Mount Fuji
In recent days, the peak of Mount Fuji had begun to belch thick, charcoal-colored smoke. The snowcaps that usually blanketed the summit had largely vanished, melted away by a subterranean fever.
Experts predicted that the ten-thousand-year-old volcano was nearing its breaking point. Panic had already begun to set in among the local populace; families were fleeing their homes, fearing the inevitable earthquakes and tsunamis that would follow a major eruption.
In this atmosphere of widespread terror, the collective negative emotions of humanity were flowing toward the mountain like a dark, invisible banquet.
Jogo sat submerged in a pool of bubbling magma. His left arm, which had been severed by Souma Gojo's Inverted Spear of Heaven, was slowly regenerating, the flesh knitting together from pure cursed energy.
"Fear! Hatred! Madness!"
"Humans are such naïve creatures!"
Jogo let out a raspy, booming laugh. "These lowly ants actually dare to consider themselves the masters of this world!"
"Just wait! A hundred years from now, the ones laughing across the barren wilderness will be us—the true humans, the Curses!"
As Jogo roared, the mountain seemed to tremble in agreement. Molten rock surged, spilling over the rim of the inner crater like a crimson tide.
Suddenly, a black bundle fell from the sky, landing right beside the volcano spirit. Due to the extreme heat of the lava, the wrapping ignited instantly.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"Hmm? What is this trash?"
Jogo leaned in, peering curiously at the object.
BOOM!!!
A violent explosion erupted, sending a pillar of blue light screaming into the night sky. For a brief moment, the entire summit of Mount Fuji glowed with an eerie, spectral azure.
Wham!
A scorched and battered Jogo flew out of the crater, skidding across the jagged volcanic rock of the summit before regaining his footing.
"Who's the bastard throwing firecrackers?!"
Toji Fushiguro stepped out from the shadows, looking thoroughly disappointed. He held the Inverted Spear of Heaven in his left hand and the Soul Splitter Katana in his right.
"Eh? That didn't work? And here I was told those were specially made bombs for Curses."
Jogo stared at the man. He could sense absolutely zero cursed energy coming from him.
"Oh? So you're that Toji Fushiguro?"
"What? You surprised?" Toji shrugged nonchalantly. "Didn't you challenge me?"
"Hahaha! Indeed I did!" Jogo sneered. "I just didn't think a piece of trash with no cursed energy would actually have the balls to show up alone. You're looking for death!"
It wasn't that Jogo was being arrogant—it was simply that he felt no threat from this man. He was the head of the Four Disasters. True, he had been thrashed by Souma Gojo, Satoru Gojo, and Suguru Geto, but those three were monsters that defied common sense.
He could even give a modicum of respect to Yuta Okkotsu or Yuki Tsukumo because they held the title of "Special Grade." But in Jogo's mind, those two were Special Grade because of their strength, whereas the "Gojo-Geto Trio" were Special Grade only because there was no higher rank to give them.
But Toji Fushiguro? A man with no rank and no cursed energy?
Even if Kenjaku said the man's physical prowess was impressive, how strong could a human body be without the reinforcement of cursed energy? After being stuck in high-level matches against gods for so long, Jogo was thrilled to finally have some "trash" to bully.
The "Pot" was feeling confident.
Toji saw the contemptuous smirk and let out a soft chuckle. "I see. You're looking down on me."
Jogo's sneer widened. "Of course. A mere—"
BOOM!!!
Toji's silhouette vanished behind a sonic boom. The explosive speed caught Jogo completely off guard.
Too fast... No! Fast doesn't even describe this!
Whirr—
The Soul Splitter Katana hummed through the air, the blade moving so quickly it created a vacuum of shrieking wind.
Squelch!
A massive diagonal gash opened across Jogo's chest. Purple blood sprayed out like a geyser. Jogo's single eye bulged as he scrambled backward.
Why is it always a high-level match?!
He thrust his hands forward, and a wall of violent flame erupted to create a barrier. Even with Toji's superhuman constitution, the heat was enough to turn his skin a raw, angry red.
Jogo was about to counter-attack when a strange, low growl echoed from behind him.
Hoooowl—
It was the sound of the True Steel Hou, vibrating at a frequency so high it sounded like a predatory beast. Maki Zenin had seized the perfect opening created by Toji to launch a sudden, silent ambush.
Because she had zero cursed energy, Jogo hadn't even sensed her presence.
"Another one?!"
Jogo's face contorted as he spun around. In desperation, he clapped his hands together, catching the blade between his palms in a "blade-taking" move.
However, the high-frequency vibration of the sword turned his hands into a numb, bloody mess. Maki's raw strength was so great that he couldn't hold the lock.
Slash!
The True Steel Hou buried itself in Jogo's chest. If he hadn't slowed it down with his palms, the strike would have cleaved him in half.
Thud!
With two intersecting wounds leaking purple gore, Jogo was sent flying. He smashed through a massive pillar of dark-red volcanic rock, coughing up blood that hissed as it hit the ground.
The pain was agonizing. Both the Soul Splitter and the True Steel Hou ignored physical durability to strike directly at the soul.
As a battered Jogo tried to stand, Toji was already upon him, a savage grin on his face as he swung his blade down. Jogo scrambled back, the steel biting into the rock inches from his groin.
Maki didn't let up, swinging her blade toward Jogo's neck. The father and daughter attacked with a rhythmic, unrelenting frequency. Their coordination was seamless, leaving Jogo with no room to breathe, let alone weave a complex technique.
For Jogo, his greatest strength was wide-area, high-intensity bombardment. But caught in this meat-grinder of a melee, he was being picked apart.
I can't stay here! Their physical stats are too high—I'll be worn down to nothing! I have to create distance!
The thought was sound, but the reality was cruel. Toji and Maki were like two pieces of adhesive, following his every shadow. Whenever Jogo used fire to push one back, the other would surge in to fill the gap.
"Damn you!"
Jogo hardened his resolve. He wove a quick sign, blasting Toji back with a direct jet of magma. Before he could follow up, Maki lunged.
This time, Jogo didn't dodge. He thrust his left arm forward, letting Maki's blade hack it into pieces just so he could snag the weapon in his own mangled flesh.
Jogo sneered. He thrust his right hand forward, a concentrated blast of flame engulfing Maki entirely at point-blank range.
He had traded an arm for a direct hit. For the sake of the future on the hundred-year wilderness, Jogo was willing to bet his life!
The explosion of heat sent Maki tumbling back. She used her sword to brace herself, standing up and shaking the embers from her body. Her long hair had been scorched into a ragged bob, and her skin was covered in fresh, blistering burns.
But her eyes remained cold, sharp, and filled with lethal intent.
Jogo, having pushed both of them back for a split second, let his left arm regrow instantly as he brought his hands together in a specific ritual sign.
"Domain Expansion: Coffin of the Iron Mountain!"