The battlefield where Kokushibo had faded away lay deathly silent.
The enormous circular crater and the cracks stretching across the earth to the edge of sight spoke silently of the horror of the battle that had just taken place.
Sasuke knelt on one knee, exhaustion crashing over him like a landslide and a tsunami.
Every breath sent a searing pain through his lungs. Every muscle in his body protested, clamoring to stop working at once. The stabbing pain in his eyes left him almost unable to see, countless afterimages lingering on his retinas from overusing the Mangekyō and Rinnegan.
He knew he was in terrible shape.
He had depleted more than eighty percent of his ocular power, and his chakra was nearly gone. If another Upper Rank appeared now, even one on the level of Upper Rank Six, he would have trouble dealing with them.
But he could not rest yet.
Sasuke forced himself to his feet, swayed, and nearly fell headfirst. Only by bracing the Kusanagi Sword against the ground did he barely steady himself.
He took the broken bamboo flute out from inside his clothes again and gently rubbed it.
A pitiful man who had spent over four hundred years pursuing the goal of surpassing his younger brother, only to lose himself in power in the end.
Come to think of it, was I really any different?
To take revenge on Itachi, to gain power, he too had once thrown caution to the wind and thought of destroying everything.
Had he not come to this world and met Tanjiro and that bunch of fools, perhaps... he would have become another Kokushibo.
Sasuke gave a self-mocking smile and put the bamboo flute away again.
Melancholy reflection was not his style.
Through his Rinnegan, he could see Muzan careening wildly