Chapter 867: Enhancements for the Spirits
[Damaged Demonic Statue of the Outer Path]
[Quality: World's Rarity]
[Description: The remains of a demonic entity from a certain realm. Upon replenishing what it lacks, it can be restored to life.]
[Usage Requirement: None]
[Effect: Can be reactivated once replenished with the corresponding chakra.]
Kaito Shirogane's gaze continually drifted across the various trade listings on his tablet. Although Black Butler and Tenkyo had already conducted a preliminary screening, the current trading audience of the Paradise effectively encompassed the entirety of the Infinite Dimensional Space.
High-tier and pinnacle Reincarnators and coalitions from other regional districts crossed boundaries to seek trading opportunities with the Paradise.
To a certain extent, the Paradise had become a symbol—an open haven capable of accommodating any Reincarnator and hosting high-level transactions.
This phenomenon was compounding daily. In a place like the Reincarnation Space, once resources began to pool, psychological conformity and the pursuit of premium goods caused that concentration to expand exponentially in a short window.
Consequently, the trade listings on Kaito's screen remained exceedingly vast.
Virtually nothing below purple quality met the eye; items of World's Rarity occupied the overwhelming majority.
Kaito felt that this shift in trade quality directly reflected the rapid progression of the current generation of Reincarnators.
Just as he had always recognized: Reincarnators were a short-lived species characterized by volatile, explosive growth.
Trading an expected lifespan far lower than that of any transcendent species granted them a growth velocity exceeding any supernatural race.
A Reincarnator's ascension was measured in months, weeks, or even days.
Surviving a single successful deployment and securing the appropriate assets allowed a Reincarnator to undergo a total metamorphosis with the assistance of the Space's systemic Information.
This developmental leap was something elves, devils, dragons, gods, and astral spirits could never match.
The collective baseline of the Reincarnators rose continuously through this unending cycle of mortality and turnover.
When Kaito had first stepped into the Space, reaching the upper echelon of the Strong Step was enough to command renown, and Fierce Step operatives represented the apex ceiling.
Now, top-tier operatives had firmly consolidated themselves within the mid-to-high tiers of the Fierce Step, while Sovereign Monarchs began grazing the threshold of the Madness tier.
Outliers like himself and Yoko had thoroughly crossed into that realm, setting their sights on the once-unattainable God Step.
Less than half a year had elapsed.
This rapid step-by-step migration was the most direct manifestation of the supreme authority wielded by the Infinite Dimensional Space—the entity known as the Observer.
Kaito had not consciously parsed it, but his instincts had long classified Reincarnators as an independent transcendent race, rather than ordinary mortals blessed with strange fortunes.
Even had he noticed, he wouldn't have cared.
The moment an operative was chosen by the Observer, their fate severed all ties with mundane humanity.
Though the ultimate end for most was to perish unremembered in an obscure derivative realm after a handful of harrowing deployments, they had grasped the opportunity to break through biological shackles—a privilege denied to common mortals across their entire lifespans.
A flash of light washed over the chamber, and Kaito materialized back in the mortal world. Floating in the open sky above the complex, he still held the digital tablet.
Many transactions could now be completed directly on the terrestrial plane; squandering time inside the private quarters was unnecessary.
Furthermore...
Kaito drifted down toward the roof of the Black Tower. Clad in black-and-red plate armor, Artoria stood alongside Madara Uchiha in his iconic combat gear. Leaning against the parapet of the tier below, projecting outward indifference while her sensory focus was wound to the absolute limit, was White Face. All of them were assembled.
As quasi-summoned entities whose very existence was tethered to Kaito, they were acutely sensitive.
They had registered that the chasm separating their power from their host's was widening at terrifying speed. Soon, they might lose even the marginal utility required to handle trivial errands.
Before a host like Kaito, losing utility was functionally identical to having your future extinguished.
Much like that guardian spirit still lingering aimlessly among the anonymous shades of the Underworld, virtually stripped of the possibility of manifesting an independent vessel.
Proud as Madara was, he had to acknowledge this existential crisis. Above all, he distinctly parsed the anomaly of that white-haired youth currently floating in mid-air, gazing down upon them.
The aura radiating from Gojo was fundamentally distinct. The sheer density of his presence stirred a long-dormant tremor within Madara's chest.
A qualitative disparity in the very mass of the soul.
Gojo looked down upon his colleagues with an unvarnished, teasing smirk, radiating smug superiority.
Kaito harbored no pressing need to enhance these quasi-summoned entities. Yet catching sight of the Damaged Demonic Statue of the Outer Path in the trade ledger, paired with Madara's taut expression, sparked a fleeting whim.
Perhaps granting them a measured upgrade would spare him the annoyance of intervening personally in minor skirmishes moving forward.
When dealing with insignificant weaklings, Kaito lacked the patience to track them down. If an annoyance stood before him, crushing them with a flick of his finger was trivial; for rats scurrying in the dark, fielding a capable pack of hounds was far more practical.
Kaito had never operated as a team player, but these spirits hungering for reinvention could serve as instruments to police sovereign territories under his banner.
"White Face. Step forward. Let me see your blueprint."
At Kaito's command, White Face vaulted upward aboard her phantom fox. The long-absent Black Face and Gilgamesh—who had rarely manifested since being struck down in the Little Garden—emerged in sequence.
Kaito's personal legion of spirits convened atop the Black Tower.
Deep beneath the tower's foundations, Tenkyo watched the spiritual density readouts on his monitoring grid spike violently, momentarily suspecting that the Spiritual Calamity had breached the heart of the Paradise.
He dismissed the panic in the next breath; packed with high-tier Reincarnators, the Paradise was the least viable breeding ground for an outbreak.
Moreover, his arrays had previously documented Mercenary Tao floating through municipal sectors, passively vacuuming and dissolving every spirit in his path.
Lord Mercenary Tao commanded absolute, sovereign dominion over spiritual bodies.
That terrifying control had briefly led Tenkyo to suspect his Lord was the genuine architect behind the global disaster.
White Face raised her chin, her perpetually sullen eyes peeking out from beneath straight bangs. Sizing up Kaito's presence, she immediately purged every stray, rebellious thought from her mind.
Through her guardian spirit, she had caught sight of Lord Shigure lingering within the Paradise. The sovereign she had once served had quietly submitted beneath Mercenary Tao's banner.
Her contemporaries—Tan Zhishan, Qiqi, names that had rung like thunderclaps during her early days as an active operative—had grown thoroughly accustomed to serving under his command.
Mercenary Tao and herself occupied entirely different dimensions of existence. That long-accepted reality was etched into her consciousness with crushing weight once more.
"I have outlined a framework. I intend to use the conceptualized 'World' architecture of the Type-Moon cosmology as a foundation, paired with the Phase manipulation techniques of the Toaru universe, to reinforce the structural durability of this reality."
Touching upon her field of expertise, White Face seemed to reclaim a shred of her former arrogance, a small canine tooth peeking past her lips.
"Those fools informed me that Phase manipulation is not unobtainable; it merely demands an exorbitant price. I trust that with your—with Lord Mercenary Tao's current standing, securing it will be effortless~"
Her habitual mocking cadence caused Gojo's eyes to narrow. He harbored lingering malice toward this girl who had once orchestrated an attempt to curse him to death.
Even if she stood leagues below him today.
Gojo made zero effort to conceal his pressure. Cursed energy was little more than a superficial mask for him now, and he deliberately weaponized that suffocating weight to grind down White Face's posture.
The Toaru universe...
Hearing the name, Kaito narrowed his eyes. In a sense, that realm was no less perilous than the Dragon Ball cosmos.
While planetary annihilation and the slaughter of civilizations were not daily occurrences like in Dragon Ball, on a conceptual level, the Toaru cosmology was arguably far deadlier for Reincarnators.
The Magic Gods—entities commanding infinite, unconstrained power—idly peered down upon reality, meddling in the mortal plane through exotic phases.
What did Reincarnators look like in the eyes of an authentic Magic God?
How would the Observer of the Infinite Dimensional Space react before the authority of a Magic God? Would the Space completely sever an operative's opportunity to make contact with such beings...?
Kaito found his curiosity stoked, gesturing for White Face to continue.
The proposals submitted by others—Amatsu introducing the Greater Will to convert the Siberian tundra into a new Lands Between, or Tan Zhishan attempting to breach the oceanic rift into the Kaiju dimension—were merely temporary stopgaps in Kaito's eyes, failing to address the structural bottleneck.
His personal power was scaling at a violent velocity; low-tier structural reinforcement was entirely meaningless.
A Phase was a specialized metaphysical architecture, rooted in high-level sorcery. Conceptually, it was feasible: an operative leaning heavily into the magical arts needed only to deploy into the Toaru universe and extract it through targeted objectives.
Securing entry into organizations like the Golden Dawn, or looting the Index library, offered viable avenues.
The caveat was the collateral risk: drawing the ire of a Magic God meant that even pinnacle Reincarnators would be erased without contest.
How to locate an operative of the magical branch willing to undertake that gamble...
Kaito set the logistical hurdle aside. Mortals could always be swayed; whether through trade or coercion, his current leverage sufficed to achieve nearly any design.
White Face understood this reality as well, hurriedly adding:
"Compared to Phase manipulation, the greater challenge lies in constructing the conceptual 'World' native to Type-Moon!"
"That serves as the foundational bedrock for reinforcing reality."
"I believe we require a true King of Men capable of shouldering the Human Order—weaving the Human Order into metaphysical threads to re-anchor the planetary surface, synthesizing the mythologies, histories, cultures, and faiths of the globe to forge a brand-new 'World'."
"If that proves insufficient, securing the monarch who wields the Holy Lance of the End to anchor the pin would be optimal..."
White Face's proposal was wild and unhinged. Artoria's expression shifted subtly before settling back into rigid composure.
In her current state, she had zero opportunity to claim the throne of a monarch shouldering the Human Order, let alone unseal Rhongomyniad.
Kaito tapped his fingers against the air, translucent ripples expanding into the void.
A King of Men... What a coincidence.
Prompted by Amatsu's counsel earlier, he had casually snatched the Old King, Dongjin, straight from the grip of the King of Rats.
Now, Dongjin's younger sister resided safely within the perimeter of the Paradise.
That arrangement was a calculated measure drafted by the Paradise's think-tank, verified through mind reading, divination, and Amatsu's prophetic sight.
So long as the girl named Dongdong dwelled within the Paradise, Dongjin was firmly bound to their sphere of influence.
Which meant that the so-called King of Men—at least, a King of Men across select timelines—was already clutched in his palm.
Phase manipulation was equally within reach.
Kaito clearly discerned the blueprint to reshape reality.
"Very well, White Face. I will grant you an opportunity: the chance to initiate a complete Taizan Fukun Sai once more."
Kaito was rigorously fair regarding rewards and penalties. White Face had delivered an actionable strategy, and he would grant her heart's desire.
He knew well that White Face remained fixated on the interrupted Taizan Fukun Sai back in the Jujutsu realm.
She harbored the lingering fantasy that had Kaito not usurped that ritual, she would have claimed that power, securing the credentials to walk the path of the Shaman King.
Gojo, who had been actively crushing White Face beneath his aura, scoffed aloud. He looked down upon the plotting girl with clear amusement.
She possessed cunning schemes, but her comprehension of power was laughably superficial. He knew she lacked the singular, foundational spark of the truly strong: pure, predatory instinct!
White Face's heart, reconstituted from All the World's Evil, hammered against her ribs. She had endlessly rationalized that had she exercised greater caution during the Jujutsu deployment to complete the ritual, she would be standing where Mercenary Tao stood today.
She believed she could have done it better.
Ambition was its own form of power.
Kaito paid zero mind to her inner turmoil; an operative driven by wild ambition was infinitely superior to a cowardly deadweight who dared not even dream.
"Accordingly, I will extend corresponding opportunities to the rest of you."
"Artoria, I will grant you a path toward the Root."
"Madara, I will grant you the chance to plant the Divine Tree once more."
"And you, Black Face..."
Kaito turned his gaze toward his most devout subordinate. Black Face, his features covered in dark runic scriptures, commanded the highest spiritual density and systemic standing among the assembled spirits.
"This Spiritual Calamity... you shall oversee its resolution."
As Kaito spoke, blue-and-white radiance erupted from Black Face's eyes. The crushing spiritual pressure caused even Gojo to furrow his brow.
Though Gojo had shattered his mortal limits, this Black Face radiated an oppressive gravity that remained deeply unsettling.
"I shall not fail the King's command!"
Black Face had originally been the Shinigami of the Naruto cosmos who devoured souls—a divine entity of modest standing. Yet after absorbing a fragment of divinity from the Abyssal God of absolute frost within the A Song of Ice and Fire realm, his systemic status had experienced a massive qualitative leap.
Having subsequently devoured countless wandering spirits within Kaito's Sea of Consciousness, and having been thoroughly subjugated by Kaito's Soul King essence after an ill-fated challenge, he had mutated into an existence closely mirroring a Soul Reaper.
His baseline spiritual pressure was terrifyingly vast.
He resembled a spirit operating at the echelon of a Vasto Lorde.
Assigning him to purge the Spiritual Calamity was a flawless tactical match.
The next microsecond, his hand clamped around the hilt of his zanpakuto, Black Face vanished into thin air. An arc of blue-and-white sword light cleaved through the outskirts of the Paradise, pulverizing hundreds of spectral entities into dust in a single stroke.