The rain falls. It lashes against my skin. Cold.
Lying on my back, I stare up at the sky. I watch the downpour as it spills from dark, stagnant clouds. My gaze is hollow. Cold.
My body is freezing. My senses have all but shut down. Cold.
Blood spills from my wounds. It drains away, faster and faster, as my life ebbs out of me. Death is closing in. I'm shivering.
I can't even remember how I ended up like this… I've forgotten. Why am I dying here?
"You were close."
A voice suddenly cuts through the air.
"If you hadn't divided your focus among the common rabble back then, you might have been the one standing here."
The rhythmic splash-splash of footsteps on the wet ground draws closer. Along with the sound comes a crushing pressure—an overwhelming torrent of strength that only the truly absolute can radiate.
"Therefore… Stand proud. You are strong."
—For as long as I live, I shall never forget you.
With those words, the man stepped into my field of vision.
"…Heh."
Ah, I know him. I know that face all too well. After all, we were trying to kill each other until just a moment ago.
The Honored One. He who lives only by the compass of his own pleasure and displeasure.
The King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna… the man who killed me.
That's right. I fought him, and he beat me to a pulp. It was a thrashing so total that there wasn't room for a single excuse.
I lost the clash of Domains. Most of my Shikigami—save for Mahoraga—were pulverized. I was completely outclassed in hand-to-hand combat and the application of cursed techniques.
It was a total defeat. A crushing, absolute loss… so one-sided that I couldn't even feel resentment. I didn't even force him to use his trump card, let alone his flames.
So why? Why is he praising me?
I'm not Satoru Gojo. I didn't back Sukuna into a corner the way that man did. I was overwhelmed in every single category. I am nothing like the "Strongest" who will be born hundreds of years from now—the man who would eventually dominate a Sukuna who had regained nineteen fingers and taken measures to reach his true prime.
So why do you praise me? Why do you look down at me with such a refreshed smile? I don't understand.
I don't understand… and I hate it.
"…Heh… haha… hahahaha…"
I squeeze out the last of my strength. I dig my hands into the mud, forcing my trembling legs to hold, forcing my creaking, broken body to rise.
Not yet. It's not enough. I haven't shown you a single thing worthy of that recognition yet.
Don't acknowledge me. Not yet. Reserve that judgment until you've seen this.
"...Thank you, Sukuna."
The words of gratitude spill out. Sukuna waited for me. I owe him that much.
I don't care why he waited. It was likely just the arrogance of the strong, or perhaps he was simply amused and wanted to see what would happen. If he hadn't, I'd have been diced to ribbons by now.
I churn my cursed energy. I don't give a damn what happens to my body. There's no time for Reverse Cursed Technique.
All my Shikigami—except for Mahoraga—have been destroyed.
Divine Dogs, Nue, Great Serpent, Rabbit Escape, Toad, Round Deer, Piercing Ox, Mourning Tiger, Max Elephant… you crushed them all with your own hands.
Now, I take all those destroyed Shikigami… and I pass their power on. Everything is inherited by Mahoraga.
But even that isn't enough. That alone won't kill Sukuna. It's not nearly enough for a monster like him.
I know the future. I know that Mahoraga was erased in a single blow by Sukuna. I know it was vaporized by Satoru Gojo. If I leave it as it is, it will fail.
So, I craft a Binding Vow. If what I have isn't enough, I'll simply pile more onto the scale.
First: From the moment I summon this creature, I will never be able to use my cursed technique again. I relinquish all rights to the technique's activation and transfer them entirely to Mahoraga.
Second: I surrender my ownership of Mahoraga. I cede all control to the Shikigami itself… meaning I will no longer be able to command it.
And third, the final piece: I grant Mahoraga a "self." I give it a soul.
With these three constraints, I establish the conditions to summon an Enhanced Mahoraga.
...Even I have to admit, it's a bizarre Vow.
Giving up my technique forever is insane. It's throwing away my entire life as a sorcerer. In this era, that's essentially suicide.
Furthermore, because the technique is transferred to Mahoraga, it won't stop acting even if I die—or even if Sukuna dies. Well, the current members of the Gojo clan will just have to deal with that. I already told them its weaknesses.
Relinquishing ownership—giving up control—is equally nonsensical. It means returning Mahoraga to its untamed state. There's a ninety-nine percent chance it will kill me the moment it appears.
And the third part… giving it a "self." I don't even know what that means. I don't know if Shikigami have souls, but if I give it a defined ego, there's no telling what it might do. Can you even give a soul to a Shikigami? The question flickers through my mind.
"Well... whatever."
I cast the doubt aside. It doesn't matter.
I know myself best. The moment I chose not to prioritize Reverse Cursed Technique, my death was sealed. Blood is gushing out of me, splashing onto the ground. It's easy to see I'll be dead from blood loss within minutes.
If I'm going to die anyway, nothing else matters.
If I have one regret, it's that I won't get to see with my own eyes what this Enhanced Mahoraga looks like. That's the only thing. I have nothing else left to leave behind.
Straighten your back. Stand tall. It wouldn't do to look pathetic in front of the King.
Refine the cursed energy. Wring out every drop. Pour my very life into this and show the King my masterpiece.
"With this treasure, I summon—"
—Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga.
This… is everything I am.
The next time I opened my eyes, I had somehow become a child…
Wait, what?