These words struck like a boulder—silencing even the King of Curses. Sukuna's laughter stopped at once, the sound dying in his throat like a beast strangled mid-roar, leaving behind only a guttural, uncontrollable surge of excitement. The violent red light in his eyes flared; the black Cursed Markings on his face seemed to ignite. How long had it been? No—no one had ever spoken to him in that tone.
"Hahahaha! Good!" Sukuna's wild laughter erupted anew, shaking the ruins beneath them, filled with pure destructive delight. "Let this great one see what you're made of! Open—!"
He clapped his hands together, and violent flames compressed between his palms. The air shrieked in agony as the temperature surged. Fire twisted and folded upon itself, condensing into a shape that screamed with power.
His left hand rose, fingers forming a sword-sign; his right drew back as though drawing a thousand-ton bow. In that instant, a massive flaming longbow—woven from Cursed Energy and fire—manifested in his grasp. The bowstring hummed under impossible tension, and at its heart burned a crimson arrow, dripping heat, exuding the promise of total incineration.
"Here's a little welcome gift for you, bastard!" Sukuna snarled, and released.
The string snapped like thunder. The arrow vanished—no, it moved faster than perception, leaving only a streak of red fire across the sky. Air vaporized in its wake, opening a pitch-black vacuum tunnel.
A heartbeat later—
Rumble.
The clouds above where Taisai had floated collapsed inward and exploded. A fiery void hundreds of meters wide unfurled, its molten edges churning. The shockwave tore through the sky, scattering the heavens themselves.
Sukuna's crimson eyes fixed on the center of that blazing crater, his grin stretching wide, waiting to see his opponent burned to ash.
But—nothing. The space before him was empty.
A sudden chill sliced through the inferno, cutting through even his Cursed Energy barrier. It brushed the skin at his nape—cold, sharp, immediate. Sukuna's grin froze. His pupils twitched toward his right.
Taisai Tensei stood there—less than a meter away. His hood fluttered from the wind of his own movement, white hair catching the dying light. He was spotless, unbothered, not even breathing hard. The arrow that could vaporize mountains might as well have been a breeze brushing his cheek.
He didn't even look at Sukuna.
Thud.
Something hit the ground. Taisai flicked his left hand, and Jogo's blood-soaked body—half-alive, reeking of Cursed Energy residue—was tossed aside like refuse. He slammed into Panda, who barely managed to catch him, eyes wide and brain frozen.
Taisai's gaze swept over the stunned Kusakabe and Panda, still holding the unconscious Cursed Spirit.
"Not leaving yet?"
The space buzzed faintly—and they vanished, erased without a ripple.
Pfft. Pfft.
Two faint slicing sounds followed. The immobilized Cursed Users nearby, who had been frozen in fear, didn't even have time to scream. Their bodies—along with their weapons and clothes—split apart in perfect silence.
No blood, no sound. Only disintegration.
Their flesh, bones, and metal fractured into hundreds of perfectly uniform cubes, each cut so smoothly it reflected the flicker of distant firelight. The blood sealed instantly along the edges, giving the fragments a strange, dark crimson sheen.
Chunks of flesh and steel tumbled to the ground like discarded parts in a slaughterhouse. The silence of it all—the stillness amid the burning chaos—was more terrifying than any roar. Only now did Taisai turn fully toward Sukuna. His right hand rested on the Yamato's hilt; his thumb flicked the tsuba with a crisp click.
A sliver of steel slid free, gleaming like ice.
Sukuna's expression cracked. His markings writhed. Then he laughed again—a distorted, boiling laugh that twisted the air.
"Slash…?" he muttered, voice trembling between disbelief and mania.
His grin widened to an impossible degree, exposing sharp white fangs. "You're using a slash in front of me?"
The King of Curses roared with maddened joy. "Dismantle!"
His hand swept through the air, fingers forming a sword-sign. Space trembled; an invisible blade of pure will to kill crossed the distance in an instant.
But Taisai merely shifted half a step aside.
Whoosh.
The invisible slash screamed past, shearing a skyscraper behind him cleanly in two. The building groaned, then split and collapsed in a roar of concrete and steel. Taisai glanced at Sukuna, eyes calm, unshaken. The message in that look was wordless yet absolute: Is that all?
Sukuna's grin faltered for a breath—then exploded into greater frenzy.
"Interesting! Too interesting! Then again! Dismantle! Dismantle! Dismantle—!"
He became a storm of slashes. Invisible blades filled the sky, crossing, overlapping, carving through air, concrete, and space itself. Every swing was death incarnate.
But within that chaos, Taisai moved like drifting smoke. Each step, each tilt of his body carried absolute precision. He walked through the storm as though strolling through falling leaves. Every motion avoided death by millimeters. Every dodge was effortless grace.
Buildings fell. Glass rained. The ground split open. Yet around Taisai—silence. Not a thread of his cloak was touched. For ten endless seconds, Sukuna raged, his "Dismantle" tearing Shibuya apart.
Then he stopped, chest heaving, staring through the settling dust. Taisai still stood there. Unmoved. Unmarked.
His voice cut through the silence. "That's it?"
Sukuna's muscles spasmed with fury and disbelief. He lifted a trembling hand, gathering an abyssal sphere of black energy at his fingertip.
"'Dismantle.'"
The word fell like a curse. The pitch-black slash appeared before Taisai's brow without warning—a pure concept of cutting, the ultimate manifestation of death.
Clang.
A single chime echoed. Taisai's thumb flicked the hilt; the blade slid another inch. A faint flash, so sharp it seemed to sever light itself, split the air. The black slash froze, shattered, and vanished like a soap bubble. Sukuna's pupils constricted to pinpoints.
"He blocked it?!" His voice broke, rising into manic laughter. "Hahahaha! Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful! Bastard! You're different!"
Cursed markings writhed as he threw his arms wide. "Then allow me to return your courtesy! Domain Expansion—Malevolent Shrine!"
The world drowned in red.
Blood flooded the ground; a colossal shrine of bone rose behind him. The sea of filth churned with the wails of the dead. Every inch of space bent to his will.
"Savor it well! This feast!" Sukuna bellowed.
"Alright," Taisai answered softly. The single word dripped with frost. He slid one foot back, hand on the hilt, blade ready—the purest Iai stance.
Sukuna's laughter rose to madness. "Dismantle! Cleave! All of it!"
The world erupted. Infinite slashes rained from every direction; the sky, sea, and shrine became a killing field.
Taisai moved.
Clang—
The Yamato slid free, only three inches. Blue light bloomed like ripples across glass. Every slash met a line of cold steel, space itself cracking under the weight of precision.
"Dimensional Slash: Sever."
Crack—
Sukuna froze. His eyes widened. His domain—the sea of blood, the bone shrine, the omnipresent slashes—split cleanly down the middle.
Everything fell silent. Taisai sheathed his sword. The sound was crisp, final.
The Malevolent Shrine shattered like a mirror.
"Boring."