The technique that could counter Compass Needle was called Transparent World—a state achieved by emptying the mind and focusing completely, erasing all excess perception until the body moved without intent.
In that state, killing intent and fighting spirit vanished entirely, and even with closed eyes one could sense every motion around them.
Of course, Chika couldn't use Transparent World.
After all, the blood of Muzan Kibutsuji had altered her body. Her senses were now more akin to those of a wild beast.
She had once tried to suppress them to enter Transparent World, but failed.
Fortunately, this beastlike awareness—what she jokingly called Beast Instinct—wasn't inferior at all.
In some ways, it mirrored Akaza's Compass Needle.
So while Akaza could dodge her attacks, he could forget about landing easy hits himself.
Chika leveled her Nichirin Blade at him, her breathing steady.
Akaza, staring back at her, recalled her earlier words.
Regret?
He grinned. He did regret something—though not in the way she meant.
At first, he'd only been interested in Rengoku Kyojuro.
Even before they fought, he could feel the young Flame Hashira's boiling fighting spirit—one step away from the highest realm.
Rengoku's potential was boundless. If he became a demon, Akaza was sure he would one day rise to fight beside him.
He even thought idly: Upper Moon Four… what was his name again? Hantengu?
Yes—if Rengoku joined them, he'd knock that cowardly creature right off the list.
But after witnessing Chika's inhuman reflexes, Akaza's curiosity flared like wildfire.
He had a rule: he didn't kill or eat women. He didn't even know why—only that the thought disgusted him to the core.
Because of that, he despised Doma, who did the opposite with sick delight.
Yet this time… something was different.
Chika wasn't just "a woman." She was a warrior. A worthy opponent.
If she became a demon, fought him as his equal—would his instincts allow it?
Would he finally feel the thrill he'd been seeking for centuries?
He didn't know.
But he wanted to try.
Two new comrades—that was his goal tonight.
"Woman," Akaza said, straightening his back, his tone almost courteous. "Your name."
"Chika. Kamado Chika."
Her tone was calm now; the teasing from before had vanished.
Akaza's interest deepened.
She was strong—unshaken.
Rengoku was formidable, yes, but this woman… she radiated danger.
Both of them, he thought, deserved eternity.
Akaza repeated her name softly, twice, then smiled.
He raised his hand again—repeating his offer like a twisted salesman.
"Chika. Become a demon."
Chika didn't answer.
He continued, patient and persuasive.
"Why cling to weakness? Humans are fragile. Your lifespans are pitifully short.
But as a demon, even fatal wounds mean nothing! Time itself becomes your ally! You can train for centuries—grow endlessly stronger!"
Still, no response.
Akaza didn't seem discouraged.
He clenched his fists and lowered his stance, energy boiling around him.
"Then I'll show you the power of a demon. When you see it—when you feel it—you'll understand. You'll come around."
The air cracked. A twelve-pointed sigil of light flared beneath his feet.
"Technique Deployment – Destructive Death: Compass Needle!"
In the next instant, Akaza punched the ground.
"Destructive Death: Crushing Style – Leaf Scattering Flash!"
Cracks spread like veins through stone, racing outward in all directions.
The ground around him collapsed, leaving a crater dozens of meters wide.
It was just a test strike.
Had it hit a person instead of the ground, they'd have been pulverized.
He lifted his head toward Chika and Rengoku, smirking.
"Now then…"
The earth exploded beneath his feet as he launched forward.
"Destructive Death: Air Type!"
He leapt high, gathering power—then unleashed a barrage of invisible air cannons toward them.
"Flame Breathing, Fourth Form – Blooming Flame Undulation!"
Rengoku reacted instantly, his sword blazing as flames spiraled outward into a defensive vortex.
The swirling inferno absorbed the shockwave of Akaza's strike.
Chika, meanwhile, didn't defend.
Her wild intuition kicked in, reading every invisible arc of danger—
and she slipped between the blasts like a dancer among falling leaves.
Akaza smiled midair. Good. Very good.
If she couldn't dodge that, he'd have lost interest already.
He landed in front of Rengoku in a blur, his next strike already flying.
"Destructive Death: Chaotic Type!"
Rengoku braced, sword held horizontal.
The punch collided with his Nichirin Blade in a burst of sparks, the ground shattering beneath their feet.
Rengoku pushed back.
"Flame Breathing, Third Form – Blazing Universe!"
He swung downward, fire cascading like a burning waterfall.
Akaza didn't dodge. He took it head-on.
His arm split down the middle from shoulder to wrist—
and yet, as Rengoku's eyes widened in shock, the wound sealed before his next breath.
Akaza raised his now-perfect arm, smiling as if giving a lecture.
"Rengoku. Chika. Do you see?
This is the power of demons—the power of regeneration.
To you humans, that strike would mean death.
To us? A scratch."
His tone was almost proud—like a teacher explaining a principle to stubborn students.
Rengoku's expression didn't change.
Chika's lips curved faintly upward.
If this had been months ago, that display might have shaken them.
But not now.
Between them, Rengoku stood in front, Chika behind.
Their eyes met past Akaza's shoulders, and a silent agreement passed between them.
Akaza, still busy preaching the "benefits" of demonhood, had no idea what kind of trouble he'd just invited...