Chapter 9: The boy who chants to the dead.

The fog was thick enough to taste.

It rolled through Stikland Cemetery like a living thing, curling around cracked gravestones and swallowing the faint glow of the moon.

 Cyan stepped out of the car first. The air was cold and heavy, the kind that pressed against her lungs.

All she could hear were their footsteps — soft crunches against the damp soil.

 

“Too quiet,” she muttered.

 

Amanda adjusted the strap of her satchel and closed her eyes briefly. Her fingers traced a small sigil in the air.

 

Amanda: “Technique release—Bloom in Spring.”

 

Soft pink petals burst from her fingertips, scattering through the air before vanishing into mist. 

The faint hum of cursed energy rippled outward like sonar.

 

Amanda’s eyes snapped open.

 

Amanda: “Someone’s here, and they're close.”

 The group tensed.

 Cyan’s hand brushed against the Katana strapped to her thigh; Kevin raised his guard, cursed energy flickering faintly along his forearm.

 

Then—

 

Crack.

 

Everyone froze.

 

Cyan’s head whipped toward the sound.

A shadow loomed just ahead—

 

Kevin: “…My bad.”

 

He held up both hands, foot still on a broken branch.

 

Megumi: “Idiot.”

 Amanda exhaled sharply, pressing a finger to her lips.

 

Amanda: “Quiet down. They’ll hear—”

 

A spear whistled through the fog, grazing past Megumi’s cheek by less than a millimetre before slamming into a headstone with a clang. The shockwave rattled through the air.

 

Megumi’s eyes flicked toward the direction it came from—his reflexes being the only reason he wasn’t pinned to the stone.

 

 Kevin: “You gotta be kidding me!”

 

Another spear came flying—this time aimed straight for Kevin. He dodged, the weapon slicing a lock of his hair as it buried itself into the dirt.

 

Cyan: “They’re targeting us one by one.”

 

 Amanda: “Form up a defensive pattern!”

 

The four moved in sync, standing around Amanda as she extended her cursed energy outward, her pink petals swirling faster—searching for the source.

 

Silence fell again.

 

Only the sound of rustling petals and Cyan’s heartbeat echoed in her ears.

 

Then, faintly, a whisper drifted through the fog—

a chant, rhythmic and low, rising and falling like breath.

 

Cyan’s eyes widened.

 

Cyan (quietly): “Someone’s… chanting?”

 

Amanda’s tone sharpened.

 

Amanda: “Are they nearby? I can't sense any other presence."

 

 

Megumi’s grip on his weapon tightened.

 

Megumi: “Amanda, I need you to locate the source of where the spears are coming from.”

The fog pulsed with motion.

One moment it was still—then whip!

Another spear tore through the air, slicing past Cyan’s cheek close enough for her to feel the wind burn.

Kevin: “These things don’t even make a sound—!”

Another spear followed, faster, sharper—splitting a tree trunk behind him clean in half.

Megumi’s jaw tightened.

Megumi: “We can’t just stand here. If we stay on the defensive, we’ll be pinned down.”

The barrage didn’t stop.

Each spear came from a different angle—impossibly fast, with no trace of cursed energy before impact.

Amanda’s eyes fluttered open, petals spinning violently around her like a protective storm.

Amanda: “I can feel a faint presence… center of the cemetery. That’s our target.”

Kevin: “Great—so what’s the plan, genius!”

Megumi exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

Megumi: “Cyan. Kevin. Cover me.”

Cyan: “Wait, what are you—”

Megumi: “There’s no time. One mistake and we’re done.”

Cyan grit her teeth, shadows pulsing beneath her boots. Kevin clenched his fists, cursed energy flaring blue along his arms.

Kevin: “Fine, just don’t die on me pretty boy.”

The next spear came—and both of them moved at once.

Cyan’s shadows curled upward, catching one mid-flight; Kevin’s raw cursed energy shattered another into dust.

Megumi crouched low, breath steady.

Megumi: “Amanda, where!.”

Amanda: “Ten o’clock—fifty meters out!”

And in that instant—
he was gone.

A whisper of displaced air, and Megumi reappeared in the heart of the cemetery.

The world slowed for a moment. 

The fog parted around him, revealing the faint silhouette of a figure kneeling between tombstones—hand raised, finger pointed straight at him.

A dozen spears materialized midair, each aimed at his vitals.

They launched.

Megumi didn’t flinch.

His body shifted just enough—each spear missing by a hair as he stepped through the barrage with terrifying precision.

He raised Playful Cloud, his cursed tool humming with compressed energy.

Megumi: “Found you.”

He swung once.

The blow landed like thunder. 

The impact cracked the earth and sent dust spiralling into the air. The shockwave rolled through the cemetery, rattling gravestones, shattering the silence.

Back where Cyan and Kevin stood, the ground trembled beneath their feet.

Kevin (staring): “What the hell was that…”

Cyan (quietly): “That… was Megumi?”

The fog began to lift, dissolving into the night air.

At the center of the clearing, a body lay crumpled against a broken tombstone.

 Needles glimmered faintly in the corpse’s neck and chest.

Megumi stood over it, Playful Cloud resting at his side.

Megumi: "Over here!”

They ran to him, eyes wide.

Cyan’s stomach turned at the sight.

Cyan: “What… is this?”

Megumi crouched down, studying the pattern of the needles, his voice quiet.

Megumi: “A corpse, with the same needles as the Waterfront case.”

Amanda’s expression hardened.

Amanda: “Then whoever’s behind this, must also behind the murders.”

Megumi rose, dusting his hands off. His tone was low but firm.

Megumi: “We need to head back to HQ. Now.”

The wind carried one last whisper through the cemetery—
a lingering chant fading into silence.

 

Titans Collide

The air in the Jujutsu HQ boardroom was cold and still — the kind of silence that made every breath feel too loud.

At the far end of the table sat Elle Abrahams, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. 

Across from her were Phillip Mowbray, his sharp eyes betraying arrogance more than interest, and Charles Liebert, older, calmer, his fingers tapping once against the polished surface of the table.

Between them sat Dean Liebert, silent but observant, and Allan George, Premier of the Western Cape, his suit immaculate, his nerves less so.

Elle began.

“The latest murder fits the same pattern as the previous ones,” she said, flipping through the dossier on the table.

“Two locations this time — Green Point and Bellville. I’ve already dispatched a team to investigate.”

Dean’s gaze flicked up.

“Is Cyan part of that team?”

Elle nodded.

“She is.”

Phillip’s brow rose ever so slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips

He turned toward Elle.

“Tell me, how is she doing? I heard she's been.... make waves.”

Elle didn’t rise to the bait.

“She survived her encounter with him,” she said, tilting her head toward Dean.

“You’d be surprised how well she’s grown.”

Dean chuckled softly.

“She’s definitely a prodigy. It’s a pity the Mowbrays still measure potential by tradition instead of progress.”

Phillip’s smirk faded, his pride quietly stung. But before he could respond, Elle’s phone buzzed.

She put it on speaker.

“Megumi.”

Static crackled, then Megumi’s voice came through, calm but weighted.

“We encountered an enemy in the cemetery — We found out that the enemy is capable of controlling both corpses and living targets by inserting needles into their bodies. The technique allows for direct manipulation.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

Charles’s hand froze mid-tap. His voice was low, measured.

“That technique… only to our family possessed something remotely similar.”

Megumi continued.

“This one was different. The corpse puppet it used… had its own cursed technique. Almost as if the user could insert cursed techniques into corpses.”

Elle’s eyes narrowed.

Her hand clenched into a fist on the table.

“It has to be him!"

Phillip glanced at her, cautious.

“Confirms what, exactly?”

A strange smile crept onto Elle’s face — sharp and cold.

“I know who it is.”

Megumi hesitated on the other end.

“Who?”

Elle exhaled, almost laughing under her breath.

“Aiden Liebert.”

Shock rippled through the room.

Charles was the first to speak.

“That’s impossible! He’s been dead for seven years. He died when Jaden was sealed.”

Phillip leaned forward.

“What makes you so certain?”

Elle’s tone sharpened.

“Because his technique wasn’t pure manipulation. Aiden’s cursed technique was Steal — the ability to strip another’s cursed technique after forcing them to admit defeat. He used it once… on a Special Grade sorcerer. I never forgot that feeling.”

Dean nodded grimly.

“I saw it too. It was terrifying. The way he broke people — body and will — before taking what was theirs.”

Elle looked to Charles.

“When we sealed Jaden seven years ago, I thought Aiden died in the crossfire. But this... this is his technique. I’d bet my life on it.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before — not of disbelief, but dread.

Finally, Elle spoke again into the phone.

“Megumi. Gather the team and return to HQ. Immediately.”

She ended the call without waiting for a reply.

The call ended, leaving a heavy silence behind.

The hum of the air conditioner filled the room — the only sound brave enough to exist between the four of them.

Phillip leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

His tone was sharp.

“So it was a Liebert after all. I told you years ago, Charles, you should’ve kept Aiden on a leash. His obsession with justice was always going to turn into something darker.”

Charles’s jaw tightened, his calm demeanour cracking just slightly.

“Watch your words, Phillip. You speak as if your own family hasn’t committed worse. Or have you forgotten what you did in Johannesburg?”

Phillip slammed a hand on the table, the sound echoing.

“That was a necessary purge! We did what needed to be done.”

Dean, silent until now, finally leaned forward.

“Necessary? You Mowbrays always hide behind that word whenever you trample over others. Every time you say ‘purge,’ it’s our people who vanish — our names that get erased from records.”

Phillip shot him a glare.

“And you Lieberts always find a way to blame others for your own failures.”

The tension thickened — the kind of tension that bends air itself.

Elle finally stood, her presence commanding, but before she could speak, Dean turned on her.

“And you,” Dean said coldly.

“Why are you even here, Elle? You’re not the clan head type. You’ve never cared for politics, never sat on a council. Your presence in this room is an insult to everyone who earned their seat.”

Allan raised a hand cautiously.

“Gentlemen, please—”

But his words died in his throat.

The air shifted — suddenly dense & heavy

Elle’s cursed energy flared, unseen but felt — a violent gust tore through the boardroom.

Papers swirled like snow, pens clattered across the table, and coffee cups shattered against the floor.

For a second, even Phillip’s smirk vanished.

Elle’s voice was steady, low, and dangerous.

“If you have a problem with how I do things, Dean… we can always step outside.”

Dean’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Fight you? Never.”

Elle’s eyes narrowed — but she didn’t respond. The storm of energy faded, leaving behind a still, charged silence.

Allan adjusted his tie, muttering,

“Please … all of you.”

Charles ignored him, his expression unreadable.

Each of them sat with their own thoughts, their own motives.

Enemies bound by alliance — barely.

Allan cleared his throat, still shaken.

“Miss Abrahams … what should I report back to the provincial council? They’ll expect an update by tonight.”

Elle exhaled, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Dean will give you the details. Do it exactly as he says.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward her, his pride burning but silent.

The meeting adjourned in silence — the air still thick with the echo of power and distrust.

 

Far away, under the same moonlight that watched over the cemetery, Cyan’s reflection flickered in the BMW window — unaware that her name had just become the center of a war seven years in the making.

The story was only beginning…