The light of dawn finally tore through the long night completely.
Golden sunlight gently bathed the battlefield, razed to the ground and resembling purgatory. It illuminated the shattered walls, the dried blood, and the figures who had fallen or still remained standing.
The battle was over.
Once Muzan Kibutsuji's presence was confirmed to have vanished completely from the world, groups of figures in uniforms bearing the character for "hidden" poured in from every corner of the city like a black tide.
They were the Demon Slayer Corps' cleanup unit-the Kakushi.
Every one of them had tears on their face, yet none dared pause for even a moment.
"Quick! There's a survivor here!"
"Medical team! We need emergency bleeding control here!"
"A stretcher! Bring a stretcher, quickly!"
Cries, calls, and orders intertwined, breaking the battlefield's deathly silence.
Yet far more pervasive was the silent, heavy grief.
A young Kakushi member sank to his knees and carefully brushed away the dust covering a man and a woman.
They were the Love Hashira, Mitsuri Kanroji, and the Serpent Hashira, Obanai Iguro.
They held each other tightly, their bodies covered in horrific wounds, their breathing long since stopped. Yet a faint, peaceful, contented smile lingered on their faces, as though they had seen the happiest of dreams in the final moment of their lives.
Not far away, another seasoned Kakushi officer bowed deeply before a tall figure who had died seated.
It was the Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima.
The man hailed as the strongest member of the Demon Slayer Corps in centuries now rested quietly against a boulder, his palms pressed together as though he were still praying. Two trails of tears had long since dried on his face, his expression solemn and compassionate, like an enlightened monk who had passed into nirvana.
"**Report!