The World On His Shoulders | Demon slayer x Male reader

Chapter XCI

IT is crucial you read until the end! 

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❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

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3rd Person's POV 

"Sun Breathing," he whispered.

Muzan's reaction was visceral to Y/N's calm. Memories of his near death at the hands of Yoriichi centuries ago surged through his mind, triggering a profound sense of dread. He invoked his Blood Demon Art: Black Blood, Brambles in a desperate attempt. Countless black spiked-barbed wires shot toward Y/N with intent, their speed almost transcending comprehension.

"Sunflower Thrust." With a singular, precise thrust, Y/N decimated the advancing brambles, his blade cutting through the flesh as effortlessly as sunlight pierces the darkness.

Muzan recoiled, his mind rattled by fear. "This man... even on the brink of death, he's... still fighting... He must die first... or if I can turn him..." Muzan's thoughts were abruptly cut short.

"First form, Dance." he executed a vertical slash that severed two of Muzan's hearts and a brain, the demon's blood splattering like rain.

Without pause, Y/N transitioned into the "Second Form, Clear Blue Sky," his body spinning in a fluid motion, his blade extending in a lethal 360° arc.

"Third Form, Raging Sun." he continued, his twin blades tracing arcs in the air, cleaving through flesh.

"Fourth Form, Burning Bones, Summer Sun," Y/N intoned, his spiraling slash creating a barrier of force, disrupting Muzan's frantic counterattacks.

With an acrobatic flip, Y/N launched into the "Fifth Form, Setting Sun Transformation," his horizontal slash aiming to decapitate the demon lord, further pushing Muzan to a corner.

"Sixth Form, Solar Heat Haze," Y/N charged, his blade shrouded in a deceptive mirage, striking unpredictably and severing yet another heart, leaving Muzan disoriented and reeling.

In mere seconds, Y/N had executed six formidable Sun Breathing forms, destroying three of Muzan's hearts and two of his brains.

The Demon Lord was thrown into a frenzied terror, his mind haunted by his past defeat.

But the strain on Y/N was immense. He coughed up blood, the taste of iron filling his mouth. His chest felt as if it were being crushed.

As Y/N mustered the strength to unleash another Sun Breathing technique, a sharp, excruciating pain pierced his lungs, stopping his words mid-breath. The sensation was akin to countless needles pricking from the inside, each breath a laborious agonizing effort. His lungs felt as if they were being crushed under an invisible force, every inhalation drawing air through a narrow passageway. 

With a grimace of pain, Y/N shook his head, acknowledging the limitations his body imposed. Yet he shifted tactics. "Storm Breathing... First Form..."

Launching into the Fourth Form: Cyclone Surge, his yari spun with him at the center, each strike building on the last. The metaphorical cyclone he embodied was not just a visual spectacle but a physical one that tore through Muzan's wire-like defenses, shredding them with the same ease as a storm would scatter leaves.