Split Apart

Ren and Gojo appeared beside the crater.

One looked calm. The other looked at the panicking crowd with a trace of concern.

"We should leave first," Gojo said. "Then..."

He vanished before the sentence ended.

Ren's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Interesting."

The people behind this attack had prepared carefully. Something had pulled Gojo directly elsewhere.

Separate them and deal with them one at a time.

An elderly figure slowly rose from the ground. As it appeared, the surrounding space seemed to freeze. Even the noise of the mall disappeared.

Its old face was folded into deep wrinkles, like flesh squeezed around a pair of muddy eyes.

Ren snapped his fingers.

The crisp sound rang clearly in the silent space.

A hanging chair woven from wisteria appeared behind him. Ren sat down lightly, crossed one leg over the other, and rested his chin on his right hand.

His narrow eyes looked at the cursed spirit as if saying:

Begin your performance.

Obo caught that emotion, and the contempt lit the anger it had been suppressing.

It was born from humanity's hatred of real life. Coming into the city with Filth had already stirred its disgust. Only the mission had forced it to hold back.

Now Ren's attitude broke that restraint.

Obo stared at the human before it.

Danger.

Its special-grade survival instinct screamed that this man was dangerous.

But retreat was no longer allowed.

Obo straightened. A strange aura spread from its body. It did not cause hatred. Instead, it carried yearning, like a dream of a life without pain.

As the aura expanded, the people who had been crying and screaming forgot the disaster in front of them. One by one, they smiled with empty happiness.

Ren watched with mild interest.

This cursed spirit projected its imagined world into people's minds. It drowned them inside that fantasy and took control of life and death through the spirit.

"Ren Zenin," Obo said, "I want to discuss terms."

At the same time, Gojo found himself in an underground station.

Trains and pedestrians moved normally. The distance from the surface kept them unaware of the chaos above.

Gojo looked toward the center of the platform.

A black liquid bubbled out of the ground like a fountain with no water.

The stench arrived first.

"That smells awful! Who did that?"

"What kind of person carries a sewer around?"

"Is this gas? Did someone bring a whole septic tank down here?"

People gagged, shouted, and stumbled away.

The liquid formed a black shadow among them. Anyone nearby collapsed from the smell.

A train pulled in. The people vomiting on the platform turned and rushed aboard as if the station contained a chemical weapon. Those preparing to get off saw the scene and stayed inside, begging the train to leave.

Even passengers near the doors rolled their eyes from the odor.

Gojo pinched his nose and looked at the black shadow with open irritation.

"You stink. Could you not take a bath before showing up?"

"I am a cursed spirit born from humanity's negative emotions toward pollution," the shadow said. Its voice sounded wet and uneven, as if it were speaking through water. "This smell is my sign. When I appear, it surrounds me like soldiers around a king."

Gojo's blue eyes filled with disgust.

He looked at the civilians sprawled across the station.

Too many people.

Domain Expansion was impossible. Large-scale techniques were difficult.

Hand-to-hand combat?

He looked at the oily body. Something like filth kept appearing and sinking inside it.

Every cell in his body rejected the idea.

"This got annoying."

Outside the mall, groups of black-clothed personnel quickly surrounded the building. Warning lines went up with practiced speed. A Curtain spread to block sight and presence.

Everything looked orderly, which made it worse.

A group wearing glasses and pale-red capes passed through the line under the name of rescue. They crossed the boundary and entered the mall.

"Today's objective is to eliminate Ren Zenin and Satoru Gojo," one of them said. "We split into two teams according to the plan. Do not make mistakes. You know the consequences."

They were not from one organization. Their shared goal was enough.

Those two men disturbed the world's balance. That was the excuse.

"Do these things actually work? Are we just walking to our deaths?"

"They work. I tested one. Killed a Grade 2 sorcerer who offended me before."

"The jujutsu world calls curse users inhuman. Looks like they are worse than us."

"If they keep these tools after today, will they use them against us?"

"Relax. After this battle, those tools will only exist in our hands."

The team going after Gojo reached the subway entrance and opened the spray devices on their backs early.

"Isn't spraying this soon a waste?"

"If we wait until we see him, will we still have the chance?"

"Stop talking and work."

"Put your masks on before entering. If you faint, do not blame anyone."

They reached the entrance and froze.

The stairs were covered in vomit. Several civilians lay foaming on the ground, half-conscious. Others had collapsed in filth.

"What is this?"

"That black thing is insane."

"Do not throw up. If you throw up, I will throw up too."

"Hurry up. Break the tubes and finish half the mission."

They pulled out glass tubes filled with liquid like a biological weapon. The liquid drifted inside like playful fireflies.

The tubes shattered.

No liquid spread across the floor. The moment the contents touched air, they vaporized and merged into the station atmosphere.

Pink particles wrapped the entire platform.

The four curse users tightened their clothing and laughed when they saw Gojo.

"Satoru Gojo! You did not expect this, did you?"

"How does it feel not being able to use cursed techniques?"

"Blame yourself for being too strong. Your existence affects the balance of the world!"

Gojo removed his sunglasses. His expression became serious as the Six Eyes read the air.

Those particles ignored Limitless and clung directly to him. He tested his cursed energy and felt an invisible hand closing around his soul. If he tried to circulate cursed energy, the grip tightened.

Gojo smiled.

"You think this is enough to kill me?"

He looked at Filth.

The cursed spirit stood still, as if waiting for something.

A train arrived.

The curse users smiled.

Their plan was simple: more civilians meant more hesitation. The people on the ground were not dead because they were hostages.

Gojo understood the expression on their faces.

If cursed techniques were troublesome, he would use his body.

He kicked off the ground and shot forward.

"Fire Manipulation: Wolf Flame!"

Three wolves made of fire rushed toward him. Gojo shifted aside.

His foot landed on a civilian's back.

Vomit stuck to his shoe.

The playfulness vanished from his face.

His chin lifted. The arrogance that belonged to Satoru Gojo returned in full.

"You rats," he said. "Ready to die?"

In the monitoring room for Nanami's exam, Masamichi Yaga stared at his phone.

Someone was attacking Gojo and Ren?

What kind of suicidal fool provoked those two?

He tried calling the higher-ups.

No answer.

Again.

No answer.

After several failed calls, he understood.

"Damn it. Are the old men involved too?"

They were not going to support Gojo and Ren.

Yaga grabbed several finished cursed corpses. He looked once at Panda, who was playing nearby, then sighed.

This was enough.

Within half an hour, Yaga stood outside the mall.

The Curtain covered the building.

"I am Masamichi Yaga, a teacher at Jujutsu High," he said. "I received notice from above and came to provide support."

He started forward.

Two arms blocked him.

"Sorry. We received instructions. There is a special-grade cursed spirit inside. To avoid unnecessary casualties, sorcerers without protective measures cannot enter."

Protective measures?

Yaga stared at the speaker.

Had they released poison gas inside just to kill those two?

He looked toward the subway entrance.

"You cannot enter there either," the man said. "Unknown gas has filled the station. Sorcerers who enter cannot use cursed energy."

Yaga's restraint broke.

"Damn you."

That was a major subway entrance. They had gone this far without caring how many civilians lived or died.

He ran toward the stairs.

Four black-clothed men appeared in front of him like guards.

"I am going in," Yaga said. "Anyone who stops me dies."

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