The transparent dragon-serpents stretched their glowing forms across the sky, light and shadow woven together like living divine murals. It was hard to fathom that such colossal entities could emerge from a light wheel no taller than a human, hovering behind Orochi.
These serpentine creatures, holy in appearance but deadly in reality, slithered through the sky like sacred beasts. Yet to Kamihara Hajime and Yuta Okkotsu, they were nothing less than a deadly threat. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from view.
Despite their seemingly graceful movement, their speed was monstrous. In a flash, they struck the earth, obliterating mountains and tearing the ground open like parchment. The previously cratered battlefield was now completely disfigured, reshaped by the descending wrath of dragon-serpent shadows.
Towers of upheaved earth, like crumbling skyscrapers, twisted into the air and collapsed on themselves. In mere seconds, the battlefield had been rendered nearly unrecognizable.
"Pure Cursed Energy… but this feels different. It's so refined, it's almost like a Technique in itself."
Standing at the edge of the ravaged zone, Hajime and Yuta watched as the dragon-serpents reformed, returning to Orochi's side. The creatures danced in the air with grace, yet carried an oppressive sense of death.
Hajime narrowed his eyes, then turned to Yuta.
"Let's test his current state. Be on guard—every movement matters now."
Activating his Technique, Hajime forced Orochi into the Time Null State once more. But what was terrifying wasn't Orochi's response—it was his lack of one. He entered the temporal stillness automatically, without a moment of conscious effort.
This wasn't instinct. This was something deeper—something alien.
Yuta quickly followed Hajime into the Time Null State. Then Orochi moved.
In a blur, the godlike figure appeared before them. The light he held, previously shrouded, was now revealed: a long, straight-bladed sword, elegant and lethal. It shimmered with a faint mist of gold and white, condensed into a blade no mortal blacksmith could create.
Not forged of steel, but of divine essence.
And Hajime understood instantly—this was no ordinary cursed weapon. This had to be the stolen artifact: Totsuka-no-Tsurugi.
But something was off. According to the records at Jujutsu Headquarters, the blade had originally appeared as a dull, unremarkable iron sword. Durable, yes, but never divine. Yet now, in Orochi's hands, it radiated celestial power. It was no longer just a weapon—it was a relic.
As Orochi lunged, Hajime refused to confront the blade directly again. Instead, he dodged back, releasing a charged Time Arrow in the same breath.
Yuta and Rika, on the other side, compressed their Cursed Energy and unleashed a joint attack toward Orochi. As the divine sword cleaved through the air, it met Hajime's Time Arrow—and sliced it cleanly in two.
The arrow dissolved, the residual blast harmlessly dispersing over Orochi's body without leaving a scratch.
As Hajime planned his next move, a searing pain struck his chest. He looked down to see a thin, crimson line—an aerial slash. It hadn't come from any visible movement.
"Remote slash... That has to be from the sword itself!"
His instincts confirmed it. The blade could strike from afar—its reach wasn't bound by mere range.
Without hesitation, Hajime launched forward, using the opening created by Yuta's attack. He closed in, forcing Orochi slightly off balance. With both Totsuka-no-Tsurugi and Onikiri in hand, he struck at Orochi's neck.
The blades connected.
And then… stopped.
Only a thin trickle of blood emerged.
Orochi's hand reached up, gripped the blade, and squeezed. The sheer force pulled Hajime forward, but he reacted instantly—releasing the hilt and sending a punch straight into Orochi's face, Cursed Energy surging through his fist.
The impact landed.
Blood splattered—shimmering purple, like liquid gemstones in the air.
But Orochi barely flinched.
He twisted his body at an unnatural angle and brought down Totsuka-no-Tsurugi in a clean, direct arc. No flourish, no technique—just speed.
And that speed was terrifying.
Despite sharing Time Null enhancements, Orochi's movements now far surpassed Hajime's. His blade tore through Hajime's side mid-air.
Even before he fully rotated, Hajime saw the gash—deep enough to reach organs.
Yet, within a breath, he reversed the damage.
Time Wheel: Reverse.
The wound vanished. Hajime recovered his blade and pulled back immediately. Orochi's body was tougher than anything he'd ever encountered.
Even with Maki's Heavenly Restriction, nothing should have been this durable. His slashes barely left marks. His Black Flash—wasted.
And Orochi wasn't done. He turned away from Hajime and struck at Rika, who had gathered immense energy.
A single strike.
The slash didn't just hit her—it tore through the air behind her and reached Yuta. Even though Yuta had anticipated it and dodged, a gash still appeared across his torso.
Only Hajime's reversal saved him.
Yuta gritted his teeth.
"Kamihara san, I want to try something. I'll imitate his Technique."
Hajime hesitated.
It was a dangerous gamble. Orochi's power likely wasn't a Technique—it was something more. Something fundamental.
But Yuta had already moved. Using Rika's stored remnants of Orochi's body, he activated Imitation.
At the same moment, both their Time Wheels reached their limit. Recovery phase initiated.
Yuta charged Orochi, attempting to mimic his ability. He allowed himself to be cut down—deliberately.
Hajime once again reversed the damage.
But Yuta's face turned pale.
"It didn't work."
Hajime wasn't surprised. Orochi's revival wasn't just a Technique. There was something else. Something that couldn't be copied.
It reminded him of Gojo Satoru's Limitless—unique, bound to the self.
Suddenly, the sword glowed again. The eight dragon-serpent shadows returned, bursting from the halo behind Orochi.
The two Spellcasters instantly felt it—an overwhelming, primal danger.
Time Stop!
Hajime activated the Technique in its perfected form, grabbing Yuta and pulling him from harm's way.
Yet Orochi's range had expanded grotesquely. Even though the light couldn't reach inside the Time Stop zone, Hajime witnessed the chaos beyond.
Beams of light shattered across the sky, and from within them, even brighter explosions bloomed. What emerged wasn't destruction—it was radiant annihilation.
But then… darkness.
Black cracks began appearing in the sky, thin and almost invisible. Only the contrast against the blinding light made them detectable.
Hajime retreated, dragging the Time Stop field with him. The darkness spread—until it reached its limit.
He released the Technique.
The light faded. The black fissures vanished.
Silence.
All that remained was a lifeless, circular crater hundreds of meters wide. Not even pebbles had survived. The soil itself had turned to dust.
Yuta, stunned, couldn't speak. Rika had disappeared from the sheer damage. Hajime felt his body failing.
Pain erupted from every nerve. His Technique had overexerted his physical limits. He felt his consciousness slipping.
No.
He understood. Orochi had adapted. Even Time Wheel's recoil no longer hindered him.
But worse—Hajime had entered a moment of collapse. After the dual clash of Forward and Reverse, his Technique became unresponsive. In that brief window, he couldn't activate it at all.
His mind was unraveling. Consciousness thinning.
This was no longer metaphorical. This was death—real, irreversible.
If he didn't regain control…
He would die.
"A sorcerer never dies with regret."
Yaga's words echoed.
Regret welled up—then passed.
Hajime let go of it all.
And then… he saw it.
His Technique.
Not physically. But in some strange metaphysical space, he saw it.
A blur. A circle. Shifting forms—spikes, gears, uneven spokes.
A clock.
It shifted again, then condensed into a perfect sphere.
Master it…
He reached for it. The moment he touched it, the world exploded outward.
He stood on time itself—riding its currents, walking its banks, watching the flow.
And at the edge of oblivion… he woke up.
Hajime opened his eyes.
Before him stood Orochi, radiant and divine.
The sword gleamed.
And Hajime, breath steady, whispered:
"Time Wheel"
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