' range of activity had been greatly restricted over the past several decades.
But now, they had found the Demon Slayers' most important base.
How could such a perfect opportunity to wipe them out in one fell swoop not excite them?
And what Muzan had just done was use his power as the Progenitor of Demons to summon a large number of demons as fighting forces.
Before long, strange sounds came from the sky, the ground, and even deep beneath the earth.
As the sounds drew closer, pair after pair of scarlet eyes emerged from the darkness.
Demons that would normally slaughter one another over food now stood like obedient lambs beneath Muzan's command.
They stood one after another without the slightest disorder or crowding.
As time passed, more and more demons appeared before Muzan and Kokushibo.
The gathered demons gave off such a foul stench that it was enough to make someone pass out.
They formed a vast black mass. A rough count put their number at two or three hundred.
Looking at the demons before him, Muzan revealed a cruel smile.
It was time to lead them in wiping out the Demon Slayer Corps.
Swordsmen Fell One After Another, Scribe Made His Move
"Huh? Why am I in bed?"
Slowly opening her eyes, Tamayo sat up while holding her forehead.
Her mind was still somewhat hazy, and she could not quite remember what had happened earlier.
She only vaguely remembered that cold and cruel command from that man echoing in her mind.
By instinct, she had chosen to refuse.
Then her mind had gone blank, and all she remembered was Scribe rushing toward her.
"Wait, Scribe?"
Tamayo hurriedly looked around, but she did not find the man from her memory.
Only a sheet of paper on the table still carried a trace of his presence.
After picking up the paper and reading it for a few moments, Tamayo understood where Scribe had gone.
It roughly said that he wanted to investigate Muzan's scheme and told her not to worry about him.
It also said that Scribe was worried she would be controlled again by getting too close to Muzan, so he would not bring her along this time.
Warmth filled her heart, and Tamayo smiled gently.
She had clearly lived much longer than Scribe, yet before him, she still seemed like a child, looked after in every way.
Getting up, Tamayo walked to the window and looked up at the sun, where the first faint rays of light had appeared.
"Scribe, you must be careful. I'll stay here and wait for you to return."
Elsewhere, after leaving Nen'yūki, Scribe followed a faint feeling in his heart, continually adjusting the direction in which he traveled.
He did not know whether this feeling was truly reliable, but it was far easier than wandering around aimlessly.
In the afternoon, he stopped while passing through a forest.
At the edge of the forest, a major incident of fallen trees had occurred.
Fortunately, it had likely happened at night, so no one had been hurt.
Naturally, no one knew what had happened before or after the incident.
But Scribe was drawn to the way the trees had fallen.
The dozen or so fallen trees had not collapsed randomly across one another. Instead, seven or eight trees on each side had been knocked down in a fan-shaped pattern.
It felt as though they had been shoved over by a giant ape.
Narrowing his eyes, Scribe slipped beside the fallen trees while the curious onlookers were not paying attention.
After a brief inspection, he indeed found something suspicious.
Several of the fallen trees on both sides bore enormous palm prints, while a footprint was visible in a muddy pit on the ground.
After roughly comparing it with his own foot, Scribe deduced that the upright creature was at least five meters tall.
At five meters tall, there was only one kind of creature in this era that could possibly be.
A vicious demon possessing a powerful Blood Demon Art!
Judging by the direction of the footprints, there were no densely populated towns nearby in that direction.
In other words, it had not left this place because of food.
Combined with what had happened to Tamayo earlier, Scribe understood Muzan's actions.
Muzan was gathering a massive number of demons for some unknown purpose.
And for Muzan to make such a grand display and even mobilize other demons, his goal had to be extraordinary.
With the power of the Progenitor of Demons, an army made up of these vicious demons could sweep through one small town after another.
Even powerful warriors and organized armies would not be their match at night.
Except for one organization: the Demon Slayer Corps.
At that thought, Scribe had already seen through Muzan's plan.
He wanted to use the period after Tsugikuni Yoriichi's death to completely destroy the Demon Slayer Corps!
That way, there would no longer be organized Demon Slayers, only scattered and uncoordinated individuals.
What a direct strike at the heart.
His gaze turned cold, and Scribe did not hesitate as he ran in the direction the footprints faced.
It was not that he had forgiven the Demon Slayer Corps for what they had done to him and Yoriichi back then. It was simply that this era still needed them.
Searching alone was simply too time-consuming. If Muzan insisted on staying hidden, finding him might take hundreds of years.
Besides, before Yoriichi died, he had told Scribe something.
If the Demon Slayer Corps encountered a major crisis they could not withstand, Scribe could help them when appropriate.
Since his master had said so, he could not simply stand by and do nothing.
Besides, Scribe had always had the feeling that the mission he had waited so long for was about to arrive.
Following the demons' trail, Scribe ran until dusk.
When night fell, he finally caught up with the owner of the footprints.
Looking into the distance, the town ahead had already become a sea of flames.
The townspeople wailed amid the fire, while the demons laughed wildly.
Occasionally, someone would be overcome by fury and try to resist, only to be easily killed by a demon.
Only a few strange swordsmen wearing demon-slaying uniforms and carrying weapons had the strength to fight these vicious demons.
But even they could only manage one-on-one duels with the demons.
A dozen or so swordsmen facing dozens of vicious demons were nothing more than extra dishes on the table.
One, two, three...
The swordsmen wielding blades fell one after another, becoming meals for the grinning demons.
The remaining swordsmen stood back-to-back, seemingly trying to draw courage and strength from one another for one last struggle.
But in the face of true, overwhelming power, all of that was empty talk.
A swordsman who had lost one eye and his left arm finally could not bear the tremendous pressure any longer. He threw down his Nichirin Blade and ran outward like a madman.
However, before he had taken more than a few steps, a Dog-headed demon bit into his throat.
His hands and feet desperately struck the demon's body as muffled cries for help escaped his throat.
But to the demons, it was nothing more than a little entertainment before the meal.
Before you continue