Kamo Itsuki shifted course, his destination now the Eighty-Eight Bridge. Even if the finger wasn't there yet and Tsumiki remained unmarked, the trip wouldn't be wasted. A curse lurked beneath those arches—a mole-like spirit that, while not overwhelmingly powerful, was notoriously evasive. Exorcising it now would save lives and serve as a convenient field test.
He recalled Fushiguro Megumi's struggle with the creature in another timeline. He had no intention of engaging in a lengthy chase.
'Time to test the new system,' he thought.
One of the core functions of his super-barrier research was spatial concentration—the ability to forcibly gather all cursed spirits within a defined area to a single point. Informed by his recent dissection of the Prison Realm's sealing principles, he had a working prototype.
With swift, practiced hand seals, he activated the technique. An invisible web of cursed energy unfolded, draping over the entire bridge and the ravine below.
Under the bridge, within its hidden nest, the mole curse jolted awake. An irresistible, directionless force seized it. Before it could even shriek, it was ripped from its domain.
On the bridge's surface, a flash of distorted light coalesced, and the disoriented mole curse materialized directly in front of Kamo.
Terrified by the abrupt displacement, it ignored the human entirely, scrambling to burrow back to safety. Kamo gave it no quarter.
Blood Manipulation: Spider Spear.
Three crimson threads, thin as wire and dense as neutron stars, shot from his fingertips. Their tips, forged from blood-iron via Construction Technique principles, were monomolecularly sharp. They pierced the curse's form—forehead, torso, base—with surgical precision.
A single, choked gurgle, and the mole curse dissolved into smoke.
Kamo observed, satisfied. The barrier's drag-and-drop function worked flawlessly. With refinement, it could become a universal tool for corralling pests below Special Grade.
'Spider Spear is efficient,' he noted, the hybrid of Construction and Piercing Blood proving its worth.
As the curse's remnants faded, an object clattered to the ground: a gnarled, withered finger pulsating with malevolent aura. One of Sukuna's twenty.
A surge of triumph. He willed blood threads to gently lift the finger, preparing to deposit it into the Blood Prison on his hand.
"Give it back, you filthy stray monkey!"
The voice was a blade of frost, slicing through the night. Kamo turned.
A woman stood on the bridge, naked under the moonlight, her skin gleaming with an eerie, metallic silver sheen. Her eyes held the absolute zero of deep space, fixed on him with furious contempt.
Recognition clicked instantly. Uro. The ancient sorcerer, a fanatical devotee of Sukuna from a thousand years past. Her technique: a supreme Construction ability, allowing her to replicate any matter she'd seen with near-perfect fidelity, a skill honed to the point of generating autonomous liquid metal—a feat of cursed energy control almost unheard of.
She was here for the finger. And she was not asking.
And her ultimate technique was a form of biorganic armor, modeled after insectoid physiology, which could massively amplify her close-quarters combat prowess, turning her into a ferocious, inhuman beast.
'Her cursed energy level... she's already at Special Grade. No wonder the barrier didn't drag her in.'
"You are Uro, correct?" Kamo's voice was calm, analytical. "Kenjaku shouldn't have unsealed you yet. How were you able to incarnate?"
Uro was one of the ancient sorcerers who had signed a binding vow with Kenjaku. The trigger for their release was supposed to be Sukuna's successful resurrection. Yet here she was, with Kenjaku incapacitated and Sukuna's vessel not yet activated. Her designated vessel, Tsumiki Fushiguro, was also clearly not the body she was inhabiting.
"You know of Kenjaku? Of my contract?" Uro's icy eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"Kenjaku and I are... collaborators. The plan changed. He sent me to retrieve the finger," Kamo lied smoothly, without missing a beat.
"Is that so?" Uro seemed to waver, then her suspicion hardened. "No... that can't be. This finger of Sukuna-sama is mine. No one else may take it. I had the mole curse outside prepare a fresh body at all times. The moment anyone tries to claim the finger, I incarnate immediately. Kenjaku knows this. If he sent you, he would have told you."
'So that's it,' Kamo realized. The mole curse wasn't just a guardian; it was a keeper of sacrificial vessels. 'How many people has she killed over the years to maintain this 'preparation'?' The question was rhetorical. His judgment was instant and final: she was a monster who traded lives for her obsession. Her execution was already decided.
"I see. Your devotion is... profound," Kamo said, his voice dripping with a cold contempt he didn't bother to mask.
"Now that you understand, return Sukuna-sama's finger! I lost its aura for a moment, but I know it's on you. Sukuna-sama and I share one heart. What have you done to his beautiful finger?!" Her voice rose to a shriek.
'Beautiful?' Kamo looked at the mummified, grotesque digit wrapped in his blood threads. "It's a desiccated corpse of a finger. Your love has truly blinded you."
He understood now. Sorcerers drew power from negative emotions, and most harbored some extremity. But to ascend, one had to master those demons. Uro was not a master; she was a slave—a rabid fanatic trapped in a millennium-old delusion. No wonder Sukuna, a being of pure, self-serving will, held no regard for her.
She wasn't just an enemy. She was a pathetic, dangerous relic. And she was in his way.