At this moment, Shiro Sakamaki seemed to have become thunder itself. His Haki-shrouded frame blurred across the battlefield, cloaked in storm and shadow. Lightning arced around him as he moved like a phantom, flashing between enemies.
Each reappearance brought a cataclysm of destruction—shockwaves blasting entire clusters of monsters into the sky.
His muscles, supercharged by thunder, pushed past human limits. The dense concentration of Armament Haki that clung to his form elevated his durability beyond reason.
Even when blades clashed against him and attacks landed, all they produced were showers of sparks—not a scratch marked his skin.
But as the horde thinned and the battlefield grew quieter, Shiro made a decision.
No more brute force.
The shadow beneath his feet surged.
In the blink of an eye, it fragmented into countless dark blades, each slicing through the air like a predator in the night. They hunted with precision, finding and piercing the cores of the remaining monsters.
And with the final core shattered—the warm-up was over.
He looked up. Gojo Satoru and Mitaka Jin were still locked in combat above, suspended in a storm of cursed energy and sheer power.
Compared to the fodder he had just cleared, Mitaka Jin—the monstrous core of the Mother Body—was on an entirely different level. Not only was his strength terrifying, but his fighting style was relentless. He felt no pain, no hesitation, making every attack a suicidal gamble.
Gojo was struggling to maintain control. His Six Eyes granted him clarity, and his Limitless Technique gave him defense—but they both consumed vast amounts of spiritual power. Though uninjured for now, he couldn't keep this up forever.
They were locked in a dead heat. But Shiro could see it clearly: Gojo Satoru would win—because of who he was.
That wasn't what worried Shiro.
His only concern… was Misaki.
Would she be able to accept Jin's death?
With a heavy breath, Shiro dismissed the lightning energy clinging to his body. His muscles deflated slightly, returning to a leaner build. The heat faded. His breath steadied.
He turned to the others, dusting off his pants.
"Sister Sayuri, Eriri—are you two alright?"
His voice was calm, but his upper body was bare—still radiating that residual energy, every inch of him pulsing with masculine power.
Sayuri blinked. The warmth rolling off his skin felt almost tangible. Her expression twitched, a strange tightness in her chest.
She quickly looked away, hiding her reaction behind a calm facade—though her heart was still racing from the spectacle she'd just witnessed.
"I'm fine," she replied, trying to steady her voice. "Eriri's a bit shaken, but it's not serious."
She smiled faintly. "Honestly, if you hadn't arrived when you did… I don't know what would've happened to us."
Shiro smiled gently. "I'm just glad I made it in time. If anything had happened to either of you, I'd never forgive myself."
Then he blinked. "Wait… where's Uncle Spencer?"
It was then he noticed the mangled rear end of a private car, the back cover crumpled, a metallic shape barely visible underneath.
Sayuri followed his gaze. Her finger subtly pointed toward the wreckage.
There, partially fused with the car frame, was Spencer's distorted, mechanical corpse.
Shiro fell silent. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. His previous blow must've…
Sayuri noticed the flicker of guilt in his expression.
"Don't blame yourself, Shiro-kun," she said gently. "Eriri and I won't either."
"When Spencer came at us earlier, he'd already been transformed. He tried to kill us both."
"If Eriri hadn't awakened that strange power, I wouldn't have lasted until you arrived."
"…Ah."
Shiro nodded. She didn't want to talk about it more, and he understood—some truths didn't need to be re-lived.
Suddenly, Sayuri changed the subject.
"Tell me the truth. Did Eriri's transformation… have something to do with you?"
Before Shiro could answer, Kanna, who had remained quiet the entire time, looked up with her usual calm.
"She smells like a dragon."
Shiro scratched his head. "That's the Sky Dragon's Crystal. I got it by chance. It carries the Sky Dragon's power and magic inheritance. She's only begun to awaken it—it'll get stronger with time."
He left out the part about it being a Dragon Slayer Crystal. Kanna didn't seem to mind, and for her sake, he kept it vague.
But Sayuri didn't let him off so easily.
"No more, Shiro-kun. Don't go telling anyone else about that, ever. Understand?"
He chuckled softly. Sayuri's concern warmed him more than she realized. She wasn't trying to pry—she just cared. That meant she didn't see him as a weapon, but as family.
What Sayuri didn't know was: very few people had the ability—or courage—to control him. If it came down to it, he'd just call his people and wipe the slate clean.
Still, he appreciated her concern. He gave her a nod.
Meanwhile, Misaki stood off to the side, distracted. Her eyes had never once left the distant battlefield. Explosions still echoed across the sky.
That was where Gojo Satoru and Mitaka Jin were still clashing.
The battle was reaching its climax.
Shiro turned just in time to see Gojo launch Mitaka into the sky with a powerful kick. Then, with a calm flourish, he raised one hand.
A thin finger extended—and a burst of energy darker than night condensed at the tip. Like a black hole, it warped the space around it.
In the span of a second, a red stream of light fired like a railgun. The moment it struck Mitaka, a colossal explosion erupted. The air screamed, debris and smoke swallowing everything in a raging hurricane.
But this wasn't future Gojo—the one known as invincible. This Gojo was still growing.
When the dust cleared, Mitaka Jin slowly rose from the flames.
Parts of his flesh had melted away, revealing the metallic skeleton and exposed gears beneath.
Gojo stood in the air, face unreadable—calm and cold. But the familiar smirk tugged at his lips.
As if saying: "Still not enough? Come get some more."
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