Creak, crunch…
Without hesitation, Yasuhara began devouring the other three inheritors right before Oboro's eyes.
He did so in the most primal, gruesome way — tearing and gnawing at their flesh and blood like a starved ghost.
Oboro watched this moment where will shone at its brightest. Though the sight was… horrifying, he could not help but applaud the resolve shown by Teshima Ga and the others.
"You… were magnificent."
Oboro whispered so softly it was almost inaudible.
This was the culmination of the self‑evolution of his legacy.
The impact of it all made him understand even more clearly what inherited will truly meant, and how it differed from individual will.
To personally experience a drama he himself had orchestrated was far more powerful and direct than merely observing from the perspective of a traveler from another world.
Oboro felt the pulse of his own soul; the stimulation brought by this legacy seemed to have triggered some kind of transformation deep within him.
His soul had grown stronger and more resilient.
To be honest, Oboro had never expected to gain much advancement through inherited will within a mere hundred years.
After all, the seeds of a power system take time to germinate — they cannot bear fruit immediately.
And since the world of Demon Slayer was a lower‑order realm, the rate of effective growth was naturally even slower.
Kawai Ichimiya had been an exception.
But now, there was another.
Ichimiya and Yasuhara both stood out as brilliant examples of how inherited will had mutated and evolved in this era.
Both had benefited from it profoundly.
Across the clearing, Yasuhara — his face smeared with gore and blood from his meal — slowly lifted his head.
His body began to twist in unnatural ways; the sheer volume of power he had absorbed was too great to process all at once, and it erupted outward in its rawest form.
Beneath the strands of hair falling over his forehead, his blood‑lusting eyes burned with madness as they locked onto Oboro.
"There is no need to wait any longer… Master… I… now… shall set you free."
"Your will and mine shall be fulfilled… tonight."
A voice rumbled from his throat that did not sound like his own. Foam flecked his lips, and his smile was savage and twisted.
With that, he threw his head back and loosed a shriek of agony. The terrifying soundwaves triggered a chain of explosive blasts across a radius of a hundred meters.
His body expanded rapidly, visible to the naked eye. His limbs lost all human form, and he transformed into a towering mountain of flesh.
Looking at this colossal mass of tissue — where seemingly every part could reshape itself into different organs or limbs at will — Oboro instinctively thought of Muzan.
These inheritors had only been granted Oboro's will; the core of their power still came mostly from Muzan's blood.
Oboro's blood had only served to suppress Muzan's curse and provide them with a measure of spiritual reinforcement — nothing more.
In the final battle years later, just before death, Muzan had also relied mainly on this kind of rapid expansion and reshaping of flesh.
Moreover, many of Muzan's techniques — especially when he had slaughtered the Lower Moons within the Infinity Castle — involved turning his flesh into tentacles to attack.
Yasuhara's current state was akin to atavism.
"Cells…"
Oboro narrowed his eyes. "Evolution?"
At this very moment — perhaps due to the power of inherited will, perhaps because of Oboro's blood, or perhaps from the sudden absorption of uncontrollable amounts of power — Yasuhara's very life form had undergone a metamorphosis. He was no longer what could simply be called a demon.
He had become a new species entirely.
Will, Oboro's blood, Muzan's blood… all combined with a terrifying influx of power absorbed in an instant.
Furthermore, the three dead inheritors seemed to have left their will behind within their cells, dwelling now inside Yasuhara's flesh, merging seamlessly with his soul… and perhaps there lingered even a trace of the Blue Spider Lily's effect.
Together with the turning point of this moment, a convergence of factors had made this one inheritor utterly unique.
Individual will drove people to grow, evolve, and ascend to new heights… but clearly, inherited will possessed the very same ability, and to no lesser degree.
Swish, swish, swish…
In the next instant, thousands upon thousands of arms shot out from the mountain of flesh, writhing like ropes as they reached to seize Oboro.
Technique: Mighty Golden Finger.
Oboro curved his hands like eagle claws, unleashing a combat art he had not used in ages, sweeping fiercely through the space before him.
Instantly, countless severed limbs flew through the air.
The terrifying tearing force not only shredded every arm reaching for him, but also carved deep, bleeding gashes three or four meters long across the body of the flesh mountain.
Oboro moved like a phantom, appearing at its base in a flash.
He bent his elbow and raised his arm, preparing to unleash Divine Fist.
But, to his slight surprise, Yasuhara — now fully mutated — was actually able to react to his movements.
Before Oboro's strike could land, the mass of flesh before him reshaped itself into a vast, gaping maw, swallowing him whole in the blink of an eye.
With Oboro consumed, the mountain writhed and bulged. Countless eyes opened across its surface.
In four directions — above, below, left, and right — four distinct faces emerged.
They were the likenesses of the four inheritors.
"Hahaha!"
Dozens of mouths appeared all over the creature, letting out harsh, eerie laughter.
But quickly, the triumphant laughter turned to agonized screams.
Waves of heat rose from the mountain, as if it had been thrown into a boiling furnace.
The dense, hardened flesh softened and began to dissolve… from a distance, the towering mass looked like a giant red popsicle melting away.
Thousands of eyes swiveled toward the spot where Oboro had been swallowed.
"We are saving the world… saving all those who are sick… including you. We are saving you… because you are sick too, aren't you?"
"We are the bearers of this will… why could you not let us succeed?!"
"Why?!!"
As the voices of all four inheritors wove together in a roar, the immense mountain of flesh suddenly exploded, sending chunks of tissue raining down everywhere.
Standing amidst the debris, surrounded by white steam rising from his own superheated body, Oboro reappeared — unharmed.
He lowered his raised fist.
Brushed away flecks of flesh sticking to his clothes, his expression cold and indifferent.
Not far away, a single face‑plate lay on the ground.
It was Yasuhara's face.
At this moment, he seemed to have regained clarity.
"I am sorry… Master."
"We failed… we could not save you."
"We have disappointed you…"
Tears flowed from Yasuhara's eyes as he spoke, heavy with frustration.
"It is alright… you have done wonderfully. You have already found successors to carry on this will, have you not? There will be others… and one day, this world will be changed because of you."
Oboro walked over, lifted the piece of flesh, and held it gently in his palm, speaking softly.
"Master… you must have been in so much pain…"
In his hand, Yasuhara's face was dissolving, fading away bit by bit.
He looked at Oboro with eyes filled with heartache and pity.
"Pain is only temporary."
Oboro smiled faintly.
"Farewell…"
With that last whisper, Yasuhara's life faded completely, and he died.
They had acted to fulfill their shared will — but from their perspective, they had also been trying to save Oboro himself: to free him from his burdens, his worldly attachments, and the unknown sufferings they believed he bore.
That emotion… had been entirely genuine.
Due to the history and customs of this world, from the Sengoku period to the present day, most people had lived lives of great hardship.
This made their feelings purer and simpler — far less complex than in the world Oboro came from… and in this respect, they were perfectly suited to the concept of inherited will.
In Demon Slayer, individual will was very hard to "germinate" and grow strong.
In other words, it was extremely rare for a single individual to rise above all others and become an unmatched powerhouse.
The fact that Muzan was eventually slain by a group of Hashira was the perfect proof of that truth.
A moment later, Oboro turned, summoned his system interface, and converted the fragments of flesh that had not yet fully dissolved into cards.
He had gained… new resources.
Through his efforts, something had been created within Demon Slayer that never originally belonged to this world.
And this meant that a new system of power had now begun to take shape.
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