"What a pain." Damian let out a tired sigh. "How is it that I never noticed the existence of this?"
Several years had already passed since he awakened his memories, and yet, until that day, he had never clearly seen the cursed spirits.
But the explanation was simple: his body was no longer that of an ordinary human. The transformation brought about by Yamato and Ryūjin Jakka had elevated his essence so much that, although humans could not perceive it, cursed spirits could feel it with total clarity.
To them, Damian was an unfathomable well of strength, impossible to challenge, and by instinct they avoided him like animals fleeing from fire.
Standing at the edge of the rooftop, Damian closed his eyes.
In the inner darkness of his perception, the world began to light up in flashes: black dots represented cursed spirits, red ones the sorcerers who had fallen into darkness, blue ones the jujutsu sorcerers, and one in particular, tinged half red and half blue, corresponded to Yuji Itadori.
Damian placed a hand on the hilt of Yamato, took a deep breath, and in a single motion drew, swung the katana, and sheathed it again.
Simple.
And yet, from his body an invisible wave expanded, unseen to the human eye, an intangible blade that traveled at the speed of thought.
The cursed spirits wandering through the city, whether low-grade or grotesque special-grade aberrations, froze in place. It was as if an invisible hand were squeezing them, with such force that their bodies began to crack.
!
A second later, each one exploded, disintegrating into pieces that dissolved into a dark mist until vanishing completely.
On a nearby street, a colossal cursed spirit lunged at a defenseless ordinary person. Its gaping jaws never closed. In the very next second, its head slipped cleanly off its body, cut with such precision that not even a final roar escaped.
Its massive bulk collapsed to the ground, crumbling until it faded into ashes.
The cursed sorcerers did not escape either.
The red dots in his vision, sorcerers armed with cursed tools, ready to deliver a lethal blow against jujutsu sorcerers, felt an icy shiver crawl down their spines.
When they tried to react, it was already too late.
Their bodies were cut into multiple sections, so clean and precise that for a moment they still seemed intact.
A second later, blood burst into the air, staining the streets red.
On a nearby rooftop, Yuji and Megumi spoke in low voices, trying to devise a plan to find the angel once the barrier fell.
Suddenly, both shuddered at the same time. An invisible pressure swept through their bodies. Instinctively, they ran to the edge of the rooftop and looked down.
!
The streets were covered in blood. Players and cursed spirits still struggled, but many had already been cut apart, some split into four, others divided from top to bottom.
The two exchanged a look full of disbelief.
"Is it… Nero?" Yuji asked, incredulous.
The scene was as absurd as it was familiar. He had felt it before, in Shibuya, when inside his own body he witnessed Nero cut Sukuna's domain.
Megumi frowned and nodded. "It should be him. I don't know anyone else capable of something like this."
"Then… was it also him who destroyed the barrier?" Yuji clenched his fists uneasily.
Megumi nodded. "Aside from him, I don't see another possibility."
"..."
Silence stretched for a few seconds until Yuji let out a heavy sigh. "Megumi, tell me… if before entering we had gone to ask him for help, wouldn't we have avoided so many useless fights?"
Megumi did not respond immediately. His lips pressed together, as if the answer weighed more on him than he wanted to admit.
Finally, he murmured, "Yes."
And that response seemed to give Yuji a new drive.
"Then we don't need to look for the angel anymore! If Nero cuts the Prison Realm, everything is solved!"
Megumi turned his head toward him with a grimace of displeasure.
"Don't say nonsense. Do you really think it's that easy? The Prison Realm is a special-grade cursed object. Its structure is unique, reinforced with techniques we don't even understand. If someone tries to force it from the outside, the risk is enormous."
"They already tried before. And you know what happened? The internal seal became disordered, dividing into thousands of identical spaces. The true exit became almost impossible to find."
Yuji scratched his head in frustration.
"What a mess… but since Nero is so strong, who knows? Maybe he has a different way."
Megumi observed him in silence, thoughtful, before shaking his head.
"It's not just about power. Even if he tries, he could end up the same as the others. And besides… we don't even know where he is now, or if he would be willing to get involved in jujutsu affairs."
Yuji clenched his teeth. "After finally someone like him shows up, giving up without trying… it's stupid."
Megumi sighed and patted him on the shoulder.
"Let's stick to the original plan. Tengen said that Angel's technique can nullify all the others. If we find the angel, she could break the Prison Realm, and also help us against Kenjaku."
Yuji lowered his shoulders with resignation.
"All right, there's no other choice…" he murmured, and then, with renewed determination, added, "But when all this is over, I'm going to look for Nero. I want to ask him to teach me how to become stronger."
Megumi looked at him with a hint of weariness, though deep down he understood that determination.
"First focus on what's in front of us."
…
Tombs of the Star.
The solemn dome that had covered the sky no longer existed.
A gigantic crack had torn through it from side to side, and now its fragments were slowly falling to the ground like dead stars.
In the middle of the spectacle, Yuki remained seated, exhausted.
The white light of the reverse technique had just faded, and although the external wounds had closed, the internal impact still coursed through her body.
"…"
Her eyes, wide open, were fixed on the sky. She couldn't look away.
"The Culling Game barrier… disappeared just like that? Was it… that man?"
She slowly turned her face toward Tengen, who remained at her side.
The sage's expression, usually unshakable, showed something different, almost unrecognizable: a mixture of gravity and bewilderment.
"..."
He kept silent for a long moment, as if the words resisted leaving his mouth.
"It should… be him. That power… I had never witnessed it before. Like a…" He finally spoke, but his voice had a distant tone, as if it came from a dream.
He stopped, unable to define what he had seen.
"…Like a god."
Chōsō's voice completed his sentence.
Yuki and Tengen's eyes turned toward him. Their gazes, heavy with emotions difficult to decipher, met at a point of recognition.
Neither of them denied it and in the end, with resignation, both nodded.
The description, as unbelievable as it sounded, matched what they had witnessed.
A God.
"And now what do we do?"
Yuki finally spoke, shaking her head to clear the haze that still clouded her thoughts.
Tengen's gaze lifted again toward the horizon, beyond the remains of the dome, where the chaos was slowly fading and revealing the true extent of the devastation.
"We must free Satoru Gojo. The seal has already been broken… and Sukuna still exists."
Yuki made a grimace, her lips curving into a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Seriously? And what does it matter if Sukuna is back at his peak? In front of this 'god,' wouldn't it just take a single cut?"
Her tone sounded loaded with obviousness, as if the answer were evident.
"God does not lower himself to act."
But Chōsō spoke again, and his words were like a bucket of cold water.
Yuki glanced at him sideways, frowning.
"What do you mean by that?"
Chōsō held her gaze calmly and added, without looking away, "If it weren't because Kenjaku touched something that matters to him, he wouldn't have lifted a finger. He would have kept watching… even if the whole world burned."
"..."
Yuki's smile froze on her face.
Tengen slowly closed his eyes, without uttering a word. He didn't need to confirm anything: the truth in Chōsō's words was evident.
Absolute power did not bring salvation.
Especially when that force is seen through the eyes of someone who, to others, already seemed like a god.
The jujutsu high command.
Dimness dominated the room. Paper doors stood up, and the yellowish light of the lamps barely illuminated the center, leaving the corners sunk in motionless shadows.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Minutes passed that felt like hours.
Finally, an old voice broke the silence with difficulty:
"What did Nanami Kento report about his contact with Nero?"
There was a moment of hesitation. Then another voice, dry like old branches snapping, answered harshly, "He was not interested."
"..."
Silence returned heavier than before.
After what seemed like an eternity, a different voice, more hesitant and trembling, dared to ask, "Then... how should we consider Nero?"
"Consider?" The first voice interrupted with sarcasm.
"You must be joking, right? We should worry less about how we consider him and more about how he considers us."
A murmur of displeasure ran through the room, barely audible. The shadowed speaker shifted and added:
"Let us not make Satoru Gojo's mistake. To Nero, we are no more than rotten refuse that can be swept away at any moment. And if we manage to avoid being viewed that way by him... that will be a start."
"You...!" another voice burst out, full of impotent rage. But it could go no further.
How to refute that? With what arguments?
Had they not all seen the same thing? That force that had destroyed the barrier and annihilated curses in a single instant, as if a god had extended a hand to punish the world.
Then, from the main seat, a grave, ancient voice rose.
"Treat him with kindness."
"If he asks for anything... grant it unconditionally."
This time there was no debate.
All that remained was a deathly silence, in which the shadows seemed to nod in resignation.
Power? Dignity? In front of someone capable of rewriting the rules of the world in an instant, those concepts were no more valuable than a feather tossed to the wind.
In the end, life mattered more than any pride.
Especially when facing a god who does not obey laws or norms and who decides to wield his sword according to the whim of his mood.
The room's silence broke again, this time over another matter.
"What shall we do with Satoru Gojo and Yūji Itadori?" asked an old female voice. "With Yūji's reappearance, it is clear that Yūta Okkotsu deceived us. He is covering up a danger."
"We cannot allow it," cut in another voice. "Yūji Itadori must be executed immediately. As Sukuna's vessel he is an intolerable risk."
"Agreed."
"Execute him."
The responses came quickly. With Kenjaku already removed from the board, they sought another target to redirect the pressure and regain control: the figure of Yūji, and everything his mere existence represented.
In the main seat, the oldest voice raised its authority without ceremony and issued the order.
"Execute him immediately. Send Yuki Tsukumo and Nanami Kento to lead the team. Gather the available sorcerers and cut down the threat: surround and eliminate Yūji Itadori."
There was a brief stiffness among the shadows behind the paper doors.
Because everyone knew what it meant to put Yuki Tsukumo and Nanami Kento in charge.
It was not blind trust. It was, at best, a political move and, at worst, a trap.
Yuki Tsukumo was unpredictable, someone who followed her own compass and despised submitting to them without question. Nanami Kento, for his part, was steadfast to the point of stubbornness, his sense of justice making him poorly suited to arbitrary orders.
Putting the two of them together to command such a hunt reeked of distrust and calculation.
Because the mission was no longer solely about controlling the material danger that Sukuna's vessel represented.
What they feared was not just Yūji Itadori: it was the angel that Yūji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro were searching for.
Finding the angel meant the possibility of freeing Satoru Gojo.
And Satoru Gojo running loose again was the worst nightmare for those who wanted to preserve order and the jujutsu monopoly.
Assigning two distant, unruly, and in some ways uncomfortable figures to lead the operation was not just delegating responsibility, it was forcing a decision. Either they act zealously and demonstrate loyalty, or they become exposed and compromised.
It was a way to force them to take sides.
They sought concrete results: Yūji dead, the angel trail erased, and Satoru Gojo sealed forever.
…
Yuki ended the call, put her phone in her pocket, and flashed a mischievous smile.
"Oh, really? Surround and kill the brat?" she said, amused. She looked at Chōsō and Tengen beside her, raising an eyebrow.
"And they make me the leader? How funny."
Chōsō, next to her, looked at her with his unperturbed scarlet eyes. "Yūji is like a brother to me," he answered tersely, "What are you going to do?"
Yuki twisted her neck and her smile grew wider, with an almost dangerous glint in her eyes.
"What am I going to do? Well, I will hunt him, of course. Did you expect anything else?"
Tengen watched the scene without comment. Chōsō turned his gaze away, already understanding how Yuki had read the order.
The leadership's intent was obvious: to appear in control.
But execution always had its variables. Yuki in command complicated everything. The relationship between hunter and prey stopped being simple, and that was something the elders had not fully accounted for.
…
Elsewhere, Nanami adjusted his glasses and read the order on the screen. "Surround and eliminate Yūji Itadori."
"..."
Quiet, he put the phone away and lingered for a moment longer, looking out at the city around him.
Then he turned and walked off in a determined direction.
________
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