Was this the power of the first demon?
Haruto had barely managed to make out the massive arm swinging toward him. He had only just raised his Nichirin Blade to block when the enormous demonic claw seized him, blade and all, and crushed him in two at the waist.
The agony of being torn in half was beyond words. He writhed on the ground for dozens of minutes, cursing Muzan Kibutsuji with the vilest words he could think of.
But that bastard... merely watched calmly as he felt his life ebb away in agony.
There wasn't a trace of emotion in his eyes, as if he had stripped his feelings out of his flesh. He even seemed confused and puzzled by Haruto's behavior.
"Why pester me over someone else's death?"
His eyes flickered beneath his felt hat. "Since you didn't make it in time, why not simply pretend you knew nothing?
"If you hadn't come rushing over, you wouldn't have died.
"Humans should be grateful for what they have. Their lives, for instance.
"Isn't it enough that you're alive? Why concern yourself with others?"
Unfortunately, Haruto could no longer answer him. Black-red blood mingled with foam poured from his mouth-the remains of his ruptured spleen.
On Mount Sagiri, Haruto stood blankly in front of the Wooden Cabin for two seconds, then rushed inside and began tearing through the cupboards and drawers.
Damn it, damn it, damn it-fuck!
The pain that had made him wish he were dead seemed to linger in his memory, making him retch uncontrollably as he rummaged.
Clutching the last Demonization Potion from the drawer in his palm, he kicked the wooden door open and raced toward Mount Kumotori without a moment's hesitation.
Pretend I knew nothing?
*Of course a rotten demon would spew that kind of