The battlefield was a chaotic expanse of dust and blood as Tanjiro, Nezuko, and Bell faced the four split demons that had manifested from a single entity. Each one of them had their own distinct appearance, their powers twisting through the air like shadowed threads of malevolence. Thunder crackled, and the swift demon, dressed in black and yellow, streaked across the clearing in a flash of destructive energy. Before they could react, bolts of lightning struck Nezuko and Tanjiro. The impact hurled them backward, their bodies convulsing as they fell to the ground.
Bell stood his ground as the lightning coiled around him, sizzling against his skin. But instead of being overwhelmed, he straightened, unfazed, his muscles absorbing the impact as though it were little more than a spark. He glanced to the side, pretending to stagger, but his eyes—a brilliant, shifting mix of blue and red hues—focused intently on the four demons. In his vision, they pulsed with a strange energy, and he noticed how they all seemed tethered to one another by some invisible thread. His six eyes saw clearly what the others could not: a hidden body, small and evasive, flitting just out of sight.
As Bell's mind raced through potential strategies, he heard footsteps approaching. Genya had entered the fray, his eyes ablaze with determination, a shotgun poised and ready in his hands. Without hesitation, Genya fired, his bullets embedding into one of the demons and splitting it into four distinct entities, each one personifying a raw emotion: Joy, Anger, Sadness, and Pleasure. Bell observed calmly, his mind racing as he assessed the new battlefield dynamics. With precision, he sidestepped the Sadness demon's lunging staff, and in a swift move, caught it between his teeth, wrenching it away with surprising force. The demon staggered, eyes wide as Bell flashed away, positioning himself a short distance from the split demons.
In an instant, Bell propelled himself back toward them, the staff in his hands a deadly extension of his will. Each demon was immobilized as Bell slammed the staff into the ground with enough force to drive each of them down, pinning them in place. The demons were now forced to eat the dirt beneath them, their voices a garbled mess of rage and surprise.
As Bell released his grip, he turned toward Tanjiro, who had pushed himself up, his eyes brimming with renewed determination. "Tanjiro," Bell said, pointing towards the darkness, "there's a main body—a small one. It'll take more than one strike to bring it down, so stay sharp. It's that way."
Tanjiro followed Bell's gaze, nodding firmly. His breathing steadied as he felt his will strengthen. This was the perfect chance, he thought, to master the Sun Breathing he had been struggling with, to test himself against his limits. The words "perfect" and "perfection" echoed in his mind as he repeated the forms, one after the other, moving seamlessly, each breath reinforcing the next as he sank deeper into an intense state of concentration.
It was then that Bell recognized the unmistakable look of hyperfocus on Tanjiro's face, a phenomenon known in combat as the Flow—a place of pure, balanced focus where skill and challenge met, sharpening his intent and blocking out any distractions. Tanjiro was in the Flow, immersed so deeply that it took hold of his mind, his body, even his breathing. His moves became instinctual, raw, and unhesitating, his blade tracing arcs of deadly light as he entered the Transparent World. His mark flared, as if reacting to the raw energy in his heart, and he engaged the fused demon Zohakuten, who had emerged from Bell's immobilized prey, standing tall with an aura of hatred.
Bell watched proudly as Tanjiro's skill climbed to new heights, a testament to his resilience and focus. The younger Demon Slayer moved with a deadly grace, matching Zohakuten's every strike, his blade flashing through the air with unwavering precision. Tanjiro wasn't merely fighting; he was thriving, transcending his usual self-imposed limits.
Meanwhile, Genya and Nezuko worked together, searching the battlefield for the elusive main body. They moved with urgency, staying close to each other as they scanned every shadow, every flicker of movement, Nezuko's demon intuition guiding them as Genya kept his gun ready. In their search, they communicated with small gestures, their unspoken bond allowing them to remain in sync even amidst the danger that lurked.
Back near the fray, Tanjiro continued to engage Zohakuten, his mind utterly blank save for one command: Kill the demon. He was faster, his reaction time heightened, and his attacks held an impact that reverberated through his entire being. There was no fear or hesitation—his body, no longer limited by the cautious interference of his brain, now moved at its full capacity. He became a deadly, precise weapon, his Sun Breathing technique flowing with devastating power.
Zohakuten, for the first time, faltered, his attacks meeting the unrelenting ferocity of a Demon Slayer pushed beyond his own limits. In a last attempt to overpower Tanjiro, the demon unleashed a torrent of energy, but Tanjiro, still entrenched in the Flow, met each strike head-on, his sword blazing in arcs of sunlight. The entire battlefield seemed to illuminate under the ferocity of his attack, his final move a perfect blend of strength, agility, and unwavering focus.
Bell's eyes gleamed with admiration as Tanjiro executed his moves with an elegance and power he had never witnessed in him before. He could see that Tanjiro was at his peak, his every strike a testament to his relentless training and the iron will that had carried him this far. The Flow state was consuming, but Bell knew it was the one thing that allowed a warrior to rise to unimaginable heights, to realize the full capacity of his own power. Tanjiro, in this moment, was a force of nature, and Bell couldn't have been prouder.
As the fight raged on, Nezuko and Genya finally caught sight of the main body, a small, shivering demon attempting to hide in the shadows. With a fierce cry, Genya raised his weapon, and Nezuko, her eyes blazing with determination, lunged forward, ready to end the battle for good.
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