At the bottom of the deep pit, thick smoke billowed.
A pungent scorched smell mingled with the nauseating scent of blood, permeating the air.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
A series of extremely weak coughs, sounding as if they might cease at any moment, emanated from the charred ruins.
Toji Fushiguro lay spread-eagled at the bottom of the pit. His powerful body, which not even a Special Grade Cursed Spirit could easily pierce, was now in a wretched state.
A terrifyingly deep gash stretched from his left shoulder to the right side of his abdomen, nearly splitting him in two.
Even worse, the edges of the wound appeared eerily carbonized.
The extreme heat remaining from the Bright Red Nichirin Sword eroded his every cell like a maggot on a bone, completely sealing off the super-regeneration he took pride in.
"Really... I lost completely, didn't I?"
Toji struggled to open his remaining intact right eye, looking up at the dome where debris continued to fall. A self-deprecating smile, more painful to look at than a sob, tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He tried to move a finger, only to find his nerves felt as though they had been severed by the previous strike, refusing to obey.
Tap.
Extremely faint footsteps echoed at the edge of the pit.
Yoru carried Shiranui, which had returned to its original jet-black color. He slowly descended along the collapsed edge, finally stopping less than three meters away from Toji.
The tip of the blade hung low, yet it accurately locked onto Toji's throat.
With just a slight flick of Yoru's wrist, the Sorcerer Killer who was famous in the underground black market would be completely erased from this world.
Meanwhile, the Ushibao that had been wrapped around Toji's neck seemed to sense an absolute suppression from the top of the food chain. It shrank into a trembling ball of flesh, terrified.
It didn't even dare to breathe.
"It's over, Toji Fushiguro."
Yoru looked down at him, his tone as calm as if he were stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.
Toji didn't argue, nor did he beg for mercy.
He simply stared at Yoru with his one good eye. Though the predatory glint in his gaze had dimmed, the stubborn defiance etched into his bones had not vanished.
"Ah... Yeah, it's over."
Toji curled his lip, revealing blood-stained teeth.
"The winner takes all; that's the iron rule of the black market."
"Since I lost, just get it over with."
"Being killed by a monster like you is better than dying at the hands of those disgusting jujutsu sorcerers."
He slowly closed his eyes, calmly awaiting the arrival of death.
For a soul like his, long since rotted in the muck, death might truly be a release.
However, just as Toji thought the cold blade was about to pierce his throat...
BOOM—VWOOM!!!
From the deepest part of the Tombs of the Star Corridor, behind the massive stone gates leading to Master Tengen's main hall, a surge of cursed energy erupted—grand yet suffused with an eerie sensation!
The fluctuation was like the heavy sigh of some ancient, gargantuan creature in its sleep, instantly spreading throughout the entire underground of Jujutsu High.
Immediately after, the barriers within the Tombs of the Star Corridor began to flash frantically, eventually taking on an unsettling dark purple hue.
"That's..."
Suguru Geto, hiding in the distance, struggled to prop himself up. Looking toward the main hall, his pupils shrank violently.
"Master Tengen's assimilation... failed?!"
Yes, it had failed.
Because of Toji Fushiguro's interference and Yoru's intervention, the Star Plasma Vessel, Riko Amanai, had not sacrificed her life before those gates.
The optimal window for assimilation had been completely missed during the world-shaking battle just now.
That eerie surge of cursed energy was a precursor to Master Tengen beginning to evolve into some indescribable high-level cursed spirit because the body hadn't been reset in time!
(This tiny change was like a pebble jammed into the gears of fate, planting a lethal foreshadowing for Kenjaku's ultimate conspiracy over a decade in the future.)
Riko stared blankly at the closed stone gates, feeling the heart-pounding fluctuation.
Suddenly, as if a thousand-pound weight carried on her shoulders for fourteen years had been lifted, she slumped powerlessly onto the ground.
"I... I really don't have to die..."
She covered her face, tears streaming down through the gaps between her fingers.
They were tears of joy, and tears of rebirth.
Yoru tilted his head slightly, sensing the abnormal change deep within the Tombs of the Star Corridor. A flash of profound complexity crossed his eyes.
But he quickly retracted his gaze, refocusing his attention on Toji Fushiguro in front of him.
To Toji's surprise, Yoru did not swing the lethal blade.
Accompanied by a crisp click of the sword being sheathed.
Yoru actually sheathed Shiranui, which was covered in the Sorcerer Killer's blood, quite casually right in front of Toji.
"You... what's the meaning of this?"
Toji snapped his eyes open, a hint of shock and confusion appearing in his gaze for the first time.
For an assassin, letting someone who wanted to kill you go was an incredibly foolish act.
He didn't believe the man before him, who was strong as a monster, would be some saint bound by so-called mercy.
Yoru didn't answer his question.
He raised his hand and grasped toward the distant broken wall. A burst of force erupted, drawing the broken hilt of the Inverted Spear of Heaven, which was deeply embedded in the wall, directly into his palm.
Looking at the wreckage of the cursed tool in his hand—now only a hilt covered in cracks—a profound look passed through Yoru's eyes.
Then, he walked over to Toji, slowly squatted down, and reached out to point at Ushibao, which was trying to disguise itself as a rock.
"This bug... its internal space seems quite large?"
Yoru's tone was casual, as if he were eyeing a decent product at a market.
"Lend it to me for a couple of days?"
As soon as he spoke, he skillfully stuffed the broken hilt into Ushibao's constantly opening and closing mouth.
"Huh?"
Toji was stunned.
He had imagined Yoru torturing him in various cruel ways or interrogating him about his employer.
But he never expected that after beating him half to death, the first thing this man would say was that he wanted to borrow his storage cursed spirit.
What was this? Seizing spoils of war?
"Do whatever you want."
Toji gave a cold laugh and looked away, no longer watching Yoru.
"I'm dying anyway. Even if you roast this disgusting meatball and eat it, I couldn't care less."
"Who said you're dying?"
Yoru stood up and pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his coat.
It was an anonymous check he had picked up at a Star Religious Group base; the amount on it was enough to drive any underground black market assassin wild.
Thwack.
Yoru casually tossed the check onto Toji's blood-stained face.
"This..."
Toji's eye caught the string of zeros on the check, and his pupil shrank slightly.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"I'm buying your life."
Yoru looked down at him, his tone carrying an unquestionable dominance.
"From today on, drop that self-destructive act. Stop taking those trash jobs where you act like a dog for a bit of stinking cash."
Yoru paused, a sharp glint flashing in his deep eyes.
"As for your son, Megumi..."
At the mention of that name, Toji's eyes, which had been dead and listless, suddenly fluctuated violently.
"The trash from the Zenin family won't touch a hair on his head."
Yoru's voice wasn't loud, but every word struck Toji's heart like thunder.
"I will personally teach that child with the Ten Shadows Technique talent."
"I will make him into an existence that even you, the Sorcerer Killer, can only look up to."
Silence.
An incredibly long silence fell over the pit.
Toji Fushiguro stared intently at Yoru, the expression on his scarred face shifting unpredictably.
Shock, suspicion, frustration, and... a glimmer of hope that he himself was unwilling to admit.
'This monster...'
'He actually knows Megumi's name? He even knows Megumi's potential?'
'Most importantly, he actually dares to make such a wild claim about snatching someone from the Zenin family right in front of me?!'
"You..."
Toji opened his mouth, but found his throat too dry to make a sound.
Proud as he was, a man who never wavered even when facing death—the Sorcerer Killer.
Upon hearing his son's name, and hearing that someone was willing to pull that bloodline—whom he viewed as a burden yet held a trace of concern for deep in his heart—out of the Zenin family's mire...
his gaze finally underwent a violent, uncontrollable tremor.
'This deal...'
'Can he really refuse?'