December 24th, 4:00 PM.
Only one hour remained until sunset, the deadline Suguru Geto had set for his declaration of war.
Shinjuku, Tokyo.
This commercial hub, which should have been the most bustling and densely populated center in all of Japan, had been completely evacuated by the Assistant Supervisors of Jujutsu High.
The streets were in shambles, littered with items abandoned in haste by the citizens during the forced evacuation.
Atop the towering Tokyo Tower, which offered a panoramic view of the entire city...
A tall man in a black Jujutsu High uniform and a black blindfold stood silently against the howling, freezing wind.
Satoru Gojo.
The man hailed as the 'Strongest of the Modern Era' by the entire jujutsu world stood with his hands in his pockets.
His Six Eyes, though hidden behind the blindfold, seemed to pierce through the heavy mist to gaze upon the silent streets below—streets destined to become a battlefield.
Floating in the air around him were a dozen or so Fly Head cursed spirits no larger than a fingernail, monitoring his every move.
These were the eyes planted by the higher-ups of General Headquarters to ensure he didn't 'neglect his post.'
"A bunch of rats that never learn," Satoru scoffed. Without even moving a finger, an invisible wave of Limitless cursed energy surged outward.
*Pop! Pop! Pop!*
A series of faint popping sounds echoed in the air as the monitoring Fly Heads were instantly crushed into invisible dust.
He had unilaterally and forcibly severed General Headquarters' surveillance.
Just then...
*Buzz—*
A slight vibration came from the phone in his pocket.
Satoru Gojo pulled out the device and looked at the screen, which displayed a short, anonymous, encrypted message.
[THE HOOK HAS BEEN TAKEN.]
The sender was a specific frequency known only to him.
Upon seeing those words...
The carefree smile Satoru usually wore was replaced by a complex expression—one of unbridled wildness and unmistakable relief.
*Crack!*
With a sharp snapping sound...
The custom encrypted phone was crushed into a pile of smoking electronic fragments by Satoru's unconscious grip strength.
He casually tossed the fragments from the tower, letting the wind carry them into the void.
"Ten years..."
Satoru tilted his head back, letting the cold winter rain pelt his face.
Memories from ten years ago deep within the Tombs of the Star Corridor and that night of the school festival uncontrollably surfaced.
All for that mad oath he had sworn with Suguru Geto and Yoru on the stone steps of a remote shrine.
All to lure out the thousand-year-old Brain lurking in the shadows, eyeing the jujutsu world with malice.
And to force the corrupt higher-ups—who only knew how to scheme against their own—into a total reformation, securing a future where young sorcerers could breathe freely.
He, Satoru Gojo.
Had played the role of the aloof 'Strongest' for a whole decade.
He had endured the daily suspicion and wariness of those rotten oranges in the high-ups.
He had shouldered the infamy of his best friend Suguru Geto's defection and his plot to slaughter non-sorcerers.
He had watched his closest comrade descend step by step into a vile abyss, loathed and hunted by all, while he could only stand by and watch.
He even had to pretend to be heartbroken, swearing he would personally execute his friend to cleanse the house.
This sense of isolation and repression was enough to tear a man apart.
If it hadn't been for a monster like Yoru, whose depth even the Six Eyes couldn't see, providing support in the shadows—and if it hadn't been for his bone-deep trust in Suguru Geto...
He would have long ago lost his patience and obliterated those disgusting rotten oranges at General Headquarters, along with the hidden Brain, with a single Hollow Purple.
Satoru looked down at the low-grade cursed spirits beginning to stir in the shadows, emitting a nauseating stench.
His lips finally curled into an extremely arrogant and bloodthirsty smile befitting the strongest.
"You've been crawling through the mud for ten years... you must be dying for this, right?"
"Since you've set the stage and are even willing to stake your life for this final act..."
"If I, the idiot you call the strongest of the modern era, don't play along properly..."
"...wouldn't that be a disservice to our ten years of patience?"
Satoru Gojo slowly reached up and gripped the black blindfold on his face.
"Yoru, I'll leave that thousand-year-old fox to you."
"As for the trash here in Shinjuku..."
*Swish!*
With the rustle of fabric, the black blindfold sealing the terrifying power of the Six Eyes was ripped off!
In that instant...
A pair of azure eyes, as brilliant as the vast starry sky and cold as ice...
Blazed to life atop the Tokyo Tower!
[SIX EYES]!
FULL RELEASE!
*BOOM!*
A terrifying surge of Limitless cursed energy that made heaven and earth tremble erupted like a volcano suppressed for millennia, sweeping wildly across the skies of Shinjuku.
The high-grade curses rampaging through the streets—even those that would give a Grade 1 sorcerer trouble—
—let out screams of despair and terror under this divine pressure.
"Let those self-righteous rotten oranges and that clever Brain..."
Satoru's body slowly levitated into the air like a god looking down upon the world.
"...take a real good look."
"At what it truly means to be..."
"The Strongest Trio!"
Satoru's Six Eyes glittered with cold blue light in the night. His face was set in an expression of unprecedented violence and killing intent.
"The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons?"
"No."
"This is merely a massacre I've prepared to welcome a new world!"
*Whoosh!*
Satoru's figure vanished, turning into a bolt of blue lightning that tore through the night sky.
Carrying the crushing power of the Limitless, he slammed directly into the advancing tide of cursed spirits!
When the strongest of the modern era—who had suppressed himself for ten long years, bearing infamy and loneliness—finally dropped all pretenses.
When he no longer cared for rules and unleashed his full strength on this battlefield of Special Grades...
The sky over Shinjuku...
Was destined to become a scene of hell that would make even demons tremble.
A portrait of hell!
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city in Kyoto.
The first shrill scream pierced the silence of the dusk.
Countless cursed spirits reached out from the shadows, lunging at the trembling, low-level sorcerers.
The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons had officially begun its bloody overture.