HxH: I Will Be Supreme

Ding!

Oboro extended his hand toward Muzan. The gesture was deceptively simple yet radiated absolute authority.

The movement struck terror into Muzan's very core. Every instinct screamed at him to resist, to fight back with everything he had. But a deeper instinct, born from his newfound understanding of soul power, paralyzed him completely. The old man before him could obliterate his essence with a mere thought, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

As if sensing Muzan's desperation, the sharp notes of a biwa suddenly rang through the air.

Like a stone cast into still water, ripples of dimensional energy spread outward. Muzan, frozen in place opposite Oboro, vanished in an instant, whisked away by Nakime's Blood Demon Art before the killing blow could land.

But she didn't stop there. Kokushibo and Doma disappeared from their positions as well, teleported beyond the Infinity Castle's boundaries to safety. The very fabric of the dimensional space began to warp and twist chaotically as Nakime pushed her abilities to their limits.

Yet, even as reality bent around him, Oboro merely glanced at the shifting architecture with mild interest. The next moment, he found himself in a different chamber within the castle, exactly where Nakime intended to isolate him.

"Hehe."

A soft chuckle escaped Oboro's lips, his ancient features coloring with genuine surprise.

Muzan's overwhelming soul pressure had indiscriminately blanketed everything, even catching Nakime in its terrifying embrace. Yet, somehow, through that suffocating aura of death, she had managed to react with perfect precision. She had not only saved her master but also demonstrated remarkable loyalty in the face of absolute terror.

Though Nakime wasn't officially ranked among the Upper Moons, her strength rivaled theirs. More importantly, unlike Doma and the others with their personal agendas and hidden thoughts, she appeared genuinely devoted to Muzan's cause.

But how had Oboro managed to enter this pocket dimension in the first place? The answer lay in the soul marks that he had carefully placed on Doma and Kokushibo during their previous encounters. The ability he gained from consuming half of that creature in the Dark Continent granted him the ability to travel between dimensions, though originally it was limited to soul projection.

However, this particular space was merely an offshoot of the Demon Slayer world; its dimensional barriers were far weaker than those between true worlds. With the proper direction established through his soul marks, his physical form could also breach the boundaries and move freely between spaces.

"Hah..."

The moment Muzan realized that Nakime had rescued him, the crushing tension in his body finally began to ease. He turned toward the long-haired woman sitting in the distance with her fingers poised over her biwa strings and spoke with cold authority.

"Let's go."

Upon hearing his command, Nakime's fingertips moved to pluck the strings once more, preparing to transport them both to safety.

Just as she was about to strike the note—

Swish!

—horror unfolded in a single, terrible instant.

Oboro materialized directly behind the demon woman out of nowhere, like a phantom given form. His arm swept through the air with casual, terrifying grace.

Nakime's head separated from her shoulders in a spray of dark blood and spun through the air with a sickening momentum. Within the tangle of her long black hair, her eyes reflected nothing but pure, uncomprehending shock.

Even after teleporting both Oboro and Muzan to different locations, she had maintained absolute control over the ever-shifting architecture of the Infinity Castle. Every space except where she and Muzan stood continued to warp and change in dizzying patterns that would disorient any normal opponent. In terms of complexity and tactical difficulty, her Blood Demon Art was one of the most sophisticated abilities in existence.

Yet none of that mattered. Oboro killed her before she could attempt to flee.

It's important to understand that the Infinity Castle wasn't Nakime's creation; it was Muzan's domain, a pocket dimension where he had lived for centuries. Nakime's ability merely allowed her to manipulate its structure. The Demon King himself had always been the real master of this space.

The moment Nakime's head hit the floor, Oboro found himself transported high into the air again. There was nothing solid beneath his feet—no floor, no platform, only empty void. His body began to fall through endless space, trapped in perpetual weightlessness.

In this dimension, concepts like height and distance were meaningless. There was no "ground" waiting below him, no end to his descent.

Oboro spread his arms wide and allowed himself to fall. That same gentle smile played across his features as he drifted through the chaos.

The next second, somewhere in the real world, a door materialized from thin air.

Muzan burst through it like a man fleeing the depths of hell, his usually composed features twisted with panic. His entire body trembled with aftershocks of terror.

Nakime was dead. Gone in the blink of an eye.

Oboro had simply vanished from his original position and reappeared beside the biwa demon as if space itself meant nothing to him. There was only one possible explanation for such an impossible feat:

Spatial manipulation. Oboro could travel through dimensions as easily as walking through a door.

"Damn it! DAMN IT!"

Muzan clutched his forehead with a shaking hand, his expression contorted with fury and self-loathing. Curses tore from his throat as he raged against his body's betrayal—the trembling he couldn't control and the fear he couldn't suppress.

He hadn't felt such helpless terror since his near-death encounter with Yoriichi Tsugikuni centuries ago. Even then, when he faced the most powerful demon slayer in history, his legs hadn't trembled with such uncontrollable fear.

The cruel irony wasn't lost on him. His newfound understanding of soul power—the very thing he thought would make him invincible—had become his greatest weakness. Because he could perceive the true nature of souls, the mental shock of witnessing Oboro's overwhelming power hit him with devastating clarity.

And this was just from "seeing." Oboro hadn't used any soul-based attacks yet.

Everything in existence had its price. He believed he had "mastered" the power of the soul, but now he realized he had been living in a delusion. Had he never touched soul power, perhaps he could have mustered some fighting spirit when facing this monster.

But because he "understood," he felt that terrible power with perfect, horrifying clarity. When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you—with interest.

Without hesitation, Muzan's form dissolved into writhing shadows and vanished into the night.

He had to run. He had to keep moving. Had to escape.

With Oboro's spatial abilities, the Infinity Castle could no longer serve as his sanctuary. If he stayed in one place too long, he would certainly be caught. The demon's soul power was beyond comprehension; he had undoubtedly already locked onto Muzan's spiritual wavelength. The endless game of hide-and-seek that had protected him from the Demon Slayer Corps and other inheritors for centuries was over.

Even worse, with Oboro's soul strength, he might be able to detect Muzan's location from far away. In a world that had once seemed infinite, there might no longer be anywhere to hide.

His only hope was to keep moving, never staying in one place long enough for his hunter to arrive. As long as Muzan kept moving, he might be able to survive just a little longer, even if Oboro could track him down.

The problem was that the world contained threats beyond Oboro alone. The Demon Slayer Corps and the remaining Inheritors hadn't been destroyed yet. Eventually, he would be caught between multiple enemies with nowhere left to run.

An hour later, as the eastern sky showed the first hints of dawn, Muzan's elegant form stumbled into a crumbling temple deep in the mountains. Despite his supernatural constitution, sweat beaded on his forehead—a testament to how far and fast he'd fled through the night.

Had the approaching sunrise not forced him to seek shelter, he could have kept running indefinitely. But even the Demon King couldn't ignore the deathly glow of the approaching daylight.

Muzan collapsed against a dust-covered Buddha statue, sliding down to the floor as exhaustion finally overtook him. The suffocating anxiety in his chest refused to fade, and his eyes remained fixed on the temple's entrance, like those of a trapped animal watching for predators.

"It's not just soul power," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "He has so many other abilities—that inhuman physical strength, those breathing techniques . . ." His body has clearly aged to the point of death, yet he displays power that defies all logic. Just like that man."

The comparison to Yoriichi sent fresh waves of terror through him.

"Not to mention the ability to ignore space itself. How can any human accomplish such things? He's definitely not human—he can't be."

Even though Nakime wasn't one of the strongest demons, she wasn't weak either. To decapitate her in a single motion like that..."

"What secrets is this world still hiding from me? I've lived for over a thousand years. How could there be things I don't know?"

"He said something about 'coming to this world.' What did he mean by that? Could it be that he's..."

"Damn it!"

Muzan's thoughts raced in desperate circles until he suddenly grabbed his hair and yanked hard, forcing himself to stop. He'd just realized that his vision was growing blurry as he stared at the entrance, not because of any physical ailment, but because the soul-deep shock of witnessing Oboro's true power still hadn't faded.

The fear was eating him alive from the inside out.

The next moment, Muzan's face went completely blank.

It was in that instant of distraction, when his concentration wavered for just a heartbeat, that he saw the figure standing in the doorway.

The night wind stirred the distinctive black haori, making the fabric dance like shadows given form.

"You should understand," Oboro said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, "that the moment you saw me, you could no longer escape."

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire ready to snap.

Muzan's mouth opened, but no words came out. His worst nightmare had become reality—there truly was nowhere left to run.