On the outskirts of Shibuya, the four Cursed Spirits, blown away by a casual strike from Sukuna, crashed into different ruins like broken toys discarded by a naughty child.
To the northeast, amidst the burning wreckage of a building, Jogo struggled to pull himself out from the twisted rebar and concrete.
His iconic volcanic head had several deep cracks, the flow of lava had become sluggish, and his single eye was filled with shock and a lingering, intense pain.
"Just now... what was that speed..."
He whispered hoarsely, his voice distorted by pain. "I couldn't see it at all... I couldn't even catch an afterimage..."
That punch wasn't just terrifyingly powerful, it carried an absolute speed that transcended his understanding.
If not for the tenacious vitality of a Special Grade Cursed Spirit and his elemental traits, that single Black Flash would have been enough to completely dissipate him.
To the southwest, a "garbage heap" composed of withered branches, fallen leaves, crushed flowers, and viscous sap slowly writhed, re-forming Hanami's mangled body.
They had no vocal organs, but the natural aura of sorrow permeating their surroundings was now mixed with an unprecedented gravity.
In the waters to the southeast, a large number of blue bubbles gurgled to the surface. Mahito's fragmented body slowly floated up. The innocent yet cruel smile on his face had completely vanished for the first time, replaced by a cold, almost inorganic contemplation.
He "felt" the pain of his body being forcibly torn apart and his Cursed Energy structure nearly shattered, as well as the near-instinctive shuddering caused by the absolute power gap.
"This won't do... it won't do at all..."
Mahito tilted his head, the eyes beneath his stitches rolling.
"Even if Idle Transfiguration can change the shape of the soul, in the face of that speed and power, I can't even touch him. There's no other way..."
He looked at his nearly destroyed right arm that he had fished out of the water. A tiny, almost "reluctant" flicker flashed deep in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by deeper madness and curiosity.
"Although I'm very reluctant... I have no choice but to use that, do I?"
In a crevice to the northwest, a dark blue viscous substance seeped from the rock fissures, re-coalescing into Dagon's blurred silhouette.
The bone armor he had just finished evolving was almost entirely shattered, his single eye was dim, and he let out a painful whimper. As a Cursed Spirit who relied entirely on devouring and fear to grow, his perception of the power gap was the most direct.
Sukuna's punch was like a natural disaster, impossible to resist.
Just as the four Cursed Spirits were each struggling to recover in the ruins, their hearts filled with helplessness and a faint dread—
"Cough... cough cough..."
Jogo coughed, and from inside his broken shell, he used his lava-like fingers to laboriously dig out a small object.
A piece of the Gun Devil's flesh.
This was something that Kenjaku had handed over to them during their previous cooperation with him.
At the time, he had simply said nonchalantly, "Keep it, it might be useful at a critical moment. The power of devils is of the same origin as curses but of a different nature. It's quite interesting, isn't it?"
Jogo's single eye stared fixedly at the piece of flesh in his palm, which emitted an ominous aura. As a Special Grade Cursed Spirit, he could feel the pure and terrifying concept of the "fear of weapons" contained within it, as well as an extremely strong, alien energy that sought to erode, transform, and merge with everything.
"Damn him..." Jogo gritted his teeth.
He wasn't stupid. Recalling Kenjaku's expression and words from that time, everything began to connect.
That old fox had long anticipated that they might not be able to face Sukuna or Satoru head-on, so he had given them this "backup plan," or rather... poison.
"We, as Cursed Spirits... merging with this 'devil' thing..."
Jogo's voice lowered, carrying a hint of bewilderment and resolve. "What kind of monsters will we become?"
"Heh... who knows..."
Mahito's voice rang out in the consciousness of the other three Cursed Spirits through a kind of soul resonance. At some point, he had found a small piece of flesh from the water and was curiously poking it with his fingertip.
"But didn't he give this to us just to see this? To see us driven into a corner, swallowing this thing and turning into monsters that even we don't recognize... This is probably his greatest pleasure and experiment, isn't it?"
Hanami silently took a piece of flesh that had drifted near them.
Dagon also used a mucous tentacle to fish out his portion from a mountain crevice.
"Perhaps after eating this, we will no longer be ourselves. But in the wilderness a hundred years from now, as long as curses are laughing, that will be enough."
The four Special Grade Cursed Spirits, in different ruins, simultaneously stuffed the pieces of the Gun Devil's flesh, which radiated cold malice, into the cores of their mangled bodies or swallowed them directly.
"Aaaaaaaagh—"
"Hiss..."
"Ugh..."
"Roar—"
Shrill, painful screams mixed with inhuman bellows erupted from four locations at once.
The fusion process was far more painful and bizarre than they had imagined. It wasn't a simple stacking of power, but a forced collision, erosion, and reconstruction between different concepts of fear.
Jogo felt as if countless cold, high-speed rotating metal slugs had been stuffed into his lava body. They tore, pierced, and then attempted to merge with his scorching Cursed Energy, forming a bizarre substance where heat and sharpness coexisted.
His volcanic head deformed, and what erupted from the cracks was no longer pure fire and lava, but a terrifying torrent of metal fragments mixed with dark red, high-temperature jets.
Hanami's plant-like body twisted and mutated wildly. Sharp metal structures resembling gun barrels or bayonets grew on their tough vines, and crystals resembling telescopic sights condensed in the centers of withered flowers.
Mahito's transformation was the most horrific. On his body, the stitches were no longer decorative but appeared as marks of being repeatedly pierced and torn by invisible bullets and then forcibly sewn back together.
His arms could deform at will, turning into rotating gun barrels, sharp bayonets, or bizarre organs that fired invisible "soul bullets."
Dagon's dark blue body, which carried a sense of drowning, became covered in structures resembling the rusted metal of a ship's hull and sharp harpoons. His mucus became highly corrosive and adhesive, as if mixed with fuel and deep-sea pressure.
His single eye turned into a compound eye structure similar to a periscope, flickering with a cold, locking light.
Pain, chaos, and then a new, cold, and violent sense of power surged within them. The essence of the Cursed Spirits and the Gun Devil's "fear of weapons" concept underwent an unpredictable chemical reaction, giving birth to even more distorted, dangerous, and indescribable existences, which could temporarily be called "Devil Cursed Spirits" or "Armed Cursed Spirits."
Their total amount of Cursed Energy hadn't exploded, but its quality had undergone a radical change, carrying strong weapon characteristics such as "piercing," "tearing," "explosion," and "precision." Their attack methods became more bizarre and varied, and they seemed to have a special erosive quality against conventional Cursed Energy defense.
Almost the instant they completed the fusion and adapted to this painful and powerful new form, the four Cursed Spirits' gazes, filled with resentment, anger, and newfound killing intent, crossed several kilometers to once again lock onto the center of Shibuya—the four-armed figure floating in the air.
Shame, pain, and the distorted confidence brought by this newly acquired power transformed into a surging killing intent.
"Sukuna!!!"
Jogo let out a roar that was a mix of metal grinding and lava boiling, turning into a meteor of burning fire as he was the first to charge toward Shibuya.
Hanami's form merged into a wave of armed plants growing wildly from the ground, spreading silently and swiftly.
Mahito giggled, his body moving like a boneless mollusk, performing bizarre leaps in the air that defied the laws of physics, moving so fast he left afterimages.
Dagon, like a deep-sea torpedo, tore through the ground and air, heading straight for the target with a trail of corrosive mucus.
They no longer considered the three-way standoff, nor did they care about Satoru or Kenjaku. At this moment, they had only one thought—to use this new form merged with devil power to tear apart the King of Curses who had brought them endless shame.