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The darkened sky above Peakwest mirrored the mood in Muzan.

His cold eyes glimmered with a twisted satisfaction as he lounged atop his ornate throne, surrounded by his most loyal members.

The campfire crackled, casting eerie shadows over their faces, but it was the fire of triumph in their hearts that burned the brightest.

They had done the impossible—Alan was dead, and the Heavenlys were crumbling.

Muzan, always calm yet exuding an overwhelming aura of authority, rested his chin on his hand as a devious smile crept across his lips.

His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the Heavenly's castle lay, its once-mighty walls now vulnerable.

He could imagine the despair, the confusion, and the helplessness that plagued the remaining members of the Heavenlys. It filled him with cruel pleasure.

Muzan: "So... they thought they were invincible."

"That they could stand against me."

"Even god stands no chance."

His voice was cold, dripping with disdain. He turned his head slightly, glancing at Greymor, who sat nearby, his long fingers tracing the edge of his blade.

Greymor chuckled, his face twisted into a mocking grin.

Greymor: "The mighty Heavenlys... nothing more than fragile glass now."

"One blow and they will be shattered."

Muzan’s eyes gleamed as he raised his hand, signaling his men to gather closer.

They obeyed without hesitation, their loyalty unquestionable. Among them were Zakura, Akshat, and others, all grinning, as they had witnessed Alan’s fall firsthand.

Zakura: "They relied too much on that boy, Alan."

"They thought he was their savior,"

"their undefeatable champion."

"How laughable."

Akshat leaned back against a tree, crossing his arms.

He thinks,

"No idea why are they being so cruel."

The group erupted into mocking laughter, their jeers echoing through the night.

Muzan remained silent for a moment, letting their mockery fill the air. It was a sound he relished—victory over the Heavenlys, who had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

Muzan: "They built their empire on hope."

"Hope in a single person."

"And now, that hope is gone."

His words carried an almost prophetic tone, as if he was delivering a final judgment on the Heavenlys.

The members of his group exchanged glances, nodding in agreement.

Zakura, unable to contain his excitement, spoke again.

Zakura: "And what’s left of the Heavenlys now? A bunch of weaklings without their precious Alan."

"We’ve stripped them of their strength, their pride."

But Muzan’s laughter soon faded, and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated his next move.

Muzan: "This is only the beginning. Now, we will crush what remains of the Heavenlys."

"We will drive them into the ground and erase their existence from Peakwest."

He stood up slowly, his presence commanding immediate silence from the group.

Muzan’s dark robes fluttered in the breeze, making him appear almost otherworldly under the night sky.

Muzan: "We will march on their castle. And when we do, I want them to beg for mercy before they die."

Greymor, Zakura grinned wickedly at the thought. The idea of the once-proud Heavenlys kneeling before Muzan, broken and humiliated, filled them with anticipation.

Greymor: "I’ll make sure to personally deliver their cries to you, Muzan."

Zakura: "And I’ll enjoy watching their faces twist in fear when they realize no one’s coming to save them this time."

Muzan turned his back to them, gazing once again at the distant castle. His voice dropped to a sinister whisper.

Muzan: "Let them tremble in their castle for now. They’ll know soon enough that their doom is coming."

Muzan thinks,

"Come on brat, your game is just beginning now,"

"return faster."

The night deepened, and with it, the sense of impending doom for the Heavenlys grew stronger. Muzan’s group reveled in their victory, their confidence swelling with every passing moment. They had already torn down the Heavenlys’ greatest defender, and now it was only a matter of time before they finished what they started.

Meanwhile, back at the Heavenly's castle, the air was thick with despair. The taunts and laughter of their enemies, though far away, seemed to echo within the very walls of their once-proud stronghold. Alan was gone, and so was the light that had guided them. What remained was a shadow of the past, fragile and exposed to the enemies circling like vultures.

The mocking words of Muzan’s group, though they hadn’t reached the castle yet, felt tangible in the hearts of the remaining members. The fear, the uncertainty, and the unbearable weight of their loss pressed down on them. The Heavenlys, once a force to be reckoned with, were now the subject of ridicule, their future hanging by a thread.

And somewhere, in the vast expanse of Peakwest, the mocking voices of Muzan and his followers carried on the wind, reaching the ears of those who still dared to stand against them.

Chapter Ends.