Deep within the ruins of the Tombs of the Star Corridor, Toji Fushiguro's voice was hoarse and low.
He looked at the check that had fallen before him, a flicker of incredibly complex emotion crossing his eyes.
There was shock, mockery, but more than anything, a sense of relief that he wouldn't even admit to himself.
The pride of the Sorcerer Killer had kept him fighting against the jujutsu world and that disgusting Zenin family his entire life.
Yet, the one thing he didn't know was how to face his own flesh and blood.
Megumi.
The son who had inherited the Ten Shadows Technique and was destined to be swallowed by the vortex of the jujutsu world.
Toji slowly reached out with a hand covered in burn marks and picked up the check. The flimsy piece of paper felt as heavy as lead in his grasp.
He cast a deep look at the black-haired youth before him, who was currently sheathing his blade.
Yoru.
This monster, who possessed not a single drop of cursed energy, yet had completely crushed him—the Sorcerer Killer—through pure physical prowess and swordsmanship.
"You'd better keep your word."
Toji spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, his lips curling into a self-deprecating sneer.
"Those trash from the Zenin family aren't exactly nice people. If you can't protect the brat, I'll come back as a ghost just to mock you."
Yoru watched him calmly.
"Rest assured, I'll train him myself."
"As for the Zenin... if they dare reach out, I don't mind cutting off their hands entirely."
His flat tone carried an unquestionable dominance.
Toji froze for a moment, then let out a low chuckle.
"Ha... Hahahaha!"
"You're an interesting fellow. If I'd met you earlier, maybe things wouldn't have turned out like this."
The laughter agitated the wound on his chest, making him grimace in pain.
"You can borrow that worm for a few days. But don't kill it; everything I own is inside."
Toji glanced at Ushibao, who was cowering and trembling at Yoru's feet.
Yoru calmly picked up Ushibao and stuffed it into his wide sleeve.
Without another word, Toji turned and limped toward the exit of the Tombs of the Star Corridor, dragging his heavily injured body.
Blood dripped from the hem of his clothes, leaving a startling trail of red across the messy ruins.
He continued until his tall, lonely silhouette completely merged into the darkness of the passage.
The Sorcerer Killer had made his exit.
Looking in the direction where Toji had disappeared, Yoru's tense body finally relaxed.
"Phew—"
He exhaled a long breath of hot, white steam.
The dark-red Slayer Mark that had spread across his cheeks and forehead like flickering flames began to recede at a visible rate.
Once the mark had completely vanished beneath his skin, an indescribable wave of exhaustion swept through his body like a tsunami.
His legs buckled suddenly, and he nearly collapsed to one knee.
'As expected... this body still can't handle the strain of the Slayer Mark for long.'
Yoru propped himself up with the scabbard of Shiranui, gasping for air.
His body temperature dropped rapidly from nearly forty degrees Celsius, and his heart rate stabilized, but he could feel every muscle in his body screaming in protest.
If Toji had chosen to fight to the death just now, Yoru would have likely paid a devastating price even if he won.
Fortunately, that man still had one weakness left in his heart after all.
Pushing through his physical exhaustion, Yoru turned to look at the nearby ruins.
"Suguru!"
He hurried over.
Suguru Geto lay amidst the rubble, his face as pale as parchment.
There was a massive wound on his abdomen that exposed his bone, and blood had already stained the surrounding ground red.
Riko Amanai was kneeling beside him, her hands pressed firmly against his wound as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Uwah... Suguru, don't die! Wake up!"
The girl's tears pattered down onto Suguru Geto's face.
Hearing Yoru's footsteps, Riko snapped her head up, looking at him as if he were her only lifeline.
"Yoru! Look at him! He's losing so much blood!"
Yoru knelt down and quickly inspected Suguru Geto's injuries.
Though the Transparent World was closed, his heightened physical senses allowed him to confirm Suguru's condition.
"Don't panic, Riko."
Yoru consoled her in a low voice.
"The wound is deep, but it missed his vital organs. Toji pulled his blow at the last second, or rather, he was forced to stop."
If Yoru hadn't acted decisively and forced Toji back with extreme speed...
Suguru Geto would have definitely been sliced in half right then and there!
"He's still alive... as long as he's breathing, Shoko can bring him back."
Yoru tore a strip of cloth from his clothes and helped Riko apply a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.
Suguru Geto's breathing was faint, but stable enough.
This bun-haired youth who was always spouting ideals had finally shown his vulnerability when faced with a true life-or-death crisis.
"Everything is okay now."
Yoru patted Riko on the shoulder.
"The merger with Master Tengen has failed, and Toji is gone. You're safe."
Hearing those words, Riko Amanai's frayed nerves finally snapped completely.
She threw herself into Yoru's arms and began to wail.
"Waaaaah!"
All her grievances, her terror, and her fear of death were unleashed in that moment.
She didn't have to die anymore. She didn't have to become the exalted Star Plasma Vessel.
She could be like any ordinary girl—go to school, make friends, and see the wide world.
Yoru remained silent, simply letting the girl's tears soak his clothes.
Inside the Tombs of the Star Corridor, there was only the sound of Riko's sobbing and the rustling from the giant ancient tree above.
Everything seemed to have finally settled.
However, just as Yoru was about to pick up Suguru and lead Riko out of the underground space...
Something changed!
Vwoom—
An incredibly terrifying, bone-chilling wave of cursed energy erupted from the entrance of the Tombs of the Star Corridor without warning!
This cursed energy was so massive and violent...
That it caused the surrounding air to warp visibly!
Yoru's pupils constricted.
He instantly gripped Shiranui and pulled Riko behind him protectively.
This presence...
It was full of madness, chaos, and an absolute arrogance that stood above all things!
"Who is it?"
Riko stopped crying, trembling as she stared toward the entrance.
Yoru stared intently at the dark passage.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Heavy yet casual footsteps echoed through the silent underground space, sounding like the reaper knocking on a heart.
Gradually, a figure emerged from the darkness.
It was a youth covered in blood.
His Jujutsu High uniform was in tatters, caked with dried blood and dust.
His signature white hair was messy and matted with blood across his forehead.
But the most terrifying thing was his wounds.
The throat that had been pierced, the chest that had been stabbed, and the thigh that had been slashed by Toji...
Were currently emitting a strange white smoke and healing at a visible rate, regenerating frantically!
Muscle tissues squirmed, and bones reshaped themselves!
Reverse Cursed Technique!
And an incredibly advanced, fully automated one at that!
"Satoru..."
Yoru watched the approaching figure, his voice dangerously low.
Satoru Gojo.
The Divine Child of the Six Eyes who should have been brutally murdered outside the Tombs of the Star Corridor by Toji Fushiguro.
He stood there like a frenzied deity who had crawled back from hell.
Satoru Gojo came to a halt.
He slowly raised his head, and those blood-stained Eyes of the Blue Sky were flickering with an unprecedented, morbid fervor.
He looked around.
He saw the heavily injured and unconscious Suguru Geto, and he saw the living Riko.
Finally, his gaze locked onto Yoru, who stood amidst the ruins holding his blade.
"Ah... so that's how it is."
Satoru Gojo suddenly began to laugh.
His smile held a chilling neurosis as he pointed a blood-stained finger at his own head.
"Sorry about that, Yoru."
"Right now... I'm a bit out of my mind."
A terrifying pressure, almost physical in nature, blanketed the entire Tombs of the Star Corridor.
The Strongest, revived.
The Divine Child, awakened.
At the most inopportune moment, he had descended with an unparalleled thirst for battle!
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