Sasuke's request was like a massive rock hurled into stagnant water, raising towering waves in the heart of every survivor.
Help him?
Hold Tanjiro back?
How could they help? How could they hold him back?
Kyojuro Rengoku looked at his Nichirin Blade, with only half its blade remaining, then at his arm bones, riddled with cracks and on the verge of shattering. His Flame Breathing had already burned to its limit, and every heartbeat felt like a summons for his life.
Giyu Tomioka was in an even worse state. He supported Sasuke, barely able to stand himself. The wound on his left arm was deep enough to expose bone, and it felt as though he had lost half the blood in his body. His vision kept darkening.
Zenitsu and Inosuke lay collapsed on the ground, with barely enough strength left to stand.
What they faced was a perfect Demon King, bathed in sunlight, whose power was still climbing. A monster whose single casual strike had just forced two Hashira-level fighters to give everything they had.
What could they use to hold him back? Throw their lives at him?
This was no longer a question of courage, but the despair of reality.
"What... nonsense are you spouting!" Sanemi Shinazugawa struggled to his feet amid the rubble. He was drenched in blood, several of his ribs broken, but his gaze remained as savage as a vicious wolf's. "That thing isn't Tanjiro anymore! The only way is to cut off his head before he fully masters this power!"
His words reflected what most of those present were thinking.
Sasuke's plan was too insane, too far-fetched. Enter the Mental World? It sounded like a fantasy. Was it worth staking all their remaining lives on such an elusive possibility?
On that deathly silent battlefield, shrouded