Deep beneath Jujutsu High, inside a clandestine war room, the atmosphere was as oppressively still as the calm before a tempest.
Upon a massive tactical display, ten crimson circles clamped onto the map of Japan like ten abyssal maws.
A full twelve hours had elapsed since the official commencement of the Culling Game.
Over the course of those twelve hours, the entirety of Japan had plummeted into an unmitigated living hell.
Communications were severed, transportation was paralyzed, and tens of millions of ordinary civilians were dragged by force into this deadly game, wailing in despair beneath the butcher knives of ancient sorcerers and rampant cursed spirits.
"The situation is even worse than we anticipated."
Suguru Geto stood before the tactical board, his face so dark it looked as though it could drip ink, while the Special Grade Cursed Spirit behind him surged with restless agitation.
"According to reports from our scouts stationed along the barriers' edges, these ten barriers don't merely sever physical entry and exit; even the flow of cursed energy has been forcibly distorted by an extraordinarily high-tier rule."
"The moment anyone steps inside a barrier, they are forcibly designated as a player. If they fail to kill and gain points within nineteen days, the rules will obliterate them directly."
Megumi Fushiguro folded his arms, his eyes fixed intently on the crimson circle representing Shibuya, a resolve to burn all bridges burning in his gaze.
As the Zenin family's newly minted head, he carried not only the duty of saving the jujutsu world, but also a deeply personal imperative that demanded fulfillment.
"Tsumiki..."
Megumi whispered his sister's name in his heart, his fists clenching involuntarily.
He would never permit any harm to befall his sister in this deranged game. Even if it meant laying down his life, he would bring Tsumiki Fushiguro out alive.
"All right, everyone."
Just then, Yoru's steady voice rang out in the war room, tinged with absolute certainty, instantly drawing every gaze to him.
He strolled before the tactical board, toying with a throwing dart in his hand as chilling glints flashed in his crimson eyes.
"Since Kenjaku has set the stage, we're going to smash his theater to pieces!"
"Facing these ten barriers, concentrating our forces would let us crush one or two easily enough, but that is far too slow."
Yoru snapped his hand forward, planting the dart firmly into the center of the tactical board with a crisp thud.
"If we crawl our way through them, every civilian in the other barriers will be slaughtered, and Kenjaku's plot will have already succeeded."
"Therefore, we have only one tactic—"
"A ten-pronged split, attacking on all fronts!"
Yoru turned, his gaze burning as it swept across everyone present.
"Itadori."
His name called, Yuji Itadori snapped to attention. Though officially dead to the world, the fighting spirit in his eyes had not dimmed in the slightest.
"Here!"
Yoru looked at him, his tone turning exceedingly solemn.
"You will infiltrate the Shinjuku barrier under your faked death."
"The Shinjuku barrier currently displays one of the most violent energy signatures known. Not only is it teeming with savage ancient sorcerers, but intelligence indicates that Hana Kurusu, the Angel capable of unsealing the Prison Realm, is very likely located there."
"You have two objectives: first, destroy the barrier's central control node; second, locate any trace of Hana Kurusu at all costs!"
Yuji nodded vigorously.
"Understood! I will definitely find 'Angel' and rescue Gojo-sensei!"
Yoru turned his gaze to Megumi Fushiguro.
"Fushiguro, lead the Zenin family's surviving elite sorcerers into the Shibuya Colony."
"Shibuya is ground zero for this catastrophe, and massive concentrations of unexorcised Special Grade Cursed Spirit energy linger there. Left unchecked, it could easily trigger a secondary disaster."
"Furthermore..." Yoru's tone softened slightly.
"I know Tsumiki is there. Bring her back safely. If you encounter an enemy you can't defeat, don't force a direct confrontation. Use the Ten Shadows Technique to maneuver and stall until our reinforcements arrive."
Megumi drew a deep breath, his eyes steadfast.
"Leave it to me."
Yoru's gaze shifted further, landing on Yuta Okkotsu, who had recently returned from overseas.
"Okkotsu, your assignment is the most unique."
"Didn't the higher-ups order you to purge non-compliant players? Ride that momentum. Ostensibly carry out their orders and roam between the various barriers."
"In truth, use the convenience of that role to quietly protect the civilians who have just awakened, and harness your formidable mobility to ruthlessly gather intel on that old fox Kenjaku!"
Yuta Okkotsu offered a faint smile, his fingers lightly brushing the hilt of his sword. Beneath that gentle demeanor lay a lethal intent potent enough to terrify even special-grade cursed spirits.
"Understood, Senior Yoru. I'll make anyone trying to hurt ordinary people regret ever being born."
Finally, Yoru turned to Choso, who was standing in the corner emanating a frigid aura.
"Choso, you will head to the Nagoya Colony alone."
"That is the sector where cursed spirits are rampaging most violently. Sending ordinary jujutsu sorcerers in there would be sending them to their deaths."
"You are different. You are the eldest brother of the Cursed Womb: Death Paintings, and your poisonous blood is the bane of all cursed spirits. I want you to slaughter every single rampaging cursed spirit in the Nagoya Colony. Leave none alive!"
Choso let out a cold snort, bottomless hatred for Kenjaku roiling within his eyes.
"Suits me fine."
"I will use the blood of those monsters to pay tribute to the agony my mother endured!"
With the assignments handed out one by one, the tension inside the war room reached its absolute zenith.
Every person present knew precisely what terrifying foes awaited them, and what brutal crucible of purgatory they were about to enter.
Yet not a single one backed down; not a single one flinched.
For at their vanguard stood the man who seemed utterly incapable of falling, who could invariably deliver miracles.
Looking at the comrades before him who had undergone complete transformations, Yoru felt a touch of gratification and emotion drift through his crimson eyes.
"Everyone."
Yoru's voice was low and resonant, carrying an enchantment that struck directly at the soul.
"The Culling Game is a ruthless game of slaughter. Inside the barriers, you will encounter ancient monsters resurrected from a millennium ago, and desperate thugs driven entirely mad for survival."
"However, remember this one thing."
Yoru slowly raised his right arm, clenching it into a firm fist.
"Our objective is not to kill, but to save."
"We step into this hell to end this catastrophe and to protect innocent lives."
"Therefore, whatever occurs, prioritize your own survival!"
"We go in alive together, and we bring this to an end alive together. Understood?!"
"Yes, sir!!!"
A deafening roar reverberated through the subterranean war room, a towering battle spirit surging forth as if to tear through the thick earth overhead and dispel the pall of despair.
The others turned away to commence their final pre-battle preparations.
Sorting cursed tools, steadying their focus, testing communication gear... Every action was executed with calm, unflinching determination.
They were warriors braced to lay down their lives, rebels poised to upend the rules.
Standing where he was, Yoru slowly drew Shiranui from his waist.
Clang—!
The crisp ring of the drawn blade cut through the silence of the chamber.
The crimson blade gleamed with a deadly sheen under the lamplight, and as if sensing its wielder's long-suppressed, monstrous bloodlust, a low draconic hum began to rumble from deep within the metal.
"Kenjaku..."
The corner of Yoru's mouth curled into an utterly icy sneer.
"Are you ready to face true terror?"
He snapped Shiranui back into its scabbard with a sharp click and strode toward the war room's heavy exit doors.
Behind him marched a terrifying legion potent enough to make the entire jujutsu society—and even ancient sorcerers from a millennium ago—tremble in fear.
With the slow grinding of the heavy metal doors, a freezing gust howled into the corridor.
Holding their respective death tickets, these monsters chosen by fate stepped toward the ten crimson barriers draped in blood and despair without looking back.
Awaiting them was an epic, bloody struggle transcending time and space—the most brutal, yet the most glorious of all.
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