The Infinity Castle.
A purple-black vault hung overhead, countless doors and corridors crisscrossing like a city of building blocks God had upended onto a table.
Muzan sat on the stone platform at the highest point.
He had been sitting there for a long time. Ever since cutting off the shared vision from the Entertainment District, he had maintained this posture. His right hand rested on the armrest, his fingertips slowly tapping the stone surface in an even rhythm, one tap after another.
He was waiting.
Waiting for a result.
There were thousands of civilians in the Entertainment District. That dense population was a chess piece he had placed himself. He had seen that monster's domain: slashes filling the sky, indiscriminate coverage. The stronger an area attack was, the less precise it could be.
People would die.
Civilians would die in droves at that monster's hands. Those fools in the Demon Slayer Corps, who had carved "protection" into their very bones, could never tolerate a companion who slaughtered civilians.
Then the hunter would become the hunted.
The corners of Muzan's mouth curved upward slightly.
Nakime knelt on the steps below, the biwa in her arms silent for a long time now. She was responsible for maintaining the sensory links with every demon in the Entertainment District. Upper Rank Six's presence had vanished an hour ago, without so much as a trace remaining.
That meant Gyutaro and his sister were well and truly dead.
Muzan did not care whether two chess pieces lived or died.
What he cared about was what had happened afterward.
"Nakime."
"Yes."
"Is there any blood left beneath the Entertainment District?"
Nakime plucked a biwa string, producing a barely audible note. Her closed eyelids twitched twice, and sweat trickled down her forehead.
"Yes." Her voice was quiet. "One