The eastern coast of Kyushu was silent.
Dagon stood upon the sea, but the majestic, colossal form he had inhabited was now a ruin of shredded meat, riddled with gaping, cauterized holes. The sky-rending storm had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The ocean had returned to a deceptive calm, the waves dancing in small, rhythmic laps against the shore.
A jagged tear opened in the heavy overcast, allowing a single, brilliant pillar of sunlight to spill onto the water, turning the surface into a field of shimmering diamonds.
Suddenly, Dagon's massive frame shuddered. The flesh at the base of his neck split open with a wet squelch, and a small, red octopus—the curse's true essence—fled from the husk in a blind panic.
Without a moment's hesitation, Dagon fumbled for a vajra tool and crushed it. He felt a fleeting surge of relief as the familiar white halo of distorted space began to wrap around his tiny body.
That man... Souma Gojo... what kind of god-slaying monster is he?
He tore it apart. He actually tore apart a natural disaster—a typhoon merged with my "Guixu"—with his bare hands.
Is that truly the power of a human?
CRACK—!
The thought had barely formed when a hand punched through the shimmering veil of the spatial barrier. Then, a second hand shoved its way into the gap.
With a brutal display of raw strength, the two arms wrenched the "unbreakable" barrier aside, tearing a hole in the fabric of the dimension itself.
Dagon's eyes bulged in terror. Through the tear stepped Souma Gojo. His shirt was gone, reduced to charred tatters, leaving his lean, powerful upper body exposed and gleaming with salt spray. He reached out and snatched Dagon by the head.
"Hey. You haven't killed me yet," Souma whispered, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, low-frequency hum. "Where do you think you're going?"
Dagon trembled, his very soul recoiling. How? Kenjaku said the Breaking Vajra could stall the Six Eyes for at least a second! Why didn't it work?
Souma glanced at the fragments of the tool floating in the water. "A cursed tool that manipulates spatial coordinates? Another one of Kenjaku's trinkets, I assume."
"Too bad for you. It can't keep me out."
"Now, Dagon... shall we continue?"
Souma bared his teeth in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. The killing intent radiating from him was so dense the air felt as heavy as lead.
"Bastard! I'll take you with me!"
Dagon's voice was a garbled, wet shriek. He threw a desperate, tiny punch at Souma's face. But in this state, he was nothing.
Souma didn't even bother activating his Infinity. He let the punch land, absorbing the impact with his bare skin. Feeling the faint sting, he let out a slow, disappointed sigh.
"I see. This is as much as you can entertain me."
"Be proud, Dagon. You were strong."
SWISH—
A clean strike severed Dagon's head from his body.
In the fading moments of his consciousness, the words echoed in his mind like a gentle tide: Be proud... you were strong.
Recognition... from the "Strongest"?
A faint, ghostly smile touched the corner of Dagon's beak. He wasn't the child anymore. He wasn't the one who needed to hide behind Jogo's cloak or Hanami's branches.
I want to tell them... Jogo, Hanami, Mahito... I became a powerhouse, too...
Splash.
Dagon's body tumbled into the water, sinking slowly into the dark, silent depths. A curse born of the sea had finally returned to its mother's embrace.
Kabukicho, Tokyo
Riko Amanai stood with her fists clenched, looking at her three young wards. "I left this Grade 1 specifically for you three! Give it everything you've got!"
Nanako lifted her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. "Focal Point Photography!"
The flash went off. The Cursed Spirit, a twitching mass of urban anxiety, froze instantly. Its movements were locked in a one-second stasis.
"String-Bound Doll!"
Mimiko didn't waste a heartbeat. She gripped the end of her black rope, the other end attached to her patchwork doll. She manipulated the doll to weave through the curse's legs in a complex pattern, pulling the cord into a tight, inescapable knot.
The second of stasis passed. The curse roared and tried to lunge, but Mimiko and her doll yanked back in unison. The creature's legs were swept out from under it, and it crashed to the pavement.
"Explosive Firefly: Streaming Embers!"
Riku delivered the coup de grâce. A swarm of glowing fireflies dived into the curse's open maw and open wounds, detonating in a rhythmic series of internal blasts.
The spirit vanished in a cloud of black soot.
"Yes!"
Riko clapped her hands in delight. "You three can handle a Grade 1 with hardly any effort now. Next time, we try a Special Grade!"
The three youngsters recoiled, shaking their heads frantically. "No way! Absolutely not!"
Special Grade? They were barely Grade 2 sorcerers! Not everyone was a freak of nature like Yuta Okkotsu or Aoi Todo.
Nanako looked at Riko with curiosity. "By the way, Riko-jechan, what exactly is your technique?"
Because she had spent years studying under Yuki Tsukumo and traveling abroad, Riko wasn't a well-known figure at Jujutsu High.
"Me? My technique is called 'Star's Lament.' I can manipulate the temperature within a specific range."
"Whoa! That sounds incredibly powerful!"
Riko laughed softly. "It's alright. Honestly, I didn't even have a technique until Souma and the others dragged me down to the Star Tomb..."
She began to recount the tale of what happened eight years ago, and the three children listened, wide-eyed and captivated.
Clap... clap... clap...
The sudden sound of slow, rhythmic applause made them jump.
"Who's there?" Riko stepped in front of the children, her eyes narrowing as she stared into the deep shadows of an alleyway.
A woman stepped into the dim light of the streetlamps. She radiated a cold, oily malignancy. Across her forehead ran a single, horrific line of stitches.
"To think I'd stumble upon the Star Plasma Vessel herself. And your story... it is quite moving."
Kenjaku offered a polite, thin-lipped smile. "It seems you're quite close with Souma Gojo. That makes this a very fortunate harvest indeed..."
"Run! Now!"
Riko didn't wait for Kenjaku to finish. She barked the order at Nanako and the others.
"But Riko-sensei—!"
"Shut up! Go! This person is dangerous—you'll only be a liability here! Go find help!"
Time had forged Riko Amanai into something far removed from the sheltered girl she once was. She was now a Grade 1 sorcerer—battle-hardened, sharp, and utterly reliable.
"Hmm. It seems modern sorcerers are far superior to the trash of the past," Kenjaku mused, watching Riko's decisive reaction.
The three students realized she was right. They turned and bolted, their footsteps fading into the distance. Kenjaku didn't bother to stop them. His prize was standing right in front of him.
A lone Grade 1? He could end this in seconds.
"Anti-Gravity System."
Riko felt her weight vanish. The sudden shift in gravity sent her staggering, her internal compass spinning.
Thud!
Kenjaku seized the opening, lunging forward with a knife-hand strike aimed directly at the base of her skull.
"Don't you dare look down on me!"
"Star's Lament: Thermal Breath!"
Kenjaku was suddenly hit by a wall of white-hot air. The temperature spiked so violently that his clothes and hair hit their ignition point instantly, bursting into flames.
The massive pressure differential created by the heat acted like a physical hammer, slamming into Kenjaku's chest and hurling him backward.
"Interesting."
Kenjaku quenched the flames with a flare of cursed energy, weaving a protective shroud over his skin.
"Temperature manipulation, is it? Not just heat, but the kinetic force of the atmosphere itself..."
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