Chapter Text

A calm breeze whisked its way through the medieval city, the sounds of those who lived in this foreign land chattering and laughing away like a musical symphony in the air.

It was peaceful—it was calm and almost serene despite the noise. And on one of the many cobble-slabbed streets, opposite a dragon-hitched wagon’s parole stand, stood a young man in peculiar attire.

He stood tall, firm—almost like a statue. His white, otherworldly hair blew in the wind, earning him a few odd glances.

“Eh…?”

He blinked—once, twice—thrice—

Before finally daring to move, angling his dark-tinted sunglasses slightly to let his eyes—rich sky blue, flecked with various shades of lighter and darker color—take in these unfamiliar lands.

“Well—this certainly wasn’t on my bingo card…”

The young man murmured under his breath. As he glanced around, he noticed something strange: there were quite literally zero curses, or even traces of cursed energy, in the air.

If that alone wasn’t enough to clue him in on what had happened, then the presence of something else—something unfamiliar yet tangible—certainly was.

Alright so... there’s mana in the air. Strange animal-looking folk roaming the streets and...

As he observed everyone else—and then himself—he noticed they all had something in common.

His Six Eyes, something many considered a gift from God, gave him all the information he needed. And what he saw was—a Gate, and an Od.

The Gate flowed at everyone’s center like a mystical, magical whirlpool, storing mana in the body and allowing its release in various forms.

Beside it, the Od resided. The information his eyes granted him told him that this was essentially one’s soul—one’s life energy.

Alright… so this all basically equates to one thing...

“I, Satoru Gojo, have been transmigrated into another world!”

Just moments prior, he had been roaming the streets of Jujutsu High. Then he blinked—watching in shock as the very fabric of the world crumbled before his eyes. A strange ringing, almost painful, jolted through his head.

And then, he opened his eyes to this new world. Now, Satoru Gojo was aimlessly wandering cobblestone streets.

If I was gonna get sent to a whole other world, then Suguru could’ve at least joined me. Damn it.

Satoru let out a long, exasperated breath, scratching the side of his head.

Then he glanced down at a stall—and a familiar-looking basket of fruit in front of it.

It’s strange… The people speak Japanese, but the writing is something I’ve never seen before. Not that it’ll take me long to learn a new language—I am Satoru Gojo, after all!

“Uh… ah right… I am completely broke.”

The man behind the stall immediately leaned forward, the veins on his forehead bulging.

“Then get the hell outta here!!”

Right… So I’ve learned a few interesting things about this place. I’m currently in the Kingdom of Lugunica—more specifically, the Royal Capital. Though what to do with that information… no clue.

“...Especially 'cause it’s definitely common knowledge.”

Satoru sighed, then spotted a trio of suspicious-looking individuals—one large, one skinny, and one small.

They really do look like your average thieves straight out of a manga… but who am I to judge based on appearances?

“Well, well, well—look what we have here!” the largest man of the three hummed.

“We’re feelin’ real nice today, so just cough up all you got and we’ll let you on your way,” the smallest said, grinning.

“Yo~ Are you really sure you wanna do this?” Satoru said with a calm smile, glaring at them. “Yikes… Just how far have I fallen? Special Grade Sorcerer—or well… former—reduced to being threatened by no-name criminals.”

“Huh?!” the skinny one tensed up, scowling. Then—

SHINK—
A pair of daggers flashed, catching the sunlight.
“The hell did you say, basta—?!”

But Satoru had already moved. Though to them, it was as if he hadn’t.

In the next moment, he stood beside the thin man, casting a shadow as he towered over him. One palm casually rested on the man's shoulder.

“You say something?”

If that wasn’t enough to terrify them—

The sight of Satoru’s pearlescent azure gaze, glowing faintly over the edge of his sunglasses, would have been.

And it was.

“A-Ah…” The thug didn’t even dare to move. He didn’t swing his daggers. It was like a rabbit facing a lion.

Mm… smarter than he looks, ain’t he?~

Satoru patted his shoulder before returning his hand to his pocket. “Wise choice.” His tone dipped slightly darker—then returned to normal. “Scurry along now~ Don’t let me catch you doing this again~!”

The trio immediately scurried off without a word.

“Hm… well, I was almost hoping they’d do something… But oh well—”

Satoru chuckled to himself.

Then—

“Are you alright?”
A voice beckoned from behind him—etched with purity, and a hint of curiosity.

..?!

Satoru’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, immediately turning toward the voice.

Crimson hair. Cerulean eyes. Sword at his waist.

Hell, even the rays of sunlight had moved to spotlight him. More importantly…

I didn’t even sense him until he spoke. That’s never happened before.

“Oh. Yes, I’m fi—” Satoru paused.

W-What the hell is that?! Divine Blessings of… Gah! Information overload—holy!

He flicked his sunglasses back up with a grimace.

“...Is everything alright?” the man repeated, confusion masking his handsome features.

This guy… he’s strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve seen…

“Ah! Yep! Perfectly fine. Those people that fled were trying to rob me, so I gave them a little fright,” Satoru said, nodding, face returning to normal.

“Ah, most respectable indeed,” the crimson-haired man replied with a nod.

“What’s your name, by the way? I’m Satoru. Satoru Gojo.”

Did… I say something wrong?

“A-Ah… apologies, Satoru Gojo. It’s just been a long time since I’ve met someone who didn’t know me. My name is Reinhard van Astrea—otherwise known as the Sword Saint. Though, I don’t really consider myself worthy of such a title.”

Was that… relief? Joy?

Ah. I did hear talk about a ‘Sword Saint’. Thought it was just myth, or some ancient tale. But wow… Could he, like—tone down all of that? Just looking at him above the glasses is giving me eye burn.

“Your attire is certainly unusual. Funny, actually—a situation like this happened not too long ago. You wouldn’t happen to be searching for someone, would you?”

Hm? What’s he talking about?

“Eh? Nah—”

Reinhard’s smile held, though something shifted—seriousness. “Apologies. Nice meeting you, Satoru, but I have somewhere I need to be. Quickly.”

Satoru noticed the shift, and nodded.

“I’ll come, then! Oh, and knock off the 'san', Reinhard. I’ve heard enough honorifics to last a lifetime—it’s just annoying at this point.”

Reinhard looked at him, several seconds passing, before he nodded.

“Very well, Satoru. You may call me Reinhard.”

“Let’s go then!” Satoru hummed, grinning.

He almost reminds me of Suguru in a way… funny…

Satoru wasn’t sure what he was feeling—maybe it was realization. On one hand, he no longer had to deal with the Gojo Clan’s baggage. On the other… he might never see his best friend again.

He let out a sigh as he sprinted alongside Reinhard—

The two hopping rooftop to rooftop at impressive speed, headed toward—

The slums...?

In the slums...

“G-Grh!”

Each slash of the dagger came close—too close. Natsuki Subaru barely blocked them by a hair’s breadth.

But there was no opening. No time to counter.

SWISH—

The jet-black dagger, streaked with purple, was raised overhead.

It was unblockable. Undodgeable.

In a moment, fate would repeat—and Subaru would once again feel it tear through his flesh—

Then—

A shard of ice struck the woman’s side, Emilia struck at a distance with magic, playing the perfect support role and more importantly stopping what would have been a fatal strike.

“Nice cover—!”

Subaru shouted, crimson lines etching across his skin, staining his clothing.

“Gah—! Then… how about this?!”

He moved, retracting the giant mace to his side—

A feint. His leg sprang outward, aiming for the woman’s ribs.

“—Wha?!”

However, she blocked it effortlessly, a single hand catching his shin mid-kick and holding him in place.

Fear..

That was what filled Subaru’s face as the dagger’s edge glistened in the moonlight. Would he have to do this all over again?

Thankfully, fate had other plans it seemed for now…

“That’s enough.”

A strangely familiar, calming voice filled the air, freezing everyone in place.

BOOOM—

The ceiling above them caved in with a thunderous crash. Smoke and splintered wood fell to the ground.

“Well then…”

From the shadows, a silhouette emerged, shrouded in mist. Each step was firm, radiating confidence—radiating power.

Unrivaled, would be the most simple term..

“That certainly was a close call… but I’m glad we made it in time.”

It was the Sword Saint, Reinhard, his casual smile never faltering.

Elsa, however, merely looked on with utter indifference.

“…By ‘we’, you mean—”

SWISH—

A leg shot out and struck Elsa in the stomach, splintering the wooden floor beneath her.

Her body snapped inward before being flung across the tavern, crashing into a nearby wall.

“Yeah~ He’s not alone.”

The white haired-man grinned, his foot settling back onto the ground.

Subaru stared at the two figures, letting out a long, exasperated breath of relief..

But something else caught his attention.

Who’s he...? Do sunglasses exist here!?

“No need to worry, Subaru. Sorry for being late.”

THUD—

After a moment, the pieces of wood that had collapsed atop the burrowed hole where Elsa resided trembled.

Then they were severed, diced into thin strands of wood before she emerged from the darkness.

"Oh..?" The white-haired man hummed.

Subaru felt almost inclined to stare at him, strangely, though because of that, he watched the way the man's grin only grew wider when Elsa revealed herself once more.

A fleeting moment of silence, before—

"Black hair... black clothes... and a peculiar blade unique to the northern provinces. There’s no mistaking those characteristics. You are the 'Bowel Hunter,'" Reinhard said swiftly, not even bothering to ask, as if he already knew.

"What kind of evil nickname even is that?!" Subaru commented with a grimace. "It derived from her sadistic style of killing where she’d disembowel her opponents."

Elsa stepped forward, licking her lips. "Yes... good. A Knight among Knights, the Sword Saint himself... yes~ How fun..!"

I’m being ignored... Even after landing the first blow, she only wants to fight Reinhard? I mean, the dude is insane alright, but I have my pride.

"Sorry, Reinhard." Satoru finally spoke up, which got the attention of everyone awake in the tavern.

"But I really don’t like being ignored, so I’ll be sure to show her the error of her ways..."

Surprisingly, Reinhard gave little protest to this, as if already aware of Satoru's might.

"Very well, Satoru. I would prefer her alive for questioning, but if it’s too much, then worry not."

Ohoo... I can certainly do that... I can already tell she ain't all that.

Elsa moved—quicker than quick, faster than faster. The gap between them closed in an instant—

"Don't worry about me."

Satoru stepped forward, merely once.

Then, he shifted—his entire body rotating to the side to avoid the dagger’s sharpness.

"Missed me~"

THWACK—

A heavy blow struck her face, the shockwave rippling through her entire body and sending her into a skid backward. The warm, familiar sensation of blood trickled down her face as she lifted her head from her low stance—

Satoru had already moved by that point, the sole of his foot launching into her face for a sudden follow-up that sent the Bowel Hunter flying toward the wall.

Oh..? Yeah, good~ This wouldn't be any fun for me if you were just a ragdoll after all!

She recovered, flipping upright and propelling herself off of the ground, then the wall—then another—and another—as she sprinted around the tavern’s border at neck-breaking speed.

Before suddenly dashing in at the sight of an opening, seemingly homing in as if she were a missile.

Her dagger thrust toward his flank, which he hadn’t even seen coming...

It’s checkmate.

Elsa mused to herself. Though her expression faltered in the very next moment as her dagger suddenly stopped, just an inch from his neck.

"What—" A barrier...?

Satoru glanced around the corner of his eye, a small grin on his face before he instantly pivoted and gripped her forearm, which was wielding the dagger.

"It’s not as simple as you're thinking~ Though this does, in fact, mean I’ve only been dodging you for style points..."

He leaned forward, his deep cerulean pupils locking onto her own, which were pitch-black in hue, accompanied by a grin.

"You feel me? Don’t take it personally though... just hope you’re stronger in your next life, alright?"

SMASH—

Her body was then lifted off the ground, shifted mid-air, and slammed spine-first against the wooden surface.

The heavy impact alone shattered the ground and caused the entire tavern to tremble momentarily.

K-Kuagh!? This...-

Then, a kick to her body sent her flying aimlessly through the wall and outside.

This bastard isn't even the Sword Saint..! Yet... I can't even touch him!

Satoru stepped forward, stepping over scattered pieces of rubble and debris before pointing his index finger directly toward Elsa.

Rich—intense—overwhelming crimson...

Pure crimson lit up the surface like the sun itself, growing, manifesting—brighter—larger—more intensely—

Elsa felt one thing. Death. If this touches her, she will die.

If this hits me—!!

"Ah." Satoru clicked his tongue. The red instantly dissipated into nothingness. "Well, it would either kill her or blow her way off... though I’d also destroy a portion of this place, which Reinhard and also the uh... people wouldn’t like."

"It’s your lucky day! Reinhard did ask me to keep you alive after all," Satoru said with a smile, tilting his head.

He blinked. Then, a huge mound of smoke manifested along with the debris...

Elsa Granhiert was gone, like the wind.

Huh... Ah... that was dumb of me, wasn't it?

Satoru clicked his tongue before rubbing his nape and turning away.

A tad annoyed at that... though I can still sense a person’s presence. It’s not to the same degree as it was on Earth... I guess because Mana is different from Cursed Energy after all.

He shrugged.

Chapter Text

Satoru let out a slightly annoyed sigh, his eyes fixated on his palm as he made his way back to the tavern.

I failed Reversal Red again... and let that lady get away. Mmm... what is it going to take for me to understand this? I've got Blue down to a T, but I still don't get it!

"Well..." He glanced up from his palm and surveyed the slums surrounding him. It probably would've been really annoying to explain the property damage if it had actually worked, so maybe it's for the best.

Sitting over the unconscious, large body of Old Man Rom, Subaru watched in awe as the spectral haze of mana surrounding Emilia's palms slowly mended the torn flesh, knitting it back together and closing it at impressive speeds—unlike anything the Japanese boy had ever seen before.

That's seriously cool. Surely, whenever my training arc hits, I'll learn stuff like that too...

He then tilted his head to the side, toward Reinhard.

"So, your friend—will he be alright?"

The Sword Saint peered toward Subaru, nodding serenely.

"Satoru...?" He paused, brow furrowing.

"Ah... there's something different about him for sure. Though I can't quite put my finger on it, I am certain he'll be fine."

As if on cue, an otherworldly red hue flooded through the open gaps in the wall, lighting up the night sky with vermilion before vanishing not a moment later.

"W-What was that?!"

It seemed Subaru wasn’t the only one shocked by the spectacle. Emilia’s eyes were wide, Felt’s were wider—though, surprisingly, the one with the widest eyes was the Sword Saint himself.

"That... magic... that's... that's not—" He paused, closing his eyes to regain his composure.

Huh, it must’ve been seriously cool if it’s got this guy gawking over it...

Little did Subaru know, Reinhard wasn’t gawking over its power—which, albeit immense—he was reacting to something else. Something different.

A few moments passed.

Satoru appeared once more, standing atop a pile of rubble that had collapsed when Elsa was launched through the wall.

"Yo. I’m back. She sorta got away, so that’s my bad..."

Watching as the white-haired man slid down the rubble with his hands in his pockets, Reinhard spoke.

"Worry not, Satoru. I imagine the outcome would’ve been no different had I traded blows with her."

Jeez. Humble, much?

"So... it's all over now?" Subaru muttered, his gaze fixated on Emilia as he reached out to catch her when she stumbled from exhaustion.

Emilia seemed to notice this and blinked.

"W-Why are you staring at me?"

"A-Ah." He coughed. "Well, it’s just... you still have your arms, legs, and head!"

"Eh? Of course I do... don’t say such scary things."

Clasping his hands together, Subaru nodded.

"Right! I also have my arms, and I haven’t been stabbed in the back—nor is there a hole in my gut!"

Emilia raised a brow, tilting her head. "You talk like you've experienced those things before?"

"Agh... my manners!" Subaru hummed, shifting into a peculiar stance with a finger pointed toward the gaping hole in the ceiling.

"Natsuki Subaru is my name! The one who tried to get back your Insignia and then fought against a heinous villain to help you. Wouldn't this mean you should repay me in kind?"

Emilia recoiled, stepping back in confusion, though his words were fair.

"A-Alright! I understand. If it's within my power, then..."

"Then in that case... I have one request. I'd like to know your name." His tone deepened.

This resulted in Emilia almost bursting into laughter before eventually nodding.

"Emilia. My name is Emilia. Thank you for helping me, Subaru."

Eesh... what kind of world have I been summoned into...?  Satoru thought to himself, though he found his gaze fixed on Subaru for a while longer than expected.

A blush crept up Subaru's cheeks before he coughed and turned away from Emilia, peering toward Satoru and Reinhard.

"Thanks, you two! You really, like, saved our skin... like—literally!"

Reinhard just chuckled at his straightforwardness.

"I stumbled across Satoru here and felt something happening at the slums, so we came as fast as we could."

Satoru, however, didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes were wide—not that anyone could see that.

Eh... I mean, I already got the vibe that this guy was from Japan, but...

Like the wind, Satoru flickered, vanishing from Subaru’s vision one moment and reappearing only a few inches away the next.

"Huh... that’s funny..."

This guy... he's got a ton of Cursed Energy...!!

"Eh...? What—something on my face?" Subaru replied, caught off guard and flustered.

"Mmm... well, something like that. I’ll talk to you about it later."

With a nod, Satoru’s index finger tapped against the center of Subaru's forehead.

In the next moment...

There was darkness.

Catching his unconscious body as it slumped forward, Satoru glanced toward the shocked Emilia.

"He’s pretty injured, right? Look at him. And you probably can't properly heal him right now either, I imagine."

Emilia gave a small, hesitant nod.

"It’s for his own good. He’ll be in a hell of a lot of pain as soon as he calms down."

Satoru said swiftly, picking up Subaru’s body and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"'Hell of a'?" Emilia muttered, raising a brow.

"Eh? Oh... don’t worry about it..." Satoru coughed, glancing over to Reinhard, who stepped forward.

"Emilia-sama, may I ask... what is your relationship with Subaru?"

Emilia tilted her head. "An... acquaintance. I don’t believe I’ve met him before."

Reinhard peered over at the unconscious Subaru. "He said he was looking for you and that he had something to give you."

"Ah, well... I don’t actually have a place to live, you know? Real new around these parts... Could I bring Subaru along with me to one of your places?" Satoru asked casually.

Reinhard, ever-benevolent, was quick to answer,
"I’d be glad to take you both to my house as guests."

Emilia shook her head.
"No... I’ll take you both with me, if that’s alright. I have things I’d like to ask Subaru anyway. More importantly, what will become of those two?" she asked, clearly referring to Rom and Felt.

"I cannot overlook what they’ve done, officially speaking. But, well... I am off duty today."

Felt peered over at Emilia.
"I... I’m sorry. You saved my life, so I’ll obviously return what I took from you."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the shining Insignia and held it out to Emilia.

"Make sure to keep it hidden so something like this won’t happen again."

Emilia reached out to take back her stolen Insignia, but her loose grip caused it to fall from her hand and slide to Satoru’s feet.

"...R-Right..." Emilia muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Satoru didn’t even bother reaching down, instead pulling the Insignia into his grasp with a light, pearlescent force that flowed around the outline of his hand.

Grasping it, he watched the way it dimly shone.

Neat little gem. Don’t understand almost dying for it, though.

With a shrug, he reached out to give it back to Emilia. Then—

A hand clasped his forearm—yes, he had already turned off Infinity, though not to the point where it was painful, just firm.

"...Reinhard?" Satoru mused, a raised brow. What the hell's got him so shaken up...?

"How... Satoru... ahem, apologies, but I’ll need you to come with me."

"Eh? Well... I guess that's fine. What’s the big deal, though?" Satoru asked.

"That, I will explain soon."

Satoru just shrugged, glancing toward Subaru’s unconscious body, which he still held, before sighing.

Then, he handed back the Insignia and placed Subaru’s body down next to Emilia.

"I imagine he’d rather be with you than me," Satoru muttered.

Was excited to teach him how to use Cursed Energy. He's definitely got potential.

Reinhard nodded.

Hours later, inside a carriage...

Reinhard still had yet to explain what was going on. With every question Satoru asked, he merely insisted he keep following.

Could it be Reversal Red? Maybe he's just curious about what it is. Not that I can blame him—I am pretty amazing.

"Ahem..." Reinhard coughed, clearly purposefully.
"I do apologize for having to do this, Satoru-sama... it's just not something that can be spoken of in public."

"...Ah, so you're finally going to explain?—also, keep the honorifics to a minimum!" Satoru responded, raising a brow.

He nodded.
"You, Satoru-sa... Satoru, are the fifth and final candidate for the throne of Lugunica."

Ah. I see...

"..."

"...?"

"Wait, WHAT?!" he suddenly yelled out, almost jumping out of the seat and lunging toward Reinhard, who sat opposite him.

"H... How...?!"

Satoru let out a breath, returning to his seat before continuing.

"Firstly, I have literally... zero knowledge of this entire world. I know that we're in Lugunica, and that’s about it."

"Secondly, I’ve been here for not even one day. I can’t have done anything that should put me on such a pedestal—"

It's not like I wanna lay low or anything, not with all my power... but if I have to talk and please some stinkin’ old ass men again, then count me the hell out!

Reinhard remained silent for a moment, a look of understanding coating his features before he spoke.

"Yes, but the red glow of the Insignia appeared as soon as you touched it. Which, in turn, means that you've been chosen by the dragon."

Oh, I might have to go find this dragon and give it a piece of my mind, alright...

He grimaced, leaning back on his seat and rubbing his crystalline eyes behind his sunglasses.

"So... I don't exactly have a choice, right?"

Reinhard shook his head.
"I apologize, but no."

Truthfully, the absolute last thing he wanted right now—probably behind straight-up dying—was to become king. Just the idea of having to uphold such dignity and speak in such a posh way was incredibly off-putting. All it did was remind him of his time in the Gojo clan.

Plus those annoying-ass elders in Jujutsu High constantly nagging me... Argh. It's not like I can just ruin my chances on purpose when he’s giving me that look, either—!

Satoru sighed.
"Mmmm... alright, I guess... Firstly, we're friends from now on, Reinhard. So no honorifics, and stop apologizing. I can see how strong you are, and it's giving me eye burn, but acting like that’ll just have people walk over you—even with that badass title of yours!"

He pointed, wagging his index finger toward the shocked Reinhard.
"Friends?"
"V... Very well, then. I shall do as you say, Satoru."

Satoru grinned, pleased with his words, before he closed his eyes.
"Though I’m literally on my own, so the chances aren’t very good off rip..."

Then, they shot open from the sound of the rich wooden boards below subtly quaking from pressure.
"Eh?"

He wasn’t expecting to lay eyes upon a bowing Reinhard, his head to the floor and one knee lowered.

"I may not be able to live up to your expectations... but if you'd be willing to have me, then... I, the Sword Saint of Lugunica, hereby swear fealty to the fifth candidate for the throne, Satoru Gojo, and I promise to stand alongside him until the day he succeeds."

What the fuck... I'd be lying if I didn't say this was seriously embarrassing. Well, it's not like I can say no after that...

"A-Ahem... Then I, fifth candidate for the throne of Lugunica, Satoru Gojo, welcome Reinhard van Astrea with open arms as my knight."

I’ve never been fond of formality, but I never said I was bad at it.

Chapter Text

[SWISH] — [SWISH] — [THUD!]

Satoru's foot slammed into the grassy field, his fist clenched at his hip. He pivoted just in time, narrowly dodging a dark-gloved fist that carved through the air beside his cheek.

"Urk—!?"

This guy..!

Reinhard surged forward, his leg slicing through the wind in a wide, diagonal arc—its speed bordering the absurd. [SWOOSH!] In response, Satoru vaulted upward, his body coiling midair like a spring. With a twist, he brought his leg crashing down toward Reinhard’s shoulder.

But—

A hand snapped up, stopping the strike cold as if through instinct.

Fingers clamped around Satoru’s shin. Then, with effortless strength, Reinhard hurled him through the air at neck-breaking speed.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m the one with Infinity or if he is... I can’t even touch him!

Satoru twisted mid-flight, slamming both feet into the ground. Earth exploded beneath him as he skidded back, carving two ragged trails through the mud and turf.

[STEP] — The Sword Saint moved.

—The space between them vanished in an instant.

"!!"
Satoru’s eyes widened. A shadow overtook his face—Reinhard’s fist, already inches from landing.

It stopped.

A fraction from contact, the fist trembled against an unseen force—Infinity manifesting like an invisible wall that saved him from embarrassment. 

After a long breath, Satoru exhaled.

"..That's my loss yet again."

Reinhard straightened, adopting a relaxed stance, his smile easy.

"You’re incredibly skilled, Satoru. I'm sure I'd be at a loss if not for my Divine Protection of Initiative, and the Divine Protection of First Attack Immunity, and Second Attack Immunity, and also Precognition, and—"

Yeah, yeah... I get it. It's BLINDING, dude.. literally—

"—And also the—"

Satoru stepped forward, cutting him off.
"I know, Reinhard. You tell me after every spar. You don’t have to sugarcoat it." He glanced to the side.
"Honestly... I've been needing to fight someone again like this for a while anyway."

What I’m not saying is—being overpowered like this? It’s exhilarating.
This has never happened before. Not with Suguru. Not with anyone.
It’s amazing, thrilling!

"Satoru?" Reinhard raised an eyebrow, snapping Satoru out of his thoughts.

"Ah— ahem, yeah. Let’s call it here." He dusted himself off, trying to sound casual. "I’ve still got to catch up on this world’s history and all that, so... later."

Ugh. Nothing kills the post-battle thrill like diving into some dusty books... but hey, duty calls.

Satoru sat with one leg casually crossed over the other, a thick book resting in his hand. Around him, towering shelves stretched endlessly in every direction—rows upon rows of ancient tomes and manuscripts rising like the ribs of some vast, forgotten beast. The library loomed above, cavernous and quiet, its sheer scale swallowing even the sound of turning pages despite the fact it was deathly silent.

“Hmm...” Satoru hummed, clicking his tongue. His index finger tapped rhythmically against the open page as he mulled over its contents.

I’ve probably crammed enough knowledge to pass for a functioning local in this world… which means—

It’s time to hunt.

For what, exactly?
For recruits. For the 'Gojo Camp'!

He closed the book with a soft thud, placing it neatly on the desk before rising to his feet. Without hesitation, he strode out of the library, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous silence.

The hallways he passed through were ornate—gilded trim, marble floors, tapestries and chandeliers—a palace masquerading as a home. Nobles, attendants, and knights nodded respectfully as he walked by, each greeting him with silent reverence.

They shouldn’t know I’ve been chosen for the Royal Selection yet...
Then again, this feels like Reinhard’s doing. He probably just told them to treat me like they would him. Typical.

He tapped the stem of his sunglasses, adjusting them with a tilt before his gaze sharpened—focus snapping back into place.

“I’m not looking for quantity…” he muttered to himself. “Even one person is enough—so long as they’re the best of the best.”

The one I’m most curious about is probably with that “Emilia” girl’s camp… Subaru, was it?
The way he was acting around her before—it’s obvious where his loyalties lie. My chances of pulling him over? Pretty much zero I'd imagine.

A shame, really... I wanted to see that bundle of Cursed Energy he’s carrying actually put to use.
Still gonna teach him though.

He smirked to himself at the thought, hands slipping into his pockets as he continued down the hall.

Before long, he stepped into his personal quarters within the Astrea Estate—spacious, easily one of the largest rooms in the entire manor. The moment he crossed the threshold, it felt like the room itself shimmered in response, sunlight dancing across polished floors and ornate furnishings.

"I’ve walked in here a dozen times already," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at his lips, "and it’s still impressive... Never saw anything this grand, not even in the Gojo Clan."

He dropped into the desk chair with a satisfied sigh, kicking his feet up onto the polished surface like he owned the place—which, at this point, might not be far from the truth.

Now for the hard part—finding recruits.
Besides the folks already here, and maybe a few I can count on one hand, I don’t know anyone who’s impressive enough to make the cut.

His head tilted lazily from side to side, knuckle pressed to his chin as he let out a thoughtful hum.

.. Mmm.. scratch that, I actually do..
That orange-haired thief girl from before—she might actually be a fit for the Gojo Camp. I didn’t get to see her fight, but the Six Eyes don't lie.. she’s got a Divin e  Protection. And that alone puts her in rare company. Other than Reinhard—who for some reason is hoarding hundreds of the damn things—I haven’t seen anyone else with even one.

"My intellect honestly scares even me sometimes..." he smirked. "Now then—unless she got herself thrown in a cell for stealing again, which I can just ask Reinhard about—she should still be in the slums."

Satoru nodded to himself, pushing up from the chair with a stretch before drifting toward the tall glass window. Outside, the sun hovered just above the horizon, casting long golden rays across the sprawling landscape—a picture of calm before whatever storm tomorrow could possibly bring.

"I’ll head there tomorrow," he murmured, watching the light fade. "Reinhard’ll probably tag along anyway… whether I ask him to or not."

His smirk faded slightly as a thought crossed his mind.

Elsa Granhiert... right. She strikes me as the type to hold a grudge.
And getting your ass handed to you? Yeah, that’s usually grounds for one.

Still, he doubted she’d return any time soon—especially not alone. Not after what he did to her.

He clicked his tongue softly.

"Guess I should keep my guard up, just in case," he muttered. His eyes narrowed, gaze sharp again. "But without any weird curse techniques in this world..."

"I'm untouchable."

Several moments of silence passed before a knock echoed through the room. The presence behind the door was unmistakably familiar.

“Reinhard? Come in.”

The door opened with a quiet click, and the crimson-haired Sword Saint stepped inside, offering Satoru a respectful nod.

“So, what brings you here?”

Reinhard tilted his head slightly, pausing before speaking.

“I thought it might be… convenient.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow. “That one of your weird powers again?” he joked, smirking—though the silence that followed gave him pause.
“Seriously?—”

Satoru shook his head, cutting himself off. “..More importantly… do you know where ‘Emilia’ and ‘Subaru’ are staying?”

The Sword Saint hummed thoughtfully. “Lady Emilia and Subaru should be at the 'Roswaal Estate', up north.”

“Mmm… could you arrange a carriage there? And let them know I’m coming. That’d probably be best.”

Reinhard tilted his head again, as if on the verge of asking something—but instead simply nodded.

“Very well, Satoru.”

“I’ll be going alone, by the way. Won’t be gone too long—just a few days at most.”

That made Reinhard hesitate, visibly displeased.

“C’mon, Reinhard,” Satoru said, leaning back with a relaxed grin. “You of all people know how tough I am. How many can you name that could actually beat me in a fight, huh?”
Besides you.

Reinhard said nothing at first, but finally gave a slow nod.

“It shall be done. When do you plan to leave?”

A smirk curled back onto Satoru’s face as he rested his chin on his knuckles.

“As soon as possible.”

Inside the carriage, en route to the Roswaal Estate...

Yeah. I changed my mind, what you gonna do about it?
That whole “recruitment mission” can wait just a bit longer.

"Instead... I’m more interested in that Subaru guy—the one from my world."

It still felt strange. Two people from Japan, isekai’d into the same fantasy world? He didn’t know when Subaru had arrived, or how, but the coincidence was too big to ignore.

"Regardless… that bundle of Cursed Energy he’s sitting on is just rotting."
He narrowed his eyes, determination flashing in them. "And I—Satoru Gojo, humble as ever—refuse to let that kind of potential go to waste!"

With a smirk, he crossed one leg over the other and rested his chin on his knuckles.

“So, I’ll be teaching him. No magic. None of that mana nonsense. Just the real stuff.”

His tone dipped slightly, more thoughtful.

“He doesn't have a Cursed Technique. If he did, it’d be second nature by now—like breathing. I would’ve seen it the moment I arrived...”

He paused.

“... These eyes don't lie after all."

Satoru shrugged, leaning back with a beady grin before bursting into a low, almost villainous laugh.

Outside the cabin, the carriage driver stiffened, gripping the reins a little tighter—eyes wide as the sound of muffled laughter echoed behind him.

Chapter Text

Bright midday sun bathed the rooftop of Jujutsu High in white-hot light.

Gojo flopped onto the concrete, lounging against the low parapet while Suguru leaned on the chain-link fence, arms folded.

Satoru yawned.
"Another cursed spirit exorcised, another demonstration of my unrivaled awesomeness. Kinda boring, huh?"

"You say boring- I say peaceful." Suguru’s tone was dry. "Some of us appreciate a quiet campus you know."

Gojo tilted his head. "Peaceful? We just leveled half a warehouse. You’re welcome, by the way."

Suguru shot him a mock glower. "I handled the swarm while you chased the shiny one. Typical."

Gojo shrugged. "Flashy curses match my vibe. Besides, you love cleaning up after me—admit it."

A chuckle. "Hardly. I’m just saving the repair budget from your ego."

Wind rattled the fence. For a moment, the rooftop was quiet.

Satoru broke the silence, peering up from behind his shades.
"Ever think about life after Jujutsu High? We’ll be even more unstoppable than we are now, might just have to make a super-special grade class for us."

"Power isn’t the point," Suguru said, eyes following a group of first-years below. "It’s how we use it."

"Yeah, yeah—protect the weak, maintain balance. Still gonna be fun."

Suguru’s gaze lingered on the students. "Fun for you. I’m more interested in ending the cycle altogether."

Gojo grinned. "Deep thoughts for a teenager. Smile more—ups your cool factor by at least twenty-five percent."

"That a scientific fact?"

"Gojo fact. Strongest fact there is."

Suguru’s competitive spark lit. He straightened, raising an index finger.
"Fine. Training bout tomorrow. If you beat me without Limitless, dinner’s on me."

"Deal. And when I win, we hit the pricey curry place."

"Confident, aren’t you?"

"Always. Genius is such a burden." Gojo sighed theatrically, stretched, then trotted toward the stairwell.

"Remember—no Infinity!" Suguru scowled.

"Yup, because it’s ‘cheating’. Still gonna wipe the floor with you."

"We’ll see."

The door slammed shut behind them.

And the world cracked.

Light bled away. Cold seeped in. Everything dulled.

A voice—unfamiliar, yet colder than the sensation that hits him—echoed in the void...

"Save him."

Satoru jolted awake in the carriage. A faint redness rimmed his eyes before his sunglasses slid back into place. He stared at the wooden ceiling, heart hammering.

Damn it…

He exhaled shakily.
"Suguru… hope you’re doing okay without me."

Gojo leaned forward, raking a hand through his hair before turning to watch blurred trunks and emerald leaves slip past the window.

I’ve tried not to fixate on it, but… there has to be a way back to Earth. Whoever—or whatever—yanked me into this world had the juice to move me across dimensions. That means a return trip should be possible.

He slumped in the seat, eyes on the carriage ceiling.
"But how…?"

A ripple of mana—faint, scattered—skimmed the edge of his Six Eyes.

Unfamiliar signatures. Dozens of them.

Gojo sat up, a slow grin creeping across his face.
"Bandits, huh? Talk about unlucky." He cracked his knuckles. "They’ve chosen the single worst carriage on the planet."

Outside, both the ground dragon and the driver remained oblivious as shapes flitted between the trees, sitting in preparation and unsheathing rust-flecked swords and axes.

Gojo tapped the window frame, casual as ever.
"Guess I was getting bored anyway."

With that, he reached for the door handle—ready to greet his would-be assailants with the warmest- and shortest lesson they’d ever receive.

"Roswaal-sama informed me about a guest arriving from the Astrea Estate. So try not to do anything stupid, Barusu."

The flat tone of Ram’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest as she dusted off a nearby table.

Subaru recoiled dramatically, one hand clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.
"A guest from the Astrea Estate?! Wait—don’t tell me Reinhard’s coming here?”
He leaned forward, brow furrowing. "Also, what do you mean ‘don’t be stu—’"

"No." Ram cut him off without even looking in his direction.
"The Sword Saint himself informed Roswaal-sama about the guest. Not that he was the guest. He only mentioned treating him with the same level of respect as Emilia-sama."

Subaru blinked, straightening slowly.
"That’s... kind of a big deal, isn’t it?"

Ram offered only a noncommittal shrug.

Subaru puffed out his chest with a grin, raising one arm in a confident pose.
"Well, you don’t have to worry about me! I’ll show this mystery guest what it really means to be a top-tier Roswaal butler!"

Ram slowly lowered the rag she’d been using to wipe the table, expression unchanging.
"The standards have truly collapsed."

"Eh?!" Subaru’s arm dropped as his smile twitched.
"You didn’t even wait a second to roast me!"

Ram straightened, arms dropping neatly to her sides as she turned toward the sharp-eyed boy.

"Regardless, you’ll be greeting the guest alongside myself and sister."

Later, at the Roswaal Manor entrance...

The low rumble of carriage wheels echoed faintly, rolling across the cobblestone path outside the grand estate before coming to a gradual stop.

Subaru stood in the entry hall, glancing toward the towering double doors.
I wonder who this guest is...
Must be someone important if even Reinhard went out of his way to notify Roswaal.

The entrance was as lavish as ever—ornate golden chandeliers swayed gently overhead, casting intricate patterns across polished floors. Two ivory-white pillars rose from floor to ceiling, framing the hall like something out of a royal painting.

Subaru adjusted his posture, standing squarely before the grand doors. On either side, Ram and Rem took their positions.

Without a word, the twin maids moved in flawless synchrony, pushing open the towering wooden doors. A flood of sunlight poured in, brighter and more blinding than even the stained-glass windows above.

And through that light, a tall silhouette slowly stepped forward.

Satoru's POV

Satoru stepped through the doorway, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes roamed the lavish interior of the Roswaal estate.

Damn... this Roswaal guy’s loaded.

The golden light streaming through stained glass danced across the polished floors, reflecting off intricate woodwork and chandelier crystals with a regal flair.

Then, movement. Two maids stood side by side, heads bowed, their synchronized voices calm and formal.

"Welcome, esteemed guest."

Pink and blue hair. Identical uniforms.
Huh. Twin maids.
Guess my gorgeous white hair’s not so rare around here after all... not that that makes me any less of a showstopper.

He gave a casual wave. "Yo."

But his attention quickly drifted—not to the surroundings, nor the maids—but to the figure standing just behind them.

A black-haired boy in a sharp, black butler’s uniform. Awkward posture, wide eyes from recognizing him, And—

"Ah..."

Satoru’s smirk widened slightly behind the shadow of his sunglasses.

There it is. That cursed energy...
Overflowing, raw, and completely untamed. Hell, he’s got more of it than I do—not that it means anything to me. I cant exactly run out.

He slid his hands into his pockets and took a few steps forward. 

The maids led Satoru through the grand hallway, each step echoing lightly off the marble floor beneath ornate ceilings and gilded fixtures. The estate screamed nobility—but he barely glanced at the luxury. His hands remained tucked in his pockets, sunglasses still perfectly in place, his expression unreadable.

Eventually, they came to a large set of double doors, which opened into a lavish dining room. A long table stretched across the space, lined with fine chairs and glinting silverware, like it was set for a royal banquet.

At the far end of the table, seated with elegance and an unsettling stillness, was a man in a flamboyant outfit—white face makeup, eccentric eyeshadow, a twisted smile, and mismatched colors.

Is that... a clown?
No way. Did they seriously set up a comedy show just for me? Now that’s hospitality...

Before the thought could spiral into something worse, the blue-haired maid stepped forward.

“Our esteemed guest has arrived, Roswaal-sama.”

Satoru blinked.
Ah. So this is Roswaal...
Good thing I didn’t say that clown comment out loud. Would’ve been awkward. Though seriously—who thinks something like that and says it?

"Aaaaahh... Greeeetings, Gojo-sama. Or would you perhaps prefeeer, Satoru-sama?"

Satoru blinked as he took his seat, momentarily caught off guard by Roswaal's theatrical tone.

"Satoru's definitely fine," he replied smoothly, reclining just slightly in his chair, still scanning the room with casual interest.

Aside from the two maids flanking Roswaal like twin statues, everyone else was seated quietly. That is—until another familiar face entered.

Long silver hair. White and purple outfit. That girl from before. As soon as she arrived, the blue-haired maid stepped aside.

"Oh! It's you!" Emilia blurted out, louder than she probably meant to. Her eyes widened for a moment before she flustered, quickly taking her seat.

Satoru’s trademark smirk remained firmly in place.
"Yup. Satoru Gojo, in the flesh. Long time no see."

Subaru, seated next to Emilia, leaned forward, brows knit as something seemed to click.
"Wait... 'Sama'-?"

Roswaal answered with a playful, drawn-out lilt.
"Why yeeeees... Subaru... It is oooonly natural to give respeeect to someone of higher claaaaaass... yes?"

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. His tone shifted, weirdly serious.
"This has totally happened before..."
He paused dramatically.
"Alright, lemme guess... Is he like Emilia-tan?! Another royal candidate?"

"That I am," Satoru answered casually with a nod.

Roswaal chimed in again, smile never quite reaching his eyes.
"Yeeeees... He is the fifth and fiiiiinal candidate for the throne..."

Satoru leaned back, arms crossed loosely as he watched the odd man with quiet scrutiny.

I'm probably being paranoid... but this guy gives me serious bad vibes. It's like when no one’s told me anything, but I just know I’ve somehow pissed off Yaga and he’s gonna jump me from the shadows with an expression that makes him look like a curse.

.. Man..

He let out a quiet breath, catching himself as his thoughts started to wander off track again.

Just as he refocused, the blue-haired maid—Rem—returned, carrying plates in each hand. With practiced grace, she placed them before each person, then stepped back into position beside Ram.

Roswaal’s voice soon followed, smooth and strange as ever.
"Not thaaaat I mind in the sliiiiighest... Satoru-sama... but is there a particular reaaaason you’ve graced my estate todaaaay?" His smile was wide, eyes—two different colors—gleaming like gemstones caught in moonlight.

Satoru sat upright, grin returning, and pointed the prongs of his fork toward Subaru without hesitation.
"That there is, wise guy. And it’s sitting riiight over there."

Subaru blinked, visibly startled.
"W–Wait... me? For what?!"

Emilia leaned slightly forward, brows gently furrowed.
"...I’m not exactly willing to give Subaru to another royal candidate.."

Gojo let out a light chuckle, lowering his fork and gesturing casually.
"Relax, I’m not asking for him to join my camp or anything. It’s just..." He tilted his head thoughtfully.
"He’s got something in him. Something seriously interesting. Like... seriously seriously so."

Subaru looked confused at first. Then, as if realizing something amazing, his entire face lit up.
He leaned back in his chair, throwing on a cocky smirk.
"Heh... you hear that, guys? I am special!"

Ram sighed audibly.
"Our esteemed guest may have seen wrong."

Roswaal, still smiling, gave a soft chuckle that sounded half-genuine, half... something else.

"Is thaaaaaaaat so... and what might this... entail?"
Roswaal’s voice hung in the air like incense—pleasant but cloying. He delicately lifted a piece of meat to his lips, chewing slowly as silence settled over the room.

Gojo leaned back, completely unfazed.
"Simple. He gets stronger. Alot stronger." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"I know what you're thinking—why would I help a guy from a rival camp? And the answer’s easy- I don’t care."

He clicked his tongue, eyes shaded by the reflection of his glasses.
"This whole royal candidate thing? It’s just something I got thrown into. Whatever that crusty old dragon saw in me—cool, I guess. But I didn’t ask for it."

He waved his fork loosely toward Subaru.
"That guy, though? He’s got something inside him. Something that doesn’t belong in this world." A grin curled at the corner of his lips. "Something like mine."

Subaru looked stunned, hand rising to his chest.
"W–Wait... you’re saying you see potential in me? Like real, kick-ass, 'battle-anime protagonist' potential?!"

Gojo gave him a slow nod.
"If you’re willing to put in the work. It’ll be painful. Not that fake training arc stuff."
He leaned forward, index finger tapping the table.
"But if you can handle it... yeah. You’ll be able to stand on your own. Not just as Emilia’s butler or knight or whatever..."
A pause. "...but as someone who can protect what matters to you, properly."

Subaru blinked. Then grinned.
"Heh... You’re on, Satoru dude!"

Emilia looked concerned.
"Subaru..."

Satoru raised a hand casually.
"Hey, I’m not getting him killed or anything. Probably."

Roswaal chuckled softly, his eyes glinting.
"Ohhh... I think this could be very entertaining indeed..."

"Shall I take that as your permission, Roswaal?"
Gojo’s tone was light, but there was a glint of seriousness behind his sunglasses. His smirk lingered, fork now resting against his plate.

Roswaal dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, smiling wide.
"Whyyyy... yeeeees, of course." His words stretched like ribbon across the room.
"If training Subaru enhances Emilia-sama’s chaaaances at the throooone... then by all means, do proceed."

Subaru blinked.
"Wait, seriously? That was all it took? I thought I’d have to, like, sign a contract in blood or something."

"Uh. Yeah nah, I’m not like—some vampire or cultist or whatever." Satoru waved a hand dismissively as he stood. "Anyway."
He clapped his hands once, sharp and eager. "Food was nice, but let’s get right to it. Subaru."

Without giving the boy a second to process it, Gojo casually walked around the table and placed a firm hand on Subaru’s shoulder—

In the Garden.

In a blink—no wind-up, no warning—the two were gone. The space around them twisted, colors smeared, and reality reassembled in a blink. They now stood out in a wide, open field behind the Roswaal estate—lined with trimmed hedges and elegant flower beds, a far cry from the chaos that had just taken place inside Subaru’s head.

Subaru stumbled back, eyes wide.
"HUH?! What the hell?! How did we get out here?!"

Gojo grinned down at him, hands in his pockets.
"Just a lil' trick of mine. Don't worry about it." His tone shifted slightly—still casual, but with an undercurrent of seriousness.
"But this isn’t about me or what I can do."

He took a step closer, lowering his sunglasses slightly to peer at Subaru more directly.
"Subaru Natsuki. You’re from Earth, right? Japan—judging by the name?"

Subaru blinked, caught off guard by the question’s precision.
"Y-Yeah… I am. Wait, are you—?"

Gojo nodded confidently.

Subaru stared in disbelief.
"Eh…?! Then why are you already, like—totally badass?! Did you get gifted an Excalibur or something?! 'Cause I’ve been waiting for that kind of treatment!"

Gojo laughed. "Hah! Nah, nothing like that. I’ve had these powers since Earth."
He pointed to himself with his thumb, flashing a grin.
"Which brings us to today’s first lesson—about Cursed Energy!"

Subaru tilted his head, blinking. "…Cursed what now?"

Gojo clapped once, suddenly energized like a teacher ready to hijack the chalkboard.
"Cursed Energy, Natsuki Subaru, is the power born from Earth’s negative emotions—fear, hatred, anger, sadness. All that nasty stuff leaks into the world and creates cursed spirits—monsters, basically."
He raised a finger. "That’s where people like us come in. Jujutsu Sorcerers. We exorcise those spirits using Cursed Energy as our power source."

He stepped forward, eyes gleaming behind his sunglasses.
"So forget about mana, MP, and all that fantasy RPG stuff. Cursed Energy is way cooler."

Subaru blinked again, his mouth half open. "...That’s… actually kinda metal."

Gojo leaned in closer, voice dropping just a little.
"And here’s the kicker—you’ve got a ton of it. More than me infact, Just sitting there. Wasted. Like a nuke with no launch codes.. or a playstation with no power cable."

Subaru recoiled. "Wait, I have cursed energy?"

Gojo nodded.
"More than everyone I've seen. Way more. So now you see why I’m interested, yeah?"
He flicked Subaru on the forehead playfully. His brows furrowed.

"Cursed Spirits… Wait—so you’re telling me I’m not insane?!"
Subaru pointed to himself, eyes wide.
"I always thought I was crazy back when I was a kid… y’know, with those creepy things floating and crawling around!"

Gojo chuckled. "Yeah, that’s pretty much the textbook way we find out someone’s a sorcerer. ‘Hey, can you see that freaky monster thing that nobody else can?’ Boom. Welcome to the club."

Subaru suddenly lit up, bouncing slightly. "So does this mean I’ll be able to, like—shoot out Kamehamehas?! Or Getsuga Tenshos?! Janken Rock?!"

Gojo's smirk faltered a little.
"Oh, uh... yeah no. Sorry to crush the anime dreams, but it doesn’t really work like that."
He rubbed the back of his head. "You don’t seem to have a Cursed Technique. If you did, it’d feel like an extra limb—instinctual, something you’d already be using without even thinking by now."

Subaru looked devastated. He slumped, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Gojo quickly raised a hand.
"Whoa there, don’t go crying on me yet—save that for after the training starts."
His smile returned, now a bit more serious.
"You don’t even realize how blessed you are. You’re looking at me, Satoru Gojo, the pinnacle of Jujutsu Sorcery—the strongest sorcerer alive."
He pointed at Subaru.
“And you? You’ve got more cursed energy than I do."

He paused, sunglasses glinting.
...Granted, you’d still run out like a billion years before I ever would, but still.

Subaru’s expression shifted. His gaze sharpened, bitter and incredulous.
"You’ve just got it all, huh?"
He looked away, a small huff escaping his lips.
"The world really isn’t fair."

Gojo smirked, hands in his pockets.

"Nope. But you can gladly go around saying you’re the ‘second strongest sorcerer’ in the world."
Gojo gave a playful wink, his smirk practically dripping with arrogance.

"Great!" Subaru pumped a fist—then paused, expression flat.
"…But there’s only two of us, right?"

Satoru tilted his head, pretending to think deeply.
"Mmm… Technicalities."

Subaru groaned. "So I’m the strongest loser. Got it."

Gojo clapped his hands once, the sound echoing sharply in the open field.
"Alright! Enough talk." His sunglasses gleamed as he took a few steps back.
"Let’s begin then."

Chapter Text

The air around them grew thick—weighted like a storm just moments from pouring down.

Subaru shifted uncomfortably under the pressure, his nerves flaring despite Gojo’s relaxed posture.
"So uh… do I meditate? Scream a chant? Or.. like- bleed from the eyes or something dramatic?"

Gojo raised an eyebrow, expression unreadable behind his shades.
"You can bleed if it helps you feel cooler. Won’t actually do anything, though."

With a light chuckle, he took a few lazy steps back, planting his feet firmly into the soft grass. He stretched one arm outward, hand relaxed but steady- not quite a fist, but not open either.

"Alright, Subaru." His tone turned sharp—curious, yet commanding.
"Attack me."

Subaru blinked. "Wait- what? Like, punch you? For real?"

"Yup." Gojo nodded without hesitation. "There’s something I need to check. And don’t worry about hurting me."
His smirk returned, that same insufferably confident smirk that somehow radiated both charm and quite literally untouchable power.
"You’re laughably weak right now."

Subaru squinted. "Okay, rude."

"Facts." Gojo shrugged. "C’mon dude. Don’t overthink it. Just hit me with whatever you’ve got."

Subaru exhaled sharply, steadying his breath as he raised his fists. They trembled slightly, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver.

Then- with a shout more out of instinct than form- he lunged. Each stride was wide, desperate, his fist cocked back like a spring-loaded swing.

It flew forward—

—and was casually swept aside.

Gojo’s palm glided through the air like wind itself, redirecting the punch with such grace and ease that Subaru spun awkwardly, nearly toppling over.

"Eh?!" Subaru blurted out, stumbling as he glanced back.

"Don’t stop now." Gojo didn’t even bother to raise his voice. "You said you want to get stronger- well, this is how it starts."

Subaru clenched his teeth and charged again. Blow after blow, wild but earnest, fists flying with everything he had. A kick even snuck in now and then- none landed.

Not even close, of course.

Gojo didn’t use Infinity. He didn’t need to. His movements were smooth, minimal- flicking away strikes like swatting at falling leaves. His grin widened as he dodged, weaved, and parried with almost uncanny precision.

Huh.. He’s not completely hopeless. Honestly, I expected way worse. He's pretty fast for a completely normal guy from Japan.

Gojo cocked his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
He might even be on Suguru’s level~ pff-

He almost burst into laughter at his own thought, effortlessly deflecting one final punch with a flick of his wrist- this time with enough force to knock Subaru clean off his feet. The boy tumbled backward across the grass in an ungraceful roll.

Gojo clapped his hands together, loud and sudden.

"Alright! That’s enough. I’ve seen what I needed."

Subaru pushed himself upright, legs folding beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the grass, brushing dirt off his sleeves with a scowl.

"You get some kinda kick outta beating up the weak or something?!"

Gojo, still standing with his hands in his pockets, let out a short laugh.

"Not beating- testing. I had to see if you had even the slightest idea how to throw a punch."
He tilted his head, sunglasses gleaming.
"Good news is… you’re not the absolute worst I’ve ever seen. So congrats."

Subaru blinked. "…That’s the good news?"

"Yup." Gojo gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Which means we can skip the baby steps and move straight into the fun stuff. The real interesting stuff, forreal."

Gojo stepped forward, the grass crunching softly beneath his feet as he crouched down to meet Subaru at eye level.

"Alright, listen up. As i've said, you’ve got a ridiculous amount of Cursed Energy bubbling around inside you, there ain't alot you can do with it, but that ain't bad. Regardless, think of it like... a busted fire hydrant, spraying out in every direction, wasting all that good stuff you've got stored inside."

Subaru blinked, processing. "…So I’m a leaky hydrant..?"

"Yup, you've got a lot of cursed energy, but if you even tried to use it now you'd be wasting an excess amount than what is required, I guess like what I've read about the magic in this world in a sense." Gojo grinned.
"Your job now is to learn how to seal the hydrant, redirect that pressure, and actually use it. As a controlled flow not mindlessly overflowing whenever you wish to use cursed energy."

He held out his hand, palm up.

"Cursed Energy is all about control through negative emotion. And we- ..you can weaponize it!"

Subaru furrowed his brows. "So what, I get angry and then punch harder?"

Gojo clicked his tongue.
"Nooope. You get angry- and then don’t let it show. You feel like crying- but don’t let it spill. It’s reverse logic. Control over emotion equals control over energy!"

"Of course it'll take longer for you 'cause we're just starting, but most who've trained are good at controlling their Cursed Energy so it wont be wasted with the more intense emotions."
He tapped his temple.

Subaru exhaled, trying to sit straighter.

"Alright. I can do that! So how do I start?"

Satoru grinned.

"Easy. First exercise- maintain the flow of Cursed Energy running through your body the same. No fluctuations. No leaks. You do that, and I’ll know you’ve got the basics down."

"That doesn’t sound hard!"

"You’ll fail in the next two minutes." Gojo said flatly.
"Maybe one."

Subaru scowled. "Oh yeah? Watch this."

He closed his eyes, trying to focus, breath slow, body still.

Gojo watched silently, arms folded.

One second passed. Then another. Then—

Satoru flicked his forehead.

Gojo tilted his head.
"You failed. Your energy just spiked and dropped like a broken elevator or something. You’ve got zero control."

Subaru sighed. "So this is gonna take a while, huh."

"Oh yeah." Gojo nodded, already turning away.
"But don’t worry- I'm probably a great teacher. I’ll break you down juuust enough to build you back up again."

Subaru sat, still cross-legged, cursed energy faintly crackling across his shoulders like black mist clinging to the wind.

Gojo lowered himself to sit directly in front of Subaru, resting an arm on his knee with a grin plastered across his face.

"Alright, we’re gonna refine that flow now. I’ve got really good eyes- so I’ll know the exact moment you mess up."

He snapped his fingers with mock dramatics. "And every time you do it wrong? That’s one flick. Right to the forehead."

Gojo held up his hand and flicked the air a few times, each one letting off a disturbingly sharp crack of displaced wind.

Subaru immediately tensed. "W-Wait, wait, wait! Your flicks hurt, dude!"

Gojo’s grin widened. "Then don’t fail."

Subaru groaned, closing his eyes again. "You’re the worst teacher. Ever."

Flick.

"AGH!" Subaru reeled back, clutching his forehead. "I wasn’t even DOING anything yet!"

Gojo shrugged, smirking. "Exactly. Cursed Energy isn’t passive. You let it go dormant. That counts."

Subaru grumbled under his breath, forehead slightly reddened where the flick landed. "You're so lucky there's nothing to make fun of you about."

Satoru chuckled. "Right? Life is difficult as Satoru Gojo.. the strongest, most attractive, most badass-"

"Yeah, yeah!" Subaru grimaced, silence taking place once again.

This time, he steadied his breathing. He focused. Let the fear rise, but didn’t flinch. He let anger swirl- but didn’t lash out.

The cursed energy returned. Slowly. Controlled.

Gojo leaned in a bit. His smirk softened, just a little. "There we go. Keep that rhythm."

A tense moment passed. Then another. The aura pulsed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.

Then—snap.

Flick.

"GAHHHH—AGAIN!?"

Gojo laughed. “That was a bit better I guess, but not consistent enough."

Subaru glared at him through watering eyes. “Why do even your compliments seem forced?"

Gojo leaned back on one hand, raising the other with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Want another?"

"No!!" Subaru flailed, desperately trying to rein in his cursed energy again. The aura stuttered, then steadied once more, driven by desperation and resolve.

Gojo nodded, satisfied. "Good. Pain’s the best motivator, huh?"

He closed his eyes again, drawing on the sensation from earlier- the fire, the weight, the grief-turned-power. It began to stir again inside his chest.

A faint wisp of cursed energy trickled up through his arms.

"Good. Hold it." Gojo’s tone shifted to something surprisingly instructive, grounded.

Subaru’s brows twitched- the aura wavered.

Flick.

A sharp sting hit his forehead, and his eyes flew open.
“OW- YOU BASTARD!"

Several Hours later..

The sun had started to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Roswaal estate garden. The wind had quieted. It was just Gojo and Subaru- silence, save for the distant chirping of birds.

Subaru sat cross-legged again, this time with less sarcasm and more seriousness. His eyes were closed, brows lightly furrowed.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, calm but deliberate.

"Alright, I've already said, stop trying to brute force it. This isn’t magic. You’re not forcing energy through your veins- you’re feeling for it. Emotion guides the current."

Subaru exhaled. "Yes yes… negative emotion. Anger. Sadness. Fear so on soooo forth…"

Gojo walked in a slow circle around him, speaking evenly. "Don’t fake it. Think of something real. Something that cut you deep."

Silence...

Then Subaru’s fists slowly clenched tighter in his lap.

I’ve died.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, the weight of those thoughts settling like a stone in his chest.

Over and over. Screaming. Alone. No one ever remembered. They just moved on. And I... I don’t- I can’t move on from something like that...

Every time I wake up, it’s like the pain is fresh again, like the memories are clawing at me with cold, unyielding fingers. All the times I'd died, be it to enemies- or even those I consider friends. I can't forget it, it weighs on my mind unlike anything I've ever felt before.

Sometimes I just sit there, thinking to myself- 'Can I keep doing this?' Though I know I don't even have a choice.

I hate how weak I feel. How powerless.

I thought I was lucky at first- 'You get a second chance.' But what good is a second chance if I’m just going to fail again, and again.. and again?

I hate myself for being the one who always breaks first. The one who stumbles and falls when it actually counts.

Why me?

The question burns inside me, sharp and bitter. Anger rises, hot and heavy, threatening to spill out, but I clamp it down.

Gojo said I need to control it, shape it into power. But right now, it feels like it’s controlling me.

Like a storm raging inside, tearing me apart more and more each time I die.

But now I've got a chance... so maybe..

..Maybe if I can hold it still, just for a moment, focus all of this hatred into one controllable thread...

Then maybe I won’t be the weak, broken kid anymore...

Maybe I can finally fight...

Maybe I can finally live-

And then... he felt it.

A low hum in his chest. A whisper. A burn.

It crept along his spine like a coiling snake. His skin tingled, as if something deep inside him had been waiting to be acknowledged. Not magic- not of this world atleast.

But weight. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Cursed Energy.

His body began to shimmer faintly with a dark, translucent aura.

Subaru’s eyes opened slowly, tears welled up but not quite falling.

"…I feel it."
His voice quivered, not with weakness — but awe.

Gojo’s lips curled into a knowing grin. He leaned forward and, to Subaru’s genuine surprise, wrapped an arm around his neck in a quick, almost brotherly gesture.

"Nice one, dude! I’m not even gonna lie, you did that quick as hell..."

He ruffled Subaru’s hair playfully before raising an index finger like he’d just delivered some profound wisdom.

"I’ve always said to Suguru that I’d be a good teacher. Look at me now, eh?"

Subaru blinked, eyebrows knitting together.
"..Right...? Who’s Suguru?"

Satoru’s grin softened just a bit, his movements slowing as he straightened and hopped to his feet, hands slipping into his pockets.

"My friend. My best friend."

He glanced back over his shoulder, voice light but sincere.
"Anyway! I’d say that’s enough for today. Remember- it's up to you to keep controlling that energy until morning. I’d rather not stay up all night flicking you like a mosquito."

Subaru let out a dry laugh, rubbing the spot where Gojo’s fingers had tussled his hair.
"Noted."

Flick.

"GAH—!? YOU—??!" Subaru groaned, swinging his palms up to his forehead, tears swelling in his eyes.

"You, let your guard down. Don’t forget, you want that control all the time."

Gojo just smirked and turned away, stepping lightly over the grass without disturbing a single blade, as if walking on air.

"Ciao for today then."

Subaru blinked, still rubbing his forehead, half-expecting another flick. But Gojo was already a few steps ahead, the familiar carefree swagger in his stride.

Subaru rested on his bed, back pressed against the dark ceiling above, a small smile tugging at his lips as he stared up into the shadows.

That… felt good. It’s nice… knowing I’m not the only one from Earth here. Though he doesn’t feel like he’s from Japan like me… He seems way too different!

Restlessness churned inside him, despite everything he’d done today. The training, the flick, the lessons- it all left a spark, but not quite enough to settle his racing mind.

Without hesitation, Subaru swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cool wooden floor. He raised a hand, fingers flexing as if reaching for something invisible.

Alright... control… controool…!!

He let out a deep breath, focusing inward. His palm tensed slightly as a familiar black-and-blue aura began to shimmer, coalescing in a slow, elegant spiral. Like a river flowing quietly, serene but unstoppable, it twisted and danced across his skin.

"It’s so weird… this existed on Earth. Like, the hell?"

Emboldened, he took a slight step forward, lifting that single fist and threw a jab- not with desperation, but with emotion.

This time around, however-

SWISH-!

The punch sliced through the air with a sharp, crisp force, rustling the curtains by the window and unleashing a subtle shockwave that rippled outward.

For a moment, silence hung. Then...

"So… cool!!"

Subaru’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with newfound fire. For once, he felt like he could actually become something more than just the pathetic shut-in.

“Heh…”

Satoru chuckled softly, hearing the muffled sounds of a giddy Subaru echoing a few doors down.

So I’m staying here for a little while.
Still don’t exactly trust that Roswaal dude, but he let me stay—so I’ll respect him. For now.

Gojo’s mind drifted, turning over each face he’d encountered in the mansion.

Emilia...
Those eyes told me she’s tied to a spirit of some kind. Not sure if that’s good or bad. But hey—this world’s different. Can’t jump the gun.

The pink-haired maid, Ram, had a weird concentration of mana around her forehead. The blue-haired one, Rem, had it too—just... less. Almost like something was suppressed or stripped away.

And then—
Subaru.
Subaru, Subaru... I can’t tell if he’s hiding something… or if he’s just completely blind to it. But there’s something in him. Something dark. Heavy. My Six Eyes couldn’t even pin it down, like it was wrapped in shadow deeper than I’ve ever seen. It took everything in me not to let my jaw hit the floor 'cause my eyes never failed me like that before.

"Haah… whatever…"

He exhaled, letting it go for now, and sank into the mattress with a relaxed sigh. His eyes closed slowly, a faint, crooked grin tugging at his lips as he drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

Satoru stood at the far edge of the manor’s garden, arms folded, his posture relaxed—but his sharp gaze never left the boy sitting in the grass.

Subaru sat cross-legged at the center of the clearing, cursed energy flickering off him in unsteady waves—like smoke twisting against a breeze. His shoulders were tense, fingers twitching slightly as he tried to rein it in. He was getting better… but still far from being a pro.

He’s progressing fast. Faster than I thought. But speed doesn’t mean strength. Not yet. Still, for someone who had no clue a few days ago... he’s not half bad.

Footsteps approached from the side—light, deliberate. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"Good morning, Satoru." Emilia’s soft voice came from beside him, her long silver hair catching the morning light like threads of moonlight. "How’s Subaru’s training going?"

Gojo didn’t answer right away. His attention lingered on Subaru a moment longer—watching the cursed energy sputter and flicker, wild but present.

Then he finally turned his head. "Morning, Emilia."

His tone was casual, but thoughtful. "He’s improving. Actually stopped punching himself in the face with cursed feedback yesterday. That’s a win in my book."

He gave a small, amused smirk. "Still moves like a limping puppy, though."

Emilia giggled, covering her mouth. "That’s Subaru… But he’s trying harder than I’ve ever seen. Not even Ram chasing him with a mop gets him this motivated."

Gojo chuckled lightly. "Yeah, he’s got spirit. Stubborn as hell, emotional as it gets—but he’s got something more important than talent."

His smile faded just a bit, hidden behind the reflection of his sunglasses.

"Resolve. And a ton of it!"

He finally turned his full attention to her.

"He’s been holding back his whole life. Doesn’t even know it. I’m just helping him find the doors he’s too scared to open."

Emilia looked out toward Subaru again, her violet eyes soft with worry—but tinged with pride.

"I just… hope he doesn’t hurt himself trying to go through them. He’s already been through more than most people can handle."

Gojo tilted his head. "He will get hurt. That’s part of the process. Growth doesn’t happen in safety unfortunately."

His bluntness made her blink, but he wasn’t finished.

"But he’s not doing this for me. Not even for you—well, okay, maybe a little for you."

He smiled faintly.

"But mostly? I believe he's doing it because he’s tired of being weak. And he’s starting to believe he doesn’t have to stay that way."

Emilia’s expression softened. "Subaru…"

The garden was quiet for a moment. A soft breeze stirred the leaves. The cursed energy around Subaru sparked faintly—like a quiet thundercloud, just beginning to form.

Then-

"GOJO!! I THINK I PULLED A NERVE OR SOMETHING!!"

Subaru was flat on his back, one leg in the air, cursed smoke wafting lazily from his shoulder like burnt toast.

Gojo exhaled through his nose and raised a hand.

"…Do you want to get flicked again?!" he called out, voice sharp.

"Call me Gojo-Sensei, dammit!"

"Soooorry, Gojo-sensei!" Subaru cried out, hands clasped together like a desperate student begging for forgiveness. Then he blinked, suddenly noticing the silver-haired girl standing just a few paces away. His expression lit up like a spark.

"Ah—Emilia-tan! Basking us in your radiant presence—have you come to witness my greatness in action?"

Gojo didn’t even glance at him. "She’ll be waiting a while for that, Subaru."

Then—another voice chimed in. Light, high-pitched, and just a bit smug.

"Shady-shades is right, you know!"

Satoru’s head turned sharply, his eyes locking onto the source- a small, floating feline spirit hovering just above the grass. Fur pristine, tail swaying idly, an air of mischief radiating from the creature.

Gojo’s smile thinned.

A spirit. But not like the ones I know of in the slightest- It’s clean. Refined. And strong. Damn strong. Hiding it well, too… Cute furball’s got depth.

For the briefest second, their eyes met—Gojo’s hidden behind mirrored lenses, and Puck’s narrowed with feline curiosity. A moment passed in silent understanding.

Then, the cat waved a tiny paw. "Good morning, Lia!"

Emilia offered a warm smile. "Good morning to you too, Puck."

The spirit turned to Gojo. "You’re Satoru, right? Emilia told me a bit—how you showed up with that Sword Saint guy and curb-stomped the Bowel Hunter. I was sleeping, so… thanks for that!"

Satoru raised a brow. "Sleeping?"

Puck stretched both tiny arms with a yawn. "Mhm. I can't do the whole 'stay awake all the time’ thing. Gotta preserve energy, you know?"

Gojo hummed. "Makes sense..."

Then—without warning—Subaru burst into action with a cry of victory.

"Sneak attack!!"

He lunged forward and grabbed Puck mid-air, tickling his soft belly with a wiggling finger.

"Stop—! Stop it—!!" Puck cried, twisting and flailing in Subaru's grip.

Emilia giggled, while Satoru casually turned away, muttering under his breath.

"I take it back. He’s not amusing. He’s an idiot."

Subaru had only just released Puck—who was now floating in the air again, fur slightly fluffed and eyes narrowed in mock offense—when the spirit’s gaze shifted back toward Gojo.

That earlier playful glint had faded.

"...You’re hiding a lot I can tell," Puck said, calmly now. No teasing. No grin. His voice had taken on a more mature tone—older, wiser, with an edge of quiet caution. "Like... way more than anyone I’ve ever sensed in this world."

Gojo didn’t reply immediately. His arms were crossed loosely, his head tilted to the side. But his posture hadn’t changed—not defensive, not offended. Just... watching.

Puck floated a bit closer, ears flicking back. "When I first saw you at that table, I thought maybe you were just some cocky fighter with a sharp grin and a cool coat. But now..."

The spirit's tiny nose twitched.

"There's something off with your energy.. It’s not just mana I feel within you." His voice dropped low, thoughtful.
"It feels almost like the Witch’s Miasma—thick and oppressive—but fundamentally different. This energy… it’s dense, suffocating, yet strangely clean. Pure instinct and raw emotion, twisted and honed into power… yet controlled."

He glanced toward Subaru. "He’s similar in some ways, but still slightly different."

Gojo chuckled softly, breaking the weighty silence.
"You’ve got good senses for a fluffball."

Puck’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating.
"And you… you carry the calm of someone who’s never known fear."

The air thickened as silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken challenges.

Subaru swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. He stepped forward cautiously, hands raised in a tentative peace.
"O-Oi… you’re not about to start fighting and wreck the garden, right?"

On the surface, his gaze was cool and indifferent, but inside, his mind raced.
How strong is this spirit, really? Could I—could I even hold my own against him now?
The thought was dangerous, yet intoxicating.

Puck’s grin spread wide, eyes gleaming with mischief and approval.
"Alright! I like this guy—he’s got a similar vibe to Subaru, just a hell of a lot less inept."

"H-Hey!" Subaru shot back, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.

Satoru Gojo strolled down the vast corridor of the mansion, footsteps echoing against the polished marble like distant whispers. His face was unreadable—serene, detached—though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the silence itself amused him.

I wonder... how many beings in this world could rival that spirit, I can only name one with confidence- but let’s be honest... I haven’t exactly been here long enough to make a proper guess.

His gaze brushed past a large oil painting hanging on the wall—elegant, finely rendered—and continued forward without pause.

Until he stopped. Without warning, he turned his head again, eyes narrowing.

That painting... it’s not just similar. It’s identical.

He came to a halt, lowering his head slightly. The world sharpened behind the thin lenses of his sunglasses as he scanned the hallway, gaze settling on a nondescript wooden door.

"...Aha."

A grin formed—sharp, knowing—as he twisted the brass knob and threw the door open with casual flair.

"Satoru Gojo, entering dramatically!" he declared, stepping inside.

Rows of towering bookshelves greeted him. The air was thick with mana.

A library. Grand, ancient.

Tch. A library? I only walked in because I felt something weird. I’ve had enough books this week to fill a damn volume of my own.

He ran a finger along a nearby table’s edge, examining the pristine surface with faint surprise.

"Clean, too-"

Before he could finish, a voice rang out—sharp, imperious, and distinctly unimpressed.

"Of course it is clean, human. Beatrice would never allow dust to disgrace her sacred library, in fact."

Gojo’s head turned slowly toward the voice, the low flick-flick of turning pages falling into silence.

And there she sat—aloft on a floating stool like a porcelain doll conjured from a forgotten fairytale. Her golden ringlets framed a face of delicateness, and her elaborate dress—frilled, laced, and impossibly ornate—made her seem more like royalty than a librarian.

His jaw slackened slightly.

"…A loli?!"

Beatrice froze. Her brow twitched, an ominous tick beneath her ribboned hair. With practiced precision, she shut the book in her hands and placed it down as though laying a sword to rest.

"I find that term insufferably demeaning, I suppose!" she snapped, puffing her cheeks in regal outrage.

Gojo chuckled before sliding his sunglasses just low enough to reveal glinting blue eyes, aglow with irreverent charm.

"Didn’t mean to offend, Princess~" he said with a mock bow.

"Tch... Beatrice finds you both more annoying and stranger than Subaru, I suppose," she huffed, narrowing her eyes in visible irritation.

With a flutter of her dress and a flick of her curls, she rose from her floating stool, legs straightening gracefully as she landed on the wooden floor without a sound. Her expression was unreadable as she approached, steps precise and regal.

Then, without warning, she extended her small hand—pressing her palm flat against Satoru’s abdomen.

"…?"

Gojo arched a brow, blinking once, then glancing down at her hand with mild curiosity. He didn't move. But Beatrice did.

She froze.

Seconds passed in heavy silence.

Then she recoiled—stumbling one step back as if she’d touched a live wire, her eyes wide, mouth parted.

"Y-You… What… are you…?" Her voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and alarm. "How is it… that you are completely unaffected?! That’s… that’s impossible, in fact!"

Did she just try to hit me with some kind of spell or something?

Gojo exhaled through his nose, amused and grateful for his instincts.

..Glad I turned Infinity on, could've been embarrassing as hell if I didn't.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned forward ever so slightly, casually invading her space, and reached out to gently pat the top of her head.

The reaction was immediate—her eyes went wide, cheeks puffed, and fists clenched in sheer, indignant horror.

“Y-You dare!?” she sputtered.

Gojo chuckled. “Relax. It’s just that... you never actually touched me, y’know?” he said, voice light but layered with implication.

Beatrice stared, her expression shifting from flustered to thoughtful. "An Authority, I suppose?" she murmured, voice lowering. "You do have the Witch’s scent, after all... though it's not quite the same as Subaru’s. It clings to you differently."

Gojo scratched the back of his head, expression turning contemplative.

"Yeah, that part? I don't really get but.. As for this ability..." he shrugged. "Let’s just say it’s sorta its own thing. Not an Authority, not magic. Just—me being me, the greatest."

Beatrice's eyes narrowed, gaze sharpening with curiosity now laced with unease.

"This world does not take kindly to beings who bend its rules, in fact… you will learn that soon enough in ways most unfortunate."

Gojo paused, studying her as she bristled. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement.

"You’re not human… a spirit, then?" he mused aloud, voice low and steady.

Beatrice’s eyes flickered—surprise, indignation, then a keen interest. She straightened her posture, twin drills swaying as though responding to an unseen breeze.

I’ve met spirits before, but never one so… human. Those eyes could almost rival mine! Almost.

His gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any telltale glimmer of ethereal power.

"There are spirits that wear human forms," she replied, voice cool as glass, "but few as convincing as myself. You, who bears such—" she halted, as if reluctant to name what she could sense on him, "—anomalies could understand those who are different, I suppose."

Gojo’s smirk deepened. "Anomalies, huh? Guess we’re both full of surprises eh?"

Beatrice’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles—equal parts challenge and curiosity.

Satoru’s eyes twitched. His head snapped to the side, senses sharpening like the edge of a blade.

Mmm… what’s this? Another strong presence- outside the mansion...

The shift in his demeanor was subtle but unmistakable.

He clicked his tongue, glancing back at Beatrice with that same infuriating smirk.

"Well then... apologies, my adorable, squishy-faced spirit, but I’ve got places to be, mysteries to poke, and apparently a new power level to measure."

Beatrice barely had time to puff up in protest. "Squishy-?!"

But he was already gone.

In a blur of motion, Gojo pivoted on his heel and vanished from the room, the doors flinging open with a force that rustled every page in the library. His footsteps against wood faded like a fading beat in a war drum—quick, certain, impossible to catch.

Beatrice stared at the space he’d left behind, lips pursed, cheeks flushed.

"Tch… That man is infuriating, I suppose..."

But her eyes lingered on the door longer than she meant them to.

Satoru jogged swiftly through the mansion’s winding halls, his footsteps a rhythmic beat against the lavish flooring.

No sign of Emilia. Rem, Ram- or Roswaal. P lace feels... too quiet.

He came to a sudden halt, the fine red carpet skidding slightly beneath his feet. With a sharp turn of his head, he leaned toward the tall window, eyes narrowing as he peered outside.

Down below, nestled at the grand front entrance of the estate, stood a crimson carriage—sleek, regal. Beside it, Subaru was pouring tea from a porcelain pot, posture relaxed. Opposite him, a tall older man with refined grey hair and a sharp black-and-white suit accepted the cup with effortless grace.

Gojo’s eyes sharpened, a small smirk creeping across his lips.

Aha... that aura. Refined, heavy. Definitely the one I felt earlier. This guy’s got weight. And he doesn’t even need to flaunt it for me to notice at a distance.

Without waiting another second, he turned and continued down the corridor—faster now.

Meanwhile, outside in the garden...

The old man raised the teacup to his lips, eyes half-lidded in calm appreciation. He sipped once—deliberate, quiet—and let out a low breath.

"Mmm. Yes... It is lovely indeed. It feels as though I am indulging in a rare and delicate luxury."

Subaru grinned, setting the plate of cups down onto the rim of the nearby fountain like a makeshift serving tray.

"Yup—best tea you’ll find in the entire mansion!" he said with pride, then lowered his voice with mock caution. "If Ram finds out I served it without asking, she’ll probably murder me in my sleep."

Before Satoru could call out, a sudden rush of footsteps echoed across the stone path—swift, controlled, and deliberate. Like a heartbeat picking up pace.

The old man was the first to react. With a subtle shift of weight and a slight rotation of his heel, he turned toward the source. No panic. Just calm readiness honed through years of battle.

Flick.

"G-GAHH, WHY?!" Subaru yelped, staggering back slightly, clutching his forehead.

Satoru stood beside him now, index finger still outstretched from the flick—a grin playing on his lips as though he’d been there the whole time.

"You dropped your guard," Gojo said, almost sing-song, tilting his head. "That’s why... iiiidiot."

Subaru groaned, rubbing his forehead. “At least say hi before acting like a schoolyard ghost!”

But Gojo’s attention had already shifted.

His gaze met the old man's—and in that instant, the air seemed to still.

The two men stared each other down, neither flinching.

The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, calculating.

This boy... his posture is casual. Slouched, even. And yet—there is no opening. Not a single clear point to strike. As if... he’s always ready. Without even trying, it's formless- yet incredibly dangerous... impressive.

Gojo’s lips curled upward just slightly, the sunlight catching in his crystalline eyes.

Oh yeah… this guy’s the real deal. Trying hard to play harmless... but these eyes don’t miss. He’s definitely skilled, powerful.

The old man offered no dramatic reaction. No surprise, no caution. Just a slow, deliberate nod.

A warrior’s acknowledgment.

Gojo’s smirk widened as he stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets.

"Introductions, then," he said with a playful cadence. "I am Satoru Gojo—" he leaned in slightly, voice dipped with mock grandeur— "Fifth candidate for the throne of Lugunica."

A beat passed.

Wilhelm’s eyes widened—just slightly—but in a man so composed, even that flicker spoke volumes.

So it's true. The fifth. I’d heard whispers… but never expected to meet him here. Not at Lord Roswaal’s estate of all places.

The old swordsman straightened his back, offering a small but respectful bow.

"I am Wilhelm van Astrea," he said, his voice firm and unwavering, like the swing of a master blade. "The Sword Devil—servant to Lady Crusch Karsten, and future Queen of Lugunica."

Gojo’s smirk faltered slightly, but returned the next moment, but there was something in his eyes now—recognition. Respect.

He’s not just loyal. He believes in her. Every word was conviction, not duty. I can respect that. Also.. Astrea.. huh? This guy Reinhard's grandfather or something?

Subaru, still rubbing the fading sting on his forehead, huffed loudly.

"Jeez… it’s like you’re trying to square up with every new person you see. I swear, Gojo-sensei…"

Gojo didn’t miss a beat. He turned, lifting a finger with a familiar glint in his eye.

"You askin’ for another flick, Subaru?"

"NO!" Subaru instinctively flinched, hands flying up like a hostage.

Wilhelm watched them silently—his stern expression softened by the barest ghost of a smile.

A dangerous man… but not without heart. This kingdom may yet be changed by hands like his, regardless if he doesn't become king.. change will be coming.

Then came a voice—smooth, sing-song, and androgynous.

"I'm baaack, Old Man Wilhelm~!"

Satoru, Wilhelm, and Subaru turned in unison toward the sound.

At the edge of the garden path stood a figure that practically shimmered with style- cat ears perked atop their head, a blue-and-white outfit just flamboyant enough to challenge local fashion laws.

Satoru blinked. Slowly.

We’ve got cat-girls here? Subaru’s probably foaming at the mouth right about—

He glanced to the side.

Yep. Subaru’s face was heating up like a kettle. But Satoru’s own gaze sharpened—instinctively, almost on reflex. Something in the air shifted.

Wait a sec... that's no ‘she’!! That aura.. That stride.. that bul-.. ahem. This world's messing with my expectations again damn it!!

"My bad for taking so looong~," the cat-boy purred. “Bet nyou were bored, riiight~?"

Wilhelm offered a small shake of the head, calm as ever. He gestured toward Satoru and Subaru.

"Not at all, Sir Felix. I had the company of these… rather amusing young men."

Subaru gave a nervous chuckle, half-flattered.

Felix practically glided over, stopping just short of their personal space—and then promptly invaded it. He leaned in and sniffed—first Subaru, then Satoru.

Subaru nearly melted. "Wh-what is happening—?"

Satoru, meanwhile, exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head down ever so slightly.

No.. Absolutely not! I’m not breathing in whatever glittering pheromone cloud this guy emits. My condolences, Subaru, you've fallen for it, I shall not forget you- my greatest student.

"Nyow I see~!" Felix chirped. "You’re the two boys Lady Emilia mentioned~!"

Subaru blinked, cheeks still lightly tinged red. "Emilia-tan mentioned us?"

Felix nodded, circling them with a dancer’s grace.

"Yup~ Though I think at least nyou’re completely clueless." He gave Subaru a playful boop on the nose. "But White-haired-chan over here? He’s got the vibe of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing."

Satoru didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. His body was still, but not tense—just... alert.

This guy is very wrong and has no idea what he's talking about, but I'll talk any compliment I can get.

"Well.. see nyou both at the capital~!" Felix sang, spinning lightly as he stepped into the waiting carriage.

Wilhelm gave one final nod, the faintest curl of amusement in his expression, and followed.

Silence.

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck.

Shit. I totally forgot I was supposed to be recruiting for my royal selection camp. And, y’know... the entire throne thing. Whoops.

Chapter Text

Gojo let out a sigh of exasperation, tilting his head toward Subaru—who stood watching the crimson carriage roll off into the distance, Wilhelm perched stoically at the front.

Then Subaru’s gaze snapped toward the sorcerer, eyes wide and sparkling with fresh awe.

“Dude… there are cat-girls here!”

Gojo raised a brow, glancing sideways. “Wasn’t your heart supposedly stolen by ‘Emilia-tan’ not even two hours ago?”

He leaned in slightly, voice lowering in mock seriousness.

“Also… that’s not—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Well… letting that little misunderstanding fester could be hilarious. I just hope I'm around to see his face when he finds out that cat-girl is actually a cat-boy.

Gojo chuckled to himself, closing his eyes with a grin.

Subaru frowned, already sweating nervously. “O-Oi… what? That reaction was crazy ominous, you know!”

Gojo just waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway—I completely forgot I, too, am a royal candidate. Meaning I’ve gotta go to the capital and dazzle some crusty old nobles with my charming smile and overpowering charm.”

He scowled slightly. “Ugh.”

“Wait, what? So… this is goodbye?” Subaru asked, voice dipping. “What if I, I dunno, slack off while you’re gone?”

Gojo smiled. Slowly. The kind of smile that says ‘I will haunt your dreams if you even think about it’.

“Well, that’s your choice,” he said casually. “But you’re the one who wants to get stronger. I’m just the guy who can help you do it.”

"Anyway, see you soon. Tell the maids and Roswaal I'll be back soon enough. Emilia- well, I'll be seeing her at the capital."

He stretched lazily, then clapped his hands together. The air around him warping like shattering glass—reality bending, warping—and then in an instant, he was gone.

Only a faint shimmer of residual cursed energy lingered in the space where he’d stood.

“…See you then, dude.”

Subaru stood frozen for a second, then let out a long breath. He turned his eyes skyward, squinting in thought.

Then they widened, lit up by sudden revelation.

“…I just got an idea above all ideas!”

Satoru warped in a blink—a fissure in reality tearing open for a breathless moment before sealing shut as soon as he appears. He was back in his room at the Astrea Estate.

Exhaling slowly, he turned to the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the endless green of the fields and treeline beyond.

“I’d bet good money Reinhard’s already felt my return and is currently speed-walking his knightly ass over here,” he muttered.

He sighed, letting his head roll slightly back, then turned toward the door just as he heard the inevitable—

KNOCK-KNOCK.

“Come in. Buddy old pal Reinhard,” he called, already smirking.

Right on cue, the door creaked open, and in stepped the red-haired knight—Reinhard van Astrea. Not a single thread of his outfit was out of place. Pristine. Polished. Strength radiating off of him.

“Satoru,” Reinhard said, calm but clearly strained. “I’m relieved to see you’re safe, but… don’t you think this is cutting it a bit close?”

Gojo just grinned, shrugging like he’d merely overslept a nap and not vanished hours before an important political summit.

“We’ll be fine. I mean, you do have like… Divine Protection of Instant Teleportation to the Capital or something, right?” He shot him finger guns for good measure.

Reinhard’s brows drew down, lips tightening ever so slightly. “...Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work like that.”

Satoru blinked. His smile froze. “...R—right. Obviously. I was joking. Kinda.”

There was a beat of silence before Satoru turned back toward the window, scratching the back of his head.

“Even if we're late, it'd look pretty damn badass don't you think, Reinhard dude?"

Reinhard’s lips curled into a calm, confident smile as he met Satoru’s gaze.

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully.
“But arriving early tends to make a better impression on the people. First impressions matter more than you think.”

His eyes held a quiet conviction, the weight of experience shining through.

Satoru grimaced, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration.
“Argh… why do you have to make such a valid point?”

He shook his head, then raised a finger with a playful wag.
“No worries, Reinhard! I didn’t mention it earlier, but I can actually teleport us straight there. Just… not right now. Can’t exactly show up looking like a mess.”

He nodded toward the dark, impeccably tailored suit laid out neatly on his bed.

“I’ll come find you when I’m ready, alright?”

Reinhard closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a quiet sigh.

“It seems you’ve also forgotten... the Royal Selection isn’t until tomorrow.”

Satoru froze—then whipped around with theatrical speed, pivoting on his heel to face Reinhard directly. His eyes, though obscured behind dark lenses, widened in disbelief.

“EH?! You made it sound like we were about to be late! And it’s not even today?!”

Reinhard remained unfazed.
“My apologies if I gave that impression.”

Satoru let out a low groan, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah, it’s fine. Actually… that works out perfectly for me.”

Reinhard tilted his head slightly, curious.
“Oh? And why is that, if I may ask?”

Satoru grinned.

“Because I’m going people hunting.”

A pause.
Silence hung in the air.

“...To, uh, join the Gojo camp. I mean.”

Reinhard blinked.
“Ah.”

The Slums...

Satoru strolled through the slums, his shoes squelching softly against mud-caked streets. Crumbling walls, rusted tin roofs, and the reek of stagnant water clung to the air. Around him, beastkin and humans alike—cloaked in rags, chewing on rock-hard scraps of bread—glared from doorways and alley shadows.

Their eyes held no fear. Only contempt.

They probably think I’m some noble out slumming for amusement... They would only be half wrong, technically.

He sighed internally, gaze flicking across gaunt faces and hollow eyes.
Yeah... poverty really is universal. No matter what world you're in, the bottom looks the same.. shame.

He stopped. Lowered his hands.

“Tch. Screw formalities.”

In a flash of crackling light, Satoru clapped his hands together—and vanished.

Gasps erupted behind him. A child dropped their crust of bread. Adults murmured in shock, some shielding their eyes like they'd seen a ghost vanish in daylight.

Within the Loothouse..

The room was dim, lit only by the subtle rays of the sun seeping through the gaps. Dust danced through shafts of amber light leaking through warped gaps in the wooden walls and roof. From the outside, the place might’ve looked abandoned—if not for the bickering echoing from within.

A small figure sat atop a barstool, legs kicking slightly above the floor. A red scarf hung from her neck, her wild golden hair spilling like straw.

“Oi, old man Rom! What’s wrong with this drink?!” she barked, slamming a tiny wooden cup against the counter.

Behind the bar stood a towering slab of a man—muscle layered upon muscle, a scar across his nose, eyes wary but warm.

“You ungrateful little gremlin,” Rom muttered, chuckling.
“I gave you that milk outta kindness. Least you could do is not yell about it.”

Felt scowled. “I know what milk is! But this stuff's either waterlogged or gone bad! How am I supposed to grow if you’re stunting me with some gone off milk!?”

Rom snorted and reached over, ruffling her hair with a massive hand.
“You should be grateful you’ve got anything at all, kid.”

Then—another voice cut in, echoing from behind them.

Smooth. Teasing.

“Aww, that’s just adorable, man. I didn’t think you had such a soft side the last time I dropped by.”

Felt flinched. Rom’s muscles immediately tensed.

They both snapped toward the voice—wide-eyed. Fear spiked in the room. After what Elsa Granhiert had done, caution wasn’t a luxury—it was survival.

Felt blinked, a spark of recognition forming.

“Wait—it’s you!“

Satoru stepped into the candlelight, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Yup. Don’t worry, I—”

CRACK!
A colossal wooden club came down with the force of a landslide—directly onto Satoru’s head.

“Felt! Back, now!” Rom shouted.

She jolted from her seat—but didn’t run.
“WAIT! WAIT!! HE’S THE ONE WHO SAVED US, YOU FREAKING IDIOT!”

Rom blinked, sweat beading along his temple. Slowly, he turned.

Satoru stood perfectly still. Not a scratch. Not a crease in his jacket.
Just an unimpressed tilt of the head.

Rom exhaled, lowering the club immediately.

“I—I apologize... I wouldn't dare treat our savior like this but.. after everything with the Bowel Hunter...”

Satoru waved a hand casually.

“Don’t even worry about it. Totally get it.”

He smiled.

Felt folded her arms, tilting her head. "So what brings a bigshot that beat up the Bowel Hunter back here of all places?"

Satoru grinned, walking over with his hands in his pockets and taking a seat at the stool. 

"Your finest cup of milk!"

Rom just raised a brow, "You sure? I could treat you with a cup or two of beer."

Satoru shook his head. "I don't do alcohol, messes with not only my vision but it can my powers aswell." He shrugged. "Milk!"

Felt sat next to him, watching him take the drink into his mouth. "So...?"

Oh god that's really bad-

Fighting the sensation to gag, he lowered the milk down onto the wooden surface and wiped his mouth.

"Ergh.. oh right.. I want you both to... join me!"

Rom and Felt shared their confusion. "Meaning..?"

“I want you to join my camp. For the Royal Selection.” He gave a dramatic raise of his hand.
“The Gojo Camp—current only two members!”

Rom frowned. “You’re... a royal candidate?”

“That’s the rumor,” Satoru replied, adjusting his shades.
“Honestly, I don’t care about thrones or power struggles, but a certain red-haired knight makes me feel all bad if I just don't bother.”
He turned to Felt, smirking.
“Which brings me here.”

Felt raised an eyebrow. “You want me to join..?”

“Why not?” Satoru shrugged. “You’ve got a Divine Protection, you're scrappy, and you don’t let anyone talk down to you. That’s useful to me.”

Felt seemed shocked at how he somehow knew, but before she could speak up-

Rom crossed his arms, towering like a shadow over the girl. “She’s not for sale. Not for politics. Not for war.”

Satoru waved a hand again. “Relax, relax. This isn’t conscription to war or whatever. I’m just offering her.. no- you both a chance to do more than rot in a back alley drinking spoiled milk and alcohol.”

Felt glanced between the two men—Rom’s unwavering stare, and Satoru’s easygoing grin.

“...And what do I get out of it?”

Satoru’s smile widened.

“Freedom. Resources.. Moneeeey~ if that’s your thing. But more importantly…”
He leaned in, voice lowering just enough to sound conspiratorial.
“A front-row seat to all the chaos I'm about to cause in this clearly messed-up kingdom."

Satoru’s grin widened, finger idly tracing the rim of the chipped wooden cup.

“You’re down here, stealing, fighting—surviving day by day while nobles toss coins at banquets. So here’s a thought...”
He leaned in, his voice low, conspiratorial.
“When I become ruler, I’ll flip the whole damn board. Tear down everything that's wrong with this system. Build something better—real equality, top to bottom.”

He looked at her, sharp and unblinking.
“But I’ll need your help to do it.”

Rom didn’t speak. He simply watched Satoru with that quiet, unmoving intensity—like a mountain waiting to see if the storm would pass or break upon it.

Then—Felt’s voice cut through the silence.

“...Fine.”

Rom blinked.
“Felt...?”

She stepped forward, arms crossed, fire in her eyes.

“If you’re actually serious—if you're really gonna blow this whole corrupt system to pieces and fix it—”
She smirked.
“Then yeah. I’ll help. I want a front-row seat when those smug nobles and bootlicking knights see everything they've built crash down.”

Satoru’s smirk never wavered, but his gaze shifted, calm and steady, toward Rom.

Rom held his stare for a long beat. Then—

“If Felt’s in... so am I.”

He rose from behind the bar, standing tall like a titan, his tone resolute.

Satoru gave a single nod.

“Good. A carriage’ll be by later. Pack whatever you need.”

He turned to leave, but paused. Glancing once more over his shoulder:

“...By the way, the milk sucked. But thanks anyway.”

Then—with a whisper of static and a shimmer of distortion—he vanished.

The room fell into silence again. Dust floated lazily through the amber light.

Rom sighed, glancing down at Felt.

“You sure about this?”

Felt tightened her scarf and gave him a wicked grin.

“If it means I get to piss off the nobility?- Heck yeah."

The day of the Royal Selection...

The ornate carriage rattled softly over cobblestone streets, sunlight glinting off its polished exterior. Inside, seated on plush cushions, were three figures.

Satoru sat with legs crossed, reclining slightly with his signature cool detachment. Beside him, the ever-composed Reinhard. Across from them—arms folded, face scrunched in visible discomfort—was Felt, dressed in an elegant orange gown.

“So Rom's staying back at the estate, eh...” Satoru muttered internally, side-eyeing the empty space beside Felt.
“I guess it'd be awkward as hell for a big guy like him, nobles'll hate him for sure."

He turned to Reinhard, brow quirking.

“Okay, seriously. How the hell did you even get her an outfit this fast?”

Felt scoffed, tugging at the stiff fabric like it was laced with thorns.
“I can’t believe I’m wearing this thing. Feels like it’ll tear if I breathe wrong! If I was part of the actual Selection, I’d kick you right across the face, you damn knight!”

Reinhard chuckled, unfazed. Meanwhile, Satoru leaned back and glanced out the window as the carriage passed over the royal bridge, the opulence of the Capital glittering beneath a pristine sky.

“So... show up at the castle, kiss up to these bootlicking knights and nobles, and charm the so-called ‘wise men’, right?”

Reinhard gave a patient smile.
“That’s... one way to describe it, yes.”

“Tch. I’ve dealt with enough crusty old men in the Gojo Clan to last three damn lifetimes.”

Reinhard gave a polite cough.
“Please, Satoru... try not to refer to them as 'crusty old men.'”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed again, tugging slightly at the collar of his sleek black-and-purple suit.
“They better not try to touch my hair...”

Inside the Castle- Subaru's POV

Subaru stepped into the enormous hall, his eyes darting across the formation of knights and figures arranged before the throne.

“So these are the candidates for the throne...”

His gaze settled on each figure stood infront.

Emilia, radiant as ever, poised with a quiet strength.

Priscilla Barielle, wrapped in scarlet, her regal arrogance practically glowing.

Crusch Karsten, upright and steely, her military uniform crisp and imposing.

And Anastasia Hoshin, relaxed in white, her lilac scarf and easy smirk speaking volumes.

But...

“Wait... where's-"

Then a familiar voice rang out.

“Ah, Subaru! I figured you’d be here.”

Reinhard appeared at his side with his usual grace, smiling.

“Yo, Reinhard! I’ve been wondering where you’ve been—”

But Subaru’s words caught in his throat as he turned to the figure beside Reinhard.

The feline “girl” from before, now dressed in white knight attire and wearing that same mischievous grin.

“It’s you—!”

Felix gave a wink, ears twitching.
“Nyep~!”

Reinhard nodded calmly.
“Indeed. Felix Argyle. A knight of Lugnica—and despite appearances, he is male.”

Subaru’s face dropped in realization.
“So that’s why Gojo-sensei kept laughing...”

Felix purred.
“See ya later~”
And with a grin, he was gone, blending into one of the knightly rows.

The hall grew quiet as a stern-looking green-haired knight stepped forward.

“I, Marcos—leader of the Imperial Knights—will oversee today’s Royal Selection proceedings.”

His voice carried through the vaulted chamber.
“It began half a year ago. One by one, the royal family vanished—beginning with the king himself...”

Anastasia’s voice cut in, casual yet cutting.

“Liiiisten, I get it—you wanna give us the full drama. But I’m a busy woman. In Kararagi, we’ve got a saying.. ‘Time is money.’”

Crusch followed up, arms crossed.
“Agreed. Our time is precious. Let’s get to the point of why we're actually here."

Miklotov McMahon, one of the elder officials, leaned forward.

“You believe you already understand why you’ve been summoned today, Lady Crusch?”

She smirked.
“Is it not a drinking party?”

Miklotov blinked.
“No. Absolutely not.”

Crusch turned, eyes narrowing.
“Felix... this isn’t what you said.”

Felix hummed sweetly.
“All I said was ‘maaaaybe.’”

“... Then I retract everything I said, my apologies..”

Anastasia raised a finger.
“Hold up. Just because she’s backing off doesn’t mean I am. Skip the recap—most of us know how this works.”

Emilia spoke gently.
“Still... it might be helpful for some—”

Anastasia interrupted, tone sharp.
“Yeah, but nobody asked you, sweetheart.”

Subaru’s fists clenched.
“Why you—”

A muffled voice echoed from behind him—Al, the man in the helm.

“Hey, I’m new here! I’d actually like to hear the whole thing!”

Marcos glanced toward Al, expression pinched.
“Is this your knight, Lady Priscilla?”

Priscilla didn’t even open her eyes.
“Whether I informed him or not is irrelevant. You would have rambled regardless. Now continue.”

Marcos gave a brief nod.
“Very well.”

“The reason we’ve summoned the Dragon Priestess candidates is due to a new prophecy—one etched into the Dragon Stone. It names five candidates. And one among you will forge a covenant with the Dragon itself... and ascend as ruler.”

Subaru blinked.
“Five... then.. where's Sa-"

Reinhard turned toward him, eyes gleaming.

“You’re right. Only four are here. But today, that will change.”

He stepped forward as Marcos called his name.

“Reinhard van Astrea—please, come forward.”

Reinhard stepped forward, each movement refined and certain—knightly perfection in motion. He lowered his head with respectful grace, hand placed flat over his chest as he bowed before the assembly of nobles and elders.

"Honored members of the Council of the Wise, Imperial Knight Reinhard van Astrea reports the successful completion of my assignment. The Fifth contender—the final candidate spoken of in the prophecy—has been found."

The air shifted.

Murmurs rippled across the grand hall. Even the most stoic of nobles straightened in their seats, eyes narrowing with intrigue. Then—

The doors.
Massive and ornate, they creaked open with deliberate ceremony.

Light poured into the room.

And there he was.

Satoru Gojo.

Hair white as snow, aglow in the sunbeam like he had descended from another world entirely. His the bottom of the suit flowed behind him, purple trim catching the light with each step. Dark shades shielded his gaze, but his aura—unapologetically relaxed—spoke volumes. Hands stuffed in his pockets. No bow. No formality.

Reinhard bowed once more, his voice unwavering.

"The one to whom I have pledged myself. The one I believe worthy of leading this nation into a new era."

"Satoru Gojo-sama."

Satoru POV

Talk about talking me up, huh? Thanks, my trusty red-haired knight … However!

Reinhard lowered his head again, palm to chest in that ever-graceful bow.
"Satoru-sama, thank you for gracing us with your presence."

Satoru’s brow twitched.

Honorifics now? Well, considering all the eyes in here, I guess that tracks. Still... what a pain.

He raised his voice suddenly, eyes narrowing on Reinhard.
"Reinhard... you—"
The room tensed.

His tone shifted—dramatic, accusatory.

"You never told me they'd start messing up my hair!"

He pointed an accusing finger at him like it was a crime scene.

Reinhard, ever composed, only smiled.
"My apologies. I believed it was the only way we could prepare you properly… so I chose not to say."

Satoru sighed, dragging a hand through the aforementioned hair.
He turned to another familiar face in the crowd, grin returning.

"Yo, Subaru. Didn’t think I’d see you here."
His eyes gleamed behind the sunglasses.
"Looks like you’ve kept up your training. Would’ve been embarrassing if I had to flick you in front of all these people."

Subaru’s shoulders jumped back instinctively.
"O-Oi! One more of those flicks and I’ll be permanently disfigured!"

A few stifled chuckles from knights nearby.

Then—Marcos, ever the stern conductor of order, spoke up.
"Satoru-sama. If you’re done rekindling old friendships, please come forward."

Satoru exhaled, long and low, hands slipping into his pockets.
With a slow, deliberate stride, he moved toward the front, stopping beside the other candidates.

He nodded to Emilia—a knowing, subtle gesture.

"Well then?"

Reinhard stepped forward again, this time producing the object of ceremony—the Insignia.

Ah. So that’s what they want.

Without a word, Satoru took it.
It was warm in his hand—alive, almost.
Then—

Light.

It shone brilliantly, a pulsing, radiant glow that lit up the entire chamber.

Gasps echoed all around, nobles and knights alike leaning in.

He raised it overhead casually.
"Yup. See? It’s glowing and all that jazz~"

Reinhard chuckled, rising to his feet with composure.
"As you all can see, the Dragon Stone has recognized Satoru-sama as a Priestess. With this, his participation in the Royal Selection is valid. I believe it is time we formally begin the process."

His words echoed through the hall.

Then—a wave of motion. Every knight in the room leant forward to bow in perfect unison, hand against chest, head lowered. Their discipline was a statement in itself.

But silence doesn’t last long in a room full of nobles.

A voice from the crowd pierced it like a needle.
"Let’s assume the Dragon Stone recognized him... Isn’t he a bit lacking in decorum? In punctuality?"

Satoru’s eye twitched.

Great. Here we go.

That familiar scoffing tone—the one nobles mastered from birth—began rippling across the chamber, spreading like wildfire. Murmurs turned into mocking jabs.

"Is this some kind of joke?"
"That’s the Fifth candidate?"
"He can’t even button his collar properly—"

It was just a bit tight around the neck damn it!!

For just a moment, Satoru’s smile twitched. Faltered.

Then came the pivot.

Satoru slowly stepped forward. Each step up the stone stair echoed like a drumbeat. His posture? Relaxed. Casual. But his presence?

Devastating.

He reached the top and turned to face them—on equal footing with the Wise Men.

Tap.

The tip of his boot touched stone. And the world changed.

An invisible weight dropped into the room—a crushing, suffocating pressure. It wasn't magic. Not mana. Not gravity.

It was pure intent. Bloodlust.

The nobles choked on their own breath. Some staggered back, others lowered, hands on their knees to prop themselves up like to stop them all from falling. Yet every knight—Reinhard included—remained perfectly still, untouched, unshaken.

Reinhard muttered under his breath.
"Satoru-sama..."

Just as suddenly—it vanished.

Satoru tilted his head, sunglasses catching the light, his voice low and calm.
"You think I want to be up here?"
He gave a half-laugh. “Because hell no, I don’t.”

Not a single noble dared interrupt.

"But you mocking me? That’s not about me anymore. That’s about questioning what the Dragon itself has chosen. You’re not doubting me—you’re going against your god."

The chamber went still. Gasps rippled again—shock, realization, fear.

He turned his head slightly.
"Reinhard, my knight... come on up. Let’s get this party started yeah?"

At the rear, Miklotov—one of the oldest and most respected—finally nodded, silent approval in his eyes.

Marcos cleared his throat and stood straight, speaking with measured authority.
"..Satoru Gojo-sama... and his knight, Reinhard van Astrea..."

Satoru adjusted his collar, pushing his sunglasses down just a touch to let his brilliant blue eyes flicker into view.

"Now then..."
He glanced across the room—Reinhard beside him, Crusch and the grinning Felt for a moment as if knowing what he was planning.

"I’ve got two of the best lie detectors in the kingdom right here—so anything I say? You’ll know if it’s the truth."

Then came the bombshell.

Satoru leaned forward, grin curling across his lips.
"I'm not from around here. I think you all call it... 'Beyond the Waterfall,' right?"

The hall exploded with shouts.

"Impossible—!"
"Lies!"
"He's mocking the ceremony—!"

But then—Reinhard stepped forward, eyes wide.

He nodded.
"He is telling the truth."

Crusch followed suit. Composed, calm—though a faint wrinkle in her brow betrayed surprise.

"Confirmed. Satoru Gojo is not of this world."

Silence. Again.

Satoru let it sit.

Then he whispered with a smirk..

"Now then.."

Chapter Text

Satoru let out a breath, slow and measured—shoulders rolling back as his sunglasses caught the glint of chandelier light overhead. His gaze flicked downward first, scanning the royal candidates—Emilia, Crusch, Anastasia, Priscilla—his expression unreadable. Then, finally, his head tilted slightly and his eyes snapped toward the nobles seated ahead of him.

A subtle shift in pressure filled the air.

Gone was the lazy smirk, the casual posture.
Now? Satoru stood still. Calm. But with the kind of calm that made the back of your neck itch.

"You know," he began, voice low—but carrying. "Every time one of you opens your mouth, it just makes me more confident that this place needs to be flipped inside out."

A few nobles shifted uncomfortably alongside one another. Others scowled outright.

"You're all so damn focused on appearance, etiquette, bloodlines—" he waved a hand dismissively. "That you forgot what it even means to lead. Or to even just serve."

Priscilla scoffed, eyes narrowing.
"Tch. Such crude speech. Do you intend to lead a kingdom or tear one down?"

Satoru’s gaze didn’t even twitch, instead he smirked.

"Depends on what’s left standing when I’m done cleaning out the rot."

Gasps echoed through the room. Reinhard stayed silent beside him—smiling just faintly, as if he'd expected this exact firestorm.

"And for the record," Satoru added, tilting his head, "I don’t need any of your approval. The dragon already gave it to me."
He held up the insignia again, letting it shimmer in the air. "Shiny rock says I’m legit, remember?"

Anastasia chuckled under her breath, leaning to the side on her feet.
"Heh... ballsy. I like him."

Crusch, ever composed, gave a small nod. "He speaks without fear, but not without thought. There may be merit in that."

A tense silence followed—but it wasn’t rejection anymore. It was the kind of hush that came with the sudden realization that a storm was already inside the palace walls… and smiling at you.

Satoru adjusted his sleeves slightly.

Down below, Subaru whispered under his breath.
"...Yeah. He’s definitely crazy."

Emilia just watched Satoru carefully, expression unreadable—but in her eyes, a flicker of curiosity- surprise.

Respect.

The nobles continued to murmur among themselves—quiet, nervous, uncertain—but none dared raise their voice again. That silence? That submission?

It made Satoru smile.

Coolly, he stepped forward, hands in his pockets, voice ringing clear through the hall like a bell struck in the dead of night.

"I'm not here to give you sweet little lies wrapped up in ribbons. No empty promises. No lip service to tradition or pride."
He paused, head tilted slightly, almost casually. "Instead, I’m giving you the truth. The ugly, brutal, necessary truth..."

His eyes swept across the chamber. "This nation is broken. And I will tear it down. Rebuild it from the ashes. Fix what you people never had the guts to."

A ripple ran through the gathered nobles and candidates alike.

Then, he grinned wider—mischievous, electric—as he brought one hand up to the stem of his sunglasses and tapped it once with a finger.

"Oh—almost forgot."

The grin grew sharper.

"Did I mention I plan on killing a certain flying whale?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the reaction was instantaneous.
Crusch Karsten’s eyes flew wide open. Several nobles gasped aloud, some recoiling like they'd heard a ghost speak.

The White Whale. A legend. A curse. A wound left festering in the kingdom's history.

Satoru rolled his shoulders like it was nothing.
Yeah. Credit where it's due—Reinhard planted the idea. Funny, really. I did all this reading, studied everything I could, and I still somehow forgot those monsters existed.

The silence that followed was thunderous.

Nobles stared, some pale-faced, others clutching the arms of their chairs. The Council of the Wise leaned forward ever so slightly—attention gripped, no longer by formality or position, but sheer disbelief.

Satoru’s words had landed like a hammer on fine glass. And it was cracking.

“Did… did he just say the White Whale?” one noble whispered, barely audible beneath the gasps and mutters.

Crusch Karsten, known for her iron composure, stepped forward—her lips parted, eyes wide with unmistakable shock.
“You speak of the Demon Beast that devour everything, not just people- but their very being itself… and has also gone unchallenged for over four centuries?”

Satoru’s head tilted again, that playful, too-confident grin forming once more.
“Yup. Big, floaty, screams like hell itself. Real pain to deal with, At least I am told.”
He waved a hand dismissively, like he was talking about an annoying bug.

“You can’t be serious,” a noble hissed, finally speaking up, but not with contempt—with fear.
“Even our best knights barely survive encounters with it, and many never return—!”

Reinhard’s voice cut cleanly through the tension.

“And yet, if anyone in this room could defeat the White Whale… it would be him.”

Eyes snapped back to Satoru, who gave Reinhard a lazy thumbs-up before turning his attention back to the council.

“See? Told you he’s reliable.”
His expression shifted slightly—still confident, but a trace of sincerity flickered beneath.

“Look, I don’t want your worship, or your fake smiles. I want change. And if you’re too scared to follow, then stay out of my way. But don’t pretend I didn’t give you a chance.”

He let the weight of that hang in the air for a moment, then looked toward Crusch.

“If you’re really a soldier or whatever, then I bet you know it better than most. This kingdom’s rotting. Corruption in the courts. Starving kids in the streets. Nobles drunk on power while monsters roam free outside the capital.”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I’m not here to dance around it. I’m here to burn it down and build something better.”

Crusch took a slow breath—her eyes locked with his. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she gave the faintest nod.

“…Then I hope to see your actions live up to your words, Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru just smiled, sharp and wide.

“Oh, I guarantee it.”

Crusch Karsten’s eyes narrowed—not out of skepticism, but strategy. Her mind raced behind her composed expression, dissecting the implications of Satoru’s declaration.

This man… no, this outsider, He may be reckless with words, but he has Reinhard.

She thought, eyes fixated on Satoru’s casual stance.

And that changed everything.

Crusch wasn’t the type to be shaken by bravado. She had stood before battlefields drenched in blood, led men through slaughter and survival alike. But Reinhard was not just a knight.

He was a one-man army.
A divine anomaly in human form.
An existence so overwhelmingly powerful that is almost godlike.

If Reinhard swore loyalty to someone, then power, authority, and legitimacy followed in kind—regardless of where they came from. That fact alone reshaped the entire Royal Selection playing field.

That fool of a noble didn’t grasp the gravity of what just happened, Gojo Satoru could be a farmer from Kararagi and he’d still walk into the throne room with the weight of a god behind him and would still be telling the truth just because of that one man, the Sword Saint.

She mused darkly. Still, there was something… unnerving.

Crusch’s scowl deepened.

What kind of man earns Reinhard’s loyalty so freely?

She didn’t believe Reinhard was the type to be manipulated or coerced. Which meant...

He believed in this man’s ideals. His vision. His ambition..

He speaks of tearing down the nation, not reforming it. Of purging it, from the roots. That’s not politics—that’s revolution.

She crossed her arms, the leather of her gloves creaking faintly as her jaw tightened.

This man is one I cannot afford to ignore. Nor can I afford to stand idly by if he truly intends to bring change by fire.

Satoru spoke up yet again, grinning- almost wildly.

"Hell..! To make you all believe in me even more, I'll do it without Reinhard!- Eh? Whatcha think!?"

The hall erupted—not with applause or admiration, but with stunned disbelief and murmuring panic.

Satoru Gojo, grinning like a madman, had just thrown away his trump card in front of the entire council of nobles, knights, and royal candidates.

Reinhard’s eyes widened briefly—not out of disapproval, but sheer surprise.

"He's... serious," the Sword Saint thought.

A noble shot to his feet, face red with fury and confusion.

"He's insane—!"
The word tore through the tense silence like a blade.
"You’re just a stranger from who-knows-where, boasting like some court jester! And now you're saying you'll face the White Whale without Astrea’s protection?!"

Others chimed in, voices overlapping—

"This is no longer boldness—this is arrogance, foolishness!"
"Has the Dragon truly chosen this man?!"
"Without Reinhard, he's just another lunatic!"

But Satoru didn’t flinch. If anything, the storm of doubt only fed the fire in his grin.

He spread his arms slightly, sunglasses catching the light as his voice rang out, powerful, undeterred:

"Yup. I’m insane."
He laughed, soft at first—then louder, sharper.

"But you see—insane people change the world. Normal people? They keep it broken!"

Even as some nobles tried to scoff, they found themselves falling silent. Why?

Because even stripped of Reinhard’s presence, there was something so terrifyingly sure about Gojo’s confidence.
Something not human in the way he stared them down, smirk unwavering, hands still in his pockets.

“I’ll beat that oversized flying whale. No Sword Saint. Just, me."

Reinhard, standing quietly at the back of the stage now, watched with a slow, dawning smile.

So this... is what you wanted, Satoru-sama. Not my power—but the chance to prove yours.

Reinhard was already aware of Satoru Gojo's might thanks to their sparring sessions, and truly believed he could do so.

Meanwhile, Emilia blinked, wide-eyed.
"He’s… really doing this without Reinhard? I don't understand..."

Crusch’s scowl deepened once more.

"He’s forcing us to recognize him not as a man with The Sword Saint—but as his own force."

Then came the kicker.
Satoru leaned forward slightly, gaze razor-sharp beneath his shades.

"If I win without Reinhard... you'll have no choice but to accept that I'm the real deal."

The chamber was dead silent as he stepped down, Subaru gawking at him- though he just gave the boy a thumbs up.

Then came the rest of the candidates.

Priscilla Barielle stepped forward, chin tilted high, eyes gleaming with disdain.

"This entire selection is a farce!" she scoffed.
"It is obvious to any with functioning eyes and ears that I alone am worthy to rule. The rest of you? Simply kneel at my feet and rejoice—serving me shall be the greatest honor of your pathetic lives."

Crusch Karsten followed, composed and resolute, voice unwavering.

"Should I take the throne, my first act will be to break the Dragon’s Covenant. This nation shall no longer be bound to ancient promises. The Empire of Lugunica belongs not to a dragon, but to its people."

The crowd stirred. Murmurs of approval—and apprehension.

Then came Anastasia Hoshin, with her fox scarf and businesslike smirk.

"I'm a greedy lil’ gal, no point hiding that." She winked, twirling a lock of hair.
"Commerce, power, wealth—I’ve conquered it all. So why stop there? It’s only natural I aim for a whole nation next~"

Satoru’s gaze shifted subtly as Anastasia stepped back. His eyes briefly locked with Subaru, still lingering near the back—an anxious, clenched presence.

Hope he doesn’t try pop off… Nobles are already side-eyeing Emilia hard enough as is…

Then, Emilia stepped forward, flanked by Roswaal. She took a soft breath, steadying herself, before placing her palm gently to her chest.

"I have only one wish," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
"To build a nation where all people—no matter their race, blood, or birth—stand equal."
She bowed with grace.

Roswaal chimed in behind her, his tone exaggerated and theatrical.
"I must confess, I feeeel quite out of place amidst all these knightly types, mm?~"

As they turned to step down, a sneer cut through the chamber. That same noble from before stood again, venom on his tongue.

"This entire spectacle is a disgrace. A man from another world vying for our throne—and now, a half-elf?! What madness is this?!"

Before the council could respond, Bordeaux—grizzled and blunt—raised his voice.

"It is madness! To think that Margrave Roswaal brings a half-devil into this sacred hall as a candidate! It’s an insult to every tradition we hold dear."

Roswaal’s smile didn’t budge as he turned his head slightly.

"Now now… let’s mind our manners, shall we? After all, nobody likes being called a devil, especially when they’ve said nothing to deserve it~"

Satoru remained silent, eyes darting toward Subaru, whose expression was twisted in growing fury.

And then the noble crossed a line—

"She looks just like the Witch of Envy! You think we should ignore that? Just allowing her presence in this chamber is a sin in itself—disgusting creature!"

People here really are idiots, Satoru thought. Loud, proud, and dumb.

Then—

"ENOUGH!!"
Subaru's voice thundered through the hall, raw with rage.
"That’s enough bullshit!"

"Subaru... please!" Emilia whispered in panic.
"It’s okay—don’t make things worse..."

"No." Subaru shook his head, fists clenched, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
"I won’t shut up. You people… You’re all so full of it! Sitting there on your thrones, judging someone you don’t even know! Apologize. Apologize to Emilia—now!"

"Subaru!!" Emilia cried out again—but he didn’t stop.

She turned back to the council, voice steady despite the trembling.

"My name is Emilia."
"I’ve come here accompanied by the Great Spirit of Fire—Puck. And yes… I am a silver-haired half-elf."

Gasps surged through the hall.

"I understand I may resemble the Witch. But I will not let fear or prejudice dictate my fate—or this nation’s."

A long pause. Then, Miklotov, calm and measured, finally spoke.

"And the boy who shouted… What is his position?"

Subaru straightened. His hands trembled slightly, but he smiled—a fierce, proud smile.

"I’m Emilia’s knight!" he declared, voice ringing out.
He raised one hand, index finger pointed skyward.
"Her one and only!!"

There was no point in stopping it—not now.

As bad as I feel, this could serve as a lesson for him.

Satoru closed his eyes, exhaling quietly.

Miklotov raised a brow. "A knight, is he?"

Then—
A figure stepped forward from among the knights, his uniform just as sharp as Reinhard’s, purple hair glinting beneath the sunlight. Golden eyes locked onto Subaru with quiet intensity.

"Forgive the interruption," the man said calmly.
"But there is something that must be addressed..."

He paused.

"What exactly are you proclaiming when you declare yourself Emilia-sama’s knight?"

Subaru tilted his head, confused. "Yeah, I said it. What about it?"

The man—Julius Juukulius—shook his head slightly.
"You’ve made that claim here, of all places. Before the very order of Imperial Knights, without reserve."

With a sweep of his arm—

THUD.

The synchronized stomp of polished boots echoed through the chamber. Each knight moved in perfect unison, blades unsheathed, steel catching the sun like a challenge issued from the heavens.

Satoru whistled softly under his breath.
"Nice. That coordination—do you guys rehearse this stuff or what?"

"Of course we do," Julius replied.
"Now—tell me. Do you have the resolve to match that performance?"

Subaru’s eyes widened. He leaned back slightly, instinctively recoiling. But then—

"I... I’ll make Emilia the next ruler!"

Julius’s gaze sharpened like the edge of a blade.
"You believe you have the will and the strength to make that happen?"

Subaru took a breath, deep and shaky.
"Strength? No, not yet. I’ve only just started training... I'm still weak."

He clenched his fists.

"But I don't lack willpower. Not even a little. One way or another, Emilia will become ruler—and I’ll make it happen!"

Julius exhaled. His voice, though calm, was edged with quiet disappointment.
"A bold claim... but laced with self-doubt. That is not something to be proud of. Have you earned the right to stand here and call yourself her knight?"

Subaru’s fists trembled, knuckles white.
"I-I don’t care. I’ll still do it!"

Julius stepped forward, his tone more puzzled than hostile now.
"Why? Why do you insist on standing here, defying us—the Imperial Knights?"

Subaru’s head lowered—then snapped up, voice cracking with emotion.

"Because... she's special!"

Julius blinked, visibly caught off guard by the answer. For just a second, his mask slipped.
A pause hung in the air—quiet, but heavy.

"I understand," he finally said.
"And I accept that reason. But I still cannot acknowledge you as a knight."

Subaru’s face contorted. "What… what do you mean!?"

"Anyone who wears that expression—"

Julius gestured subtly toward Emilia.

"—on the face of the one they wish to stand beside... is no knight."

Subaru didn’t turn to look. He couldn’t. His teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

"Is being a knight really such a big deal!?" he shouted.
"What, you think you're better than me just 'cause you were born into the role? Stop acting like a big shot just ‘cause your dad handed you a sword!"

Julius sighed. "Subaru Natsuki... That is not a good look for you."

"That's enough..." Emilia’s soft voice cut in like a whisper across stormy seas.

She placed a hand on Subaru’s back, gently pulling him back, turning toward the council.

"I apologize deeply for wasting the court’s time."

Without another word, she began to walk away, guiding Subaru by the shoulder. His face was a storm of anger, shame, and disbelief.

As they neared the door, Miklotov finally broke the silence.
"Emilia-sama... If nothing else, your attendant has shown us something important today—"

He paused.

"That you are not to be feared. And that alone speaks volumes."

Emilia stopped, eyes flickering over her shoulder.

"Thank you. But..."
"He’s not my attendant."

The door shut with a final echo, leaving silence in its wake.

Satoru let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Damn... second-hand embarrassment hitting like a truck. I feel bad for the guy—but yeah, this is something he’s gotta learn the hard way.

Subaru sat in a small, sparsely furnished room, his expression blank—empty, drained. Across from him stood Reinhard van Astrea and Felix Argyle, quietly observing.

“The royal selection has… finally begun, Subaru.” Reinhard’s voice was calm but firm.

“Subaru, you are Emilia-sama’s knight, ain’t nya? So, let’s do our best~!” Felix chimed cheerfully, his playful tone in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere.

Before Subaru could respond, the door opened.

“Forgive me for interrupting.” Julius Juukulius entered, his face composed as ever, though his eyes briefly flickered with concern as they landed on Subaru.

“W-What’re you doing here?!” Subaru blurted, wary.

Julius sighed.
“I sincerely wish you wouldn’t wear such an unpleasant expression. I never expected a warm welcome, but if you keep this attitude—”

Subaru clenched his fist and leaned forward sharply.
“Then what?!”

“I only suggest you proceed with caution.” Julius’s voice was steady but carried a warning.
“Now… you asked why I’m here, yes? I came to see you, of course.”

He glanced out the window for a moment, lost in thought.
“There’s something important we need to discuss. I want you to come with me.”

The scene shifted.

Subaru stood alone in the center of a vast colosseum-like arena. Rows of knights lined the balconies above, their gazes sharp and watchful.

His suit was off, replaced by simple training gear. He was stretching, preparing.

Opposite him stood Julius, with Reinhard just behind, holding out a wooden sword.

“Julius... you really shouldn’t do this...” Reinhard murmured, concern evident.

Julius’s gaze hardened as he took the wooden blade in his hand.
“He insulted the knights directly. It is only just that he faces punishment.”

He exhaled deeply, stepping forward deliberately, ignoring any protests Reinhard might have offered.

Raising the wooden sword high overhead, he declared loudly:
“I hereby administer the death penalty to this insubordinate man who has sullied our knighthood’s honor. Under normal circumstances, such insolence would be met with death by the sword. But... considering you are Emilia-sama’s attendant, we will fight with wooden blades.”

Subaru’s eyes flickered down to the wooden sword in his hand. His grip tightened around the hilt… then slowly loosened.

With a swift motion, he tossed the wooden sword aside and raised his fists into a fighting stance.

“Sorry. I refuse. I fight better with my fists.”

Julius’s brows furrowed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“You truly are a foolish man...” he muttered, shifting his stance. One hand slipped behind his back in perfect form, the other angled his blade forward with fluid grace.
“Fine, then. Let us begin.”

“Yeah... alright.” Subaru’s tone was steady, his teeth grit with determination.
“I won’t hold back even a bit!”

But he didn’t charge. Not yet.

Instead, Subaru took a long, deep breath—gathering everything. His focus sharpened, and the cursed energy that lay dormant within him surged to the surface.

It erupted.

A raging aura of black and blue energy spiraled around him, coiling skyward like a living flame. It crackled violently, humming with raw, unstable power before dissipating as if absorbed.

Julius’s eyes narrowed, his golden gaze catching the flicker of that strange, unfamiliar energy. Magic in a way, perhaps—but not like any he's felt before. He remained silent, poised, observing.

Then—

SMASH-

Subaru’s foot struck the ground with such force that cracks webbed out beneath it. Dust exploded around him as he lunged forward at blistering speed, closing the distance between himself and the "Finest Knight" in hardly a second.

His fist, cloaked in cursed energy, came screaming through the air—aimed straight for Julius’s head.

But—

SWISH.

Julius stepped aside. Not with panic, not with desperation—but with elegance. His body pivoted effortlessly, sliding across the dirt like a gust of wind. Subaru’s punch tore through empty air, the shockwave whipping through Julius’s violet hair.

Subaru’s eyes went wide, thrown off-balance.

Julius's counterattack came instantly.

The wooden blade in his hand thrust forward—a blur. It met Subaru’s chest… and skidded off, as though it had struck an invisible wall.

A barrier...? No.. his body is just that tough. He thought, blinking- though not shaken.

That opening was all Subaru needed. He twisted his hips and drove another punch forward, this one faster, tighter—aimed straight for Julius's side.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Hoh...” Julius exhaled lightly, sidestepping once more.

It wasn’t just experience. It wasn’t just training.

It was everything. Subaru lacked everything, in comparison to this knight.

THUD.

The butt of Julius’s wooden sword slammed down hard onto the top of Subaru’s fist, driving it down violently. The impact jolted through his arm and crushed his momentum, sending his strike crashing into the ground with a spray of dirt and dust.

And then—

SWISH.

Julius moved like a phantom, slipping behind Subaru through the cloud before he could recover.

CRACK!

The wooden blade slammed against Subaru’s ribs with brutal force. A sickening crunch rang out, echoing across the colosseum. His cursed energy flared—then fractured.

The blow broke through his defenses, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying.

He rolled, tumbled, skated across the arena like a ragdoll, his body finally slamming into the far wall with a heavy CRASH.

Silence fell across the arena, save for the settling dust.

Julius didn’t gloat. He didn’t smile.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes unwavering.

“You are lacking in every way,” he said evenly.
“Skill. Experience. Power. Speed. Resolve.”

His voice was calm—but resolute.

"Now get up, this has only just begun."

A knight burst into the throne room, armor clanking loudly as he skidded to a halt.

“R-Report! The knight Julius and Natsuki Subaru are engaged in a mock battle in the arena!”

Emilia’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“W-What?! How did that happen…? I—I have to—”

Anastasia lazily raised a hand.
“Sooo~ I just wanna know one thing: who issued the challenge?”

“It was Sir Julius, though Natsuki Subaru accepted.”

She waved dismissively.
“Then I’m against stopping it.”

Subaru… that fool, accepting a duel like that just because of his pride…

Satoru’s eyes narrowed.
“Your knight and my friend are fighting. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

Anastasia smirked.
“Worried? About what—Julius going a little overboard and us needing to pay a healer premium? That’s nothing new.”

Crusch spoke next, her voice steady.
“Regarding the duel… I too oppose interfering. A battle begun must be seen through to its end.”

Satoru sighed, brushing back a lock of hair.
“Tch. That idiot… should’ve known not to accept just because he was angry. Julius is way above his level right now.”
He turned to the knight. “Why are we hearing about this just now?”

The knight swallowed.
“B-Because, well... it’s been rather quick.. and one-sided.”

Emilia gasped and immediately sprinted from the room.

Satoru rolled his shoulders, stepping to follow.
Well… I might as well see if he can at least land one punch. Even a miss would be impressive.

THUD— Julius’s wooden blade slammed into Subaru again, cracking against his bruised shoulder with brutal force.

Subaru’s stance faltered. His legs buckled—but didn’t break. Bloodied and wheezing, he clenched his fists and twisted into a sudden left hook, aimed straight at Julius’s face.

SWISH— The knight ducked low, his back bending fluidly as Subaru’s fist soared overhead, ruffling his hair.

He’s still standing? Julius mused, eyes narrowing. He’s surprisingly durable…

“…Very well,” Julius muttered. His body flickered—his speed ramping up drastically, becoming little more than a blur to Subaru.

SWISH.

Subaru’s world flipped. A single kick to the shin sent him spiralling.

Then before he even hit the ground—

WHAM—!

Julius stepped forward, swinging his wooden blade like a bat, crashing it into Subaru’s ribs midair. His body launched several meters across the arena, rolling and smashing into the dirt.

“Guhhh… uufff…”

Why…? Subaru groaned internally, clawing at the ground.

“Just surrender.” Julius’s voice echoed. “Admit you’ve reached your limit. I underestimated you slightly—but this is the extent of your strength.”

Those words—cut deeper than the blade ever could.

Subaru’s fingers dug into the sand. Slowly, shakily, he pulled himself upright again, blood trickling down his chin. He wiped it away with his wrist.

“Screw you. Like you said… this has only just begun!”

From the arena entrance, the royal candidates filed in—Emilia at the front. And behind her…

Satoru Gojo.

Subaru’s eyes twitched.

Gojo-sensei… is watching me get my ass handed to me… Alright then. It’s time for my SPECIAL move!

He inhaled deeply. His pupils dulled, his body swaying slightly as he reached within—deeper than ever before.

I figured it out. The Witch’s Miasma… it’s similar to cursed energy. I thought—what if I could use it the same way?

It hadn’t worked—at first, I didn't get it...

But now—

WHOOSH-!!

A new aura erupted from him—dense, oppressive, violent. It wrapped around his battered frame like a storm. No longer black and blue—this was purple, and it radiated something far more sinister.

From the viewing stands, Gojo’s expression sharpened.

What the hell is that?
His cursed energy—it's almost doubled.. the output is higher aswell.

Subaru’s eyes widened, glowing faintly as a savage grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I… can return by—gkHHK!”

His cursed energy flared violently again, rising like a tidal wave.

What is this? Gojo thought, almost smiling.
Even if I’ll never say it to his face… he’s insane.

Julius, meanwhile, sensed it—his stance tensing.

The air had changed.
Not just the energy—the atmosphere itself became darker.

Reinhard’s gaze darkened, a rare shadow crossing his face as his brows furrowed.

The Witch’s miasma… it always clung to Subaru. But now… it’s far more intense than before.

Then suddenly—

“SHAMAAAC!!”

A surge of darkness erupted from Subaru’s feet, spiraling upward like a tidal wave of smoke and shadow. The arena vanished beneath a blanket of pitch black.

Gasps echoed from the stands.

Subaru lunged forward—racing through the void as fast as his battered body would allow. His bloodied fists clenched tight.

Come on… just one hit. Just one at least!!

Julius narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat.

Instead, he raised his sword, sliding it backward over his shoulder with quiet grace.

“Out of respect for your efforts,” he muttered, almost solemn, “accept this gift.”

He stomped down—BOOM—a wave of force scattered the darkness in an instant, revealing Subaru barely a meter away, his face twisted in determination and desperation.

The air shimmered.

Flecks of multicolored light danced across Julius's wooden blade—now glowing with an ethereal, radiant hue.

A brilliant white—tinged with the colors of the rainbow.

“Al Clauseria.”

He thrust forward—not at Subaru’s chest, but at the space between them.

From the tip of the blade, a spiraling beam of spiritual light erupted—an attack not meant to cut the flesh, but to judge the soul itself.

FWOOOOOM—

The beam slammed into Subaru’s chest, washing over him in a tidal burst of rainbow-colored brilliance. The cursed energy—twisted and corrupted by miasma—was ripped away, cleansed in a blinding cascade spiritual energy.

CRAAASH—!!

Subaru was flung across the arena like a ragdoll, smashing into the far wall with enough force to crack the stone. Dust rose. His unconscious form crumpled to the ground.

Silence followed.
Only the sound of the shattered remains of Julius’s wooden sword clattering to the floor—nothing left but a scorched hilt.

Felix dropped down beside Subaru in an instant, aura flaring as his healing magic began to pulse.

Reinhard landed moments later, stepping up beside Julius, his expression tight.

“That was too much.” His voice was low. “You could’ve beaten him without calling on your spirits...”

Julius didn’t meet his gaze at first. He simply sheathed the broken hilt at his side.

“I could have. But… I misjudged him.”
He looked back at Subaru’s unconscious body.
“He’s a fool, yes—but one with resolve. I can’t ignore that. So, I returned his sincerity with a bit of effort of my own.”

Up in the stands, Satoru Gojo sat perched, arms folded, eyes focused on the fallen boy.

He exhaled through his nose, an odd little smirk tugging at his lips.

“He’s got a lot of explaining to do when he wakes up.”
He tilted his head.
“Because I definitely didn’t teach him that.”

Chapter Text

Satoru was stood on the other side of the door, leant against a wall- arms crossed, eyes closed. Listening intently at the sounds of various yelling and shouting between both Emilia and Subaru.

“Welp,” Satoru exhaled, stepping forward and rolling his shoulders. “Doesn't sound like it went too well."

Emilia just nodded, not even bothering to say a word in return as she started to walk off.

Satoru didn't bother stopping her, he understood her reasoning after all.

I heard a bit of it but purposefully aired most of it out.. but from what I heard- and the little beating Subaru received from Julius, I doubt he's going to be all good mentally.

He sighed, closing his eyes- pondering back to multiple hours ago...

...

Ferris stepped out from the room, letting out a deep breath.

Emilia seemed nervous, stepping forward. "Is.. is he alright?"

The cat-boy merely nodded. "Nyep~! Of course he is, I'm the best healer around after all~ Just a few hours sleep and he'll be awake."

Before he could speak- movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Crusch Karsten approached with Wilhelm at her side, calm and composed as ever.

Satoru gave a small, respectful nod. “Crusch Karsten. You’re not here just to check on Subaru, I assume?”

Crusch gave a light incline of her head, briefly glancing at Emilia before speaking.

“I propose a temporary alliance. At least until the White Whale is slain. It’s true I seek the merit of the kill… but that isn’t the only reason.”

Satoru’s expression soured, skeptical. “So I help a rival get ahead by handing them glory? Doesn’t sound like the best trade.”

Crusch didn’t flinch. Her eyes shifted toward Wilhelm, who stepped forward, his gaze steady but heavy with purpose.

“I wish for the White Whale’s death more than anything,” he said. “But not for politics. That creature murdered my wife. I’ve waited far too long for this moment, and I refuse to let it die without laying my blade into its flesh.”

As he spoke, emotion cracked through his usual composure. His fists clenched, knuckles pale, voice rough with barely restrained rage.

Satoru’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable behind his shades—though something sharp and subtle glinted beneath. Then, he stepped forward and laid a hand on Wilhelm’s shoulder.

“You’ve got a hell of a loyal servant, Crusch.” He looked back at her, smirking. “Alright. You’ve got a deal. When the time comes, I’ll make sure he gets his chance. As many cuts as he wants.”

Who am I to get in the way of revenge? That’d just make me an asshole, and I'm sure this guys been waiting to kill that beast for a long time. And honestly… I like this guy aswell so..

Wilhelm’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. “Thank you.”

Crusch nodded once, firmly. “I’m aware. And I appreciate it.”

Outside the Karsten Estate

Gojo stood in silence, arms folded, sunglasses catching the light of the early day. His usual grin was absent—replaced by a calm, focused stare as Reinhard bowed deeply before Subaru.

“Forgive me… Subaru.”

Subaru blinked, startled, and quickly raised both palms defensively.
“W-Wait—what are you apologizing for? None of this was even your fault.”

Reinhard straightened slowly, his expression solemn.
“As a friend to both Julius and Satoru… I also consider myself a friend to you. And yet—I failed. I stood by while a rift between comrades deepened. My inaction was a failure of virtue.”

He paused, eyes shadowed beneath his red fringe.
“That duel… there was no meaning behind it.”

Subaru frowned. “No meaning?”

Reinhard nodded gently.
“Nothing good came from it. You were hurt—physically and emotionally. Julius, too, has stained his name as a knight. Honor and pride might have driven it, but in the end, you both only lost. So I ask you—why not speak to him? A true, calm conversation. He is a good man… and I believe many misunderstandings could be set right.”

There was a moment of stillness, before Subaru turned his head, only slightly.

“… Look, Reinhard,” Subaru said quietly. “I appreciate it. I really do. You’re a nice guy… maybe too nice. But I can’t accept that proposal.”

He took a breath and turned away, walking forward, his voice hardening.

“We’re done talking. Just go back.”

Reinhard’s eyes widened, brows knitting upward.
“Subaru… then please tell me—why? What did you gain from that duel? All it brought you was pain… even Lady Emili—”

Subaru cut him off coldly, without turning around.
“Just go, Reinhard.”

The long corridor leading out of the estate stretched before him. His footsteps echoed, but he never looked back.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his shades.

Reinhard turned, his gaze meeting Gojo’s. The Sword Saint looked pained—troubled—but not surprised.

Gojo gave him a small nod. “You can head back without me, yeah? I’ll catch up.”

Reinhard hesitated only a moment before bowing slightly.

“Very well… And Satoru—please. Talk to him. He’s clearly not in a good state of mind.”

Gojo’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks.

“I’ve got it. Go on.”

Reinhard departed in silence.

SWOOSH—

SWISH—

THUD!!

The sound of fists tearing through the air cracked like thunder across the garden in the Karsten Estate.

Subaru’s attacks came in a storm—blows laced with fury, pain, and desperation. But Gojo hadn’t moved an inch. His body remained still, his posture unshaken, not even disturbing the blades of grass beneath his feet.

His gaze narrowed behind the shades, calm and calculating.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, Gojo’s palm glided along Subaru’s forearm—redirecting the punch with effortless grace.

SWISH—

Subaru spun, pivoting low, and lunged in close. Not with a fist this time—but an elbow, sharp and wild, cleaving through the air like a blade.

It might’ve landed too—if Gojo cared.

Instead, he simply exhaled, not with surprise—just faint disappointment.

He’s lost control of his emotions… it's stronger, but less efficient, if he didn't have a ton of cursed energy to utilize.. he'd already be out cold on the floor.

THUD!!

In a blink, Gojo’s arm rose—intercepting the elbow with a clean forearm block, locking Subaru’s arm in place. In the very next beat—

CRACK—!

A counter-jab, clean and precise, slammed into Subaru’s chest like a truck.

It launched him off his feet—air torn from his lungs, body scraping across the garden in a plume of grass and dust.

Still, Subaru didn’t stay down.

He staggered, chest heaving, limbs trembling—but his will pushed him upright again.

Gojo’s voice broke the quiet.

“We should stop here.”

Subaru didn’t reply. He just snarled, stomping his foot against the ground with a roar—cracking the earth beneath, exposing the dark soil beneath the greenery.

And he charged again.

Gojo sighed.

“Hah… Subaru.”

He didn’t teleport. But to Subaru, it may as well have been.

Gojo’s hand materialized in front of his face—then grasped it.

SWISH—

SMASH!!

Subaru’s back hit the ground with a heavy slam, breath stolen once more. His eyes stared up at the sky, wide—not in pain, but in shock, in anguish because of his weakness.

Gojo stood above him, exhaling through his nose as he rolled his neck and rose upright.

“There’s no point in training until you clear your mind.”

His voice was low, but not cruel. Measured. Honest.

“Your anger? It’s not the problem. As I've said, it can be a weapon—but only if you learn to control it.”

His hands slipped into his pockets, and he looked down at Subaru. The boy hadn’t moved.

“Right now, you’re blaming yourself. Hating yourself. For what happened, for being weak. Right?”

No answer came. None was needed.

Gojo looked to the side.

“I’m not gonna lie to you and say your choices were right—because they weren’t. But the weakness? That’s expected. It’s been less than two weeks since we started.”
“This isn’t some game. There’s no cheat code. No fast track to being strong.”

Subaru’s fists clenched in the grass. His eyes burned—not just from tears, but from rage.

“What the hell would you know about how I feel!?”

His voice cracked, heavy with bitterness.

“You’re perfect! You’ve always been perfect! Strongest guy in the room, born with everything—talent, power, confidence—me?”

He sat up, chest heaving.

“I’ve been a loser my entire life. A shut-in. A nobody!! This world gave me a chance to be something more, and all I’ve done is mess up again and again and again!”

He shouted the last words, pain laced in every syllable. His fists hit the ground beside him, trembling.

Gojo’s voice was calm in response—but underneath it was the low simmer of something old and bitter, scraped raw with years of being everything for everyone, and nothing for himself.

He stood upright again, brushing grass off his suit.

“Yeah. You’re right, but nobody’s perfect either…”

His head tilted slightly, the usual cocky grin absent.
“Being me came with all sorts of responsibilities and utter loneliness for most of my life. I was perfect—as a fighter. Not as a person, I've come to realize only recently.”

He looked up toward the orange sky, as if searching for something beyond it.

“All people cared about—barring a handful later on—were these eyes of mine, and the fact I was a ‘once-in-a-half-millennia prodigy’.. Not to say I ain't grateful for these eyes of mine, but it made me wonder what normality was like sometimes. Nobody cared about Satoru Gojo… only what he could do for the clan. For Jujutsu Society.”

He turned his gaze back to Subaru, eyes sharp again, but not unkind.

“So I might not get fully what you're going through. But I've been lonely- sad, too.. so if you're gonna cry."
He pointed toward Subaru’s chest, lightly but deliberately.

“Then cry. Get it out. But don’t sit there pretending like being broken means you can’t still fight on.”

His hand dropped.

“The only people who stay weak forever are the ones who stop trying.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment—before Gojo added, quieter now:

“I didn’t come all the way to this weird-ass world to train someone who gives up at the very start.”

Subaru’s eyes widened slightly, his throat tightening- though no words came out.

Gojo turned away, leaving Subaru alone with Rem in the vast garden.

The Following Day…

Satoru’s gaze narrowed as he strode through the halls of the Roswaal Estate.

Subaru is gone. Rem, too. I can’t sense their presence...

He let out a sharp breath, jaw tightening.

I know I can sleep like the dead sometimes, but still—he wouldn’t just vanish without a word. Not unless he had a damn good reason.

He stopped in front of an open window, wind rustling his silver hair.

"Crusch’ll know… I’ll ask her."

Near the Roswaal Estate...

Subaru sprinted down the cobblestone path, cursed energy pulsing through his limbs as night fell thick over the land. His eyes flicked left and right, breath hitching.

“Too quiet…”

Suddenly, a figure cloaked in black appeared directly in front of him.

Subaru skidded to a stop, fists rising instinctively.

“W-What—?”

His eyes widened—more figures surrounded him. Dozens. Maybe more. Too many to count in the darkness.

There’s no way I’m winning this… Do I have to die again already?

But then—without a word—they bowed… and vanished into the night.

Subaru stood still, heart pounding in his ears.

“…The hell was that?”

Arlam Village and the Manor…

I’m back… finally...

He jogged into the village—but stopped. The stillness was unnatural. Buildings stood undisturbed, but lifeless. Not a soul stirred.

Something's wrong.

The smell hit him next—burning, rotting flesh. He gagged, then stumbled forward—until he found them.

Corpses. Dozens of villagers piled together. Slashed. Burned. Limbs mangled beyond recognition.

“A-Aah… w-what is this…?” he whispered, voice trembling.

“Rem...? Where is she?!”

He pushed forward, panic mounting with each step. She’s strong. She’ll be okay. She has to be…

He reached the shattered gates of the Roswaal Estate.

Her weapon—Rem’s—lay discarded in the courtyard, chain snapped, metal glinting red under the sun.

He turned—and froze.

There she was.

Rem.

Cold. Lifeless. A blade pierced through her chest. Her face, still and peaceful, seemed to mock the agony clawing at Subaru’s heart.

He dropped to his knees.

Tears streamed.

Why...?

The garden was filled with bodies—cloaked in black. The very same outfit he'd ran into in the forest. Torn apart.

He moved forward like a ghost, into the wooden hut nearby.

He shouldn't have.

He vomited.

Children. Piled. Broken. Eyes wide and vacant.

No. Nononono… NO! This is wrong…!

He staggered toward the estate.

I’ve been training… getting stronger… this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Inside—he pushed open a door.

Two bodies spilled out.

Ram. Her face soaked in blood, lips parted as if frozen mid-cry.

Petra. Her eyes were gone, torn from their sockets- dried blood pooling from her head and lips in obscene amounts.

Subaru screamed. And screamed. But it wasn’t enough.

Is this all my fault? I should’ve—no. I should’ve done something…

“It’s not my fault… it’s not…”

He stumbled forward, following the blood. To an unfamiliar door.

So cold. The air bit his skin like razors.

She could still be alive… please…

He reached for the handle.

CRACK—

His hand shattered.

“A-AAHH!!”

He stumbled back, just before his leg split from beneath him—ice creeping over the floor like death incarnate.

He looked around.

Bodies. Frozen. Cloaked assassins. Caught mid-movement. Mid-scream.

He tried to scream too.

But nothing came out.

CRACK—

The world faded to black.

And Natsuki Subaru died.

Chapter Text

Gojo scowled, fists clenched tight as he stared down at Subaru.

Or rather—what was left of him.

His eyes weren’t quite lifeless, but they were void of reason. Hollow. Beneath them, deep patches of bruised skin bloomed—proof of relentless crying, of a mind that had shattered quietly in the dark.

“What the hell happened to him…?” Gojo muttered. “He was fine just a day ago. Went out with Rem, seemed stable—and now he’s like this?”

He grimaced. None of it added up.

Did something I say break him? No… that doesn't feel right. Subaru wasn’t fragile enough for words alone to do this.

But then what is? How does someone just... unravel overnight?

Crusch crossed her arms, a pensive look on her face. “Then what are the odds it’s a curse?”

Ferris shook his head, lips tight with frustration. “Pretty low. I’ve combed every inch of him, inside and out. Healed what I could—physically, he’s fine. But he’s still like this.”

Crusch’s gaze drifted toward Rem, softening. “I’m truly sorry. If even Felix can’t fix this… no one here can.”

Rem bowed slightly, managing a faint smile. “Thank you. Both of you—for your efforts and your concern.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, looking Rem’s way. “I’ll be going with you. What kind of teacher would I be if I ditched my only student when he’s like this?”

The carriage wheels groaned as they cut along the dirt path.

Gojo sat in the back, eyes fixed on Subaru—who hadn't moved, spoken, or even blinked properly in a day. The only times he responded at all were when Rem gently coaxed him to eat or sleep. Even then, it was like guiding a ghost.

This just doesn’t make sense. No wounds. No curse. Not even a hint of foul energy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s... grieving..?

But grieving what?

He frowned, flexing his fingers unconsciously. I could teleport us back to the estate… but with my current limit, I can only bring two people at a time and I can't exactly spam it- hurts the old brain. Meaning we’d have to split up for a duration—and that’s too risky with Subaru in this state.

Rem sat silently across from him, posture stiff, gaze locked forward.

"...It's too quiet," she murmured. "Right, Satoru-sama?"

Gojo nodded. “I’m in agreement—”

But then her body jolted.

His eyes widened.

Rem pitched forward, clutching her chest, breath ragged and panicked.

“What—what’s wr—?!”

He didn't finish the sentence.

WHISTLE—

Instinct took over.

A projectile screamed through the air, cleaving clean through the ground dragon’s neck. Its massive body spasmed, then crumpled—slamming into the road and launching the carriage into the air.

Gojo bent his knees, propelling himself from his seat, body a blur. In a flash, he reached forward, grabbed Subaru by the collar, and yanked him out mid-arc—just before the carriage twisted and shattered on impact against the ground.

Boots hit dirt.

He landed hard, skidding several meters with Subaru in tow, shielding him from the debris raining down behind them.

Rem’ll be fine. She’s strong. That kind of hit wouldn’t be enough to drop her.

But something else caught his attention.

He raised his head.

Dozens—no, scores—of cloaked figures encircled them. Each brandished strange daggers, glinting unnaturally under the sunlight.

Gojo stared.

Then tilted his head.

“The hell…?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Did we take a wrong turn and end up at a goddamn comi-con?”

Gojo’s stance shifted, heels digging deeper into the dirt, posture like a coiled spring ready to detonate.

One cultist charged—a dagger gleaming under the moonlight, lunging straight for his chest.

Satoru didn’t flinch. His smirk only widened.

He raised one hand, and with it pulsed a shimmering blue aura, bending space like a ripple in still water.

SWOOSH—

The cultist’s body snapped forward, yanked off his feet by a force that defied gravity and logic.

Gojo leaned slightly—in preparation of the approaching figure—then unleashed...

His fist tore through the air.

SMASH—

It caved into the cultist’s chest, obliterating ribs and spine in a single blow and tore through the opposing end in a haze of red that splashed onto the ground.

A breath later—THUD!—Gojo’s foot collided with the mangled body, launching it like a missile into a nearby tree. The wood shattered on impact, blood misting the bark in a crimson spray.

WHISTLE—THUNK!

A head rolled near his feet. Rem’s flanged mace boomeranged through the crowd like death itself incarnate, severing another cultist’s head from their shoulders.

"GET AWAY FROM SUBARU, YOU BASTARD WITCH CULTISTS!!" she roared.

More cultists responded, drawing hidden daggers and hurling them toward Rem atop the wrecked carriage.

They froze mid-air.

Gojo’s eyes gleamed beneath his shades. “Blue.”

A flick of his wrist.

The daggers reversed course—violently—hurtling back toward the crowd of robed figures like a storm of jagged death.

SHLK—SHLK—THUNK—THUD—

Each cultist was impaled in a grotesque instant, limbs flailing, bodies collapsing in heaps, bludgeoning them like a pin-cushion.

They're weak, Gojo thought, eyes scanning the treeline. Infinity protects me—and Subaru while I’m holding him. But still...

He turned toward Rem—bloodied, furious, relentless.

She fought like a demon, her rage making her blind to the damage she was taking. Her knuckles bled, her body bruised—but she didn’t stop.

Gojo frowned.

If I go full output with Blue… it’ll wipe this entire area. Including her.. so I kinda gotta hold back.

Another cultist lunged.

A dagger hung inches from Gojo’s face—suspended, unmoving.

SQUELCH—

Gojo's fist rocketed upward, smashing into the cultist’s jaw.

The ground cracked beneath their feet from the force.

The head burst—like an overripe fruit under pressure.

Does that change the fact these guys are nothing more than worms..? Hell no.

He pivoted without pause.

Rem, mid-air, didn’t see the dagger aimed for her back.

Gojo appeared behind her in a flash, one hand clamping down on her shoulder—his other palm intercepting the dagger mere centimeters from her spine.

“Hoomph—!”

He grunted as he thrust the dagger backward with terrifying force.

It didn't just return—it rocketed through the cultist, impaling him and the tree behind him like a harpoon through paper.

They landed, Ram growling- pupils shrunken, blood dripping down over one eye.

“Rem—Rem, listen to me!”

His voice sliced through her rage.

She blinked. Breathing hard. Just barely registering his words.

“Take Subaru and go. Now. I’ll handle the rest. They can’t touch me, and I’ll be faster without the dead weight.”

“B-But—”

“Five minutes.” His voice dropped. Calm. Absolute.

She bit her lip.

Then nodded—scooping Subaru in her arms and bolting into the forest path, vanishing into the trees.

Gojo’s eyes followed them—then snapped toward the ones giving chase.

“Not a chance.”

He moved.

Fast.

One cultist was mid-sprint when Gojo flipped overhead, heel crashing down into his spine.

CRUNCH—!!

The body slammed into the dirt, his foot planting against the cultists' head as he rode the man like a surfboard, carcass tearing a line through the dirt in a wild spray of debris.

Gojo’s hand reached outward—Blue pulsing around his fingers. Another cultist chasing Rem was yanked backward by invisible force.

Gojo exhaled—then flicked his wrist.

The man was launched—his body careening into a tree with such force the trunk splintered like glass, erupting in shards of bark and blood that stopped inches away from him.

Gojo stood still for a moment.

“Haah... Been a while since I've let loose..”

He reached up, slid his sunglasses down, and pocketed them.

His eyes—those impossibly vivid cerulean eyes—shone like stars in the dark.

They were not calm, they were dark.

Focused.

And finally unchained.

A grin curled on his lips.

“Now that Subaru’s not over my shoulder...”

He let out a breath.. and slowly, calmly raised his hand to the air.

“Maximum Output...”

Rem sprinted, ignoring the EXPLOSION in the distance from where Satoru was, the wind cutting at her cheeks as the foliage blurred past her in streaks of green and shadow. Her horn shimmered faintly in the darkness—like a beacon in the gloom.

Subaru... She clutched his limp body tighter, the rhythm of her heart matching each step in frantic unison.

Satoru-sama will be fine.
She didn’t know him well—but she didn’t need to. She had felt it. The overwhelming pressure of his power. His control.

He's strong. Unbreakable.

She glanced down at Subaru again. His face was blank, eyes dull, his body heavy in her arms—like a porcelain doll hollowed out.

But her gaze didn’t falter.

He trusted me. With Subaru. With this mission.
So I won't let either of them down.
Not Gojo. Not my hero. Not the boy who saved me when I was nothing.

“I’ll be the one to save him this time...!” she whispered, breath ragged, pushing harder.

Then, suddenly—

A figure.

Just ahead, framed by twisted tree limbs like a grotesque painting.

He stood unnaturally still—limbs loose, spine slack, face half-shrouded by a cloak drenched in shadows.

Then he twitched.

“I... can see it...”

The voice was sharp, airy—high and cracked like glass under strain.

“Oh yes, yesyesyesyesss...!”
He staggered forward, body convulsing—bones cracking as if his limbs didn’t belong to him. His back arched unnaturally, then snapped forward again like a marionette on broken strings.

“How BLESSED am I,” he rasped, eyes widening, “to feel the Witch’s LOVE... so... so devoutly...!”

Rem froze. Every hair on her body stood on end.

She stepped back, clutching Subaru tighter.

The man’s head cocked to the side—his neck bending just a little too far. His fingers twitched as if plucking invisible strings in the air.

“It’s him, isn’t it...? Yes... yes...” His gaze dropped to Subaru. “From him... such dense love... it oozes from every inch of his blessed soul...”

He trembled violently—then threw his arms wide.

“HE IS TRULY.. TRULYTRULYTRULYYYYY...”

He arched his back and screamed to the heavens—

“..BLESSED!!!”

The forest seemed to recoil with him—leaves fluttering, birds scattering into the night.

Rem’s eyes narrowed, her teeth gritting hard.

Blood filled her mouth—she had bitten her tongue again without realizing.

Her voice was cold, controlled.

“Who are you...?”

The horn on her head began to glow brighter.

Her grip tightened.

“Answer me, you FILTHY WITCH CULTIST!!”

The forest air grew heavy—dense with cursed energy and madness. The shadows themselves seemed to shrink from the figure in front of Rem, as though unwilling to linger near such twisted insanity.

He was hunched like a beast, arms limp, swaying unnaturally with each twitch and spasm. His eyes were wide—too wide—bloodshot and trembling with glee. A torn robe clung to his wiry frame, inked with the symbol of the Witch's Cult.

“Who...?” he echoed, voice lilting like a lullaby set to static. “Who am I...?”

He tilted his head, bones audibly crunching as if the motion required more force than a human body should allow.

“Oh, no.. nono-nO..NONONOO!! HOW SLOOOOOOTHFUL OF ME TO NOT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF...!!!"

Tears swelled in his eyes, hands gripping both sides of his face as he clutched them with enough force to tear flesh and draw blood. Then, he bowed- body almost breaking- one arm extended out, head hanging inches from ground.

"I am but a humble vessel of LOVE!! Of WORSHIP... Of GRATITUDE!!!"

"Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult.. Representing Sloth... Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti!"

His mouth stretched into a manic grin, twitching and twisting as if struggling to contain the madness boiling beneath the surface.

“Now.. where.. where was I..?!- Love! Yes! I can feel it! That boy—he reeeeeeks of it! The witch’s blessing, so potent it makes me TREEEMBLE!!”

His limbs convulsed again, spasming as he dragged his feet forward in erratic lurches.

Rem’s heart thundered in her chest, but she stood her ground, even as her muscles screamed at her to flee.

No.

She shifted Subaru in her arms to one side, gently, securely. Her other hand gripped her morning star. The horn on her forehead glowed brighter—her full power blooming as mana radiated from her like a storm on the verge of breaking.

She growled, breath steaming in the night air. “I’ll crush every last one of you, until there’s no trace of this cult left in the world.”

Betelgeuse froze—then began to cackle, madly, uncontrollably.

“HhheheheHEHEHE!! Such LOVE!! In YOU too!! The strength to protect... such noble LOVE! But it is foolish...”

He raised both arms skyward, his body vibrating with uncontainable glee.

“Because the love of the Witch... cannot be defied!!”

Rem's horn pulsed. Her grip on the mace tightened.

Her eyes narrowed, blood boiling.

"I'll make you regret ever trying to get your disgusting hands on Subaru!!"

.. CRUNCH-?!

Satoru scowled, standing amidst a sea of shredded corpses. Blood soaked the earth, bones cracked and torn — but he remained untouched. Not a scratch on him. Not even a crease in his attire.

His gaze swept the carnage. “So... this is the Witch Cult’s doing?”

His voice was low, irritated.

“What the hell do they want with us?”

The question gnawed at him — but he forced it down.

Now’s not the time. Rem. Subaru.. hopefully they are doing good.

He turned on his heel—

And froze.

Eyes narrowed. Mind sharpened.

Someone was there.. since when? how?

A man.

Yet—no presence. No spiritual pressure, as if there was simply an ERROR in the very fabric of space stood before him.
Nothing.

I can’t sense him at all. Not even Reinhard felt like this.

The man was... immaculate. Skin pale as bleached ivory. Hair snow-white. And those eyes — glinting gold, like molten arrogance. He moved with eerie poise, one hand behind his back as though greeting an honored guest at a tea party, not walking into a massacre.

Gojo’s breath stilled for just a moment.

My eyes don’t lie.

He clenched a fist.

This guy is strong.

Even the ground beneath his feet—untouched. Ignoring the blood, the cracks. As if he didn't even exist.

Satoru’s expression tightened.

“...Who are you?”

The man stopped.

And smiled.

Not friendly. Not cruel.

Just infuriatingly composed.

He raised a hand, graceful and deliberate — and began to speak in a voice so smug, so measured, it almost grated against reality.

“Ah, excellent. I’m glad someone here still has the decency for manners. Truly. Far too many these days rush forward like beasts without the slightest trace of etiquette. But you—you asked. That alone, sir, puts you well above the drooling masses I’ve come to expect.”

He gave a bow — slight, practiced — his golden eyes never leaving Gojo’s.

“And so, in accordance with the natural laws of mutual respect, it would be unjust of me not to answer you.”

He placed a hand on his chest — the smile still firmly in place.

“.. Sin-Archbishop of the Witch's Cult.. Representing Greed....”
“—Regulus Corneas.”

Chapter Text

“Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult, bearer of the Right of Greed. A position not merely given, mind you, but earned, through purity, through principle, and through perfection of self.”

He chuckled softly, head tilting.

“Ah, but I imagine that doesn't mean much to someone like you. You reek of chaos... power without purpose. Just doing what you like, am I right? Tch..”

Gojo didn’t speak. His gaze hardened.

Regulus stepped forward again, voice rising ever so slightly.

“See, what people never understand—what they’re too stupid to grasp—is that I am a just man. I live with clarity. I do not like to fight, I do not steal, I do not compromise, I do not submit. I simply take what is rightfully mine. That’s not greed. That’s order. That’s love. That’s what it means to be free.”

He spread his arms slightly, chest lifting, as if expecting applause.

“And really... what is a sin, if not the world’s rejection of a man who refuses to be bound by its.. hypocrisy?”

The air around them was still, far too still.

Gojo lowered his head slightly. His mouth curved upward into a humorless smirk.

“...Huh. You really talk a lot.”

Regulus blinked, his brows furrowing.

“Excuse me..?”

Gojo raised his eyes again — blue pupils shimmering beneath his snowy lashes.

“I said you talk too much, dude.”

The space between them hung like glass, fragile and full of tension.

Regulus tilted his head, that smug smile unwavering, yet a tint of annoyance was hidden in his tone. "You think I'm being excessive? Hmph. That’s typical! The moment someone speaks with reason... TRUE reason.. people call it rambling! But let me ask you- what’s worse? Speaking at length with clarity, or speaking and acting without thinking at all?"

Gojo said nothing.

He simply stood, one hand slowly sliding out of his pocket in preparation.

Regulus stepped closer.

“Silence? A wise decision indeed! Better to be quiet and considered thoughtful than speak and remove all doubt, isn’t that how the saying goes? But then again, I suppose I am speaking quite a bit. It’s just that when you’ve attained true understanding, when you've tasted the absolute.. your words tend to... linger.”

Gojo's voice came at last. Quiet. Dry.

"You really love the sound of your own voice don't you? I mean.. it's starting to get on my nerves already and you've only been speaking for a few minutes.. damn dude."

A slight tic crossed Regulus's cheek. Brief- but the smile returned quickly.

"Words are the measure of will.. The manifestation of one's ideals. Unlike people who skulk around using brute force like common thugs...! I define myself through thought. Through virtue. That is why I alone am righteous."

He clenched his fist behind his back, voice tightening with restrained fervor.

“Others simply act, selfishly, recklessly.. you look like one of those. Strong, perhaps, but foolish. Dangerous. Unruly. I despise that. Men like you trample values, impose will without consent. That, my friend, is the true sin.”

Gojo stepped forward. Just once.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t fast.

But suddenly, Regulus wasn’t smiling quite as widely.

Gojo exhaled lightly, almost amused.

“I’ve heard a lot of egomaniacs ramble before,” he said, fingers flicking the air idly. “But this? You talk like a guy who like.. ate a whole dictionary or something stupid like tha!"

He tilted his head.

"And I still don’t know what you want coming here.. to me.”

Regulus’s pupils sharpened. He let out a slow, tight breath.

“What I want is justice,” he said, tone pitched low. “To preserve what is rightfully mine. She is mine. Her love, her gaze, her attention! All of it was taken from me.. That boy you and that little demon protect—”
He pointed vaguely toward the trees. “—he is a thief. And I am the hand of rightful retribution as it should be."

Gojo’s smirk faded, a brow raising.

“You’re talking about Subaru...?”

“I’m talking,” Regulus said, voice growing harsher, “about a world that allows parasites like him to squirm into hearts that do not belong to them. I’m talking about the lawlessness of emotion! Where anyone can claim another’s soul without contract, without permission, without the divine right of possession.”

He straightened, tone rising, righteous fury blooming under his tongue.

“I am not cruel. I am not the villain. I am the only man who knows what it means to truly love... to own something so completely it can never leave you. That is not greed. That is devotion in its purest, most sacred form!”

Gojo’s hand flexed, balling into a fist.

A breeze passed.

He didn’t speak immediately.

Regulus stepped forward again.

Gojo blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

There's literally nothing when I look at him. It feels no different than when I look at empty space, as if he doesn't even exist.

Regulus now stood within arm's reach.

“You joke. But I find that deeply offensive,” he said, the venom behind his words cloaked in civility. “You see, violence is barbarism. It is a tool for those with no capacity for argument. A man who swings his fists is one who’s already lost the debate.”

Gojo’s smile came back.

“Well, good news then.”

His gaze sharpened — the glow in his Six Eyes pulsed.

“I didn’t come here to debate.”

Gojo didn’t hesitate.
No retreat, no warning.. only raw, immediate offense.

His fist tore through the air with a ferocity unlike anything he’d unleashed before. A swift flash accompanied the motion, his knuckles colliding with Regulus’s cheek at bone-breaking velocity, the sound of the impact came a half-second after the shockwave.

BOOM—

The region convulsed.

A violent ripple exploded outward from the point of contact, the ground shattering beneath their feet. Chunks of earth tore loose, flung skyward in a storm of rock and debris. The nearest trees didn’t sway... they snapped at the trunks like brittle twigs, crashing down in a cascade of splintered wood and rustling leaves.

And Regulus?

He was launched like a missile. His body carved a trench across the dirt path, skidding with unnatural smoothness through destruction, his white coat fluttering in the wind like paper on fire.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, glancing down at his fist in confusion.

That felt wrong. Too light... Like I hit.. nothing..?

Regulus slammed through a thick tree trunk, the wood exploded outward in splinters before he finally came to a stop.

His legs extended downward, driving into the ground like spears, carving twin furrows in the earth right up to his ankles.

Then.. disturbingly composed- he stood upright.

His expression was twisted with disgust, golden eyes narrow with contempt. He adjusted his cuff with surgical precision.

“You dare...? Even after I've treat you with such niceties?”

His voice wasn’t loud — but it carried.

And with a single step of his foot forward, the world roared.

Gojo’s instincts screamed.

He didn’t see an attack. Didn’t hear anything. But every fiber of his being pulled at him to move — now.

Dodge.

But dodge what exactly..?

He didn't know, but still, his instincts never lie.. he kicked off the ground in a blur, twisting mid-air into a diagonal arc just as the world behind him collapsed.

WOOOOOM—

A colossal void of force — invisible, but absolute — roared past.

A column of wind and pressure devoured the space where he had just stood.

Not destroyed — erased. The trees, rocks, even the dirt beneath — simply gone. Wiped from existence in a perfect, soundless sphere several meters wide.

Silence.

Then the remaining pressure rushed outward — the aftershock enough to throw branches from trees like they were glass shards.

Gojo landed in a crouch, sliding backward, breath tight.

A single drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.

He stared at the blank crater. His brain registered what had just happened with clinical clarity.

I would’ve died.

Just like that. No drama. No drawn-out struggle. Just... gone.

His gaze rose, locking onto Regulus — who hadn’t moved an inch from where he stood.

Nothing.
Not a scratch.
Not even his clothes were wrinkled.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed. His fists trembled, just slightly.

This guy is too strong. I can't win. Not like this. But... do I even have a choice?

Satoru exhaled sharply, rising from his crouch with a new weight behind his eyes. The usual smug confidence had faded, replaced with cold calculation — and something else.

Determination.

Regulus stood idly, a smirk pulling at his lips. A lone leaf drifted in front of him amidst the chaos. He watched it fall with a kind of delicate fascination.

SWOOSH—

He flicked it. That was all.

The leaf howled through the air like a bullet.

Gojo’s eyes snapped wide. He barely twisted in time — but it was too late.

A thin line split across his cheek. Blood welled up instantly, sliding down the side of his face. The cut was narrow, but it was real.

He touched it, fingers trembling against his skin. For a moment, he just stared.

I’ve… never actually been hurt before. Not like this... it's strange.

Not since he awakened. Not ever since Infinity had become part of him.

“Ah,” Regulus said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re quiet now. That’s good. It means you understand your place. But there’s no need to despair... I am, after all, a merciful man.”

He spread his arms wide, posture perfectly regal, almost serene.

“If you get on your knees and beg—really beg—I’ll grant you a death without pain. Isn’t that generous?”

Gojo didn’t speak. His chin lowered slightly. His jaw clenched.

This fucking guy.
I’ve never wanted to beat someone so badly.

Then, a flick of Regulus’s wrist.
"No..? Well then. Don't forget I did offer."

Gojo moved instantly, evading the approaching, unstoppable torrent that eviscerated what resided before he VANISHED-

SWISH-!
He vanished, reappearing behind Regulus with his palm outstretched — closing around the Archbishop’s face in a blink.

There was no sound.

And then—

SMASH—!!

Regulus’s skull cratered through the side of a massive tree, wood splintering in a violent burst. The tree never had the chance to fall. Before gravity could even react—

"Don't you-"

He twisted on one foot like a dancer, rotating a full circle before burying his shin into Regulus’s neck. The blow echoed like thunder, sending the Archbishop’s body flying — bulldozing through the forest, tearing down trees like brittle matchsticks.

"-Get it yet?!"

Still… not a scratch...?

Gojo didn’t stop.

Instead, he blinked, disappearing and reappearing midair just before Regulus stopped tumbling.

SWISH-!
Gojo’s hand locked around the back of his neck.

But Regulus didn’t budge this time around. Not even slightly.

“Have you had your fun?”

It wasn’t mockery. It wasn’t even anger.
It was… condescension...

Then he pivoted.

A slow, almost lazy twist of his body — and he drove a punch into Gojo’s gut.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t fast.

But it connected.

And Gojo..

He flew...

His spine ripped against the ground, smashing through trees, rock, brush — everything. Hundreds of meters blurred past in a chaos of splinters and dirt before—

CRACK—!!

He hit a mountain.

His body buried into the base of it, tearing into stone and soil until he disappeared inside the rock. Chunks of debris caved in over him, a tomb of pulverized earth with Satoru Gojo in the center.

For a long second, there was silence.

Then—

“G-Gghhaah...”

Gojo groaned. One foot kicked forward, and the crater erupted as the debris above was obliterated in a single motion. He dragged himself out, legs wobbling, blood dripping down his brow.

His entire back was raw — burned, torn open, splintered by embedded wood.

I don’t get it...

Nothing I do works. But everything he does hurts a LOT. Even the fucking environment damaged me when I got flung by him, how does that even make sense?

Blood ran into his eye. He blinked it away, only to see Regulus again — whole. Untouched.

Majestic.

For all of Gojo’s power, his elegance, his untouchable reputation — he had always been the one who felt like a god.

But now?

Regulus stood like marble brought to life. No dirt. No bruises. No tension in his posture.

Just perfection.

The Sin Archbishop of Greed.

And for the second time in his life...

Gojo Satoru was no longer the strongest in the room.

Gojo stared, breath ragged.

Each pulse of pain in his ribs, the sting on his cheek, the blood sliding into his eye — it was all real. For the first time in his life, pain felt like a revelation.

Regulus didn’t move.

He simply stood with one hand behind his back, the other lazily brushing nonexistent dust from his cuff. His golden eyes glowed, almost serene, as though he stood in a church, not a battlefield.

Then, he began to speak.

“You look surprised.”

Gojo didn’t answer. He just squared his stance again, bruised but ready.

Regulus smiled wider. “Of course you are. It’s natural. You believed yourself invincible, a god among men."

He took a single step forward. The air shivered.

How does he even know all this about me?

“But now... you've seen something that contradicts that false illusion of yours, haven't you?”

Gojo’s hand twitched, clamping into fists.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” Regulus gestured toward the faint gash across Gojo’s cheek. “That tiny little cut. So small, but so very loud, yes..? Do you know why it exists?”

Gojo's lips were a thin line in waiting silence.

Regulus's voice dropped — not in volume, but in tone. It grew colder, heavier. Holier.

“My 'Authority'. My reality.”

He spread his arms wide, as if preaching to a crowd.

“I am the one true constant. The ever unchanging. The uncontaminated. The perfect. What you see before you is not power. It is not strength. It is purity. An absolute state of self.”

Another step. The air warped again, eviscerating an entire row of trees to his left as a mere means of flexing his power.

“I exist in a world without compromise. Without interference. Without distortion. The moment something affects me? It ceases to exist as a valid concept. I do not ‘defend’ myself. I am simply not affected.”

His smile darkened.

“Everything you’ve done? Every blow, every technique, every reality-warping principle you’ve hurled at me?” He shook his head.
“Irrelevant. Invalid. Merely allowed to land, yet also denied.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

“So... when you punched me?” Regulus continued calmly. “You weren’t ‘too slow,’ nor was I ‘too strong.’ Your attack was simply allowed, but in-affective. Therefore, do not delude yourself to be all-powerful.."

His smile remained, widening only further.
"..Especially not before the all-powerful."

Silence lingered.

“…Don’t really care,” Gojo said, cracking his neck with a loose grin. “Punching you is fun.”

He stood upright, head tilted, voice unwavering.
“I won’t be dying here, either.”

Regulus exhaled slowly, exasperated — not injured, not even ruffled. Just... irritated.

Infinity means nothing to him. Limitless doesn’t apply.

He’s not ignoring my attacks... they’re just not entering his reality.

As far as I know, there's nothing I can do to him if my understanding of his 'Authority' is correct.

Gojo’s gaze darkened, thought racing.
One thing that can atleast help my odds at survival.. Reverse Cursed Technique… No... not just healing. It’s creation. Positive energy born from clashing negatives. Pure power formed through contradiction…

He remembered Yaga’s lectures — ones he once dismissed with the arrogance of a prodigy.

“Reverse energy is a contradiction. You generate positive energy by multiplying two negative charges. It might not make sense at first. And it's stupidly difficult. But that’s exactly why it's powerful.”

And suddenly...
A lightbulb clicked into place.

Gojo’s eyes widened, then his grin exploded, splitting into wild laughter.

“Kehehe... BAAHAHAHA!!”

Regulus frowned, scoffing.

“Oh? Is that what desperation looks like on you?” he asked, voice dipped in venomous amusement. “Or is it delusion, perhaps?”

But before he could speak another word...

CRACK—

Gojo’s foot splintered the ground, launching him forward at blinding speed.

Regulus didn’t flinch, but his brows furrowed.

“What are you, some kind of primate? How many times must I carve the truth into that thick skull of yours?!”

He barked, extending an arm — but Gojo didn’t strike.

He flipped overhead instead — graceful, measured — a somersault propelled by pure technique. He landed behind Regulus, palm extended, stance sharp.

Regulus turned, a flicker of uncertainty passing over his face.

Gojo stood there — completely healed. Blood dried, skin reformed, aura blazing.

“I’ve got a student waiting for me,” he muttered, lips curling.

Two fingers and a thumb formed a gesture like a gun.

"Cursed Technique Reversal…."

A crimson spark ignited at his fingertip.

     “Red.”

The orb burst forward — not to injure, but to knock Regulus off-balance. It slammed into him like a battering ram, launching his body skyward in a twisting, uncontrolled spiral. Dirt and rock flayed beneath him as he shot up the mountain side — all the way near the peak, tearing through chunks of rock and stone.

Regulus clicked his tongue in annoyance. The air around him froze — not with ice or anything physical, but with sheer stillness — and his body halted midair, boot tapping lightly against the mountain's surface overhead.

TAP— CRACK—!!

The pressure of his landing ruptured the cliff face- a landslide followed.

Hundreds of boulders tumbled down like an avalanche, crashing toward Gojo’s path.

But Gojo didn’t flinch.
He inhaled, crouched, and lunged upward with perfect control.

He danced.

Between boulders. Around debris. Off crumbling, falling surfaces.
Every movement was fluid- a step, a weave, a launch. As if the chaos was choreographed.

He burst through the final cluster of falling rock — and there they were again, face-to-face, suspended above the mountain.

Regulus floated effortlessly — literally standing on air. He didn’t fly. He simply ignored gravity.

Gojo levitated differently. His presence twisted the very space around him.. Limitless pulling at reality’s threads to hold him aloft.

“You insufferable FOOL!” Regulus snarled, thrusting a hand outward- his wrist flicking to throw air.

The air warped — not visibly, not audibly — but fatally. An invisible force howled from his palm, unstoppable.

FWOOOM—

A section of Gojo’s side was eradicated outright- flesh, muscle, one of his arms- ripped into the void.

But...

He didn’t flinch.

He grinned.

SWOOSH—

His remaining arm screamed through the air, faster than any strike before — it slammed into Regulus’s jaw, rocking his skull backward and sending shockwaves rippling through the mountaintop.

CRACKLE—

“-BLACK FLASH!!”

The space itself rippled from the cursed energy’s perfect sync.
Regulus’s body didn’t bruise — but his expression twitched in annoyance.

Gojo’s wound sealed — fresh flesh regenerating in it's place, muscle manifesting, growing- intertwining at a rapid pace.

Regulus growled, lashing back. He grabbed Gojo by the collar and spun, smashing him into the rock face with bone-crunching force.

THUD—!

Blood sprayed from Gojo’s temple against contact with the mountain, though as soon as it happened... his head swiftly began to heal, torn mind stitching shut once more as if working overtime.

“—!!”

Eyes wide, Gojo twisted his neck just in time—

WHIP—!!

A razor-thin beam of air scythed through space- slicing clean through a chunk of his face and the mountainside behind, punching a tunnel out the other side.

Gojo grinned madly, the gash visibly closing yet again, teeth behind his cheek still visible as tattered flesh overlapped.

SWISH—!

Mimicking Regulus’s move, Gojo seized his collar, twisted, and drove a punch down like a meteor.

His eyes dulled — total focus in his gaze.

“-BLACK FLASH!!”

Regulus was rocketed downward, breaking cloud cover. The forest canopy reappeared below.

Gojo’s chest heaved. He wasn’t done just yet..

“Blue… Maximum Output—!!”

A massive sphere bloomed in the sky — a gravitational void that screamed across space after Regulus though soon purposefully dispersing.

It never needed to land though, that wasn't it's purpose.

Instead, it dragged thousands of chunks of mountain — all the debris from their battle — downward like an avalanche made from otherworldly force.

They fell, every rock targeting a single point on the worlds surface-

Regulus.

The sky rained destruction that blocked out the sun.
The impact trembled the entire area, a portion of the forest.

Gojo hovered above the chaos, breath ragged, blood still dripping from half-healed wounds.

He looked out, scanning.

His voice rasped.

“…Gotta be quick.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Where’s Subaru...?”

Though his brows furrowed. There were dozens of presences somewhat near to Regulus just outside the reach of all the anarchy, his six-eyes informed him so.

There were atleast a hundred down there, all unfamiliar.

Cultists..? I don't sense Rem or Subaru.. and I've gotta be quick with that monster soon to burst out of the little mountain I've made for him...

Rem’s body hung limply, her eyes hidden beneath a curtain of pale bangs, utterly lifeless. Yet she floated — suspended by an unseen force that cruelly shattered and contorted her bones into grotesque, elongated angles.

Subaru’s anguished screams echoed violently against the cold cave walls. His arms strained desperately against the chains binding him, skin tearing raw beneath the brutal friction.

Tears streamed freely from his bloodshot eyes.
“I’LL KILL YOU... I— I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!”

Petelgeuse’s grin stretched wider, arms outstretched in mock celebration.
“Ah! At last, you’ve chosen to truly speak! Such passion, such feeeeeeervor! Thank you, thank YOU-!! fellow devotee of LOVE!”

Subaru continued to wrench at the chains, a whirlwind of mindless rage, forgetting everything he had learned about cursed energy — all the hard-earned control.

The Archbishop of Sloth turned his back, still grinning madly despite the loss of his many comrades, felled by the now lifeless Rem.
“Oh my... This place has truly become quite messy, hasn’t it?! Alright, alright!”

He clapped his hands sharply.
“Men, resume your duties and rendezvous with the other Fingers — yes!”

Suddenly...

THUD-! CRASH-!

The cave ceiling was torn apart by a strange, radiant blue force. Rocks didn’t fall.. they were swallowed, absorbed — deleted.

A flood of light poured into the cavern where Petelgeuse and Subaru stood.

“You fucking sicko.”

The voice rang out as a fist slammed into Petelgeuse’s face with immense force, sending his body flying across the cave and slamming into a distant wall with an explosive thud.

His brows lifted in a chaotic mixture of surprise and rage as he staggered forward, reaching to pry the chains off Subaru, tossing them aside.

He stared in shock at Rem’s mangled form in anger and digust — but somehow...

She lives..?

Subaru rushed over, cradling her fragile body, eyes wide with desperation. Her voice was quiet, dim.
“Please... live... I— I love you... Subaru....”

Then — the air shifted, growing heavier...

From the shadows, Petelgeuse reemerged — his face grotesquely crushed, one eye nearly hanging from its socket, nose shattered beyond recognition.

“How... HOWHOWHOWHOWHOW?! IT IS INCONCEIVABLE! MY BRAIN... MY BRAAAAAIN... IT TREMBLES SO VERYVERYVERYYYY MUCH... YOU... HOW ARE YOU UNAFFECTED?!”

He didn’t speak further, merely locked eyes with Subaru, who readied to charge. Then, a voice....

“...You have truly outraged me beyond all reason. You have trampled over my rights, and the mercy I respectfully offered — only to scorn it, attacking me like some mindless beast!”

Regulus emerged from the darkness, his form still unchanged despite the mountain of rubble that had fallen atop him prior.

Fuck, he's gotten here even sooner than I'd imagined..

Gojo’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back briefly.
“Subaru... you should get out of here.”

“Gojo-sensei, but—”

His instincts screamed, and before Subaru could protest, Gojo shoved him aside just as the air stilled ominously.

An invisible force struck Gojo’s body, tearing away part of his face and body to reveal battered tissue and blood beneath. This was mercy however — the rest was simply eradicated.

One arm and much of his side suffered far worse damage this time around, and was much slower to heal.

Subaru’s eyes widened in horror.
“GOJO-SENSEI!!!”

“GET OUT OF HERE — NOW, YOU IDIOT!”

Teeth clenched, Subaru spun around and sprinted toward the cave’s exit.

“No... no no no—! That can’t happen! It mustn’t... that would be slothful! Yes.. yes! So VEEEEEEERY slothful!!”

Satoru grimaced. He didn’t fully understand the green one’s ability yet, but the strange shifting wind around his own body — and the sight of Rem’s broken body — told him all he needed to know on a surface level.

Gojo raised his battered hand, palm open.
“Blue.”

A swirling vortex pulled in everything nearby — rocks, the bodies of fallen cultists, remnants of the carnage wrought by Rem.

And then — vanished.

Regulus remained stern, silent.

Satoru- he just grinned as Subaru disappeared from sight.
"Heh.."

“This... THIS DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! How do you remain UNAFFECTED by the Unseen Hands... by Satella’s gift?! It’s inconceivable — incomprehensible!”
Petelgeuse screamed, his voice ragged, ripping and clawing at his own flesh as if trying to tear away the maddening truth.

Regulus scowled, a sharp sneer curling his lips.
“Of course — a mind as fractured as his wouldn’t grasp something so simple...”

Gojo exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing with grim determination.

This is my last chance.
He reached deep within himself.. taking a deep breath.

By merging the opposing forces — Lapse Blue and Reversal Red — smashing their conflicting essences together, he would forge something new... a secret technique only a handful in the Gojo clan knew about.

A chilling coldness blossomed at a frightening rate, not from Gojo however- but he ignored it, he had no choice..

Regulus’ gaze flickered from Gojo, then to Petelgeuse, annoyance etched in his features.
“You fool. Feel free to obliterate that fiend beside me, but I will remain untouched. As it's been stated by the words of the gospel...”

He stepped forward, voice low and unwavering.
“You will die.”

Satoru raised his arm, index finger extending, mimicking the form of the red technique — but still subtly different, refined- hand gesture subtly different.

“Imaginary Technique...”

In an instant, the world was swallowed by a deep, swirling purple orb — dark energy coalescing and consuming all it touched. It erased everything, deleting matter as if it had never existed in the first place.

    "Hollow Purple."

The cave shattered, split violently in two. A jagged fissure tore from floor to ceiling, tearing the ceiling apart and allowing light to seep in.

Yet, one thing remained.

Regulus Corneas...

He hovered silently, arm resting calmly behind his back, standing on empty air. Even the ground beneath him was swallowed by the purple void.

Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti...

Gone. Vanished utterly. No trace, no shadow, no whisper of his existence lingered.

But then, a sharp pain stabbed at Gojo’s chest — sudden, burning. His eyes darkened, the weight of realization crashing down.

“...Damn it...”

His torso detached with a sickening sound, sliding off his lower half and collapsing onto the ground, head tilted back toward the shattered sky.

Taking it in, one last time.

And just like that..

Satoru Gojo died.

And with his death, something else arose..

A cold that engulfed the entire world...

And may have been the cause for the end if not for one knight who stands above all in terms of power.

Chapter Text

Gojo stood just outside the door.
From behind the wooden frame, he could hear Subaru’s muffled shouting—rage spilling toward Crusch like an overflowing cup. His eyes remained closed, listening.

The door slammed open.

Subaru stormed out, anger burning across his face—until he stopped short.

“G-Gojo-sensei?”

There was hesitation in his voice. Surprise. Maybe even shame.

Is that... sadness in his eyes? Or anger? Both?

Satoru gave a small nod, hands in his pockets.

“I caught the important parts. Sounds like the Witch’s Cult is attacking Roswaal’s mansion and the village, right?”

Subaru’s expression shifted. His eyes widened.

“T-Then... does this mean—?”

Gojo flashed his usual confident grin.
“Is that even a question, dude? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t have my one and only student’s back?”

Subaru froze. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

That’s what he said last time... and what did I do?
I got him killed. Because of my weakness...

His fists clenched at his sides, brows narrowing into a storm of emotion—determination, guilt, fury.

I’ll get stronger.
No matter what it takes.
I’ll save Emilia. Rem. Ram. Gojo-sensei. Every last villager. No matter how many times I have to die to do it...

Gojo tilted his head slightly, noticing the shift.

“I like that look.”
He smirked.
“You’ve already bounced back, huh? Just a day ago you were a total wreck.”

Subaru met his eyes and gave a crooked smile, raising his fist.

“Heh... what kind of student would I be if I just sat there and gave up, right?”

Gojo chuckled, bumping his fist against Subaru’s with a satisfying thud.

“Seems you actually can learn.”

“H-Hey!” Subaru grumbled.

Rem giggled softly from nearby.

A room in a quiet tavern.

Gojo lay flat on his back across a bed, staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head.
I’m still a little suspicious how Subaru got this information... But if it helps, I won’t ask.

Rem sat nearby, concern in her voice.

“Then... Subaru, if what you’re saying is true, we don’t have much time.”

Subaru frowned.

“If..?”
He shook his head, trying not to let the doubt sting.

Rem continued carefully.
“...Shall we return to Roswaal-sama's manor?”

Subaru folded his arms, considering, before slowly shaking his head.

“No. We wouldn’t be able to kill them all...”
He looked over at Gojo.
“..Even with Gojo-sensei here...”

Gojo sat up with a curious smirk.
“Oh? You sure you’re not underestimating me, dearest student?”

Subaru didn’t answer right away. Just stared.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, he thought.

Finally, he muttered.

“There aren’t enough of us.”

Gojo shrugged, leaning back casually.
“Well, if you say so.”

Subaru’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“What’s Roswaal even doing right now?”

Rem answered without hesitation.
“Roswaal-sama is traveling. He was summoned to meet with officials in the domain. He won’t return for several more days.”

Subaru scoffed, folding his arms.

“So that explains why he’s doing nothing about the cult attacking his own estate...”

While Subaru moved on quickly, Gojo didn’t.
His smirk faded. Eyes narrowed.

Roswaal…
Every time his name comes up, something doesn’t add up. If Subaru knows about the Witch’s Cult already, then there’s no way Roswaal doesn’t.
And yet, he’s conveniently gone?

“Tch.”
He clicked his tongue sharply.

“We need reinforcements. The three of us aren’t enough.”

Gojo raised a brow, reclining slightly with casual mockery in his tone.

“So by that, you mean... asking the other royal candidates? You know, one of them’s literally sitting right here?”

Subaru blinked, then lit up.
“Oh—right! Then maybe you could just... send Reinhard to handle them? He could wipe them out in minutes!”

Gojo's expression faltered, his gaze drifting to the corners of the room.

“Weeeell... funny thing. Reinhard mentioned he’d be just a little busy- said he’s out of the capital for now.”
My knight really has the worst damn timing.

He shrugged, then added.
“I could call on the Astrea Estate.. but they probably wouldn't make it in time."

Subaru nodded, gears turning in his head.
“No point then, how about—”

“Skip Priscilla Barielle.” Gojo cut him off, tone blunt.
“From what I’ve seen, she wouldn’t lift a finger unless it benefitted her directly. She’s too self-absorbed—and definitely wouldn’t stoop to helping someone she considers beneath her.”

“S-Someone like me!?” Subaru snapped.

Gojo raised a hand casually.
“Just calling it like she’d say it. No offense.”

He leaned back against the headboard again.
“Your best bet? Anastasia Hoshin. She’s a merchant, and probably has a small army of mercenaries just waiting for an excuse to move.”
He paused, then frowned.
“But... even then I dunnooo... Especially after that incident between you and her knight.”

Within the Capital...

Gojo licked his lips, knife and fork in hand as he casually dug into the food before him.

Damn, this stuff’s amazing...

He raised his eyes mid-bite—just in time to see the door swing open with a jingle of bells. Subaru stormed in, irritation written all over his face, Rem trailing behind him.

Subaru threw himself into the seat across from Gojo without a word.

Gojo chewed, swallowed, then smirked.
“Sooo... I’m guessing she said no, huh?”

Subaru scowled, slamming his hands on the table.
“No—worse. I tell them the literal Witch’s Cult is mobilizing, and they act like I’m warning them about a summer drizzle!”

Gojo calmly raised his drink, took a sip, and only replied after setting it down again.

“To be fair... they’re thinking tactically.”

He gestured with a single finger.
“They have no real stake in protecting the people at the mansion. Sure, they’d prefer no one dies, but from a political perspective? Emilia dying knocks out a royal rival. It’s strategic apathy.”

He leaned back with a shrug.
“The only reason I thought they'd help is to publicly boast that they stopped the Witch Cult.”

Subaru let out a sigh, slouching in the seat. His eyes shifted to Rem.
“Rem.. How’d it go with the knights?”

Rem hesitated, her posture stiffening slightly.
“As you asked, I reported the Witch’s Cult’s movements to the knight station under Roswaal-sama’s name. But... they said they’ve already received several anonymous tips. None of them verifiable.”

Gojo muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
“That’s convenient...”

Subaru clenched his jaw, mind racing.

No army. No allies. No one willing to lift a finger... Then it’ll happen again. T he village. The mansion. Rem... murdered. And that man in white—

His eyes snapped toward Gojo—
The memory surged back like a lightning strike.
The way he'd shoved Subaru aside without hesitation…
The explosion of blood, the sickening sound of tearing flesh—
and then—
Half of him. Gone.
The entire left side of his body, eviscerated, as if reality itself had turned on him.

He took a sharp breath, voice steady despite the turmoil in his mind.
“Then we go back. Before they attack. Get Emilia and Ram out... somewhere. I don’t care where. Anywhere but there! If we leave now, we can reach the mansion by morning.”

Later...

The sun bled across the horizon, casting the sprawling plains in brilliant orange. The dragon carriage bumped along the dirt path, wind rustling the grass around them.

Subaru sat up front beside Rem, who held the reins with practiced grace.

Gojo lay sprawled in the back, hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the dusky sky.

Then—

“…Hmm?”

He sat up, eyes narrowing.
Something stirred in the distance—multiple presences. Unfamiliar. Watching.

His gaze locked forward.

Standing by the roadside was a man—green cloak, gray hair tucked under a green hat, smiling like they’d just run into an old friend.

Gojo tilted his head slightly.
“A friend of yours...?”

Subaru leaned forward, squinting.
“... Well.."

The gentle chorus of nocturnal wildlife filled the quiet of the forest, a soft contrast to the crackle of the fire at the center of the small camp. Lantern light flickered against the canvas of tents, casting long shadows across the clearing.

This temporary refuge belonged to a small merchant caravan—led by a man named Otto Suwen.

Around the campfire sat Satoru Gojo, Subaru, Rem, and Otto himself, sharing warmth in the cool night air.

Otto broke the silence, voice tinged with unease.
“Are you sure it’s wise to travel so late...? The roads can be... unpredictable after dark.”

His eyes flicked toward the forest's edge, the fire’s light not quite strong enough to reach its depths.
“You’re welcome to stay the night. We have extra tents and food to spare.”

Satoru remained still, seated with arms crossed, eyes closed as though in meditation. After a moment, he exhaled calmly and spoke.

“We might as well..”
His eyes opened, faintly glowing with their usual cool confidence.
“Even I’d prefer to sleep at night, and though I trust my senses... I don’t make a habit of pushing my luck unnecessarily.”

Subaru gave a small nod, his expression still tight with thought, but easing slightly at the offer.
Rem glanced toward him for reassurance before relaxing as well.

The fire crackled once more, casting warm light across their faces.

A moment of stillness.

The firelight danced across their faces, flickering gently as the group sat in relative silence.

Then, with a stretch and a soft yawn, Gojo stood up, his voice light but casual.
“Well, before this little talk turns into something serious, I’m gonna go chill for a bit.”

Subaru glanced up from the flames, brow raised.
“Eh? Chill where?”

Gojo just offered a lazy wave over his shoulder, already turning away.
“Somewhere quieter. You’ll manage without me, right?”

He wandered off without another word, footsteps slow and relaxed, until he reached the outer edge of the camp. There, just beyond the reach of the firelight, he stood—hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the treeline bathed in moonlight.

A breeze moved through the leaves. Stillness followed.

“Hm...?” he murmured.

There were footsteps behind him—soft, deliberate.

He didn’t turn around, but he didn’t need to. He felt the presence before he heard her voice.

Rem, quiet as ever, stepped up beside him. She said nothing at first, simply stood beside him, looking toward the same distant woods.

The silence between them was not awkward—but unfamiliar.

After a few long seconds, Gojo tilted his head slightly, speaking without looking her way.

“Didn’t expect company.”

Rem’s voice was soft, yet certain.
“You didn’t seem like the type to wander off alone without a reason.”

A short laugh escaped him, more breath than voice.
“I just like the night, in all honesty. Back where I came from, me and... my best friend would sometimes stay up to gaze at the stars. As if to just... escape reality?”
He trailed off, letting the quiet stretch a little.
“Funny, huh? Even when you’ve got power—real, terrifying power—it’s still easier to lose yourself in the sky than deal with everything down here.”

Rem was quiet for a moment, then said,
“I used to do the same. With my sister. We’d sometimes sneak out and sit on the roof of the mansion and just... watch the stars until we fell asleep. We didn’t say much. It was just... peaceful.”

Gojo’s smile turned a touch more genuine, less forced.
“Guess it doesn’t matter which world you’re from. Peace is peace.”

She glanced at him then, really looked—just for a second.
“Was your friend important to you?”

He hesitated, then nodded once.
“Yeah. More than I realized until it was too late.”

Rem didn’t press. Instead, she spoke gently.
“You seem like someone who’s been through a lot. But... still keeps walking forward.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, a faint, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“That’s one way to put it. Or maybe I’m just too stubborn to sit still.”
He paused, then looked at her for the first time during the conversation.
“What about you? Why follow me out here?”

She blinked, then returned her gaze to the horizon.

“I don’t know,” She admitted.
“Maybe... I just didn’t want to be alone in my thoughts. Maybe I sensed you didn’t either.”

That caught him off guard. His smirk faded, replaced by something softer. Quieter.

They stood in silence again—but this time, it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was comfortable. Muted understanding.

Then Gojo spoke, voice quieter than before.
“You know, Subaru’s lucky. He’s got people like you watching his back.”

Rem’s hands folded neatly in front of her, her expression unreadable, though her voice held warmth.
“He’s precious to me. No matter how many times he falls... I want to be someone he can stand back up for.”

Gojo nodded slowly.
“Sounds like love.”

Rem didn’t reply—but her silence said enough.

A breeze stirred the trees again.

“Well,” Gojo said, stretching, his tone rising back to its usual casual pitch.
“That’s enough brooding under the stars for me. I think I’ve hit my nightly limit.”

Rem turned to follow, her steps light.
“You hide it well, but... you’re kind, Gojo-san.”

He gave her a sideways glance, one brow raised.
“Tch. Don’t ruin my reputation!”

She smiled. Just a little.

The caravan pressed forward through the night, a dozen carriages in tow, wheels crunching over the worn dirt road. Lanterns swayed from the wagons, casting pale light across the passing trees and brush.

.. I guess we aren't waiting until morning then.

“It isn’t ideal,” Rem said softly, “But if we keep pushing through the night, we should enter the Mathers Domain by dawn.”

She glanced toward Subaru, who nodded at her words.

“Subaru, you probably haven’t noticed, but there’s a map in your bag. Could you take it out and show it to me?”-

“Huh? A map?” Subaru blinked and leaned down, rummaging through the bag until he pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of paper. He tried to flatten it out on his lap but squinted in the dark. “Erk… it’s too dark to read.”

“Oh, right!”
He flicked open his old flip phone. A dim light shone from the tiny torch at the top.

“You still have that thing?” Gojo’s voice suddenly rang out from the side, playful and too close. “Man, I forgot to bring mine when I crossed into this weird fantasy world.. or I lost it.”

“GYAAH—!” Subaru yelped, the phone beam illuminating Gojo’s grinning face like a ghost story's villain. “What the hell!? Where did you come from!?”

“Climbed out of the back. Ran up here. Now I’m hanging on for dear life,” Gojo said, legs dangling precariously off the edge of the moving wagon. He smirked. “Good cardio.”

Subaru muttered a laugh. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack someday…”

Rem, meanwhile, tilted her head curiously, her blue eyes narrowing at the phone.
“What… is that, Subaru?”

“This? Just a little piece of tech from back home. It’s called a cellphone. Not much use here except for the light—and it’s almost dead…”
Still, he held it up over the map, casting just enough glow for Rem to examine their route.

“Just a bit more this way,” she said, tracing a line with her finger. “We should be able to see Flugel’s Tree soon. Once we pass that, we’ll be within the Mathers domain.”

Gojo’s brow furrowed, gaze turning toward the horizon.
“You don’t mean that absurdly massive tree stretching into the clouds, do you?”

Subaru let out a tired sigh. “..What do you think?”

Gojo gave a low whistle, but his eyes suddenly narrowed.
“… Something is..”

Subaru swiftly spoke. “Wait… Where’s the merchant who was driving beside us?”

Otto, riding a few carriages back, overheard. “Natsuki? What are you talking about? We’re the only ones this far forward. No one else was riding next to you..”

Gojo pulled himself along, landing in the back of the carriage, eyes narrowed.
“Should probably look up, you guys-"

Then, without warning, Subaru’s light caught something above them.

An eye.

A colossal, golden eye, peering down from the sky with silent malice.

Subaru’s breath hitched. Gojo’s expression flattened.
“…Shit.”

The sky screamed.

Not a voice—a vibration, deep and raw, shaking the air itself. Mist exploded outward from the eye’s direction, a blast of pressure and fog that hit like a tidal wave.

Subaru was thrown from his feet, tumbling backward across the wooden carriage bed.

“What the hell—!?”

Rem launched into motion without hesitation, catching Subaru mid-air and yanking him down with her. The force of the wind ripped through their surroundings, uplifting chunks of the ground and rattling wagons before they collapsed into the suffocating white mist.

Gojo’s hair whipped wildly in the gale. His hands were already rising, fingers poised in preparation.

Gojo stared up into the dense white fog, hair whipping violently in the wind, his cerulean eyes sharpening with focused clarity.

A grin slowly tugged at the edge of his lips.

Massive, unmistakable…
A floating, nightmarish behemoth. A whale—no, the White Whale, its massive form veiled behind clouds of churning mist, like a ghost summoned from the sky itself.

The fog poured from its body in endless plumes, blanketing the ground and swallowing the stars above.

“Ahh… that’s right.” Gojo’s grin widened as his fingers flexed outward. “It’s my prey~”

He tilted his head.
“Hides pretty damn well, though…”

“D-Do you see the White Whale!?” Subaru’s voice cracked through the roaring wind, his hands dug deep into the wood of the wagon, trying not to get flung into the air.

Rem, struggling to keep her footing, eyes wild and darting, shook her head.
“I can’t see anything in this fog… It’s too dark!”

“Damn it! And we just found transportation too!”

Then, it roared again.
A scream that wasn’t sound, but pressure.

It hit them like a tremor in the soul, deep and primal—forceful enough to rattle bones and shake the carriages’ wheels off the earth for a moment.

Gojo’s expression dropped.
“These things really aren’t helping at the dead of night…”
He reached up, calmly removing his sunglasses, letting them slide down to hang from his collar.

And then he saw it.

The jaws.
Massive, gaping, lined with teeth the size of trees—parting through the mist just in time for Subaru’s body to be ripped loose by the sheer gale, flung directly toward the monster’s open maw.

“SUBARU!!”
Rem screamed, her voice cracking into desperation.

SWOOSH-

Gojo raised a single hand.

“Blue.”

A translucent sphere of force erupted from his palm—dense and glowing azure, like a fragment of his very gaze. It shimmered in the air and then snapped, pulling Subaru backward with impossible force in an instant-

Subaru’s eyes widened—his body flung back like a ragdoll, but then caught midair. Gojo’s hand gripped his tightly when he was pulled within arms reach and yanked him back to safety.

“Yo,” Gojo said coolly, with a grin.

Before Subaru could even exhale in relief—

“REM!!”
He screamed again—this time in awe, fear, and disbelief.

She had already jumped. Purposefully, however.

A streak of blue and white launched from the carriage, her spiked flail spinning midair before latching into the side of the whale’s massive head with a sickening THUNK-! 

The creature screeched—less in pain, more in irritation—as the chain tightened and Rem yanked herself forward, the gleam of her horn flickering at her forehead.

Her weapon tore free with a trail of dark blood.

Then she twisted in the air, flipping backward off the whale’s body and landing back onto the carriage’s roof—her boots skidding with friction, weapon ready again.

Gojo was still, processing everything in milliseconds.

Calculating. Every outcome. Every angle. Every consequence.

He looked at Subaru, gaze deadly serious.

“You should probably hold on.”

“Huh—WAI—”

WHUMP.
Gojo threw him. With casual brutality, he flung Subaru backward across the length of the wagon, where he hit the other side with a grunt—but safe.

And then—

BOOM!

Gojo launched off the ground.

His figure blurred, purple coat whipping, streaking through the air like a comet with a grin carved into his face and death in his eyes.

“GOJO-SENSEI!!” Subaru shouted from the floor of the carriage.

In the distance, the White Whale roared again—its massive form peeling from the fog like a continent drifting through clouds.

Satoru hummed to himself mid-air.

“…When they said ‘White Whale,’ I thought it was just a nickname…”

He smirked.

“…Guess I forgot this was a fantasy world.”

Chapter Text

He didn’t spare a glance behind him. Subaru, Otto—their departure was swallowed by the mist. Pointless to watch. There was only one direction now.

Forward.

Midair, hurtling straight toward the gaping jaws of the White Whale, Gojo moved.

SWISH—

His palm thrust downward.

A pulse of Blue exploded beneath him—an invisible force flinging his body upward, past the jagged teeth snapping shut just below.

"Let’s see how tanky you are first..."
He twisted in the air, body coiling, fist pulled back—tension building like a drawn bow.

"SHALL WE?!"

The punch struck true.

An earth-shattering impact.
Raw, untamed power erupted outward, crashing into the side of the creature’s massive head.

The ground fractured beneath them.
The force of the blow carved deep into the plains—fog torn away, dust blasted into the air in a wide ring of devastation.

The White Whale's enormous form was thrown sideways, the sheer pressure grinding its lower half against the earth—tearing up soil, splintering stone, plowing a path of destruction in its wake.

Gojo landed in the center of the chaos, calmly flexing his hand—opening and closing his palm as if checking the condition of a newly worn glove.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Not bad."
His gaze narrowed, eyes glowing faintly.

"For a whale, that is."

Dust still hung in the air, curling around his figure like smoke off a smoldering wreck.

The whale groaned- roared.

That low, guttural sound—more like a fork against a chalkboard than a living creature—rumbled through the battlefield.

Gojo cracked his neck, then his knuckles. His white hair shifted slightly in the breeze kicked up by the whale’s thrashing.

He didn’t move immediately. He didn’t need to. His eyes, a sharp gleam of crystalline blue, studied the beast’s reaction.

Still breathing huh, good.

The thing was as tough as it looked atleast.

The ground trembled as the White Whale adjusted itself, its eye twitching, mouth opening again with a guttural screech—higher-pitched this time, furious. A storm of wind blasted outward from its lungs, followed by another erupting fogburst so thick it swallowed the world in an instant.

Gojo’s smile faltered, just for a second.

"...Ah. Right. Can’t see again."

His eyes narrowed, a faint smirk still on his lips.

“Just means I gotta react quicker, then.”

Then — chaos.

The ground behind the White Whale erupted, a violent tremor shaking the earth as a storm of rock and debris was hurled skyward. Thousands of shards, jagged like shrapnel, tore through the air. Most were the size of pebbles, some large enough to crush carriages. One was easily twice his height, blotting out the moonlight as it hurtled down.

It was like the world itself had declared war on him.

Gojo didn’t flinch.

His foot twisted against the ground, shoulders relaxed, lips pursing faintly. Then—

CRACK—!

His fist met the descending boulder, and the rock exploded, reduced to fine debris in a thunderous burst. The shockwave flattened nearby gravel, scattering the smaller stones away from him.

Another rock came. Then another.

But Gojo moved.
Stepping. Twisting. Leaning. Leading.

Every movement precise, every counterstrike timed to perfection.
Each massive chunk of stone that dared near him was obliterated mid-air by the raw force of his strikes, arms moving in sharp, flowing, repetitive jabs and swings.

And all the while—he grinned.

Why?
He could’ve activated Infinity since the start. Let the debris stop harmlessly short, like water to a wall.

But this?

This was fun.

He’d never been challenged like this before—not by a monster, not by nature itself. So he welcomed the chaos with open arms, fists raised.

The White Whale howled—an enraged, thunderous wail amidst the fog.

Then, without warning, it dived.

Its massive jaw carved a trench in the plain as it came down—mouth agape, trying to catch him between its upper and lower jaws like a bear trap dropped from the sky.

But Gojo was already gone.

A blur of white and blue, his legs bent—then repelled—blasting him sideways just before the jaws slammed shut. The quake that followed shook the earth, flinging broken terrain in all directions.

Again, it turned—massive, blind with rage.

Its jaws snapped again, and again, always a step behind. Wherever Gojo landed, the beast was already lunging—biting at air, rock and dirt.

And then—silence.

The fog, thick and rolling across the plain, seemed to pause. Gojo skidded to a halt, boots dragging furrows in the dirt. His breath came easy. Controlled.

Eyes glowing beneath tousled white hair, he tilted his head to the side, neck cracking faintly.

His Six Eyes pulsed—picking out even the most minute of motion.

“There.”

His hand raised, fingers curling as his palm twisted toward the empty space ahead.-

The cursed technique rippled through the air. The pressure warped, drawing in the fog like a whirlpool collapsing on itself—vacuuming dust and haze toward a singular point.

Gojo’s brow arched.

“…What?”

The pull connected—but with nothing. Empty space.
No resistance.
No impact.

Just the soft drag of mist and wind into the spiral.

His smirk faded slightly.

He’d hit nothing.

A chill ran up his spine—not fear, but realization, amusement.

The whale... it wasn’t where he thought it was.

Gojo’s fist hung suspended mid-air, centimeters from nothing. No recoil. No resistance. Just... emptiness.

His eyes narrowed, Six Eyes flickering with faint pulses of surprise as they adjusted again.

“Nothing?” he muttered. “Tch. Then that’s a fakeout.”

He turned on his heel, body low, just as the ground beneath him erupted.

BOOM—!

A geyser of force tore upward—not from the whale's jaws, but from its tail, sweeping underground like a missile and exploding outward. Gojo was blasted skyward, arms thrown up instinctively in a loosely formed guard, the wind howling past him as he twisted through the air.

Below, the whale followed, massive body gliding like a ghost through the lingering fog, its momentum unnatural for its size—almost elegant in its horror.

And it was fairly fast, especially for a colossal flying whale.

Mid-air, Gojo realigned himself, the sky spinning behind his eyes. He tensed.

That same tail—a jagged blur in the sky—came screaming across. It cleaved through the air like a falling blade and slammed into Gojo with devastating force.

BOOM—!

A shockwave rippled outward, warping the sky and tearing a trench through the earth. The sound cracked like thunder—so loud it felt physical. Gojo's body was launched, streaking like a comet across the sky, flung straight toward the distant silhouette of Flugel’s Tree.

“...Smarter than you look, huh?” he muttered, more amused than annoyed.

His body tumbled through the air, but it was mostly formality—his cursed energy flared, coating his frame like a second skin. The blow had impact, sure, but not bite just yet.

SWOOSH—

Gojo twisted mid-flight, flipping through the air. Then—
THUD.

Both feet hit the ground, hard, kicking up stone and dust, twin grooves scorched into the terrain from his landing.

The fog rushed back in, swallowing the field once more like a creeping tide.

He exhaled softly, his eyes narrowing.

I told the old man—Wilhelm, I think?—that I’d let him have his shot at the whale... but it’s clear this thing’s got other plans. Doesn’t seem too interested in letting me go.

A flicker of cursed energy pulsed across his arms, his fingers twitching once.

I mean, I could just teleport. But…

His lips tugged into a grin.

“Guess I’ll keep slapping this oversized fish until I get bored.”

Then—

SKREEEEEEEE—!!!

The air warped. Below him, the ground hissed and split as a violent geyser of mist erupted from beneath his feet, lancing upward like a cannon.

Gojo blurred sideways just in time, coat whipping in the wind as the blast tore skyward—hot, and dense with force. The blast lingered, swirling like a vortex of fog and power.

His boots hit ground again, skidding back lightly. His smile faded—not out of fear, but focus.

It's adapting... That hit wasn’t just lucky—it was reading me. It knows I’m stronger. So now it’s fighting smart. Tactically.

His eyes scanned the haze—still, unreadable.

This mist... it’s clever. It screws with my sight, dulls sound, even makes Six Eyes work harder.

For the first time, his fingers flexed with restrained tension.

His gaze darkened, eyes narrowing with sharp intent.
“I’m not a fan of being the hunted unfortunately.”

CRASH—!

From the mist, the White Whale screamed again, but this time it was different—wilder, deeper, almost… mental. A low vibration pulsed through the air, rattling Gojo’s senses.

A faint pain prickled at his temple.
What the hell was that...? Some kind of mental attack?
It wasn’t strong—more like a nagging headache than anything debilitating.

Gojo scowled, brushing it off.

He exhaled and raised a hand overhead, palm glowing with cerulean light. The orb began to form—this time, bigger, brighter, crackling with untamed power.

“Maximum output: Blue!”

The sphere pulsed violently, sucking in everything nearby like a black hole—fog, dirt, even chunks of earth torn loose by the whale’s rampage.

Until… nothing remained.

Then, a surge of mana unlike anything Gojo had felt in this world exploded around him.

His eyes snapped to the source.

Right in front of the whale’s massive, gaping maw, the fog congealed into a thick swirling mass, wrapping around the orb as it grew, pulsating with raw energy.

“Well, that’s not—”

FWOOOOM!

The orb was unleashed in a devastating beam, carving a colossal crater through the plain as it tore toward Gojo’s position.

Dark smoke billowed up in chaos, engulfing the area where he stood moments ago.

Then—silence.

The whale floated, proud and undisturbed, the pupil of its massive black eye shrinking in rage as it fixed on the shadow blocking the sun.

Gojo grinned, hair tousled by the wind, arms relaxed as he hovered about a hundred meters above the ground.
“Not bad, dude. That one might’ve actually done some damage if it landed.”

Suddenly, he vanished.

SWISH—

Now, Gojo stood atop the whale’s slick back.

Infinity flickered back on—space shifting around his body in an instant.
Yeah, I’m not about to get covered in blood today.

He sprinted along the beast’s spine, hand extended like a blade.

With a brutal thrust, his palm drove deep into the whale’s back—blood erupted in wild sprays, the force of his strike leaving a deep crimson gash etched along the creature’s flesh.

Before the beast could react, Gojo leapt off.

Falling through the air, he folded his arms, a sly smile curling on his lips.
“I’d say that should be enough. Gonna be one hell of a scar though.”

Clapping his palms together, fingers intertwining—

SWOOSH—

Satoru Gojo was gone.

The whale roared—angrier than ever before, its fury shaking the very ground beneath the endless plain.

Hours later...

Satoru lay flat on his back in the grass, eyes drifting upward toward the endless, cloudless sky.

That whale... wasn't too shabby. Stronger than any Special Grade I’ve faced on Earth atleast.
He let the thought settle.
How many beings like that even roam this world?

He sat up, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
“An exciting thought. But anyway, time to check on Subaru. Guy might be thinking I’m dead or something.”

He clasped his hands together thoughtfully.
“Plus... the Witch Cult’s going to strike soon. He should be back at Roswaal’s mansion.”

The world twisted and shifted—

Roswaal Estate...

Satoru appeared in a dim hallway and exhaled softly. His brows furrowed.
Subaru’s not here. Well then...

He scratched the back of his neck, gaze sliding toward the nearest door.

Ah.

With a small, mischievous smirk, he grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

“Oh, little librarian... come out, come out... where... ever-”

His expression shifted as he sensed the thick presence of cursed energy, Subaru's specifically, lingering in the air. There, perched on her stool, was Beatrice—eyes gleaming with that trademark mixture of mischief and sharp intellect.

“Tch, it is you..” she said, voice dripping with mock surprise. “I was wondering what unfamiliar soul had crawled into the mansion this time..”

Satoru chuckled, relaxed.
“Yep, ’tis I—your favorite white-haired man.”

He folded his arms, tone cooling slightly.
“But more importantly... where’s Subaru?”

Beatrice’s expression darkened; her delicate brow knitted together.
“That man... I sent him away. He begged me to end his life, you see. Perhaps the weight of having taken his dearest Emilia’s life fractured what little sanity remained.”

The air thickened.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.
“He... what? He killed...”

His mind raced, searching for answers—finding none. Instead, a fierce, raw bloodlust began to simmer beneath his calm.

Beatrice’s eyes flickered—just a hint of surprise.
“Take me to wherever you sent him. Now.”
His voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for argument.

Beatrice’s lips curved into a wry smile, her brows arching.
“Very well, then... But mark my words—this little journey won’t save you all. Beatrice’s Bubby will soon bring about the world’s end, I suppose.”

With a delicate flick of her wrist, a shimmering portal tore open—an otherworldly rift in space hovering before him.

Satoru relaxed, the faintest smirk returning. Without hesitation, he stepped through.

Somewhere unknown...

Subaru watched, paralyzed by all-encompassing fear as snow fell relentlessly. The entire area—no, the world—turned white, blanketed in ice and frost.

Petelgeuse lay crushed beneath a colossal paw, reduced to a red, shattered smear on the snowy surface.

Emilia's body, sprawled out dead, covered in blankets of snow and ice.

But why.. exactly?

The Beast of the End.

A low, rumbling hum emanated from the giant creature. Once the adorable, tiny cat-like spirit, had transformed into a monstrous titan—an entire world unto itself, promising only annihilation.

It leaned down, razor-sharp teeth barely a meter from Subaru’s slowly freezing form, exhaling a breath colder than death.

“Now, Subaru... shall we have a little talk?”

“You have committed three sins.”

“Firstly. You broke your promise to Lia. It seems you don’t understand just how serious a promise is... to a spirit arts user.”

“Secondly. You ignored Lia’s wishes and came back here—to the mansion...”

“And third...” The voice darkened, thick with finality.

“You let Lia die. Therefore... in accordance with my contract, I will destroy this world.”

Before Subaru could form a reply, a streak of white tore across the sky at impossible speed, crashing into the side of the Beast’s jaw with a thunderous BOOM-!!

The colossal beast staggered, ice-shattered terrain cracking and erupting violently around them—rock and frost sent flying in a wild haze of destruction.

Subaru was flung back as well—but Gojo, thinking ahead, grabbed Subaru’s forearm. His Infinity activated, nullifying the cold’s bite as they landed safely to the side.

“S-Satoru Sens—”

“..Gojo.” Puck’s voice was strained, the beast himself barely fazed.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “He’s hardly affected, huh? Didn’t exactly hold back either...”

So this was Puck’s true form. A monster of unimaginable scale.. definitely powerful.

Then, footsteps—sharp and deliberate—cut through the tense silence.

“Tch... Oi, cat. Don’t you think this cold is completely and utterly foolish? Doing all this just over some half-elf with a pretty face?”

Regulus Corneas appeared once more, voice dripping with biting sarcasm as he strode forward, clearly unimpressed by the apocalyptic scene.

Gojo’s eyes widened in shock, narrowing sharply. “.. Who..?”

He tried to read the newcomer, but found nothing—no aura, no.. nothing.. just... empty space.

Impossible.

Subaru’s fear twisted into something darker. Here stood a being potentially even more terrifying than the colossal beast before him..

The man who killed Gojo-sensei in the last loop...

Regulus smirked, voice dripping with disdain.
“Unfortunately, if this ice keeps spreading, then—despite my utter hatred for fighting—I’ll have to sully my hands to save the lives of my wives..”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of resolve sparking amidst the fear.

Regulus stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating, voice dripping with scorn.
“Honestly, I never thought I’d stoop to dealing with a spirit beast’s tantrum. But when it comes to them... I have no choice."

Was it truly love...? Or something else entirely? Subaru didn’t know — nor did he have time to ponder such things.

His eyes burned wide with desperation as they locked onto Satoru.
“Gojo-sensei... just let me go. There’s no way you can fight with me in your grasp...”

Gojo’s scowl deepened, voice cold and resolute.
“If I let you go, you’ll die...”

Regulus’s pale brow arched, a cruel smile playing at his lips.
“The boy who clings to the half-elf—the recipient of the Witch’s love—how utterly quaint. Yet such affection is not yours to claim. It rightfully belongs to me, the one who commands it with rightful authority and impeccable logic and intellect."

Tap.

Then, the tip of Regulus’s immaculate white boot tapped the fractured ground like a metronome, echoing ominously across the frozen wasteland.

Gojo’s instincts screamed, but his body betrayed him—frozen in hesitation. With a fluid, ruthless motion, Regulus’s strike sliced through the air—

SWOOSH-

Gojo’s right arm—the one holding Subaru—was violently torn free, the impact gouging the earth and shredding flesh in a spray of crimson.

Subaru was hurled violently, spinning through the freezing air.

A guttural growl ripped through the tumultuous winds.

“So be it then…”
The Beast of the End—Puck in his monstrous, titanic form—roared with immense fury, the very source of the frozen chaos that sullied the world. Massive paws crushed the ground, ice cracking and splintering beneath each thunderous step, shards of frozen terrain launching into the stormy sky.

Regulus’s smirk curled darkly, the calm on his face was incredibly unsettling considering the situation.

Gojo growled, pain lancing through his torn shoulder as he gripped the wound. His eyes flicked toward Subaru — a storm of fierce protectiveness, anguish, and cold determination.

The frost spread quickly, Subaru's body beginning to harden in defiance with no means of protection from the Infinity.

“Damn you!!”
A furious roar tore from his throat as he thrust his left hand skyward—Blue flared, surging with raw, furious, cursed energy. The sphere pulsated violently, a blue tempest screaming as it expanded, threatening to tear the very fabric of the frozen battlefield.

Regulus let out a cold, contemptuous scoff, lifting his hand with calmed slowness.
“Your feeble displays of force are meaningless to one such as I. Foolish creatures, the both of you—one blinded by a pretty face, the other by pathetic loyalty. Why strain yourselves, why bother? This futility amuses me not in the slightest... And you even dare to make me put in effort to stop this meaningless chaos? You should be ashamed, spirit.. and the one doomed to die by the words of the Gospel.”

Above the chaos, Puck summoned a colossal shard of ice, a jagged monolith shimmering with promise of destruction, suspended in the air like an unholy blade.

Subaru watched from the shattered remnants of the battlefield, powerless.. utterly powerless, his previous promise forgotten.

The clash.

The cataclysm.

Then—

CRACK.

The ice shattered, cruel and merciless.

His body split apart.

And Natsuki Subaru died once more.

Chapter Text

Subaru sat upright in his chair, fingers steepled, his back slightly leaned forward. There was confidence in his eyes—a fire that refused to flicker—locked directly on Crusch, who stood across from him, flanked by Wilhelm and Felix.

"I propose an alliance between the Emilia and Crusch camps. Equal terms."

Crusch’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"...What?"

"I don’t expect anything for free," Subaru continued coolly, "so I’ve brought both information—and the location of the White Whale."

At that, Wilhelm’s entire demeanor shifted. His jaw tensed, his gloved fists clenched at his sides until the leather creaked. The air thickened around him, bloodlust rising like heat mirage from his shoulders.

"...The White Whale," he muttered.

"Scary bloodlust, old man," came a smooth, almost playful voice from behind Subaru.

Satoru Gojo. His hands rested casually on the back of Subaru’s chair, sunglasses gleaming, smile ever-present—as if he’d simply appeared from thin air.

“GAHK—! Can you not keep doing that?!” Subaru jolted.

Gojo tilted his head. “Doing what?” He smirked. “You’re imagining things.”

Crusch cleared her throat, redirecting the conversation. “Your point being? We’ve already been planning the White Whale’s subjugation. With Gojo.”

Subaru’s head snapped toward his so-called teacher. “Eh?! You what—?!”

Gojo waved a hand. “Hey, before you stormed in with your master plan, alright? Don’t go giving me that look—I’m not evil enough to betray my dear student.”

His tone lost its levity for just a breath as he turned to Crusch, voice dipping into something steadier.

“Yeah. We've been preparing to kill that thing for a while now. Subaru, remember what I said back at the Royal Selection?”

“You were gonna take it down solo, weren’t you?”

Gojo stuck out his tongue playfully. “Well, yeah, until some stuff happened with Crusch’s camp. And hey—I’m not such a clout-chaser that I’d ignore a man’s burning desire for revenge just to play solo hero.”

“You sure about that?” Subaru muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Gojo chuckled, then glanced back at Crusch. “We’ve got prep—but no confirmed time or place. Not even I can sniff out when or where that thing’s showing up.”

Subaru raised a hand. “And that’s why this alliance is crucial. Until the whale breathes its last breath.”

He paused, then looked Crusch in the eye. “I know I’m asking for a lot. But I don’t make claims I can’t back up.”

Crusch didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze shifted from Subaru to Gojo, then back. Calm, analytical, sharp.

“My concern isn’t dishonesty,” she said coolly. “It’s whether the information you claim to have... is accurate.”

Subaru smiled thinly. He reached into his tracksuit pocket and placed a flip-phone down onto the table. Crusch looked at it, puzzled.

“It’s a metia,” he explained. “And it’ll tell me the exact time and place the whale will appear.”

Gojo’s brow twitched, just slightly.

So he’s hiding how he got that info. Doesn’t count as lying, so Crusch’s Divine Protection won’t react either.. 
I guess I won't ask why he's hiding it...

Crusch picked it up cautiously, frowning. “...I find that difficult to believe. But you’re not lying...”

Subaru tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Sure you want to trust me so easily?”

Gojo leaned down, peeking over Subaru’s shoulder, grinning. “That’d be thanks to a handy little Divine Protection. Crusch here’s a human lie detector.”

Crusch’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Gojo. “And how exactly do you know that? I never told you.”

He winked, sliding his finger down the edge of his glasses.

“Same reason I called you and Reinhard the best lie detectors in the room back at the Selection.” His voice dipped to a playful whisper. “I’ve got reaaaaally good eyes~”

Subaru let out a loud sigh, waving him off. “Alright, alright! Enough with the flexing!”

He stood, extending a hand toward Crusch.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

Crusch didn’t move right away. Instead, she smiled—genuinely, if subtly.

“I’m impressed you deduced we were preparing to hunt the whale already.”

“That’s... kinda freaky too!” Gojo muttered.

Crusch rose, extending her own hand to meet Subaru’s. Her grip was firm, resolute.

“I have questions—many. But... I choose to trust in those eyes of yours. They speak of wordless resolve.”

Gojo clapped his hands with childlike enthusiasm.

“Woo! Consider this alliance... allianced!”

Subaru deadpanned. “Dude.”

Gojo lay sprawled across the rooftop of Crusch's mansion, the wind tousling strands of his silver-white hair. Fingers interlocked behind his head, he stared lazily up at the sky—sunlight filtering through faint clouds, warm and indifferent.

The air was quiet. Peaceful. Deceptively so.

The White Whale...

His sunglasses glinted under the sun, but his eyes, hidden beneath them, were distant. Focused. Calculating.

Outside of that red-haired anomaly—Reinhard—who frankly bends the very concept of power just by existing... I’ve got nothing to go off.

He let out a slow breath, more thoughtful than tired.

It’s ancient. It’s killed hundreds. Thousands.. over hundreds of years. An embodiment of calamity, in a way.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against the back of his head.

I suppose it’ll be strong... but how strong? Will it make me break a sweat? Will it make me think twice?

A breeze drifted over the roof. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to feel something—an omen, a sign.

Will it be fun...?

He frowned, just faintly.

Should I even consider it fun after all it's done?

That thought lingered. Gojo wasn’t oblivious. He’d seen the look in Wilhelm’s eyes. The way the man didn’t blink when the Whale was mentioned. The way the air thickened with his thirst for vengeance.

Probably not. For them, this isn’t fun. It’s a war they’ve waited years for.

He opened his eyes again. Sky still blue. Still peaceful.

But in his chest, a small knot began to twist.

“I’ll fight it,” he murmured aloud to the sky. “Because it deserves to die.”

His voice was quiet, but his grin returned, soft and lopsided.

“But if it tries anything fancy... I will enjoy crushing it.”

The rooftop creaked faintly.

Gojo didn’t move. His eyes remained closed, breaths steady. But he knew. Someone was coming.

“Yo,” he said lazily. “You walk like a guy who’s thinking way too hard. Gonna get wrinkles at this rate, y’know.”

Subaru halted behind him, arms crossed.

“Kind of hard not to think too hard when we’re heading into a death match with a flying apocalypse.”

Gojo cracked open one eye and tilted his head just enough to glimpse Subaru.

Subaru sighed and sat down beside him, knees to his chest. For a moment, neither spoke. The sky stretched above them like an ocean untouched by war.

Then Subaru broke the silence.

“Do you ever get scared?”

Gojo didn't answer immediately. He stared up again at the sun, letting the question hang.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Not really.. in all honesty.”

Subaru blinked. “Seriously?”

Gojo chuckled dryly.

“Back on Earth, even in childhood, I was utterly untouchable.. I'd never bled, never been bruised.. not until a certain someone showed up. But even then, even he, my best friend couldn't touch me unless I let him.”

"I was a prodigy a head and shoulders amongst the rest.. though it also meant I never actually had to put in effort for anything."

"Sounds like a hard life..." Subaru said sarcastically.

"I know right!~ But, it also had me wonder what it'd be like to be normal. Or hell, have a fight that would take everything I had plus more to win."

Subaru's eyes narrowed. The memory of the last few loops going through his mind.

Satoru, shoving him out of the way- half of his body obliterated because of his own weakness..

Then the last time, when he lost his arm. Both times were because of him.

Regulus Corneas... Subaru scowled, fists clenching.

Silence again—then a gust of wind swept across the rooftop, kicking at their hair and coats.

“A lot of people have died to that thing."

Gojo's smile softened. He sat up finally, resting his arms on his knees.

“Then let’s make sure that it breathes its last breath today. Together, right?”

Subaru looked up.

“Yeah,” he said. “Together.”

Gojo grinned wide.

“Alright then, dear student. After this whale’s done for, I say we take a week off. Hot springs. Maybe a date—wait, no, that’s weird... Forget that.”

Subaru made a face. “What is wrong with you?”

“Too much,” Gojo said, finger to his chin. “And basically nothing at the same time!”

They both laughed. The tension didn’t disappear—but it shifted. It became something bearable.

Above them, the sun still shone.

“I totally forgot why I came up here... to tell you that Crusch's speech was gonna start..!”

“Ah.”

Dozens of soldiers thundered across the open plain, their ground dragons churning up clouds of dust as metal clanked with rhythmic intensity. Armor glinted under the sun, the formation moving as a single, surging wave of steel and scale.

Among them, Satoru Gojo sat upright on a mount, posture relaxed but eyes alert, scanning the horizon beneath tinted black lenses. It was a surreal sight—magic, muscle, and medieval warfare—like something plucked out of a fantasy novel and dropped straight infront of him.

Then he noticed a familiar duo drawing up beside him.

Subaru, atop a sleek black ground dragon that moved with unnatural ease, smirked. Rem sat behind him, her expression serene despite the speed of their advance.

Gojo narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.
“How the hell did you of all people end up with the coolest ground dragon of the lot?”

Subaru grinned, smugly. “One could call it fate. Or chemistry. Maybe even love at first sight.”

“Yeah, or dumb luck. You probably tripped onto it and it imprinted on you out of pity,” Gojo replied flatly, only to suddenly stand on his dragon’s saddle, arms folded like he was posing for a magazine cover. “Betcha can’t do this though.”

“OH YEAH?!”

Gojo swore he saw Subaru’s mount visibly sigh as the boy began to rise—shakily—onto his feet.

“See? Easy,” Subaru started, before—

SWOOSH-

He tumbled.

Only for Rem to casually reach out, snagging his tracksuit midair and lifting him back with ease.

“Subaru… you shouldn’t fall for such obvious baits,” she said, softly.

“Right? Especially when he’d lose every time,” Gojo added, grinning like a wolf.

Subaru pouted. “You two are impossible.”

But the humor faded when Rem leaned in, her tone shifting, eyes sharp.
“Subaru believes the Witch’s Cult will also target Arlam village and the mansion.”

Gojo blinked, the grin wiped clean from his face. He turned toward Subaru.

“…And you forgot to mention that little detail?”

Subaru looked down slightly, the light in his eyes dimming.

“It’s because of Emilia…”

The air grew heavier.

“…Right. Fanatics. Witch-obsessed lunatics.” Gojo’s voice was quieter now, more serious. “Annoyingly, right now we've got the whale to worry about over all else though.”

Beneath Flugel’s Tree...

The colossal tree loomed overhead, its titanic branches piercing the clouds, as if trying to embrace the very sky.

Satoru Gojo stood at the base, neck craned, sunglasses reflecting the heavens above.

He let out a low whistle.

“Now that is one hell of a tree...”

He wasn’t easily impressed—back on Earth, he’d seen the wonders of the modern world. But this? A tree that dwarfed mountains and defied the horizon? Even he had to admit it.. awe was appropriate.

His eyes drifted downward at last. The soldiers of the Crusch camp were arrayed in ordered lines, disciplined and silent, mounted atop restless ground dragons. The air was tense, brimming with the electricity of impending chaos.

And Gojo was the only one not mounted, hands in his pockets, relaxed as ever.

Then—

Beep.. Beep.. Beep..

A sharp ringtone sliced through the silence. Subaru’s phone, aka the signal.

Crusch’s eyes sharpened.
“Men, on guard!”

A ripple of unrest spread through the ranks. Nervous eyes scanned the moonlit sky.

“I—I don’t see it!” one soldier called out.

But Gojo tilted his head, a slight grin curling at his lips.

“There it is…”

High above, framed against the full moon, a massive silhouette drifted silently.

Then—ROOOOOAAAAARRRRR!

A bellow unlike anything natural. A sound that tore through the night like the scream of an ancient god.

The White Whale had come.

And yet—no one ran. Not this time.

They had steel in their hands. Fire in their hearts. Grudges carved deep into their souls.

They were ready.

SWOOOOSH—

It plummeted like a meteor, the size of a fortress, wind screaming in its wake.

Gojo chuckled.
“Fast for a literal flying whale. This might actually be fun.”

“Let 'em have it!!” Subaru roared, rising in his saddle, Rem by his side. The maid’s hands shimmered with mana—spears of glacial ice launching skyward and burying into the whale’s underbelly.

It howled again—less injured, and more outraged.

Then a synchronized battle cry erupted from the army as they charged.

Staying back however.. was Crusch Karsten and Gojo Satoru, her gaze sharp as she watched.

“That student of mine,” Gojo muttered, “Is growing into quite the madman. Can’t say I’d have it any other way though!”

Crusch allowed herself a faint chuckle. But her voice was firm.
“Fire it.”

From behind them, a hidden weapon unveiled itself, a massive monolithic cannon aimed at the sky.

BOOM—!!

A beam of blinding blue light tore across the night sky.

Then, night became day.

Gojo’s jaw slackened.

“…What the hell was that?”

“The Night Banisher,” Crusch replied.

“Yeah, no, I figured that part out,” he muttered, stretching his shoulders. “..Suppose this is where I clock in. Ciao~!”

A shimmer rippled through space as Gojo vanished—reality folding around him.

He reappeared mid-charge, just ahead of Subaru and Rem, who were barely clinging to their speeding dragon.

“S-Sensei?!”

Gojo waved casually, smile wide—even as the whale thundered down behind them, shadow eclipsing all.

“Yo. You weren’t kidding about being a Mabeast magnet, huh?”

The creature’s jaws opened wide, ready to consume everything in it's charge.

But Gojo didn’t flinch.

“Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we, fish? Or… mammal? I forget..”

STEP- STEP- SWOOSH-

At the last possible second, he leapt—body twisting, a single fluid vault into the air.

Then—CRACK!!

His heel slammed down onto the whale’s skull.

A shockwave exploded outward—air snapping, rock shattering, earth screaming beneath the force.

The whale’s body was driven into the ground, carving a trench of broken stone and dust for dozens of meters. A jagged red gouge seared across its face as its body tumbled, flailing in pain.

Gojo landed lightly beside it, dust swirling around him, his coat fluttering in the aftermath.

“Not bad... Crusch Karsten,” he said, glancing back. A deep gash had split the beast’s flesh.

That wind blade of hers packs a punch. Sword? Or Divine Protection?

He exhaled.

“…Still only took off like 1HP. Guess that’s what I get for saying we wouldn’t need the fancy stuff like cannons for this.”

His smile sharpened.

Gojo reached up, pulled his sunglasses from his face, and slid them into his pocket with a soft click. Without their shade, the glow of his Six Eyes shimmered, catching the faint starlight.

Then—he moved.

His gaze shifted just in time to witness Wilhelm van Astrea land squarely before the descending behemoth, blade drawn in a single blur of steel and fury.

“I have dreamed of nothing but this day...”

His voice was low. Steady. Reverent.

Then it deepened—aged not by time, but by the weight of vengeance.

“FOR THE PAST FOURTEEN YEARS—!!”

CRACK—

The earth beneath him shattered under the weight of the White Whale’s descent—and Wilhelm lunged.

Like a ghost of war, he flew.

Flipping through the sky in a master’s spiral, his sword gleamed with purpose. Then—

THRUST—!

The blade pierced deep into the whale’s cranium—blood erupted like a geyser, staining Wilhelm’s coat, his face, even the air around him in crimson.

But he did not relent.

The whale screeched, twisting violently, flailing its body through the sky in a desperate effort to dislodge the sword demon impaled in its skull.

But.. Wilhelm..

He ran—he sprinted across the beast’s back as if it were solid ground—each step another slash, another cut, his blade tearing an enormous gash across its upper-back and flanks like a seam being ripped open.

Then—inevitably—he was flung off, his form spiraling downward.

But he didn’t panic.

He didn’t have to.

Because he trusted in the man who would never let him fall.

“You're not bad for an old fart!”

Gojo blurred through the sky from far above, a smirk plastered on his face—grinning with the thrill of battle, as if the air itself bowed to his arrival.

BOOM—!!

The impact sounded like a lightning strike. Like thunder screamed from Zeus himself.

Gojo’s strike landed true—but the whale didn't yield. Its body shuddered violently, but it wasn't crushed, wasn't broken.

It merely descended faster.

Gojo hovered mid-air, feet planted on nothing, palm raised as his eyes tracked Wilhelm’s falling form.

"Who said your turn was up, huh?"

A flick of his wrist.
“Blue.”

Gravity twisted like a thread. Space compressed—and Wilhelm was caught, redirected, flung upward—back into the air, back toward the beast, like a bullet reborn.

The Sword Demon’s eyes widened, just a little.

Then he smiled.

“Thank you… Satoru.”

Another roar. Another eruption of wind.

SHRRAAK—!!

Crusch’s blade—her slash of air—tore into the White Whale again, ripping a fresh wound along its side from afar. It bled, but the blood was defiant. The damage wasn’t deep. Not enough.

Still, Wilhelm descended—his body spinning, his sword drawing a spiral of violence down the whale’s flank, shredding white hide and revealing the glistening crimson beneath.

He leapt away again, trusting completely in the chain of warriors at his back.

“Al Goa!”

Multiple voices chanted from below—magic igniting with fierce synchrony.

SWOOSH—

A barrage of flame tore through the air—beams of concentrated fire, crashing into the wounded beast’s flesh.

The blood boiled.

Then—

BOOOOOOM—!!

The sky split open as the explosion consumed the creature in a rising column of fire. The shockwave was enormous—rolling over the plain like a tidal wave of sound and heat.

Gojo narrowed his eyes, coat flapping in the rippling wind.

Smoke. Ash. A whale-sized crater forming mid-air from sheer force.

But even before the embers faded—

THUMP—

The whale’s body shifted. Its bloodied form emerging through smoke—eyes gleaming with primal rage, its scream rattling the bones of every living thing present.

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“…Even tougher than it looks.. somehow.”

His gaze sharpened, tone dropping into something colder. Calculating.

“All that... probably only shaved off a quarter of its health I'd imagine..”

He cracked his knuckles slowly.

“Guess I’ll wait just a little longer before I really let loose.”

Then, he vanished—reappearing on the battlefield below with a casual flicker of cursed energy.

"Oi—old man, batter up!"
Gojo called, hand cupped to his mouth. Wilhelm glanced his way just as he neared the ground.

Gojo didn’t wait.

He leapt, soaring over Wilhelm in an upward arc, palm already pulled back and glowing blue.

"Aaaand—UP WE GO!"

With a fierce snap of motion, he flung his arm forward—Blue activated, warping space with explosive force. It snatched Wilhelm behind him mid-air and hurled him like a missile past and toward the descending White Whale.

"HYAAAHHH!!"
Wilhelm screamed—not in fear, but in exhilaration. A scream birthed from vengeance finally within reach.

His feet slammed onto the whale’s temple with terrifying momentum—his sword plunged deep into the mabeast’s skull, blood bursting like a geyser.

One step became a lunge.

His blade, driven to the hilt, ripped sideways—cleaving open its flesh with unrelenting fury.

SWISH—SLASH—!!

Steel sang. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed across the clouds like rain.

With one last vicious pull, Wilhelm yanked his blade free—then struck downward with a vengeful roar, slicing clean through the whale’s massive golden eyelid—

SKREEEEEE—!!

A roar of absolute agony exploded from the beast as its eye, torn from the socket, plummeted to the earth below—

THOOM—!!

A crater formed where it landed. Wilhelm now stood atop the fallen eye, soaked in blood not his own—backlit by sunlight, sword poised like judgment itself.

The battlefield froze.

Even Subaru, atop his ground dragon with Rem, could only stare—wide-eyed, awestruck. Gojo landed with his usual smirk.

"Now that was badass. But I’m guessing that didn’t even put a dent in your appetite, huh?"

Wilhelm didn't respond. He didn’t have to. His silence was an oath renewed.

"The pain my dear Theresia endured…"
He finally said, voice low.
"…I intend to repay it. A hundred-fold."

Gojo opened his mouth for a witty remark—but stopped.

His eyes narrowed.

The White Whale was circling. Silently. Unnaturally.

"Satoru...?" Subaru asked, sensing the shift.

"Something’s wrong..."

Then the whale's jaw unhinged. It roared—a sound that shattered the air itself.

Even Gojo winced, one eye squinting in discomfort.

"Really should consider singing lessons..."

And then—

FWOOOOOOM—!!!

Fog. A tidal wave of smoke burst from the whale’s body—engulfing the entire field. Within seconds, visibility dropped to zero.

Gojo narrowed his eyes.
"This stuff’s thick... It's even cutting off my senses..."

He looked around. Nothing. No allies. No enemies. No sound.

"Subaru? Wilhelm? Rem?"

"Well that’s just grea—"
His eyes snapped wide. His instincts screamed.

FWOOOOOOOSH—!!

A beam of condensed mist erupted from the fog, slamming into him. The ground beneath evaporated, scorched clean.

But—

Gojo stood unharmed.
Infinity had triggered through Gojo's instincts alone at the last possible moment.

He exhaled slowly, annoyed.
"..Alright. That could’ve actually been bad... Looks like I let my guard down after watching it get bullied like a pinata."

Infinity flickered off once more.

"Not gonna keep that on the whole time. I’m here for a good time after all, no fun bullying a whale."

But still... it's getting a bit boring.

His eyes suddenly flared.

Cursed energy—Subaru.

With a low crouch, he launched himself forward, tearing through the mist like a meteor, relying on nothing but instinct and precision-honed senses.

Then—he found them.

Subaru and Rem, still atop the ground dragon, charging forward through the haze.

Gojo materialized beside them like a specter, grinning like a lunatic.

"GAHH—!! SATORU-SENSEI?!"

"Yo!"

"...How do you always manage to jumpscare me—even in mist-fog warzones?!"

"Hey, that one wasn’t even on purpose. But damn, that dragon’s got legs—"

THOOM-

Gojo stumbled, eyes wide.

There.
The White Whale. Closer than it had any right to be without him noticing.

"Oh crap—"

He jumped.

"UL HUMA!"
Rem cried out. An enormous pillar of jagged ice erupted from the ground, forcing the whale aside and upright.

Gojo twisted mid-air—his foot smashed into the whale’s face, sending it hurtling through the mist like a meteor, shredding rock and stone before vanishing from view.

He landed beside Subaru and Rem, but didn’t speak.

No quip. No smirk just yet.

Just a flash of his hand—Blue activated again, yanking the entire dragon sideways moments before a second attack struck.

BOOOOOOM—!!

The whale’s tail slammed into the earth where they’d been—a deliberate, calculated blow.

Gojo’s brows furrowed.
"...It’s adjusting to my senses. That’s... amusing."

CRACK—FWOOOSH—!!

The ground beneath Gojo exploded, sending debris sky-high. He flipped, landing on a flying chunk of stone—balancing like it was solid ground.

"This mist is getting real old..."

He furrowed his brows, weighing the decision.

Should he just vaporize the whale now? Should he step aside for Wilhelm?

He couldn't ponder any longer, a tail cut through the fog like a guillotine.

SWISH—CRACK—!!

It slammed into Gojo mid-thought, sending him flying out of the mist cloud like a comet—his body flying all the way across the battlefield and even into the side of Flugel’s Tree with a deafening CRASH-!

Bark splintered. Stone cracked. The wood shuddered.

Gojo’s body remained embedded in the trunk—half-buried in ancient wood and rock.

He coughed, blood dripping from his forehead as he gripped bark deep within the tree.
"..I've gotta stop letting my guard down..."

Subaru's POV...

CRACK—!!

The sky split open with a sound like the world itself had torn in two.

From the curtain of mist, a flash of white and blue—the whale’s tail, massive and unseen—smashed directly into Gojo’s side.

"SENSEI—!!"

Subaru’s heart stopped.

Gojo was launched like a cannonball, a blur of light rocketing through the fog, vanishing into the heavens.

And then—Nothing. No sound. No laugh. No cocky quip.

Just silence.

He can’t be dead. No way.. Especially not from that... But still—!!

Subaru’s fists clenched, cursed energy flaring around him in a surge of furious black flame. His body screamed to run, to hide—but he didn’t listen.

Instead, he quickly stood, balanced atop the sprinting Patrasche.
He jumped.

A purple comet against a whale’s blood-colored eye.

BOOM—!!

His fist crashed forward with a squelch of fury, slamming into the beast’s eye. Right beside him—Wilhelm, bursting from the mist like a specter of vengeance, his blade driving deep into the whale’s face.

Their eyes met—just briefly—a moment of mutual recognition.

Shock. Respect. And then—

SKREEEEEEEEEEEE—!!

The whale shrieked, monstrous and maddened. It ignored Wilhelm completely, its jaw unhinging like a demon, rushing at Subaru with murderous hunger.

He dove aside, body moving on instinct. Earth erupted in its wake as it stormed past, jaws snapping chunks of stone like crackers.

Above—Rem descended, horn gleaming, a blur of blue and silver.

Her mace whistled through the air.

SLAM—!
She landed it, embedding the spike into the whale’s back, using it to swing herself forward and drive both feet directly into the eye Subaru had just struck.

The beast screamed again, thrashing wildly.

Subaru couldn’t help it—gave her a thumbs-up midair.

Back on Patrasche, they regrouped for a heartbeat before the whale surged after them, tearing through the landscape like a force of nature.

"Do I really smell that good?"

Rem didn’t miss a beat.
"It’s awful."

"...Ouch. You didn’t have to say it like that!"

A silhouette stood atop the whale. Wilhelm, drenched in blood not his own.

"You ignore me, monster?" he roared. "After 14 years of me pursuing you?!"

His sword drove deep again—but before he could leap further, the whale lifted off, sending him tumbling back to the earth.

He hit the ground hard—on one knee, stunned as the whale turned, descending fast.

Subaru's breath caught.

He wasn’t going to make it.

No. Not like this.

Not without finishing his vengeance.
Not without seeing his wife's soul avenged.

Subaru MOVED.
Cursed energy exploded beneath him as he rocketed forward, form shimmering with a deep, angrier violet.

His lips moved before he could think.
"I can return by—GHHK—!!"

Power erupted. His energy twisted—darker, sharper—pushing past his limit.

And then—

FWOOSH—!!

He was on the other side of the whale.

Wilhelm in his arms.

The old man blinked in shock.
"S-Subaru...!?"

Subaru set him down, fists raised again.
"No time for speeches! You know how good I smell right now, you bastard? Come get a taste!"

The whale roared. The mist churning in anger.
And Subaru laughed—wild and defiant, just like his Sensei.

"Let’s dance!"

With a singular step.. he leapt high, propelling himself through the air and over the great mabeast. Mimicking Gojo’s somersault from earlier, his grip slamming into the whale’s face before his hands pry into it's flesh like a pair of vices.

The whale shrieked in annoyance, tilting upwards to fly higher and higher into the sky, then—

Something changed.

He saw two shapes below.. Hovering. Waiting.

Wait… what-?

Confusion turned to joy.

Then—a blast of blinding blue erupted beneath them. A singularity of cursed energy pulling the mist into itself, tearing it apart like paper.

The fog vanished in an instant.

Subaru's eyes widened.
There was only one person in the world who could do that.

"SENSEI!!"

High above, hand extended, floated Satoru Gojo, his body aglow with cursed light, blood dripping over one eye—and a cocky grin cutting through all else.

"Sorry I'm late, Subaru..."

Although neither could hear the other, they didn't need to. As soon as eye-contact was made, Subaru just smirked.

Then... slowly but surely..

The boy stood up atop the edge of the whale's head.

Gojo looked back, six eyes focused.
“That’s my student, alright. Time to end this.”

Their gazes locked across the battlefield—and Subaru jumped, arms swung wide.

Straight off the whale.

The beast followed, drawn by scent, by bloodlust—by rage.

And Subaru just grinned.
"Let’s see how much you like surprises."

Above, Gojo turned his gaze toward the towering peak of Flugel’s Tree.

And then—

FLICKER-

He vanished. Then reappeared toward the tree's summit where branches endlessly overlapped and intertwined.

CRACK—!!

His fist shattered the base of a sikngle colossal branch—almost as long as the whale itself.

And then—with a breath, a smirk, and every ounce of power his absurdly overpowered frame could muster—

He pulled it back and hurled it, as hard as he could.

"BADASS TECHNIQUE—EAT THIS TREE, YOU DAMN FISH!!"

The branch screamed through the air like a blur.

Subaru fell, laughing like a madman, the whale hot on his heels.

Then—

FWOOOOOSH—!! THUD—!!

The branch speared clean through the beast’s side, it's edge bursting out the other end as the wood rooted itself into the whale's body.

SKREEEEEE—!!

The whale twisted in agony, spiraling uncontrollably in it's descent—before crashing down in a cataclysmic impact below.

BOOOOOOOM—!!

The earth split, dust and debris flying skyward as its titanic body carved a trench in the battlefield.

And then—

Silence.

Subaru was falling, too fast—!

FWOOM—

Gojo appeared again, Blue cushioning his descent.

He landed with a soft thud, blinking in surprise.

Rem reached him first, eyes frantic.
"Subaru!! Are you hurt?!"

"...Never been better."
He managed a smile—until a shadow fell over him.

Gojo, smirking despite the blood.

"Yo."

Subaru squinted.
"Cutting it a little close, don’t you think... Sensei?"

Gojo wiped his face, sunglasses back in hand.
"Close is stylish."

He grinned.
"And besides... the hero’s always fashionably late right!"

With a roar that echoed through the clearing, Wilhelm charged forward, muscles coiling like a spring. Every step carried the weight of his years, of his loss, of his unyielding resolve.

The whale twisted, trying to shake him off, but Wilhelm was faster. More determined.

He leapt—soaring with an almost desperate grace, blade gleaming in the sunlight overhead before he brought it directly down atop the whale, this time between ribs, where the skin was thinner, and far more vulnerable.

His sword sank deep, far deeper than any of his attacks prior, piercing muscle and flesh with a sickening squelch.

The whale screamed—a sound of pure, tortured rage and defeat.

Wilhelm twisted the blade, the metal biting into the giant beast further.

And then, with a roar, he pulled the sword free, shifting the metal into the air, hand only clutching tighter on the hilt.

A spray of red blood erupted, mingling with the dirt and dust beneath it's corpse.

With a guttural cry, Wilhelm drove the blade upwards, straight into the whale’s gaping maw—right where its immense jaws could no longer close.

Steel shattered bone, metal screeched against flesh.

The whale's roar turned to a gurgle—its massive body convulsing violently, limbs thrashing wildly as the life bled from it.

Wilhelm slammed his boots against its trembling hide, pushing the sword even deeper, twisting with cruel precision—

Delivering not just a wound, but a sentence.

The death sentence, specifically.

Its movements slowed. Its breath hitched. Its colossal form shuddered—then, with a final, shattering bellow that split the skies, the whale fell still.

Wilhelm stood tall amidst the chaos, chest heaving, blade dripping and still embedded in the beast’s still body.-

He looked up, and raised his sword to the sky, eyes shining with fierce triumph.

“For you, Theresia,” he whispered, eyes shut.

And as the dust settled, the battle finally quieted, the weight of years of pain and vengeance finally lifted.

For they had finally won.

Though only half the battle.

Chapter Text

The remnants of the battlefield were still fresh: shattered earth, blood-stained ground, and the slowly fading scent of beast and blood. The soldiers who survived the White Whale gathered in a solemn circle, weary yet alive, their spirits heavy but intact, an almost bitter victory.

Crusch Carsten stood proudly beside them. Her voice was resolute, carrying over the hushed wind:

"Let it be known... that Natsuki Subaru and Satoru Gojo are the ones who felled the White Whale."

Silence reigned. Then came nods, whispers of awe, disbelief, and finally... respect.

Subaru stood before them, his battered coat fluttering gently in the wind. At his sides sat Gojo, relaxed but alert. Rem, close and quiet. Wilhelm and Ferris, listening intently... and Crusch herself, standing with pride and steel in her spine.

The survivors leaned in. Every word carried weight now.

Subaru spoke, low and grave.
“We’re heading to the Mathers Domain. The Witch’s Cult is hiding in the forest there. It’s not just some fanatic pawns however—we’re talking about two Sin Archbishops.”

A chill passed through the crowd. Murmurs of alarm rippled out.

This threat... it might be worse than the White Whale.

Someone from the back raised their voice, trembling with concern.
“What about the villagers?”

Subaru’s gaze hardened.
“They’ve already been warned. By the time the Cult strikes, they’ll be long gone.”

His fingers laced together, knuckles white. He leaned forward slightly—his voice was calm, but barely contained fury leaked from his expression. Rage... not just at what was coming, but at what had already been witnessed.

Wilhelm caught it first. So did Gojo.

Subaru turned toward the Sword Demon.
“Wilhelm. I know I’m asking a lot, but... I want you at my side.”

A pause.

“I want you to help me slay one of the Archbishops.”

Betelgeuse... Romanee-Conti....

The silence was heavy.

For a brief second, Wilhelm blinked, stunned. But then—steel returned to his eyes.
“I have an immeasurable debt to you, Natsuki Subaru. If this can pay even the smallest piece of that... then I’ll follow you. Into Hell, if need be.”

A rare, weathered smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Subaru exhaled—tension lifting.
“Good. That’s very good.”

Crusch’s men began preparing for departure. Ground dragons snorted and stomped as supply carts were loaded. The carcass of the White Whale was already being prepared for transport—its colossal mass needed to be shown to the world, proof that a living calamity had been slain.

Satoru Gojo stood apart from the group, arms folded, eyes on the horizon. The wind tugged at his long coat as though it were eager to pull him into the next battle.

Footsteps approached behind him. Subaru.

“You know Crusch and her army won’t get to the forest for a few hours,” Subaru muttered.

Gojo gave a playful grin without looking back.
“Oh? That sounds suspiciously like you’re worried about your teacher. You do remember I’m basically untouchable, right? Infinity’s going to be up the entire time. Nothing’s getting near me~.”

But Subaru didn’t laugh. His expression stayed firm. Grim.

“You know a lot more than you're letting on, huh,” Gojo noted, his smile gone.

Subaru didn’t deny it.
“There’ll be someone when the attack comes… the other Archbishop. I’ve seen what he can do...”

He paused. His voice lowered to barely more than a whisper.
“Either he’s like you.. Or he’s worse.”

A vision flickered in Subaru’s mind..
That endless, suffocating snowstorm… and an all-white figure with a golden glare at the heart of it, untouched, serene, unholy.. like a devil untouched despite the surrounding hellfire.

Gojo raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so…”

“It is. So please—Satoru—don’t play around. If you do... you might regret it...”

That caught him off guard. Not the words, but the way Subaru said them. So certain. So... final.. as if he somehow knew the outcome.

Gojo chuckled, trying to shake the chill running down his spine.

There was no reason Subaru should know these things. The timing of the Whale. The Cult’s next move. Even this strange certainty about an Archbishop’s power. None of it made sense. And yet—Gojo believed him.

He let out a long breath, eyes scanning the horizon once more.

“Alright. Consider it a promise. I won’t mess around.”

Then, with a casual gesture, he pressed his hands together—space shimmered—and Satoru Gojo vanished.

Subaru stared at the space he left behind, his fists slowly clenching at his sides.

“If you fail…”

His voice trembled. Quiet. Almost broken.

“…I’ll do this all over again. No matter how many times it takes. Until you survive.”

He appeared like a distortion in reality—one moment, silence. The next, Satoru Gojo was simply there.

Space barely recovered from his arrival, the air rippling where he stood as though the world hadn’t fully agreed to let him in.

Cerulean eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses as he scanned the terrain—a quiet village, small and still, stretched a few hundred meters away.

"Shucks," he muttered, cracking his neck. "Guess I was a little off."

Then—he vanished.

A violet blur streaked across the plains, dragging pressure in its wake. Wind shattered around him. The landscape blurred as he travelled like a bullet.

Subaru said the Cult shouldn't have attacked yet. The village should be evacuated already. Just here to double check... Can't have any civilians around when the fireworks go off, right?

He slowed near the village’s edge, casually brushing his hair back as his hands slipped back into his pockets.

His feet touched down.

Silence.

Not peace. Not quiet. Silence. The kind that stares back.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed. His smile, once present, slipped away.

He stepped forward.

There—beside one of the small wooden huts—a group of women stood, huddled together like they had forgotten how to breathe. Eyes wide. Shoulders locked. Their gazes never moved from the ground.

They weren’t alone. All across the village—women. Only women. Frozen in place. Staring at nothing.

Something wasn’t right.

Gojo stopped walking.

“...They’re all women?” Gojo muttered. “Why—”

And then—
A voice.

Silken. Cold. Absolute.

“Why yes, of course. What kind of man do you take me for? Some sickened barbarian—grunting over the flesh of his own gender like a starving mabeast in heat? That’s repulsive. Unspeakably uncultured.”

The world snapped.

Gojo’s body tensed, instincts flaring. His head jerked toward the voice—and so did every woman in the vicinity. Their bodies flinched on command, as though the voice alone was a whip at their spines.

Then he saw him.

A man.

No... not a man.

A monster in human flesh.

He walked as if the ground were honored to hold him. Clad in immaculate white—suit pristine, shoes untouched by dust—perfection personified. His hands were laced calmly behind his back, posture like a statue carved by gods. His face bore a serene smile, and his eyes...

Golden. Not glowing—radiating. Beautiful. Unnatural. Wrong.

The kind of gaze that looked through you.

Gojo’s smile vanished. He scanned—Six Eyes locking on—

But there was nothing.

Not hidden power. Not suppressed cursed energy. Not trickery.

A void. A total absence. Like looking into a black hole with a charming face.

His stomach dropped half an inch.

“…You’re not.. what the hell are you..?” Gojo muttered.

The man bowed slightly, like a noble addressing a lesser.

“Regulus Corneas. Sin Archbishop representing Greed. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I do so loathe false courtesy... Satoru Gojo."

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, fists clenching.
“You know my name..?”

Regulus smiled, expression unnervingly calm.
“But of course. It would be unjust of me to act without knowing the name of the one who dares obstruct me, wouldn’t it? That would make me thoughtless, ignorant, like you people always accuse others of being. I’m not like that. I take responsibility. I know exactly who you are—Satoru Gojo.”

His head turned sharply, eyes gliding toward the trembling women at his side.
“Honestly, this is such a bother. I don’t enjoy this sort of thing, you know. Conflict, violence—it’s all so barbaric. A man like myself, someone who lives with absolute conviction, someone who understands what true love and justice are, shouldn’t have to dirty his hands. Don’t you agree?”

A door creaked open behind him. From the hut, at least a dozen villagers were dragged into view—tied, gagged, terrified.

Gojo’s jaw tensed.

Dammit, Subaru. Either your timing's off, or this bastard doesn’t follow it like you thought.. and he'd show up before I would regardless..? Probably deliberate, considering I’m his target.

Gojo stepped forward, arms dropping to his sides, voice flat.
“Alright then, Regulus Corny-ass. Sounds like you’re just begging for an ass-whooping.”

For a moment, silence. Then—

Regulus twitched.

The veins around his temple bulged, face flushing with rage. His calm expression cracking like cheap porcelain.

“You...? You DARE...!? What did you just say to me? Do you think you’re clever? Superior? Do you think mocking a man who’s done nothing wrong!?—who has only ever lived justly and virtuously—makes you impressive? Huh!?”

He stepped forward, the step light but filled with dangerous intent.

“I have never harmed anyone without cause! Every action I’ve taken—every single one—has been measured, justified, morally correct! Unlike you people, who think strength gives you license to act however you please!”

His wives flinched, shrinking back with fear. One of them made the mistake of meeting his eye. His gaze snapped to her.

“You! Why are you looking at me like that!? I haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t you dare look at me like I’m some kind of monster! That face—that expression—it’s not worthy of a wife I’ve deemed perfect. It's insulting...”

His voice cracked with fury.

“Die.”

Gojo couldn't do anything, it happened too fast.

Tap-

Just a tap. The tip of Regulus’s boot touched the earth. Then—

Blood.

Her body ruptured before Gojo’s eyes, as if reality itself had torn her asunder. No warning, no buildup—just a brutal absence of delay. The attack didn’t impact her. It eradicated her. The woman fell in several ruined pieces, her limbs severed, her torso split, and her life extinguished.

There was no sound of motion—only the wet, dull thud of a corpse hitting the dirt.

What… was that? Even with Six Eyes, I didn’t see it coming. I could barely make out the shape of wind...

Gojo’s fists clenched as his gaze landed on her ruined form.

Regulus’s breathing was steady—too steady.

“This—this is your fault. All your fault. If she had only remained silent, stayed grateful and obedient, then none of this would’ve happened! But no—she chose defiance. And now?”

He inhaled slowly, exhaled like he were calming himself. Then, soft and composed—

“Bring one out. A child, preferably.”

One of the wives hesitated, trembling—then obeyed. From the hut came a small, crying girl with orange hair, green eyes, and a bright red bow.

Petra... Subaru's friend, saw them playing one time.. shit...

Regulus took her with ease, one hand lifting her by the collar like a doll. Petra dangled helplessly, muffled sobs behind the rope gag, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He grinned.

“Now then, Satoru Gojo. If you truly want to be the hero here… if you don’t wish to see this innocent little girl become a fine red paste…”

Petra’s eyes widened with raw fear. Her cries turned frantic, legs kicking weakly in the air.

“…then you’ll stand there, right there, and receive one—just one—of my attacks. That’s reasonable, isn’t it? I’m being fair, after all.”

Gojo’s body tensed, eyes narrowing. But then—

A slight smirk.

“Suit yourself then. But don’t come crying when I’m standing without a scratch. Oh, and—you’ll release the villagers after that, right? Surely someone as just and moral as yourself can agree to that I'd imagine.”

Regulus laughed—gently, politely.

“Why of course. You have my word.”

He raised one hand, slow and unthreatening. A flick of the wrist.

Gojo’s instincts roared, telling him to dodge, begging for him to.

I’ll  just block it with Infinity, grab Petra, and put this bastard down while he’s monologuing—

But then—

Agony.

A hurricane of stillness, of pure destruction, shattered through him. Flesh peeled like paper, muscle torn as if by invisible teeth. An arm flew, then a leg. Blood painted the earth.

The world stopped for him.

Gojo’s body fell, eyes open—but lifeless, crimson streaking down his cheek.

Satoru Gojo… was dead..(?)

The little girl—Petra—squealed in shock at the sight of Gojo’s battered corpse.

Regulus scoffed, casually tossing the child aside, shaking his head with disdain.
“They’re all the same. So confident. So convinced they’re unstoppable... until they meet me.”

He turned away, casting one last cold glance at Gojo’s lifeless form before locking eyes with one of the wives nearest him.
“Make sure every last villager is dead by the time I return. Annoyingly, I have unfinished business with that fractured soul of Sloth.”

The wives didn’t utter a single word. Not one dared meet Regulus’s gaze. Even after he left, the heavy silence lingered, suffocating and absolute.

Suguru used to talk about it endlessly—
“To protect the weak,” he'd say, always with that calm, righteous certainty.

Gojo never thought about it that way.
He didn’t have to.

He was born blessed. Talented beyond reason. Perfect, they said.
He never had to try to be the best—so he never did.
Hence the fact he still hadn’t learned Red.

Not because he couldn’t.
Because he didn’t need to...

He remembered when it first happened— The shift.

One blink and the world changed.

He wasn’t in Japan anymore. Not even Earth.
A medieval city sprawled beneath a yellow sun. Furred creatures, odd beast-kin, roamed the streets in laughter and light.

He was confused. But not unhappy.

No more Gojo clan. No more elders, no more rules.
He was free.

And yet… bitterness sunk deep.

He’d never see Suguru again...
Never hear Shoko call him an idiot under her breath...

That silence haunted him more than any curse ever could.

Then he met him—
A boy. Japanese, like him.

Only… so weak.
Painfully, embarrassingly weak.

But he had something. Potential.
Maybe, just maybe—he too could reach where Gojo stood.

Of course, Gojo never said that.
Wouldn't be very cool, would it now?

Time passed. The world spun on.
And without noticing… Gojo began to change.

A mindset forming—something close to Suguru’s.
Yet different.

Less about the weak.
More about... what he wanted to be strong for.

Then came the silence.

The death.

The world began to glow—blue.
Not light. Not flame.
Just Cursed Energy, swirling like a storm—angry, confused, alive.

Fragments of a lesson—scattered, half-forgotten.

“Negative energy destroys.”
“Positive reverses.”
“Life born from death.”

..Life born from death...

“Don’t think. Feel.”

The blue twisted, darkened—
Turned to Red.

Not just color.
Concept.

The rejection of nothingness.
The refusal to stay dead.

His mind calmed.
Pain still pulsed—he remembered the impact, the way his body shattered like glass.

But beneath the agony, something else stirred.

Reconstruction.

A twitch.
A flicker in his finger from the arm that was eviscerated a moment prior.

Blood dissipated... Muscle rethreaded... Bone reformed..

He sucked in air—sharply.
A real breath. First breath anew.

And with it—Satoru Gojo returned.

Awakened.

I’m not done just yet....

Subaru POV...

Subaru Natsuki emerged from the foliage of the treeline.

Opposite him stood a disturbing, green-skinned man, and further behind, a towering rocky monolith that loomed like a cave entrance.

"Aaaahhhh..! I’ve been waiting for you... believer in love!"
His voice cracked, rising sharply as his arms flailed wide, eyes bulging, grin stretched impossibly wide—teeth jagged and gleaming.

"I am the Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult... the embodiment of Sloth... Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti!!"

"I welcome you... O’ blessed child whose pangs of love drip so deliciously... SO MAGNIFICENTLY!!"
He yelped, hands clawing at his own skin, pulling it grotesquely as he rocked side to side like a lunatic.

Subaru was already moving. Stopping just a meter from Betelgeuse, forced to wear a strained smile.

Truthfully, it took everything he had not to unleash a barrage of punches.

"I really appreciate the warm... uh, welcome. Though I’m not sure what to make of this love obsession you’ve got."

"Ahhh... of COURSE~!" Betelgeuse squealed, voice suddenly high and sing-song.
"Everyone, on their special day, realizes they’re LOVED... oh yes, they feel it—love, love, love—lovelovelove... LOOOVE!!"

Subaru chuckled, eyebrows raising.
"Right... so what now?"

Betelgeuse’s nostrils flared as he grinned like a feral beast.
"Ah, the love... so pungent... you... could it be you’re Pride? The one archbishop still vacant...?"

He shuffled closer, neck twisting unnaturally—like a cursed doll’s—eyes bloodshot and unblinking.
"You... have the gospel, yes...?"

Subaru paused, considering.

Then, his smile cracked wider.
"Yep. If you wanna see it, come a little closer... hold on..."

Betelgeuse leaned in, eyes gleaming feverishly as Subaru’s hand slipped inside his jacket.

He breathed deep, fury churning—and then—

SWOOSH—

His fist, glowing purple with destructive energy, shot forward.

FWOOM!

It slammed into Betelgeuse’s face with brutal force, shattering teeth flying, the punch burrowing grotesquely into his flesh—sending him skidding into the rocky wall with a sickening CRASH.

"Here’s my love, you asshole!"

Subaru exhaled, satisfaction washing over him—but the fight was far from over.

"WILHELM, AS I TOLD YOU—NOW!"

At his command, the Sword Demon burst from the trees, blade flashing with lethal speed.

Three cultists charged from the cave—

SWISH—SWOOSH—SWISH—

Wilhelm’s blade screamed through the air, each slash felling an enemy in brutal succession.

From the smoke, a whisper echoed...

"Authority of Sloth... Unseen Hands..."

Several sinister purple hands emerged, creeping through the haze toward the unsuspecting Wilhelm.

"Old man—dead ahead!"

Subaru’s voice cut through the chaos.

Wilhelm tensed, legs buckling before he dove backwards just in time.

The spectral hands froze midair.

"You... you can see...?"

Betelgeuse hissed, staggering out of the smoke with half his face collapsed—his grin faltered.

The hands lunged—one from above, two from the flanks, one low toward Subaru’s legs.

"DODGE!"
Subaru barked at Wilhelm—then ducked, rolled forward, and countered with another cursed-infused punch, smashing a spectral hand midair, causing it to flicker and burst.

"IMPOSSIBLE—IMPOSSIBLE—IMPOSSIBLE!!!"
Betelgeuse screamed, voice twisting with a guttural shriek.

Wilhelm blurred into motion again, his blade cutting through two more hands, relying through his senses alone to counter.

Of course, battling the unseen is easier said than done, one soon grazing his shoulder and sending him tumbling back.

Subaru gritted his teeth.
"They’re stronger now. Faster too..."

And Betelgeuse wasn’t done.

"MY FINGERS!" he roared, pointing to the cave entrance.
"SHOW HIM! TEAR HIS BODY ASUNDER!!"

By his order, several cultists sprang out of the cave entrance—howling fanatics with madness in their eyes and bloodlust in their hands.

Wilhelm darted forward like a silver arrow.

"You're a more fit opponent for the Archbishop, Subaru," he growled, eyes sharp and merciless.
"Leave these... TO ME!!"

He tore into the chaos, a whirlwind of steel and death, cutting down the charging cultists with precision honed by decades of war, ensuring not a single one approaches Subaru.

Meanwhile, Betelgeuse convulsed, his body bending unnaturally.
"MY BRAAAAIN... MY BRAIN IT TREMBLES SO VERYVERYVERYYY MUCH...!!"
His fingers sank into his mouth, teeth gnashing through skin and drawing blood that dripped freely down his chin.
"OH THE PAIN—THE PLEASURE—THE PURPOSE!!"

Subaru exhaled slowly, his foot striking the ground with a thunderous CRACK-!

Then he moved—a blur of focus and fury.

A dozen Unseen Hands surged toward him—twisting, snaking, snapping with invisible wrath.

His foot pivoted sharply. His body twisted just enough to let the first hand scream past.

Another step—he spun beneath the second like a deadly dancer.

He leapt, twisting in the air, his fist drawn back, glowing with raw, cursed energy and the inescapable scent of the Witch.

"Haaaah..."

A breath to steady the soul.

His eyes locked onto the oncoming storm of purple hands, writhing toward him like a nest of serpents—

"TAKE... THIIIS!!"

With a roar, his fist crashed downward—not striking flesh, not touching shadow—but releasing a shockwave of rage, grief, power, and the Witch's lingering love that manifested with the cursed energy.

BOOOOOM-!

A radiant pulse exploded outward.

The air screamed.

The hands shattered—not torn, not dispersed—but violently undone, evaporated by the sheer pressure of that cursed blow.

Fragments of the unseen crackled like dying sparks, vanishing midair.

Betelgeuse’s body stiffened. His jaw hung open, twitching.

His head jerked violently side to side.

"WHAT—what—WHAT IS THISSSSSSS!?!?" He bellowed, crawling backward on all fours like a panicked beast, eyes wide with primal terror and anger.
"You—your hands—your HANDS—!! THEY CANNOT—MUST NOT—OVERTAKE MINE!!"

His mouth split into a hideous grin.
"Unless... unless the Witch has given you her blessing... NO—HER HEART!?"

He collapsed to his knees, laughing, sobbing, screeching.
"OOOOOH HOW JEALOUS I AM!! SO... SO ENVIOUS—WRETCHEDLY, SICKENINGLY ENVIOUS!!"

From his body, more Unseen Hands burst forth—dozens now—frenzied, uncontrolled, dragging soil, stone, and screaming wind in their wake.

They came from his back, his sides, his very shadow. The air pulsed with their unnatural rhythm.

"COME THEN—PRIDE! SHOW ME MORE! SHOW ME YOUR LOVE—OR LET ME CRUSH IT!!"

Subaru readied himself again, muscles tensing in preparation.

His mouth tightened into a line, breath ragged but steady.

“…All right then!”

With a roar, Subaru launched forward—his body a blur of purple energy. Every limb burned with cursed power, his movements fluid and vicious..

HOOK—!

SWOOSH—

JAB—!!

KICK—!

THUD—!!

Each strike met one of the invisible hands, and each one burst into nothingness, annihilated by sheer force alone.

But then—

CRUNCH—!!

"Urgkk—!!"

A single hand made it past his guard.

It clamped down on his side, tearing through flesh and muscle with monstrous strength.

Blood splattered—soaking the white fabric of his tracksuit.

Gritting his teeth, Subaru slammed his elbow downward with a heavy THUD-!

He stumbled back, clutching his ribs—eyes scanning, breath heaving.

The hands… they just kept coming.

This isn’t working. If I keep trading blows like this… I’m dead. They’re not slowing down. There’s no limit… no sign of exhaustion…

SWOOSH—!!

Subaru leapt back, his feet hammering against the ground—each step twisting him in a new direction. He zigzagged wildly, dancing through trees with a madman’s on his tail.

The unseen hands chased him relentlessly—devastation incarnate, each swing crushing the space he’d occupied just a heartbeat earlier.

CRAAASH—!!

He skidded across the dirt, only for his eyes to widen—

A massive shadow loomed above, growing larger and larger with each passing moment.

A tree—falling. Sliced clean at the base by one of the phantom hands.

“Hoomph—!!”

No time to dodge.

Subaru’s fist flew upward—SMASHING through the falling trunk, sending an explosion of splinters into the air.

Some pierced his skin. Others sliced clean through muscle.

He winced—blood trickling down his arm—but didn’t slow.

From somewhere in the chaos, he heard it...

“ONLY I AM WORTHY ENOUGH FOR HER LOVE—NOT YOU—ME!! ME–MEEEEE!!”

Betelgeuse’s deranged voice pierced the air, shrill and trembling.

Then—

SWISH—!!

“—!!”

SHIT—!!

One of the invisible hands snagged his shin. Its grip was iron. Crushing. Unforgiving.

He was lifted like a ragdoll— Then hurled.

“AHHHKK–!!”

His body slammed through a tree, splintering it at the spine.

Then another— And another—

Until finally, he collapsed forward, dropping to one knee in a trail of shattered bark and earth torn asunder.

His lungs seized. His vision a daze.

But his rage?
That only grew sharper.

Fuck… FUCK!! Is this it?! Is this really all I can do?!

He slammed a bloodied fist into the ground.

No. I refuse. This bastard… this cult… They took Rem. Took Emilia. Took EVERYTHING!

Slowly, shakily, Subaru stood back up.

Spine cracking, blood dripping from his mouth.

Eyes locked forward, burning with a fury older than death.

He smashed his fist into the ground and stood back up.

Blood smeared down his forehead, his vision blurred at the edges. Every breath came ragged, shallow, furious.

His hands trembled—not from fear, but from something deeper.

"I’ll tear this bastard apart..."

A thunderclap of laughter echoed across the ruined battlefield.

Betelgeuse’s voice was jagged, serrated with madness, echoing through the air like a broken hymn.
"YESSS!! THAT IS LOVE!! THE STRUGGLE! THE SUFFERING! THE DESPAIR!!"

The Archbishop hovered inches above the ground now, arms outstretched, drenched in blood both his own and others'.
His eyes were wild, teeth chipped, his face a mask of euphoric agony.

Subaru wiped the blood from his lip.
“Shut your damn mouth!"

The cursed aura around him began to pulse erratically yet again. The witch’s scent—her blessing, her curse—spiked to overwhelming levels.

Even Betelgeuse paused for half a second, trembling in surprise.

Subaru didn’t wait.

With a scream that tore from his throat, Subaru charged.

Every limb—his fist, elbow, knee, foot—each one burned with cursed energy, whipping through the air like a storm of violence. He met each Unseen Hand in turn. Hook—jab—kick—palm strike—Each impact burst the purple limbs into shrieking nothingness.

BOOM- BOOM- BOOM!

But they kept coming. And faster.

CRUNCH—!

Another hand snuck through—this one striking his ribs from behind. He spat blood, barely remaining upright.

Yet still—he fought.

Another hand wrapped around his arm this time—tightening, bones creaking—

But Subaru screamed, cursed energy flaring from his body in a violent surge that shattered the hand like glass.

“YOU THINK THIS IS ENOUGH TO STOP ME?!” he roared.

"YEEESSS!!" Betelgeuse cried in twisted ecstasy, hands trembling. "LET HER SEE YOU!! BURN FOR HER!! KILL FOR HER!! DIE—FOR—HER!!"

"SHUT UP!"
Subaru leapt forward again, ignoring the pain lacing through every joint in his body. He spun through the air, twisting his body midflight as cursed power coiled around his leg—

WHAM!!!

He kicked a hand so hard it imploded, the blastwave tearing a trench into the forest floor beneath him.

But then—

SWISH—GRAB!!

A dozen hands at once erupted from his flank, using the trees and environment for cover, latching onto every limb—ankles, wrists, waist, even his throat.

His entire body locked in place midair.

"NNGHK—!!"

Betelgeuse floated forward slowly now, face broken in an almost tender smile, twitching eyes filled with deranged affection.

"I will embrace you... I will embrace you completely..."

He raised one hand, and all the others lifted Subaru helplessly into the air.

Then—

The crushing began.

One hand dug into his side again.

Another snapped tight on his leg.

His shoulder popped.

Then an arm, crushed.

"AAAAAAAGHHHH—!!"
Subaru screamed, body arched in agony as bones creaked and tendons strained.

And still—his cursed energy pulsed.

Still—he glared down at the Archbishop with raw, unfiltered hatred.

A whisper in his mind.

This pain... Use it.

The ground trembled.

The cursed energy surrounding Subaru began to spiral—no longer flickering, but compressing, concentrating..

Betelgeuse’s eye twitched.

"...What...?"

Subaru's voice came low. Guttural.

With every ounce of strength, Subaru pulled—tendons screaming, bones grinding—forcing his limbs free from the crushing, invisible restraints.

He tore through one hand. Then another. Then another—
Until his broken form dropped to the earth in a blood-soaked stagger.

But he didn’t fall.

He refused to fall.

Blood ran into both eyes, but his vision never wavered.

His gaze locked forward—clear, burning, unshakable.

Focus it. Manifest it. Every ounce of cursed energy—drawn from pain, from hatred, from the memory of everyone this bastard stole from him.

All for one strike.

He moved.

His body screamed for him to stop.

He couldn’t.

No—he wouldn’t.

He didn’t even understand the words as they left his throat, only that something—was pulling them from his soul.

   “BLACK...”

A step. Arm drawn back low, coiled like a spring.

Fist clenched. Palm cupped tight against it, compressing the swirling darkness.

Another step— Then a lunge.

He became a bullet of rage, his arm hurtling forward—air screaming in its wake.

Betelgeuse’s eyes widened—true realization blooming across his distorted features.

"A-Ah... that love... love so pure... so divine..."

His voice faltered.

"...How... Env—"

   “-FLAAAAASH!!!”

The world erupted.

A jolt of black lightning from contact, shot point-blank through the Archbishop’s chest along with his fist.

BOOOOOM-

A crater tore open behind the Archbishop. Trees disintegrated. Stone eviscerated.

Betelgeuse’s body spasmed violently as the impact tore through him—a gaping hole in his torso, entrails coiling out, blood gushing in great curtains onto the dirt.

His mouth opened—

No scream came out.

Just blood.

Lots of it.

And then—

He fell.

Not just his body.

There was silence.

Subaru stared, chest heaving.

A long, long moment passed—

Then—

CRACK—!!!

His boot slammed down on the Archbishop’s head, crushing it like an overripe fruit.

Skull, blood, and matter sprayed out in sickening arcs against the ground.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t recoil. Didn’t feel a damn thing. This man… was the exception.

He said nothing more.

Just turned away—limping, hand pressed tightly to his side, blood dripping from every step.

Through the smoke and ruin, the forest returned to its haunting stillness.
From the treeline, Wilhelm stood, sword gleaming crimson in the fading light. Cultist corpses lay all around him, each felled with a single strike.

He didn’t speak. Just stared—quiet, searching.

Subaru walked forward, slow but certain.

Their eyes met.

Subaru gave a small nod.

“…It’s done. Yeah.”

The words had barely left Subaru’s lips when—
CRACK—CRUNCH—SSSHHH—

The sound wasn't footsteps.
It was a presence. One unforgettable at that. 

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed. His sword twitched in his hand.

From the tree line, something shimmered—then shattered.

And then, he was just there.

A man. Impossibly pristine.

A pale white suit, not a single wrinkle.
Not a spot of blood.
Shoes polished like mirrors.
And a face—boyish, smug, eternally annoyed.

He didn’t walk. He didn’t emerge.

He appeared.

Standing among the bloodied corpses as if he’d always been there, completely untouched by the carnage surrounding him.

Subaru's eyes shot open. Panic, realization- then confusion.

If this man...
If Regulus Corneas was here... then...

“Where is... Gojo-sensei...?”

Regulus chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent a shiver through the air. He raised a perfectly manicured hand, palm open.

“Why, he’s been reduced to a bloodied husk,” Regulus said smoothly, “in a desperate attempt to save the life of some little girl he’d never even met. It tugs at a soul as benevolent as mine to the core.”

His pale eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.

“Although Satoru Gojo may be dead, I’m sure he lives on in you...”

A grin twisted his lips—cold, predatory.

“Hence why I’m here. To remove that blight.”

Subaru’s eyes widened, heart pounding.

Wilhelm’s grip tightened on his sword, stepping forward like a shield.

“You…!!?”

Regulus tilted his head, amused.

“Ah... where are my manners—”

But before he could speak further, Subaru's voice cut sharply through the silence.

“Regulus Corneas... If it is the last thing I do...”

His gaze burned with iron resolve, voice low and steady.

“I will kill you.”

Chapter Text

Subaru didn’t realize it, but he had already started moving—mid-sprint, lunging toward Regulus with burning anger.

“Subaru!!”
Wilhelm roared, his arm reaching out desperately, grasping at thin air.

Regulus raised a brow, smirking coldly, utterly unfazed.

“HYYAAAHH!”
Subaru’s cursed-infused fist crashed forward, knuckles smashing into empty space—halting just inches from Regulus’s body.

Still, Regulus showed no sign of concern.

Undeterred, Subaru unleashed an endless flurry of strikes, each blow slicing through the air in a futile attempt to land on the immovable figure before him.

“If I weren’t such a benevolent soul, I would’ve slaughtered you both by now—especially you, boy,” Regulus sneered. “Throwing punches like some rabid dog? Have you no respect for my rights? My authority as a human being?”

“Shut your mouth!!” Subaru screamed, voice raw with fury.

Regulus’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with cold amusement.
“You truly believe brute force will change anything here? How quaint.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised a hand—palms open, fingers poised like a conductor commanding a symphony of destruction.

Subaru’s breath hitched, muscles tensing as he prepared for the inevitable.

Suddenly, the air around Regulus shimmered—an invisible force radiating outward, a suffocating pressure that slammed into Subaru’s chest, pushing him back several steps.

“You are nothing but noise to me,” Regulus said softly, voice laced with venom. “A fleeting disturbance. You cannot touch what refuses to be touched.”

Wilhelm stepped forward, blade drawn, eyes burning with urgency.
“Subaru, fall back!”

But Subaru shook his head, fury blazing in his eyes.
“No. This bastard's killed Gojo-Sensei!! I’ll break through anything—even you.”

With a roar, he surged forward again, fists crackling with cursed energy, striking faster, harder—each blow an explosion of raw will.

Regulus laughed—a cold, hollow sound that echoed in the stillness.

"Try your hardest."

Arlam Village...

The wife stepped forward, dagger gleaming, poised to strike the trembling orange-haired girl.

“…I’m sorry. We can’t stand against that man. He’s invincible.”

Petra’s muffled sobs filled the heavy air — until a voice shattered the silence.

“Ahhh... I’ve done it! Done it! DONE IT!!”

Every eye snapped toward the source, disbelief painted across faces that had just witnessed a man torn apart, left broken and bleeding like a corpse.

But there he was—Satoru Gojo—standing tall, wild-eyed and grinning like a man unhinged from reality.

“Reversed Cursed Technique... the true essence of Jujutsu!!” he shouted, arms thrown wide as laughter exploded from his throat—unhinged, raw, a sound that echoed with madness and victory.

“Gyahaha... ahahahahaha! HAH! HAHAHAHAA!!” His voice bounced off the village huts, wild as a storm.

The wife hesitated, dagger trembling, but Gojo was suddenly there—steps closing the distance in an instant, injuries healed but dried blood still marking his pale face look as if he were a ghost.

His cold, burning gaze locked onto her. His hand slammed down on her shoulder, a jarring contrast to his manic laughter.

“You... one of Regulus’s wives. You know his power, don’t you?”

The woman shivered beneath his grip.

Gojo’s eyes darkened to pearlescent voids of menace.
“Tell me. Or I will kill every last one of you.”

Wilhelm watched silently, knuckles white on his sword hilt. His fury matched Subaru’s—an unbearable outrage for Gojo’s proclaimed death—but unlike Subaru, Wilhelm’s restraint kept the hand on his blade poised, aware that offense against this Sin Archbishop was irrelivent—

Subaru’s breath came in ragged bursts, teeth clenched as each furious strike met nothing but air.

“Damn you, damn you, damn you!” he spat, muscles screaming against the void.

“It’s like teaching a mabeast magic. You will never learn.”

Regulus’s mocking voice cut through the chaos as his hand reached out slowly—like a serpent striking.

Subaru’s eyes widened. His cursed energy flared hot, burning bright as he leapt backward, creating space.

Then—

BOOOOOOM!

The earth beneath him exploded, a perfect circle erased at Regulus’s swipe, the shockwave roaring toward Subaru.

I’m going to die. Better this way… in the next loop, I’ll save Gojo—

SWOOSH—

But before the blast could consume him, something grabbed Subaru—an invisible force yanked him from the devastation, and in a blink, he was gone.

The trees shook as the wind screamed through the empty air where Subaru had stood.

“What...?” his voice barely more than a whisper, lost in the chaos.

Subaru’s body was ripped from the path of destruction—pulled back just in time.

His eyes snapped open, heart pounding wildly. The wind howled in his ears, leaves and dust swirling around him like a storm’s breath.

He barely had time to register the sensation of weightlessness before a pair of arms caught him—solid, unyielding, yet surprisingly gentle.

“Got you,” came Gojo’s voice, low and rough but threaded with that unmistakable wild grin.

Gojo’s white hair was tousled, his normally calm eyes blazing with a manic light—like a man who had danced with death and returned more dangerous than ever.

"You. How... how are you alive...!!?"
Regulus’s voice cracked with disbelief. The perfect calm he always wore—a mask of arrogant detachment—fractured as his eyes narrowed.
His lips trembled, his composure fraying out of shock and anger.

"How dare you?!"

Gojo tilted his head back—eyes wide with wild glee, lips splitting into a manic grin.
Then—
"Keh... gyahahahaAHA!!"

He burst into laughter. Unfiltered. Explosive. Unhinged.
A sound that cut through the silence like a blade. It wasn’t the refined, cocky laugh of the strongest sorcerer. It was madness. A man returned from the brink of death, grinning in the face of the impossible.

"S-Sensei...?"
Subaru's voice was quiet. Cautious. There was something different about Gojo now.

He turned slightly—just enough for Subaru to see the blood still dried on his face, his snow-white hair shadowing those glowing blue eyes.

"Oh... lemme tell ya then!!"
His voice lowered, tone trembling with restrained energy.
"I had... an EPIPHANY!"

He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist—energy swirling faintly around his knuckles.
"Reverse cursed technique, baby! Took every ounce of strength and focus I had. And just to make it interesting—"
He leaned forward, grin stretching wide.
"—I managed to add a little something extra to the mix. Dunno if it works yet, though!"

Regulus scoffed, disgusted.
"You’ve gone mad. Your brush with death has reduced you to babbling nonsense. You should’ve stayed dead. I—"

Too slow.

Gojo vanished.

CRACK-FWOOSH—!!

The sound of footsteps? Like rain against the ground. A thousand strikes in a second. The world blurred.

One blink—and Gojo was already there, closing the distance between them in a burst of pressure and speed that shook the earth.

His fist ignited with cursed energy, raw and untamed.

He didn’t wait for a response.
Didn’t posture.
Didn’t taunt.

Just struck—

FWOOM-!!

Dust roared upward in a geyser, chunks of stone and shattered earth flung into the air like paper in a gale. The impact of Gojo's punch wasn’t just loud—it was seismic. The shockwave tore through the village outskirts, flattening nearby trees in a perfect, expanding ring.

Regulus skidded across the broken ground, his body carving a trench as if a god had flung him from heaven.

And yet—he rose. Slowly. Utterly uninjured.

"You bastard!! Just your very existence is a disturbance to my rights!!" Regulus roared, his voice splitting the air like a bolt of lightning. "You dare violate my sanctity—my space—with those filthy, violent fists of yours?!"

Gojo tilted his head, that wild, unhinged smile still carved into his face like a curse etched in stone.

Regulus moved.

No warning. No words.

Just motion. Blinding, devastating motion.

Gojo’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking.

He's fast.

Faster than anything he’d faced in this world, barring one red-haired knight of course.

Regulus didn’t waste time—he twisted his wrist with a flick, and the very air answered. The dust kicked up from their battle froze midair— Not exploding outward, not dispersing— But roaring in a vertical line of perfect stillness.

A weapon made of deletion. A wave of evisceration.

SWISH—!!

Gojo moved backwards. His body vanished into a blur of impossible speed, slipping between layers of reality.

To Subaru, it looked like teleportation—an afterimage made solid.

Trees shattered in his wake as Gojo weaved, ducked, and crashed through trunks like cannonballs, zigzagging backward through the forest like a living missile.

Then— His heel crushed into the earth, sending cracks spiraling outward—

And with a roar of strength, he launched himself into the sky.

The forest beneath him was erased. Not burned. Not blasted.

Erased.

Dozens of meters of lush woodland were gone—a clean, gaping swath carved by Regulus’s authority.

From above, Gojo looked down—
And the world turned blue.

BOOM—!!

Gravity followed his will, blue pulling at his frame—turning him into a human meteor.

And he fell.

Fell right toward Regulus.

Regulus looked up—eyes widening.

Gojo's fist collided.
A ripple of nullified force tried to stop him—like punching against a god’s barrier.

But force met immovable will—and the earth screamed in protest.

CRRR-BOOM!!

The ground imploded, shattering like glass beneath the impact. Chunks of debris—meters wide—were flung skyward. Trees were launched. The surrounding forest lifted as if gravity had reversed for a moment.

Gojo rode the chaos.

He launched off chunks of flying debris like stepping stones, each step building momentum, the sound of each launch like thunder roaring.

Thoughts raced as fast as his body moved.

It’s true. The wives said he’s invincible. And it’s tied to them somehow... but they just wouldn’t give me more than that no matter what I did.

Inverted, upside down in the sky, Gojo stilled himself mid-air—Infinity halting all momentum.

He leveled his fingers like a pistol and aimed it toward the ground.

A crimson light burned into existence.

    “Reversal Red.”

The blast howled downward.

Not an explosion—an eruption. Reality buckled, the pressure alone forcing the ground downward into a deep crater as the forest sank. Trees, rocks, and soil were dragged into a gravitational pit as the Red imploded everything into forceful rejection.

A moment of silence as he landed.

Then Gojo exhaled.

Looked toward Subaru—mouth hanging open in awe.
Wilhelm, wide-eyed, sword slack in his hand.

Gojo just gave them a casual thumbs-up.

“You guys should probably get out of here—”

BAM- BAM- BOOM—!!

Another detonation to the side—a perfect, circular hole carved into the earth as Regulus emerged like a devil shot from hell. His face unmarked. Eyes boiling with rage.

He lunged—directly for Subaru.

Tch—this dirty bastard!!

Gojo's hands clapped together.

The air screamed.

SWISH-

Space twisted, collapsing and reassembling.

Gojo teleported—through sheer control of space itself.

CRACK—!

He caught Subaru mid-movement, ripping him out of the way just in time.

But Regulus struck.

Gojo raised his arms in a cross-guard.

The impact… didn’t feel like anything.

And that was the danger.

Gojo flew.

No force. No sensation. Just displacement—like the world had decided he shouldn’t be there anymore.

His body was hurled backward at unrelenting speed.

The mountain loomed.

CRRAAAACKK—!!

He crashed through it—body shredding stone, ribs cracking, blood smearing a jagged trail as he drilled through hundreds of feet of solid rock.

He emerged into a hidden cavern—shattered, smoking, dragging breath through teeth clenched with pain.

“…Tch.”

He wiped blood from his lips.

Then he laughed.
Low at first.

Then louder.
Unhinged. Beautiful. Alive.

“Gyahahaha… that all you got?!”
He cracked his neck. The broken bones snapped back into place, the blood and the cuts stitching shut and drying.

The cavern trembled.

Ancient stone groaned overhead as two forces—opposing concepts more than men—clashed beneath it.

Regulus charged. No theatrics this time. Just ruthless, explosive motion.

His foot slammed into the earth, and in a blink, the entire floor rippled, chunks of stone vaulting into the air like missiles.

But they didn’t arc, didn't waver or slow...

They rushed forward, blitzing across the cavern with no wind-up, no acceleration. Just sudden, violent existence.

Gojo’s eyes widened.

He moved.

A blink, a breath, a shift.

He stepped right—only to feel his arm vanish.

SHLKT—!!

His entire left arm disintegrated, from bicep to fingertip, cleanly erased where the edge of Regulus’s influence touched him.

Not cut. Not broken.

Gone.

Like it had never been there.

"Tch—!"

He twisted his body mid-dodge, kicking off a stalagmite and sending himself into a spiral, rock erupting around him with each attack unleashed by Regulus.

Blood sprayed in a thin red arc behind him as he landed, skidding across the cave floor.

Regulus didn’t stop.

He was already there.

Like time skipped.

A hand reached toward Gojo's exposed chest—two fingers extended, elegant and cold.

"You live in sin," Regulus murmured, "And I shall erase it—"

Gojo’s right hand snapped upward—barely missing the fingers—and a pulse of Blue detonated between them.

BOOOOM—!!!

It wasn't just cursed energy. It was gravity warped into fury—a vortex of compressed space-time that sucked both of them into a spiraling implosion before detonating outward like a cannon blast.

The cavern cracked—craters etched into the floor, columns collapsed, a massive stalactite shattered overhead and fell like a sword, impaling the rocks below.

Both combatants vanished into the smoke.

Then—

A red light pulsed through the haze.

A figure launched from the left—Gojo, flipping in midair with just one arm, his legs spinning before he thrust downward with a heel kick glowing faintly vermillion.

   “Reversal Red—”

CRACK—!!

Regulus hadn't a need to block it, thus, it struck him dead-on, the sheer recoil flinging him like a skipping stone across the cavern’s rock surface, gouging through two walls before coming to a stop.

Gojo landed hard, grinning like a lunatic.

"Guess what?" he said between shallow breaths, blood soaking his side.
"It'll take more than that to stop me this time around."
He raised the stump of his missing arm.

SWOOSH-

The limb returned—tendons writhing, muscle weaving together, skin sealing like stitching reversed.

Fully restored.

"That's not all I brought back with me EITHER," Gojo muttered, eyes locking on the darkness Regulus had vanished into.

He raised a hand.

Crackling. Pressure. The air buckled.

Regulus walked calmly from the rubble. He looked pristine. Untouched. His white suit unwrinkled.

"You are a blight. A disease. A distortion of order. I am law, and you are an insult to it."

The air screamed.

Dust and shattered stone swirled like a blizzard as Gojo Satoru launched himself forward once more, his form a blur of momentum and pressure. He vanished from one jagged ledge—reappeared midair far across the cavern—and slammed down on a distant rock pillar with enough force to crater its peak.

Regulus chased below, moving swiftly, half-shrouded in the darkness beneath.

Gojo was already gone again.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—!!

With every movement, he shattered the terrain—ricocheting off crumbling walls, bounding from fallen stalactites, each launch slinging him deeper into the labyrinthine cavern system, where ancient formations twisted like coiled serpents overhead.

This was more than a fight, it was a battle to decide fate, Gojo continued to move—in air, on walls, across ceilings—like physics itself had bent to accommodate their clash.

Gojo landed behind Regulus who'd been chasing-

His voice echoed in a whisper before the punch landed.

"Surprise."

FWOOM—!!

His fist struck true—but not the body.

Instead, it met that cursed stillness again. The moment froze, like time paused, and the energy of Gojo’s attack was reflected outward, the sheer force carving a perfect sphere out of the stone wall behind Regulus—like a god had punched a hole through the mountain.

Regulus didn’t even flinch, just remained firm, annoyed.

"You will never touch me," he growled. "Your strength is meaningless without justice."

Regulus blinked, just once.

Gojo's instincts screamed, neck twisting at the last possible moment. Behind him, a colossal mound of rock exploded—a jagged, crimson-stained gash tore through stone and flesh alike, a thin trickle of blood pooling from the side of his neck.

This is it.. The only chance.

Gojo’s mind raced, heart hammering against his ribs.

He's in it's range...

But just as quickly as it appeared, the wound vanished—skin knitting itself back with brutal speed.

Gojo stepped—not forward, but backwards, lowering himself into a tight crouch, fist poised near his hip.

I owe Kusakabe for this one, if I make it back alive...

He whispered under his breath.

Then—

   “Simple Domain.”

A sharp FWOOSH... ripped through the cavern air.

Cursed energy erupted from Gojo like a living cyclone, spiraling outward in every direction. Not a full domain expansion, but a condensed, razor-focused bubble barely two meters wide—enough to trap Regulus in it's midst.

This was the trap...

A binding vow.

An Eye for an Eye.
A Tooth for a Tooth.
Cursed Technique for Authority.

A covenant that would cut Regulus’s connection to his wives the instant he'd crossed the boundary of the Simple Domain—all at the cost of sacrificing Gojo’s own Limitless ability every time the barrier is activated. His eyes, his greatest advantage, temporarily darkened by this price.

Regulus sneered, raising a brow.
"Don’t you get it, fool? Nothing you do will work."

The air tensed.

One.

Two.

Gojo didn’t flinch.

"Let’s find out shall we?!"

He surged forward with a sudden sprint.

Three.

TAP.

Regulus’s boot struck the ground.

Instantly, cursed stillness erupted—shredding Gojo’s leg from knee to ankle, sending it flying like a severed limb.

But Gojo didn’t fall.

Instead, he twisted sharply midair, cursed energy flaring around his remaining limbs. His fist swung—fast, precise—but his knuckles met nothing but empty air mere inches from Regulus’s chest.

The archbishop’s eyes narrowed.
"Predictable."

Four.

Regulus’s arm rose, a sweep cutting sideways—air didn’t move, it vanished.

Five.

Then came the recoil. Regulus froze—body locking up, breath caught mid-chest.

Then—

“GRAAAAHH—!!?”

He keeled forward, hands clutching his stomach, retching as agony exploded through his nerves. His Authority—once absolute—fractured under pressure.

Why?!
Why could he feel pain—feel his own heartbeat—why was his invincibility gone?!

Gojo’s eyes lit up, a wild grin spreading across his face.
He didn’t hesitate.

He ran—no, rocketed forward, cursed energy surging, his severed leg regenerating mid-sprint, muscles twisting and snapping into place like coiled ropes rebinding themselves.

Now's my chance.

No Limitless. No Six-Eyes. He was bare bones—raw instinct and cursed energy.

Although that meant he too would be weakened massively during this duration, it was still enough.

CRACK—!!

Gojo’s knuckles rammed into Regulus’s gut like a hammer, the impact sending a shockwave deep through the earth. Regulus choked, blood spurting from his lips as he stumbled backward—

Gojo followed.

SWISH—THUD!
A sharp jab to the ribs.
SWOOSH—BOOM!
A pivot, then a heavy right hook across Regulus’s jaw. Blood sprayed.

Every hit landed. Every strike counted.

But the timer was ticking.
Five seconds. Five heartbeats. And the window was closing.

Gojo swung again—this time, the resistance was off. Something was wrong.
The punch hit—but it didn’t connect.

His eyes widened.
“—!?”

Regulus took a single step.

TAP.

The ground splintered—jagged, glass-like lines shot across the cavern floor and walls like a spiderweb of cursed chaos.

CRACK—!

The Simple Domain shattered.

Gojo recoiled—but it was too late.

Regulus raised both hands—

CLAP.

The sound ripped through the world. The cavern’s structure imploded, air pressure detonating outward in a spiraling, obliterating burst. Rock and earth contorted like paper under the pressure.

Gojo was launched.

His body flung like a ragdoll through the fractured tunnel, both arms eviscerated, muscle torn to ribbons, bone splintered and exposed.

He landed hard—skidding over cracked stone outside the cave’s mouth, broken earth groaning beneath his weight.

Blood stained the ground. His body twitching in pain.
But then—he moved.

Cursed energy surged. The ruined limb healed with unnatural speed, veins surging like lightning beneath his skin.

But his eyes narrowed.
He got it back. Somehow. Even without the wives, he can use it again—so there’s a time limit… or a reset mechanism…?

SWISH—!

A leg scythed through the air—Gojo leapt backward, barely avoiding annihilation.

The area behind him ceased to exist. It wasn’t blown up—it was erased.

“What the hell are you...?!”
Regulus emerged from the collapsing ruins, his once-pristine appearance now a mess of bruises, blood, and rage. Each step carried with it a shockwave. Each gesture, a natural disaster.

Gojo gritted his teeth, body weaving—dodging.

He moved like lightning, but even he couldn’t evade forever. A cut opened on his cheek. A slice nicked his thigh. A bone shattered. Then another.

The ground around them was no longer ground—it was warped, uneven, cratered, an arena of entropy. The battlefield had lowered by meters, carved out by the pressure of their godlike clash.

"HOW, HOW, HOWHOWHOWHOOOW?!!"

Regulus screamed, voice crackling like a broken speaker in a thunderstorm. Each word convulsed with fury—each step warped the ground beneath his feet, rage bleeding from every motion.

Gojo grimaced.

SHLK—!!

His vision in one eye vanished as a slice of stillness clipped the side of his face, sending his ear spinning through the air like a torn petal in a thunderstorm.

He landed hard.

CRACK—!!

A savage sweep of Gojo’s leg tore through the earth, ripping boulders skyward in a violent arc—stone rain filling the cavern like a collapsing meteor field.

"You fool!"
Regulus roared, a demonic echo bouncing through the cave walls.

This was his domain. This was where his Authority truly sang.

With two flicks of his wrist—
FWOOOM—KRAAAK—!!

A pressureless gale shredded the airborne stone to sand, and a second sweep vaporized the very space behind it.

STEP—

Regulus twitched, Gojo was behind him.

His head snapped back.

An index finger hovered before his face—red, glowing, buzzing with reality-breaking force.

   "Red."

The word left Gojo’s lips like a gunshot.

KAAA-BOOOM—!!!

The detonation erased everything—the ground beneath Regulus gone in an instant, blown to oblivion by pure cursed force.

Yet he simply... floated.

Hovering, unmoved, untouched.

Red hovered inches from his face—suspended in dead air, caught in the stillness of his Authority.

Gojo scoffed, vaulting upward—his lunge taking him several meters high, twisting in the air, arm cocked back.

“If you don’t tell me what you are—how you did what you did—I’ll tear off every limb you’ve got—over, and over, and over again, YOU HEAR ME?!”

Regulus’s face twitched in a grimace—and then, slowly, deliberately—

He grabbed the Red.

Gojo froze.
His eyes widened.

“...What?”

Regulus’s fingers wrapped around the orb of energy—and swiped it to the side.

Then, without ceremony—he threw it.

The same Red. But in his hand, it wasn’t a repelling blast.

It was pure erasure.

BOOOOOOM—!!!

It tore through Gojo’s chest like divine judgment, punching a crater through the battlefield, vaporizing trees and carving a path of ruin deep into the horizon.

Gojo vomited blood, body staggering backward—hand clutching his center as crimson poured between his fingers.

“Ghhh... ahh—fuck...”

His heart thudded wildly.

The Reverse Cursed Technique surged—organs knitting, bones twisting, sinew reweaving into place.

But Regulus wasn’t done.

He raised his hand—gripped air—and twisted.

The space bent to his will, forming a jagged, elongated weapon of wind. A javelin shaped by authority.

Then—he hurled it.

“WOOMPH—!?”

Gojo gasped, back arcing—his spine bending so far back his head nearly kissed the stars.
The javelin screamed overhead, cleaving apart the space overhead.

Then—

A silhouette, a shadow.

Regulus appeared mid-air—his fist pulled back, body descending like a guillotine.

CRACK—!!!

He slammed into Gojo’s chest, cratering the rock beneath them.

“TELL ME—HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE AUTHORITY OF GREED?!”

He punched.

BOOM!
Another.
CRACK!
Again.
BAM!
The ground fractured deeper.
THUD!
Each impact a tremor. Each echo deafening.

BOOM!

THUD!

CRACK!

BOOM!

THUD-
BAM-CRACK-THUD!!

Gojo said nothing.

Regulus paused.

He leaned back, blinking in half-awe, half-rage as he watched Gojo’s wounds knit themselves together again.

“You... you’re not a human.”

It wasn’t a question.

He glanced toward the horizon—toward the eviscerated forest, the annihilated landscape.

“That’s the only explanation. That’s the only answer that makes sense. You’re some kind of... monstrosity. Well of course, that's only natural you'd be..”

He turned back, glaring down at Gojo.

“But that still doesn’t tell me—”

Then he saw it.

Gojo’s mouth, agape. The sphere already formed before his face.

   Red.

BOOOOM—!!

The blast consumed Regulus point-blank, hurling him backward in a cyclonic red hurricane.

Gojo's chest heaved as he laid flat on his back, eyes narrowed.

“Ugh... fuck... that hurt...”

He stared at his hands. At his limits.

Then he clasped them together.
A familiar motion. A last resort.

VWOOSH-!

And in a blink—

He was gone.

Not cowardice.

Tactical retreat.

This wasn’t a fight he could win. Not yet atleast.

But he survived.

Chapter Text

Subaru was shocked, to say the least, when Gojo showed back up.

He stood there—unharmed, technically—but it didn’t take a genius to tell he'd been through hell. His clothes were torn to ribbons, stained with blood long dried. Even if his injuries had healed, the aftermath clung to him like smoke after a blaze.

Of course, Subaru had no intention of dying. And neither did Wilhelm.

The two had already begun sprinting through the decimated forest, now reduced to a dead-flat graveyard of trees and ruptured earth.

Gojo will be alright... he’ll be fine.
Even if he was acting off, even if something about him felt different... he was still Satoru freaking Gojo.

Subaru’s brows furrowed, his cursed energy reinforcing his legs and core with each step—boosting speed.

Beside him, Wilhelm kept pace, cloak billowing behind him like a war banner.
He glanced sideways, voice sharp and composed.

“As we saw back there, Satoru is a man full of surprises. Even the Archbishop thought him dead. He’ll survive, Subaru.”

Subaru exhaled a half-laugh, half-sigh, nerves unraveling only a bit.
"Yeah... you're right."

The two men burst through the village gates—and were met with confusion, panic, and the sound of villagers murmuring in fear. Dozens of soldiers stood scattered across the square, with Felix at the center of it all.

What happened here...?
Was I wrong about the timing?
..Did the Cult already make a move before we showed up?!

Subaru skidded to a halt in front of Ferris.

“What happened here?!”

Felix turned, ears twitching.

“Ah, Subaru! Well, by the time we got here, the villagers were all tied up. Said a man showed up—claimed he was a Sin Archbishop.. as you said.”

Not Petelgeuse. Definitely not... then it had to be Regulus.
How long ago did he get here?! How far ahead was he than what I thought?!

Before he could answer, a voice called out..

“S-Subaru!”

A small figure ran toward him—orange-haired, red-bowed, face stained with dried tears.

“Petra...!”

“I-It was really scary... but that white-haired mister saved me... is he okay? I... I want to thank him...”

Subaru knelt down, placing a gentle hand on her head and ruffling her hair.

“Gojo-sensei’s fine, I promise. He’ll be back soon—you’ll get to thank him yourself.”

Hopefully...

Thanks to Rem’s warning letter, the mansion had already been evacuated. With Subaru’s confirmation that this was indeed the Witch’s Cult at work, the villagers began preparations to flee—loading carriages with help from Felix and Wilhelm.

Subaru stood with hands on his hips, staring toward the forest where the booming impacts and subtle bursts of cursed energy were occupying.

Gojo and Regulus's battle’s gone quiet... too quiet.

“Mmm...”

Then—
A hand landed on his shoulder.

“GYAHHH!!”

He jumped—spinning on reflex, hand raised.

“G-Gojo-sensei?!”

There he stood.

“Yo.”
Gojo gave a casual wave, half-grin forming on his bruised, dirt-streaked face.

“You’re... alright?”

Subaru raised a brow. Technically, Gojo looked fine. But with his shirt nearly vaporized at the torso, sleeves torn, and dried blood marking where flesh had once been open wounds—it was clear just how not fine he’d been.

Gojo shrugged.

“Well, I’m good now. But I don’t even wanna guess how many of my limbs got blown off back there. If you go digging through the rubble, you’ll probably find, like... twenty arms and legs..”

He chuckled—then stopped.

His head turned toward the trees—eyes sharpening, gaze narrowing.

“...There are a lot of unfamiliar presences in the forest by the way.”

Subaru blinked, turning to follow his line of sight.

Then he froze.

Overhead, a massive purple hand burst from the treetops—fingers clenched into a fist as it soared upward before coming down like a meteor.

“S-SHIT! EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

It wasn’t visible to anybody except Subaru. But Gojo didn’t need to see it.

He could feel it—space itself was wrong. Warped. Twisted.

The Unseen Hand of Sloth.

With a calm motion, Gojo lifted his palm—his fingers forming a slight curve upward.

VVRRRRRRMM—

A glimmering blue orb shimmered into existence above him—crackling as it absorbed the Unseen Hand in an instant, swallowing its presence like it had never existed.

The cursed air fell still.

The forest, for now, was silent again.

Gojo grinned, lowering his hand before swinging it casually over Subaru’s shoulder.

“Safe! Heh, what would you do without me, huh?”

Subaru exhaled slowly, looking away with a muttered grumble.

“...You’ve got a point this time, so I’ll let it slide.”

Gojo stepped back, the humor in his expression dimming slightly.

“Though, on a more serious note... I don’t think my little spat with Regulus is over.”

His voice dropped—just a bit.

“I’ve probably pissed him off so badly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already on his way here.”

“H-HERE?!”
Subaru’s eyes went wide.

“Dude!! Not all of us are walking anime cheat codes who can regenerate! If any of us normal people get hit by one of his freaky-ass Authority attacks, we’re just dead!”

Gojo smirked, raising an index finger like he was about to give a lecture.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m gonna stall him—while you deal with whatever else is lurking out there in the trees.”

He jerked a thumb toward the woods.

“Honestly? I think I’ve got maybe an hour of stalling in me. Maybe. If I get sliced in half at the waist, though... that’s game over.”

Subaru blinked, face paling.

“Wait, isn’t that what ‘Reverse Cursed Technique’ is for?”

Gojo gave him a cheeky smile.

“Ooh~ someone’s been paying attention in class! Yes—normally it’d work fine. But if I’m split in two...”
He gestured with both hands, miming a body tearing apart.
“...then the cursed energy can’t travel from my core to the injury. Because, well... I’d be in two pieces.”

Subaru stared at him for a beat.

“That is... the biggest red flag I’ve ever heard.”

Gojo laughed, brushing it off with a grin.

“Hey, I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? What’s a bit more stalling?”

Subaru sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Right... right. Just don’t die, alright?”

Gojo clapped his hands together, stepping backward as the air distorted around him.

“Ciao~!”

In a flicker of refracted space, he vanished—leaving only a gust of wind behind.

Regulus stormed through the ravaged forest, each step a silent declaration of dominance. But no matter how heavy his footfalls—how absolute his presence—the ground refused to shatter beneath him.

Because he hadn’t allowed it to.

STEP—

A low, sharp hiss cut through the air—

SWOOSH— THUD!!

A deafening impact cracked against his side. In an instant, Regulus's body was sent skyward, ripped from the earth by raw, unfiltered power. The shockwave shattered trees for dozens of meters. The terrain buckled as both combatants were launched into open air.

From the epicenter, Satoru Gojo emerged like a missile.

"You—! You foolish, insignificant worm!" Regulus snarled mid-flight, his body halting as though caught on an invisible axis. One moment, momentum.. the next nanosecond, absolute stillness—his Authority bending reality to his will.

"You should've known it was impossible to defeat me— And yet, here you are, charging back in like a fool!"

The sun dimmed—no, vanished. A silhouette blotted out the sky overhead, growing larger and larger-

Gojo, upside-down mid-air, body twisting like a hurricane of white and blue, plummeted.

His fist screamed through the atmosphere—

BOOOOM!!!

It landed clean against Regulus’s ribs. The impact was like a cannon forged from gravity and emotion. A thunderclap erupted across the horizon—shattering the air, reducing nearby cliffs to falling dust. A wave of force flattened the surrounding forest into a craterized ruin.

Regulus was launched—his body sent careening through rock and trees like a divine wrecking ball, carving a trench hundreds of meters long.

“You return to me again. Have you grown bored of living, Satoru Gojo? Or do you find yourself enjoying the pain!?”

Gojo stood slowly, dust curling off his shoulders. His mouth twisted into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nah. Just figured I’d make this a little more personal.”

Gojo flickered, the world bending with his velocity—space folding in tight as he drove another strike toward Regulus’s side.

THUD—!

The blow halted—mere inches from landing. Time itself seemed to lock.. a piece of air, unnaturally still, hovered like a phantom wall.

Regulus flicked two fingers across.

Gojo’s pupils shrank.

“—!!”

He vanished sideways, instincts screaming. A heartbeat later, the stilled air shifted—no longer static, but a merciless guillotine of invisible force. The world howled.

His right arm was gone—again—ripped clean from the shoulder down, red mist left in its wake.

But Gojo didn’t even flinch.

He was used to this now.

His foot twisted- a step turned into a dash, and in a blink, he was behind Regulus—body contorting mid-air into a sharp axe kick, crashing downward like a cleaving crescent moon.

CRACK—!

A tremor quaked through the battlefield as Gojo’s heel impacted—

But Regulus didn’t budge. Not even a grunt. His coat fluttered slightly from the force.

“Tch.”
Gojo's eyes narrowed.

Regulus pivoted, fist cocked back—

Not this time..!

Gojo read it before it even finished forming. He dipped low, body curving like a serpent as the stillness-charged punch exploded past him—splitting the air like divine judgement itself.

WHOOM—!

He slid under, boots carving a furrow into the rocky terrain, just as Regulus’s hand snapped open—then swung like a guillotine toward where Gojo moved.

SWOOSH—

A flash of invisible annihilation roared through the air.

Gojo bent backward—his spine arched like a perfect bridge, the attack slicing through mere inches above him.

Then—

FWOOOSH—!

A searing gust of stillness grazed across his stomach and chest, carving into skin and muscle before it screamed upward into the sky, leaving a jagged scar in the clouds themselves.

He landed in a crouch, breath sharp—

Blood trickled down his chest.

Regulus floated mid-air, unmoving—his coat whipping violently, caught in the turbulent winds Gojo left behind.

His lips peeled back, revealing clenched teeth.

"You… insolent insect."

The air vibrated.

BOOM—!

Regulus didn't step.

He exploded forward, a blur of divine motion, fist first—his body a meteor in human form. The terrain cracked before he even landed.

Gojo threw his arms up, cursed energy flaring like natural instinct.

CLANG—!!

The first punch landed like a god’s hammer. The impact ruptured the air, Gojo’s arms CRACKING under the pressure. He was launched backward—tumbling through trees, through stone, the stillness affecting his own body, and in turn leaving his infinity useless as he's flung through trees and rock.

He barely managed to right himself in midair—

But he was too slow.

Regulus was already there.

A palm caught Gojo's face and shoved—dragging him across the ground like a missile, pulverizing rock and dirt in their wake.

"I have tolerated your disrespect long enough!"

Gojo’s body spun out as the force stopped, but he didn’t crash—he rolled midair, cursed energy buffering his descent. Blood streaked down his jaw and forehead as opened wounds were stitching shut.

"Ugh... Hit a nerve, huh?"

Regulus roared—and for the first time, there was no elegance, no controlled malice.

Just sheer hatred.

Both his arms swung wide, carving the air in an X—

SWOOSH—SWOOSH—!!

Twin arcs of stillness screamed outward, the forest folding in on itself in response.

"Urk- you gotta be-!?"
Gojo ducked one—then twisted sideways, the second passing so close it shaved strands of white from his hair.

He landed hard, knees grinding through cracked stone.

His breathing hitched in pain.

Regulus charged.

“Let’s see how you fair when your reduced to a gaping mess of exposed flesh, shall we?!"

BOOM—!

Regulus was on him again. Another strike.

Gojo blocked with his forearm—CRACK—an attempt of nullifying the impact with his cursed energy. But the shock still shot down his spine. Both arms shattered, bone pulverized.

Another blow came from the side.

He ducked—too slow however.

CRACK—!!

A rib snapped- the stillness—BLASTING—a hole through his side and ribcage, emerging entirely through the other end.

Gojo vomited blood, grin faltering as he remained on the defensive.

He backflipped as his bones mended, palm hitting the ground—and in that instant, Blue detonated beneath Regulus’s feet, launching the Archbishop skyward and following suit like a homing missile before surging closer to Satoru.

Gojo sprang up to meet him midair—Red already igniting in his opposite hand.

He shouted, slamming it forward—

   “Imaginary Technique, Purple—”

But Regulus moved just as fast, hand slicing downward—stillness crashing through the air like divine judgement.

The two forces collided, stillness—SPLIT—the purple in half and flew toward Gojo.

KRAKOOM—!!!

A shockwave annihilated the nearby forest—grass, trees. Everything was devastated.

Gojo hit the ground in a heap, limb missing, shoulder torn asunder.

He groaned, rising slowly.

“…Okay… stalling really hurts..”

Regulus landed like a god returning to earth, fists trembling in fury.

"You aren't even worthy of being my enemy… so why. won’t. you. DIE?!"

BOOM—!

The shock of Regulus hitting the ground sent tremors spiraling outward, splitting the forest floor open like paper. Trees buckled, earth ruptured, and a distant rumble echoed low through the region beyond.

Gojo landed in a low crouch atop a jagged boulder, one eye narrowed, tracking the upheaval below.

Then—CRACK—a seam beneath Regulus’s body split, a massive fissure forming in the already weakened terrain.

A colossal ravine had formed.

A towering ridge of stone, trees, and mist now loomed at the forest’s edge—a newly formed precipice. The weight of their clash had dragged them here without either intending it.

And the surface gave way.

KRRAAAKKK—!!

The entire section of cliff beneath Regulus crumbled inwards. Rock split from rock, massive shelves of stone peeling away and tumbling into the foggy chasm below.

Regulus didn’t fall—he stood midair, feet flat upon nothing, still glaring upward.

Gojo exhaled sharply, blood dribbling from his mouth as he pushed himself back up.

"What the hell-?!" he muttered, stepping forward—but the ledge he was on snapped. With a sharp drop of his stomach, Gojo began to fall—and a silver streak surged from the sky to meet him.

CRACK—!!

Regulus tackled him midair, their bodies clashing in freefall. Gojo twisted, placing his foot on Regulus’s chest to kick off, only for the Archbishop’s hand to seize his ankle.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side long enough!!”

The wind shrieked like a banshee around them, and the world spun as Regulus drove Gojo’s body against the cliff face—stillness surging from every inch of him, turning their descent into something far worse than freefall.

KRSSH—!!

Gojo’s body screeched along the stone, chunks of skin and fabric shredded away, one eye burst by the sheer pressure as his body gouged a trench into the cliffside.

Blood sprayed like a fountain.

They just fell too quick for it to be noticeable.

“GuhHHRK—!”

But pain was old news to Gojo. He twisted an arm free, seized a jagged rock, and smashed it into Regulus’s temple with a CRACK! that echoed across the gorge.

The grip loosened, not from Regulus feeling pain of course, but surprise.

Infinity returned—and Gojo grabbed Regulus by the collar mid-fall and hurled him like a meteor into the opposite wall of the ravine.

THWOOOOM—!

Regulus’s body carved his own path of destruction, stone exploding around him, cliffside shattering like glass under artillery fire.

But he was already retaliating.

FWOOSH—!!

The very terrain became Regulus's weapon. Hundreds of dislodged boulders twisted in the air like arrows, zeroing in on Gojo.

He vaulted upward, planting both feet against the wall, then kicked off with enough force to crater the wall behind him.

CRACK—!!!

Where he had been was instantly obliterated by the swarm of debris, the impact trembling the area and causing a maelstrom of stone and chaos that fell like judgment from the ravine's entrance.

But Gojo was ready.

Hovering, hand raised—
Cursed energy bloomed.

Maximum Output: Blue..

SHHHHKRROOOM—!!

The debris reversed direction in an instant, every boulder sucked backward in a violent pull. They slammed into Regulus midair, an endless storm of chaos battering him from every angle.

But the Archbishop didn’t scream.

He inhaled.

Gojo then raised his arm, pointing his hand forward—

Red.

A sphere of crimson hatred formed in his hand. Smaller than usual. But denser. more vicious.

Red..

Red...

RED—!!

Then it was unleashed.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM—!!

The ravine imploded.

A pillar of annihilation erupted skyward, blasting trees and stone into the heavens. The sides of the cliff shattered, raining debris for miles on end, the shockwave flattening entire tracts of the forest.

Meanwhile—

Subaru knelt beside the body of the defeated cultist. His brows furrowed.

“A Finger…? So they really were just fragments of Petelgeuse?”

Ferris looked pale, Wilhelm remained silent—sheathing his sword with a quiet, cold finality.

"If they're just clones..." Wilhelm muttered, eyes narrowing. "Then- where's the real one? Could he… still be alive?"

Before anyone could answer—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The explosion in the distance rocked the very soil they stood upon. Birds scattered. Trees bent from the blast. A column of smoke and color rose from in the distance.

Subaru’s eyes widened.

“That’s… Gojo-Sensei?!”

Ferris turned to face the blast, his expression shocked.

“That level of power... there’s only one guy I know who could pull off crap like that.”

Subaru remained silent, his brows furrowing more and more.
"Please be alright..."

Silence...

For a moment, the only sound was the deep, seismic groan of the region reacting to what just happened.

Then—
CRASH—!!

A boulder the size of a building came down like divine retribution, smashing into the ravine floor with enough force to send shockwaves rolling up the walls. Dust clouds exploded outward, blotting out the sky, turning everything a muddy, crimson haze.

Somewhere within that chaos—
Gojo’s body shot out sideways, tumbling through the air like a misfired arrow.

Blood trailed behind him, his shirt gone, skin tattered, one arm dangling limp, ribs clearly shattered. But his eye—

His one good eye still gleamed, other mending as fast as possible.

“Haaaahhh... You’re still standing after that? I get your basically immortal but damn it..."

Below him, Regulus stirred.

His face twitched—not in pain, but in absolute, incomprehensible rage. The Red had caught him dead-on, and although he was physically unscathed, the anger was constantly surging.

Chunks of stone burned away from where his body had carved a path through the cliff wall.

But even so—
He hovered. Unbothered by gravity. By logic. By anything other than his own impossible ego.

“You, don't you get it..?! Now that I know of your strange little trick that somehow messes with my authority, there's truly NOTHING you can do to harm me, my perfection- this goes far beyond disrespect, the only thing that warrants such behavior is YOUR DEATH."

BOOM—!!

He vanished, and in the same instant, Gojo’s head snapped back as a devastating punch caught him midair, sending him rocketing into a spire of broken cliffside.

CRACK—!!!

Gojo’s body cracked through the stone, the impact splitting the rock in half and burying him under an avalanche of debris.

Regulus descended slowly, hovering above the ruined floor of the ravine like a ghost made of fury.

“You don’t understand the depth of your crime, Satoru Gojo. You don’t get to scar ME and walk away... You. Are. NOTHING before me, I am PERFECTION, I am BENEVOLENCE!"

KRA-KOOOM—!!

He swiped his arm, and a section of the canyon wall—a literal piece of the planet—froze midair. The space itself stopped obeying physics. Time paused.

Then it all collapsed inward.

A singularity, a compressed mass of destruction, was hurled toward the pile of rubble where Gojo had landed.

Regulus swung the floating debris like a titanic whip—shape akin to a sword, boulders the size of buildings, chained together by frozen space and authority. Every arc, every swing cleaved the ravine wider, shattered cliffs collapsing into a rain of stone death.

"This world bends to my will—!!"

He roared, and with a flick, a twisting chunk of cliff spiraled downward, tearing apart what little stability remained.

Gojo blurred through space—SWOOSH!!—appearing at Regulus's exposed flank, foot snapping forward like a cannon shell. His heel connected to spine—

THUD-!

The impact sent them both hurtling, bodies crashing through stone as if it were paper.

Fist to palm. Cursed energy surged.

"Simple Domain—"

CRACK—!!

It shattered on formation.

Like glass under pressure, the technique fractured instantly—shimmering shards of blue dispersed into the air. In the same instant, deep gashes sliced across Gojo’s chest, arms, and face. Thin lines at first—then deeper, flesh-parting slashes that sprayed blood mid-air.

He leapt back, catching himself on one of the many falling debris.

Gojo breathed sharply through gritted teeth, shirt hanging in shreds, his reverse cursed technique already working overtime, glowing faintly as it stitched muscle and bone.

But even now—he constant hits, the spatial distortions Regulus inflicted, the stress—it was reaching a point where it was becoming harder to heal everything instantly.

“Tch—!! Damn it…!”

"How many times," Regulus began, voice as cold as ice, eyes blazing with indignant fury,
"Must I knock it into that overly persistent, yet so very foolish brain of yours—"

He took a single step forward, and the ground beneath Gojo collapsed—spatial law ceased, no support, just void.

Gojo dropped, twisted in the air, cursed energy buffering the fall—

“NOTHING you do will work!”

Regulus raised his arm.

Chunks of falling ravine debris froze, mid-collapse—
And then, all at once—

SHLUNK–SHLUNK–SHLUNK—!!

They speared downward like stakes of a god’s wrath, pinning through where Gojo dodged just in time. Even still, one rock grazed his leg—ripping away a massive chunk of flesh from thigh to hip.

He hissed, reappearing high in the air with a blink, only to clutch at the wound as blood sprayed freely.

It’s too fast. He’s adapting. He’s not just reacting—he’s learning my timings. My attacks— Even outpacing my regeneration at moments.

Down below, Regulus lifted both arms—space warped again. The world trembled.

“I am UNTOUCHABLE!”

“I am DIVINE!!”

“Therefore—consider this DIVINE RETRIBUTION, Satoru Gojo!!”

He clapped his hands together, and reality cracked—a wave of stopped time cut through the cliff wall, erasing the terrain like a guillotine of frozen causality.

Gojo tried to move away, but—

SLICE—!!

His side was ripped open, a wound so clean it looked surgically made. He grunted, falling, blood trailing like ribbons.

He landed—barely—atop a slanted slab of falling debris, legs shaking beneath the stress, body bloodied but healing fast, threads of flesh pulling together with visible pulses of cursed energy.

Across from him, Regulus dropped in tandem, feet silent as they found perch atop another tumbling boulder. The chaos of the imploding ravine around them became distant noise, swallowed by the presence of two monsters moving faster than nature could process.

STEP—

Two steps.
Only one sound.

Everything stopped.
The rocks.
The wind.

Only Satoru Gojo and Regulus Corneas moved.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus's hook sliced sideways through space—an elegant, casual motion, yet powerful enough to destroy anything. It tore a shimmering line through the air, clipping strands of Gojo’s hair as he ducked, spine curving low, fluid.

Gojo surged forward.

His fists blurred—jab, elbow, uppercut, twist into a hook—all within a fraction of a second. The impacts would have shattered a lesser being, each blow crashing against Regulus’s body with supernatural precision.

WHAM—THUD—BAM—CRACK—!!

Gojo weaved through invisible gaps, spinning around another strike thrown, planting his foot and driving a knee into Regulus’s midsection, followed instantly by an open-palm strike to the chin.

That should’ve shattered his jaw.

That should’ve broken ribs.

But it didn’t.

Every perfect strike landed on something that refused to be touched. Space refused to acknowledge contact. Regulus didn’t dodge—he didn’t have to.

And he smiled.

“Your speed is impressive, Gojo Satoru—truly, you shine among insects.”

He raised a hand.

SWIPE—!!

A single flick of his fingers sent a cleave of spatial stillness forward—a blade with no edge, yet its sharpness was impossible. Gojo barely phased out, his shoulder grazed—and gouged, flesh vanishing like it was downright erased.

He reappeared behind Regulus, foot sweeping low—too late. 

Gojo’s foot twisted.

In an instant, he was no longer there—vaulting sideways in a spiraling sidestep that defied gravity itself. His Infinity flickered, blurring with cursed energy as a gust of still air—a soundless hurricane—erased the boulder he had just stood upon.

But not fast enough to completely evade.

CHUNK—!!

A searing shock up his side—left torso sheared open, left arm gone once more. Blood trailed in an arc across the air like a falling ribbon.

And then—

WHUM-!!

A monstrous fist tore through the space overhead. Regulus’s hand, still lazily posed, carried enough force to detonate anything.

Gojo bent backward, the blow kissing the air where his skull had just been. He spun with the momentum, body warping in mid-air like a slingshot and sliding up the side of another jagged slab of debris that had yet to fall.

He landed on a higher ledge—barely upright.

Gojo could feel everything in his current state of focus.

The heat rising from the still terrain.
The scent of crushed stone and his own blood.
The breath of the world as it held itself in anticipation.
And Regulus—

Regulus didn’t breathe.

Not because he was calm. Not because he was hiding.
Because he was still.
Because nothing about him was alive in the way Gojo understood life.

His eyes narrowed, every cell in his brain on fire with analysis.
The tremble of still air. The pulse of spatial collapse.

Then—

TWIST—!! CRASH—!!!

Too late.

Stillness lashed forward, invisible and instant.
His right arm exploded, vaporized at the elbow.

He gritted his teeth.

Left arm? Still only halfway grown.
Torso? Bleeding internally.

With a desperate lean, Gojo threw himself backward, skidding against a new falling rock—this one floating mid-air, the terrain itself warped by the aftermath of cursed collisions. The dust in the air glowed faintly red, resonating with lingering traces of Maximum Output.

His arm and leg reformed.

Flesh knitted. Tendons reattached. Bone snapped and aligned.

THUD—!!

Gojo stomped, launching himself forward like a bullet fired from a cursed railgun.
His head tilted mid-flight—STILLNESS—hissed by, slicing across the edge of his face like an invisible razor.

SWOOSH—!!

He was already moving.
Already inside Regulus’s guard.
A blur of white hair and bloodied silk slicing across the debris-strewn battlefield.

His technique is brute force.
His footwork’s slow, telegraphed... Sloppy.
He’s never had to fight anyone who could actually dodge him.

Bu Gojo was not anyone.

Even if he’s pretty much unstoppable… and very fast.. he's easier to read when up close.

He slid around a punch—barely—the stilled wind tearing a shallow gash along his shoulder and back.

And then—he turned.

A pivot. A twist. A perfect read.

One arm reached out, thrusting toward Regulus’s neck, the other snaked beneath his shoulder—a fluid motion, almost casual.

A cursed lariat.

Black electricity began to coil, shimmering—crackling—

   “BLACK FLASH—!!”

CRACK-BOOOM—!!!!

The explosion of force rippled through the ravine like a cursequake. A shockwave of pure cursed precision detonated across Regulus’s midsection as Gojo’s cursed energy collapsed space and time into a single point of impact.

Regulus’s body was hurled—not by pain, not by force—but by the sheer physics-defying pressure.
He was launched, spinning violently, carving a tunnel through stone with his body like a human comet.

Dozens of meters. Wall after wall. Until finally—

THUD—!!

Regulus embedded into a cliffside.

The ravine trembled from the residual energy, rocks shifting like frightened animals beneath a storm.

Gojo stood amidst the chaos, chest heaving, blood still dripping from wounds yet healed.

From within the hole—Regulus's voice slithered out.

“That one was a little different, wasnt it..? Yet still, it matters not to someone like me, clearly.”

SWOOSH—

Time resumed.

The falling rocks, once frozen in the grip of their clash, resumed their descent—crashing against the sides of the ravine far below, like distant drums heralding calamity.

Gojo stood tall atop a jagged, shard of stone etched into the ravine's side.
Blood stained his garments. His breath, sharp but controlled.

Regulus lingered halfway embedded in the opposite cliff wall, arms relaxed at his side, golden eyes glowing beneath dust and divine arrogance.

Between them- distance. Silence. Stillness.

Gold met Blue.

A standoff. Not out of fear. Not out of fatigue.

Just how much longer can I keep this up…?

The thought barely brushed Gojo’s mind. He didn’t let it linger.
But it was there, heavy and honest.

He could stall. He could dodge. He could counter.

But none of it mattered.

One misstep.

A cut through his stomach. Or his head completely.

And he’d be dead.

Gojo inhaled anyway—deep and slow, as though centering himself inside the chaos.

Then, with a flash of his usual smug grin—

"Well then..."
"Let’s keep this show moving, shall we?"

The air warped. The battlefield shifted.

Their gazes didn’t break.

And then—

STEP.

They moved once more.

Chapter Text

Cultists ravaged the evacuated village.

But thanks to intel—and the fact that Subaru could see the Unseen Hands—none of the “Fingers” presented a real threat.

Not with Wilhelm slicing through flesh and false divinity like a storm.
Not with Ferris weaving between the injured, healing as fast as the blades tore.

And not with Subaru, weaving through chaos, cursed energy shrouding his arm.

His fist cracked against a cultist's ribs, the force launching them like a ragdoll.
“Whoo... definitely not Betelgeuse,” Subaru muttered, lowering his stance.

BOOM—!
A deep explosion ripped through the far end of the village.

Purple, disfigured hands erupted into the sky—dozens of them.

“That way!” Subaru barked, sprinting ahead, Wilhelm close behind.

Sliding into the open—

“My brain... TREMBLES! TREMBLES, TREMBLEEES! ..You—”
The cultist twitched unnaturally, that crooked posture unmistakable.

Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti. Again.
Even in another body, the madness was identical. The broken laughter. The frantic gestures.

“You thought crushing my head would end me?! FOOLISHNESS! Sloth! Yes...! that was SLOTHFUL, so very... very... VERYVERYVERY SLOTHFUL!”

He bit his own finger, blood spilling.

“Hmph. That’s enough noise from you, Archbishop!”
Wilhelm dashed forward, sword flashing like steel wind.

SWOOSH—!!

Dozens of Unseen Hands surged forth.

“Wilhelm!” Subaru shouted.

SWISH—!

But Wilhelm was faster.
His blade hummed through the air, slicing one. Then two. Then three.

Vertical. Diagonal. Horizontal. Each swing destroyed another hand.

“No... nononononono—HOW?!”
Petelgeuse reeled in shock, screaming as a massive purple hand formed from his body and swung downward.

Wilhelm lunged—shifting midair—body slipping through the small cracks between the fingers that fell.

Another strike came from Wilhelm's flank.

CRUSH—!!

A shattering punch from Subaru broke the next arm like glass.

Wilhelm landed, his stance perfect, his blade humming.

SLASH—!!
The cut was deep. Clean. Deadly.
Blood sprayed, and Petelgeuse collapsed forward, choking on his own devotion.

Subaru ran to Wilhelm, panting. “How did you see them?”

“I watched the dust,” Wilhelm said, wiping his sword clean. “It revealed their path to me.”

“Badass…” Subaru muttered, shaking his head.
“But what about his resurrection thing? Every time we kill him, another cultist becomes him. Does he need a fresh body every time?”

Wilhelm wasn’t listening. His gaze turned—
“Subaru. MOVE!”

CRASH—!!

A swarm of purple hands smashed the earth beside them as the pair jumped to evade.

And from the smoke—another Betelgeuse. Another “Finger.”

“You... YOUYOUYOU—!”
The new vessel stumbled forward.

“Where is GREED?! He was always punctual! So diligent in his love—and yet he keeps me—WAITING?!”

Subaru tensed, standing beside Wilhelm once again.
“So what... we clear out every Finger and eventually you stay dead?”

MEANWHILE...

Gojo's bloodied, shirtless form was flung skyward like a cursed comet—
BOOM—!
He slammed into the ravine wall, bones groaning under the impact.

Mid-spiral, his heel caught a ledge—a shriek of dust as he landed.
He flicked a hand—

Blue.

The cursed technique howled into being, its gravitational pull yanking his body sideways just as a blade of stillness tore up the ledge he'd just occupied, slicing the air into silence.

Gojo twisted midair, feet surfing falling debris.
His eyes locked downward.

Regulus.

Standing untouched, unmoved. The still center of a collapsing world.

The ravine groaned like a dying beast.
Shattered stone floated, suspended like dead stars. Smoke curled from splintered walls. Falling rock painted the outline of gods at war.

Gojo was heaving, breath ragged, blood spilling freely from wounds his cursed energy could barely keep up with.

Regulus?
Pristine. Untouched, excluding the subtle bruise on his cheek.

But his calm had cracked—just slightly. A twitch at the corner of his eye.

"Still dodging. Still dancing... how pathetic."
His voice thundered across the broken chasm.

Gojo didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His right arm was ruined—cursed energy working overtime to re-stitch nerve, tendon, and shattered bone. Every second a miracle. Every second a warning.

He watched. Waited.

Then—

BOOM—!!

Regulus vanished.

Impact.

A swing, and stillness erupted mid-motion—cutting clean through the cliff behind Gojo like a divine execution.

Gojo twisted—

Too late.

His left arm was gone. Ripped clean off.

Then came the shockwave—
Ribs shattered, lungs filled with blood.

He tumbled across jagged debris, coughing crimson into the dirt.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus was on him again.

Gojo ducked low, stillness shaving the air just above his head—an absence so sharp it burned.

He countered.

A jab. A feint. Then a blistering roundhouse, fast enough to collapse the stone beneath them.

The kick landed.

Black Flash—!

Space cracked. Light imploded.

And Regulus didn’t even blink.

“You’re wasting your effort,” Regulus said coldly.
"Touch me, and you prove only your own ignorance. You cannot comprehend what I am."

Gojo’s bruised face twisted into a grin—blood sliding from the corner of his lips.
"Already got you, though. See that bruise?"

He tapped his own cheek mockingly.

Regulus snarled. The air warped.

They vanished—two streaks of light.

Fists blurred. Everything blurred.

Gojo moved like a shadow threading a needle. One mistake—death.

A jab missed.
A knee to Regulus’s ribs—no response.
Gojo spun behind him—flicked his fingers outward—

Blue.

Space distorted, pulling at Regulus’s form—useless.

Instead..

BOOM—!!

Gojo was flung through a slab of stone, the impact cracking his ribs again. Blood blinded one eye.

He staggered to his feet.

THOOM—!

A crater bloomed beside him where Regulus struck—rocks became smoke.
Stillness chased Gojo like a reaper—every inch of air a trap, every step erasure.

He slid under another swing.
Air vaporized the terrain above his head.
He pivoted—

Black Flash—!!

Another hit. Another sonic rupture. Still nothing.

SWOOSH—!!

Regulus swiped his arm vertically, fingers moving methodically.

Gojo’s shoulder imploded.
His arm severed, hurled into the void.

Stillness tore the rocks behind him into shreds.

But Gojo didn’t scream—he moved.

He vaulted from falling debris, newly reformed hand flicking midair—

Blue yanked him clear just before the next blow.

Stillness carved through the space he’d just left.
No beam. No blast. Just absence.

He landed hard. Vision doubled. The air too thin, too sharp.

And then—

CRACK—!!

Stillness clipped the edge of his skull—his ear gone. Hearing torn in half.

He reeled, twisting low.
Fist cocked to the side—

Black Flash—!!

BOOM—!!

An axe kick slammed down—

Perfect form.
Perfect hit.
But Regulus didn’t move.

The ground shattered beneath him.

He just stood there. Calm. A statue in a collapsing world.

“Your efforts,” Regulus said, “are wasted.”

He reached—

Gojo blinked away, warping across the ravine.

But Regulus was already there.

Gojo caught his wrist—

Or tried.

It was like grabbing a void.

Stillness erupted with a breath, literally—

BOOM—!!

Gojo was launched. A meteor. His body plowed through stone, grinding through strata until he burst free into the open sky, a shockwave of debris and dust trailing behind him.

Before he could even breathe—

Regulus appeared.

No sound. No warning.

Hands closed around Gojo’s throat.

“Ever wondered what it’s like to fly without slowing down?”

Gojo coughed out.
“Not really—!!”

FWOOOOOOM—!!

The sky swallowed him. Clouds tore open. The air turned to knives.

Rain that once couldn’t touch him—now punched holes through his flesh.

And then—

CRACK—!!
BOOOOOOM—!!

A distant mountain exploded as Gojo collided with it, the impact caving the peak inward.

Avalanches answered.

Silence.

Only snow fell. Until—

“Ughh…”

A hand emerged from the crater’s edge.

Gojo pulled himself free.
Barely alive. Skin steaming, cursed energy holding his pieces together like a dying machine.

He looked down.

White. Mist. Ice. Silence.

"...This isn't Lugunica."

He blinked.

“…Where the hell—”

SWOOSH—!!

A tremor in the mist. Instinct screamed.

Gojo turned—

BOOM—!!

A flat palm missed his skull by a hair, cleaving the cliff behind him into a diagonal scar.

Gojo kicked back, palms clapping—

CLACK.

A transparent shell snapped into place. He launched behind Regulus, body drifting through the air, leg swung outward.

Knee to the ribs—

Black Flash.

Regulus didn’t budge.

Swiftly, Gojo's hand reached out, fingers intertwining as he grabbed Regulus by the back of his head.

SLAM—!!

He hurled Regulus through the air—

The mountaintop exploded downward as Regulus’s body scythed through it.

But again—

Absolute Stillness.

His body paused mid-air, perfectly stagnant.

One flick of his arm—and Gojo was exposed midair.

No footing. No cover. Nowhere to run.

Instead, Gojo’s fingers locked—

SWOOSH—!!

He warped.

The stillness cleaved through empty space.

Regulus blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He was sure, that that would've been it, yet once more Satoru Gojo perseveres.

“What…?”

And then—

A hand on the back of his head.

CRACK—!!

Gojo drove Regulus face-first into the mountain's side. Stone shattered, screaming as a crater swelled.

Regulus rose—but Gojo was already moving. A blur. A flash.

WHAM—!!
CRACK—!!

Each hit thundered like judgment.

Regulus didn’t fall.

Didn’t stagger.

But now—he blinked.

And Gojo was gone.

Until the world warped before the Archbishop's very eyes—

And they were back in the forest.

Back in Lugunica.

The air crackled.

Regulus moved, despite the initial confusion—

SLICE—!!

Gojo’s side tore open. Blood geysered.

But he still lunged—hooked forward, arm flicking out—only to freeze.

Stillness halted the punch mid-motion.

Regulus stood unmoved.

“What are you doing here? You think your little friends can take down Sloth while I unravel you inch by inch? I don’t care about that fractured soul one bit. You—”
He stepped forward.
“—you’re all I see, your constant disrespect and ignorance to MY rights as a human being are what has caused your downfall, Satoru Gojo.”

Stillness warped the air.

Clipped across Gojo’s cheek, cleaving through multiple inches of flesh, revealing the inside of his mouth from the side, the back row of his teeth visible on one side.

Which made for an almost horrifying sight as he grinned.

Bloody. Defiant. Ecstatic.

“How romantical~ but nah… I just LOVE punching you!”

CRACK—!!

Greenery dissolved. Cold replaced heat.

They were back in Gusteko.

A frozen hell. High winds, pale snow.

Regulus didn't comment, he merely moved, fist raised overhead before thrown downward, cleaving empty air until—

SPLIT—!!

A punch. A shockwave.

The mountain SPLIT a fraction of a second later.

Gojo veered just in time—but was seized by the face mid-motion, hurled downward again.

CRASH—!!

Stone. Ice. Wood.

He tumbled through the earth—through trees— and then through a BUILDING.

BOOM—!!

He smashed through a tavern wall and hit the far end hard.

The room went dead quiet.

Eyes. Faces. Ale. Food.

Gojo blinked up.

“…Tavern?”

He grinned through the blood.

“Please tell me they’ve got takeout…”

Regulus hadn’t followed.

Not yet.

Gojo peeled himself off the splintered wooden floor with a groan, boots dragging through shattered beams and spilled ale as he forced himself upright. One hand clutched his side, cursed energy weaving through torn muscle and cracked ribs, but it was sluggish—slower than it should’ve been. Too much damage. Too fast. Too long.

Every breath tasted like blood and snow.

He stepped outside—

—and was greeted by white.

Not just snow.

A city, frozen in frost. Icy towers wrapped in mist, frostbitten rooftops curling under the weight of winter’s constant siege. Silence lay heavy. The streets were dusted in pale powder, and above the skyline—

Nothing. No presence. No killing intent.

But the absence was louder than a scream.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed.

Is this Gusteko…?

He thought.

That bastard really threw me into a different country.

He glanced down at his battered frame—shirtless, bruised, blood trailing down every inch of his body—and exhaled slowly, ignoring the stunned stares of bystanders clustered at windows or behind broken doors.

“Heh,” he muttered, voice gravel. “Regulus has one hell of a throwing arm. I can finally say I got launched across nations. Bucket list shit!”

His arms twitched, freshly reconstructed bones snapping into place with a soft, wet crackle.

Then—clap.

The space around him warped, and he vanished.

“GGRHHKK!!”

Subaru choked, collapsing to his knees, fingers clawing deep trenches into the frozen ground as his lungs seized and his skull pulsed with unnatural pressure.

Something was inside.

Betelgeuse. Writhing, manic, desperate.

Twisting through his synapses like a virus with too many limbs.

But—

Subaru gritted his teeth.

It was just a phrase, just words.

But with the Witch’s miasma suffusing his very being, those words had become a weapon—one Subaru could wield in the darkest of moments.

Each time he uttered them, he felt an unnatural coldness ripple through him. Not on his skin, but deeper—gnawing at his heart, scraping the edge of his soul.

In another world… in another loop… that same cold had taken Emilia’s life.

And yet—

“I… I can return by de—GRRHK!!”

His body locked up, pain screaming through his nerves as if the phrase had triggered something primordial. Something watching.

A few moments passed.

The weight in his skull lightened. The crawling in his spine eased.

Silence.

And thankfully, once more… he was alone in his head, no insane Sin Archbishop making crazy comments from within his mind.

He exhaled sharply and slowly pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady but solid enough.

“Whoo…”

Wilhelm approached, sword still in hand, though the blade was chipped and flecked with blood. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you alright, Subaru?”

Subaru gave a half-shrug, brushing dirt off his jacket.

“Yeah… Betelgeuse tried pulling some possession trick again. I don’t know what happened exactly, but… he’s gone. For good this time.”

He looked out over the remains of the battlefield.

The village was barely that anymore—more a graveyard of splinters and scorched earth. Wooden homes lay flattened, reduced to heaps of broken timber and ash.

But among the wreckage stood survivors. And when Subaru spoke again—

“Still… we did it. We beat a Sin Archbishop.”

—it was like a fuse was lit.

The realization hit the soldiers all at once. Those who were still conscious, those not already being patched up by Felix’s healing magic, began raising their weapons in triumph. Ragged cheers rose into the smoky sky, shaky but genuine.

A rare sound after a war won.

SWOOSH—!

A sudden gust sliced through the noise.

Subaru's head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened.

“Gojo-sen—sei...?”

There he stood—barely.

Gojo’s frame was painted in dried and wet blood, from forehead to waist. Cuts lined his body like a cracked porcelain statue, bruises and lacerations still leaking crimson. His stance wavered.

But his voice remained.

“We won’t be seeing Regulus for a while…”

That was all he managed before his legs gave out and he slumped into a sitting position, breath heavy, shoulders trembling.

“If that fight lasted any longer… I would’ve died.”

There was no sarcasm. No smirk.

Just honesty. A rare kind from Satoru Gojo.

Subaru let out a long breath, heart still hammering. Relief hit him in waves. Just the sight of Gojo alive was a miracle.

Felix bolted over, dropping to his knees beside the sorcerer with feline urgency.

“Nyaaa—! You look like you got dragged through a mountain, Gojo! Sit still, I’m healing you right now.”

Gojo didn’t resist.

"Well.. I actually did but-"

He paused, simply glancing at the blood dripping off his fingers, voice distant.

“I think I lost at least like twenty five limbs in that fight. Pretty sure he literally launched me to a different nation aswell.”

Subaru blinked. “You’re serious?”

“I joke a lot,” Gojo said flatly, “But not about that. Another five minutes and I wouldn’t have made it. That guy was... something else.”

He leaned back, letting his head rest against a half-buried cart. He looked exhausted—not physically, but deep in his soul.

Subaru knelt beside him, watching the soldiers still celebrating in the background.

“…But it’s over now, right?”

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. Just stared up at the smoky sky.

Then—

“…Yeah.”

Subaru smiled, eyes soft.

“Yeah… it’s…”

“…Snowing..? Why is it snowing…?” Gojo’s voice was low, brows furrowed in confusion.

It didn't make sense, there was no reason for it to be snowing right now.

No reason...

No.. reason..?

Subaru’s mind flashed back to the last time it snowed—the reason why it had been.

A colossal behemoth towering over his half-frozen body.

The Beast of the End.

In accordance with our contract… I will now destroy the world.

A world without Lia is not a world I wish to live in.

A cold sweat broke out on Subaru’s forehead. Panic tightened his chest.

“No… no, nono…”

Gojo caught the change instantly; his tone sharpened, darkening.

“What…?”

“This… this means that… Emilia’s…”

Gojo cut in, springing to his feet as soon as he had been healed a sufficient amount.

“Well, all we gotta do is find her, right?”

His head snapped toward Ferris.

“Where were they headed? You know?”

“I believe they were moving toward the capital… so my best guess would be nyear Flugel’s Tree.”

Gojo smirked, extending a hand toward Subaru.

“Good.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

“Well…? Let’s get going, dude.”

“R-right…”

Subaru took Gojo’s hand—but the cold nagging at his thoughts wouldn’t let go.

Doesn’t the snow already mean… Emilia is—

Suddenly, reality pulsed.

Two figures vanished from thin air.

The next moment—

The towering Flugel’s Tree came into view, or atleast the base of it, mist covered any higher than that.

Except everything was frozen. A gale of snow whipped down like winter had come early, relentless and merciless.

Bodies lay half-buried beneath the snow.

Cultists. Children.

Petra’s eyes stared glassy and frozen.

Then, through the swirling mist, two golden eyes gleamed—fixed on them, unblinking.

“…Subaru… Gojo…”

A colossal paw tore through the fog.

The towering behemoth emerged—

The Beast of the End.

“P-Puck…?” Subaru’s breath caught in the biting cold.

“Ah… you can recognize me?” The voice was cold, unyielding. “No matter. In accordance with my contract… I will end this world.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“What…?”

“A world without Emilia… is not one worth living. Do not take it personally. I harbor no ill will toward those Emilia cherishes…”

“Uh, destroying the world sounds pretty damn personal to me!” Gojo yelled, stepping forward.

Subaru opened his mouth, but Puck cut him off, voice darker than before.

“Emilia died protecting the children… but even that was not enough. Even with me… they were too numerous.”

Gojo let out a breath and ruffled his hair.

“Bouncing from one final boss to the next, huh? But… Subaru, this is kinda bad. I pretty much completely burnt out my cursed techniques fighting Regulus…”

He chuckled bitterly, raising a hand.

Ice began to form slowly over his skin.

“You should probably get outta here,” Gojo said, eyes narrowing. “Not sure how this guy stacks up against Regulus, but he’s giving off some seriously dangerous vibes.”

His focus snapped back to Puck.

CRACK—CRUNCH—CRACK!

With every heavy step the behemoth took, jagged ice spiraled up around its legs, threatening to trap Gojo in a frozen prison. Flesh peeled away where the cold bit deepest, raw and burning, but Gojo refused to stop.

Subaru couldn’t say the same. The ice spread rapidly over him, cruel fingers creeping up his limbs, locking him in place. His breath hitched as frost crept over his skin, numbing every nerve. Helpless, he watched Gojo advance alone.

Gojo’s fist drew back, energy screaming through his veins—

IMPACT-!

One of Puck’s massive fangs shattered and tore free, the beast’s head snapping violently aside.

Then came the crystals—towering shards piercing the air, some as large as houses, others smaller but no less deadly.

Gojo landed hard against the ice with a grimace, fingers barely able to curl into fists.

“You gotta be kidding me...” he muttered, exhaling a slow, tense breath.

Nervousness settled over him like a shadow, but he steadied his stance, legs wide and ready. His face was a mask of icy concentration, pain and determination etched deep into every line.

Fallen Blossoming Emotion.

A technique designed to counter domain expansions by enveloping the user in a protective shroud of cursed energy, striking back the moment contact is made.

Gojo wasn’t sure if it would work on pure magic, but he had to try.

With a deep breath, he surged forward. Ice glittered like glass shards, slicing the frozen ground and crashing against his barrier with relentless force.

SWOOSH—

He weaved through the jagged shards, countless pieces slicing shallow wounds into his barrier, but none breaking through fully.

THUD—CRASH!

He leapt onto a towering, jagged mound of ice, the bone-chilling cold biting through his bare foot. Without hesitation, he sprinted along the crest of the icy spire, closing in on the colossal Beast of the End with a fist pulled back to his hip.

“Satoru Gojo... you truly are impressive,” Puck’s voice rumbled through the frozen air.

Then the clash.

Collision was made between fighters.

The Honored One and the Beast of The End at the eye of the storm.

Then..

CRACK-!

The world went black, death finally swallowing everything before the cold could freeze over completely.

Chapter Text

Subaru Natsuki was confused—more than that, frustrated. What had he done wrong in the last loop that led to everyone in the carriage being slaughtered?
Did he miscalculate the number of cultists? Had he assumed too easily they’d all target the village and nowhere else?

Or was there someone else at play—some piece he hadn’t accounted for?

SNAP.

A finger clicked in front of his face. A hand waved. Subaru blinked as it came into focus, then pushed it aside.

“You good?” Gojo asked, cocking his head. “You just zoned out hard.”

“Ah.” Subaru blinked, glancing around. Soldiers stood at ease. Wilhelm. Ferris. Rem. Crusch. And Gojo—alive and grinning like usual.
They were back at Flugel’s Tree. The White Whale had just been slain.

Subaru grinned, brushing off the daze. “Ahem! My bad. Right—where was I?”

He straightened his posture, his voice gaining confidence.
“So, aside from Crusch and half her army heading back to deliver the Whale’s corpse, the rest of us are heading to the Mathers Domain. The Witch’s Cult is making a move on the village.”

Gasps and murmurs spread among the troops. Fury simmered in many expressions—but after their victory, no one looked afraid.

“Two Sin Archbishops,” Subaru continued. “Sloth and Greed. And a horde of cultists.”

He turned to Gojo, voice firm.

“I need you to stall Greed—not just until we beat Sloth, but until Emilia and the kids are safely on the road to the capital.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Stall? Me? You forget who you’re talkin’ to?”

Subaru shook his head, expression serious.
“I’m not underestimating you—if anything, I think Regulus is your perfect counter. I don’t know how it works, but his attacks… they seem completely unstoppable."

Gojo whistled low. “Well, if you're saying so then I'll be cautious..”

He clapped his hands together with a pop, grinning.

“But hey, I wouldn’t be much of a sensei if I didn’t take heed to the words of my one and only pupil!”

Subaru let out a relieved breath.

“Good. He might already be there, holding the villagers hostage. We can’t afford to wait.”

Gojo’s face darkened. “Yeah... that’s pretty bad. Alright, see you later.”

“Oh..!” Subaru leant forward in realization. “After you've stalled, for a bit less than an hour or so when we arrive, escape and wait back here for the carriage with Emilia and the kids to show up.”

And without another word, he vanished—space bending around him as he blinked out of sight.

Subaru turned to the rest. His expression was steel.

“Wilhelm. Rem. You’re with me. We’re taking down Sloth.”

He continued, tone sharpened by experience.
“Sloth has a trick—he can transfer to different bodies after death, and he has invisible hands, I'm not sure what his limit exactly is but.. they’ll crush you if they catch you.”

“So the solution?” Subaru smirked. “Kick up dust. Lots of it. Helps you see them.”

I can thank Wilhelm himself for that idea...

Rem’s eyes gleamed with renewed determination. “Rem will stand with her hero until every last cultist lies in ruin...”

Wilhelm simply nodded.
“After your role in slaying the White Whale and vital role in avenging my beloved Theresia... I’d walk with you through death and beyond tenfold, Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru couldn’t help but grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s move out!”

Later…

FWOOM—!
BOOM—!
CRACK—!!

The echoes of destruction carried for miles—massive cursed energy reverberating through the forest. Thunderclaps of a battle far off in the distance, but their effects still absolute.

“Seems like Gojo’s keeping the yellow-eyed bastard busy,” Subaru muttered, eyes scanning the horizon.

Ferris looked uneasy. “Nya… Gojo’s really a powerhouse, huh?”

“That’s my teacher!” Subaru said with a grin. “Anyway... let’s move.”

He hopped off Patrasche as they neared the village, boots crunching into the dirt.

Upon entering, he shouted back to the soldiers that closely followed.
“Free all the villagers! Get them ready to evacuate!”

The huddled prisoners flinched at the sound—then, as they saw who it was, faces changed. Fear melted into relief.

It was all playing out like the last time. So far, which is good.

But Subaru knew better than to grow confident. Last time, he let his guard down—and they paid for it.

Not again.

Even if Gojo was worn out stalling Regulus, he was still Emilia’s best chance compared to himself or even Wilhelm. Subaru just had to make sure the rest played out right.

He clenched his fists.

Subaru watched as the soldiers moved quickly, freeing the villagers from their restraints. Relief and confusion were already blooming on their faces, so he stepped forward before the questions could erupt.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on, right? Guy with white hair, yellow eyes—called himself a Sin Archbishop of the Witch’s Cult?”

He snapped his fingers sharply.
“Yeah. That was real. And it’s about to get worse. Another one’s coming, with dozens of cultists. So we need all of you to evacuate—now. We’ve brought carriages.”

They delayed us a little… but this is still on track with last loop.
Subaru’s brows furrowed as he thought, watching the villagers shuffle toward the transport.

But… they reacted so fast last time too. Like they knew we were coming. I don’t have Gojo-sensei’s senses, or Wilhelm’s reflexes. If a cultist was nearby, I wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

So… a spy..? Or one of them already under Betelgeuse’s control?
He’s done it before. Possessing bodies... maybe it’s tied to the Witch’s scent. That’s how he got inside me, too.

“...Subaru?”

A voice—warm, familiar, achingly close. In any other moment, he might’ve been thrilled.

“…Emilia.”

His gaze dropped for a moment. Even now, after everything, he still felt that pang of shame just looking at her.

But then he exhaled. Steadied himself. Raised his eyes.

“Emilia. I imagine Rem’s letter gave you the basics, but I need to tell you directly—The Witch’s Cult is coming. They’re after you.”

He tilted his head slightly, voice low. “If you listen close, you’ll hear it way off in the distance—Gojo-sensei is already fighting one of the Archbishops to buy us time way away.”

Emilia’s eyes widened. She clasped her hand over her mouth, horrified. “Will—Will he be alright?”

Subaru nodded, though it took a second. “Yeah. He’s a beast. But that’s not the point.”

He took a step closer, voice hardening.

“The Cult is coming for you, Emilia. I don’t know why. But I need you to evacuate with the others.”

She flinched as if slapped. “I—I should fight! I’m not weak, Subaru! I won’t just run when they’re coming because of me!”

Subaru grabbed her shoulders, voice dropping low but sharp with urgency.

“I know you’re strong. And if it were anything else, I’d want you fighting beside me. But this plan—it depends on you fleeing.”

She hesitated, lips parted—but he kept going.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me for how I treated you before. I was a selfish, short-sighted mess. We can talk after this. Properly. But right now—this whole ambush, it’s for you. They’ve laid everything just to trap you. so please..?”

Emilia looked down at the ground, then back up—her eyes steady, but firm.

“Fine. But when this is all done and dusted… you’re not getting out of that talk!”

Subaru smiled, a small laugh escaping him. “Nobody says ‘when this is done and dusted’ anymore, but… alright!”

He stood back and watched as the carriages rolled away—Emilia and the villagers disappearing toward safety.

He took a deep breath.

“Alright… and right on cue—”

His eyes darted skyward.
A massive purple hand coalesced from thin air—descending like an unholy hammer.

“One hand—overhead!!” Subaru yelled, instantly reinforcing his limbs with cursed energy—readying to dodge, to fight, to do something—

SWOOSH—

Wilhelm was faster. Already in the air, sword drawn, slicing upward. The blade cleaved through the phantom wrist with enough force to disperse the entire thing back into nothing. He landed in a crouch, spinning once and kicking up a cloud of dirt as he performed a controlled skid back on the ground.

“Nice one, old man!” Subaru shouted.

From the treeline, masked cultists emerged in a swarm—daggers flashing under the forest light.

“Alright everyone—it’s time!!” Subaru bellowed.

With a roar, the soldiers charged. Steel clashed with steel, screams rang out, and blood quickly soaked the grassy earth. Sparks flew. Every life lost was met with another taken.

But we’ve got something they don’t. A beast of a healer, Ferris should save any that aren't too far gone already.

Rem, horn glowing with rage, moved like a hurricane of pure devastation—her mace a blur of destruction. Limbs and bodies flew with every swing, each cultist that approached her torn apart in brutal arcs, resulting in blood spurting like rain.

Beside her, Wilhelm was pure, honed lethality. Every strike surgically dismantled his foe—limbs removed, bodies sliced. He alone seemed able to sense the invisible hands, narrowly dodging their sweeps and various charges thanks to the dirt hanging in the air.

Each one we kill… it brings us closer to the real fight.. I don't have to be alone, Gojo-Sensei made me realized that. With Rem, and Wilhelm this time around.. Betelgeuse'll be a cinch to beat..

Subaru’s gaze hardened.

“BLACK FLASH—!!”
CRACK–BOOOM—!!!

The explosion tore through the ravine like an earthquake. A shockwave of condensed, flawless cursed energy detonated at Regulus’s midsection, space and time folding into a black and red singularity of unrivalled impact.

Regulus didn’t fly from pain, of course.
He didn’t even flinch from the force, it was impossible for anyone to hurt him with his authority after all.

Instead, he was launched—by the sheer physics-defying violence of the blow catching Regulus off guard.
His body twisted, spiraling like a human missile, carving a cratered tunnel through the rock with each brutal collision.

Meters. Dozens of them.
Wall after wall. Shattering stone. Until finally—

THUD—!!

He slammed into a cliffside with such force it left a crater, dust and rock erupting outward like a second impact.

The entire ravine shook. Stone groaned. Loose debris shifted, as if the world itself had paused in awe of the strike.

Gojo stood amidst it all.
Chest heaving. Blood streaking down his robes. Eyes narrowed through the steam of effort and exertion.

Then—from the pit Regulus had left in the stone—
A voice. Calm. Mocking. Unbothered.

“That one was a little different, wasn’t it..? And yet... still meaningless to someone like me, clearly.”

SWOOSH—

Time resumed.

Falling rocks, suspended midair in the curse-forged stillness, continued their descent.
They crashed against the ravine walls below like distant war drums, echoing through the gorge like a whisper to the chaos.

Gojo stood atop a jagged slab of stone, a frozen monument amidst the chaos.
His breath was sharp, deliberate. Every wound bled slow, stubborn. His mind raced behind unreadable eyes.

Across from him, embedded in the cliff wall, Regulus emerged. Arms relaxed. Robes torn but untouched.
Golden eyes glowing through the dust—arrogant, unscathed.

Between them, distance.
Tension.
The fragile breath before the next hurricane.

Gold met Blue.

A standoff. Not of fear. Not fatigue.
Only calculation.
And inevitability.

How much longer can I keep this up…? 

Gojo barely let the thought take form. He couldn’t afford doubt.
But it was there. Buried in the back of his skull like a splinter made of truth.

He could stall. He could weave. He could counter.
But none of it would matter if he slipped—once.
A wrong breath. A twitch out of sync. A second too slow.

A cut through his chest.
A hole through his head.

And it’d be over.

Still, he inhaled—slow and steady. Grounding himself in the warzone. In his reality.

Then he cracked a grin. Lopsided. Confident. Unbreakable.

“Well then…”
“Let’s keep this show moving, shall we?”

The air shimmered. The battlefield bent.

Neither blinked. Neither moved—

Until—

STEP.

Both vanished.

Subaru was mid-charge, weaving through the chaos—less like a strategist, more like a storm.
His role wasn’t leading. Not Just yet. He was support. Assisting the struggling soldiers as Wilhelm and Rem carved clean paths through the battlefield effortlessly.

SWISH— SWOOSH— SWISH—!

Cursed energy surged through his limbs, wrapping his frame in raw potential. Every movement—amplified. Every strike—devastating.
He danced from one distracted cultist to the next, cracking bones with precision and force.
One. Two. Three.
Each hit landed with a sickening crunch, bodies dropping before they even registered the pain.

“Whoo...”
He exhaled, boots skidding across the dust-streaked ground, eyes snapping to the side.

Felix.

Cornered. On the defensive.
Parrying twin cultists with graceful but labored steps. His breathing shallow, footing sloppy. He wouldn’t hold long.

“No you don’t—!!”

Subaru exploded forward.
Cursed energy ignited like a violet blaze around his body, trailing afterimages as he closed the gap in an instant.

CRACK—!

His forearm surged up mid-slide, cursed energy condensing around the bone like a living shield.
The cultist’s dagger bounced off, barely scratching the surface. Subaru didn’t flinch. Not anymore.

His leg whipped in a wide arc, shin smashing into the first cultist’s ribs with enough force to launch them sideways—into the second, bowling both to the dirt.

Then, a single leap.
His foot compressed mid-air, then slammed downward, crashing onto the tangled cultists like a falling meteor.
BOOM—!!
The ground beneath them spiderwebbed, cracks splintering out like fractured glass.

He exhaled, turning to Felix with a sharp nod.

“You okay, Ferris?”

The cat-boy blinked in surprise, his tail flicking behind him.
“Nya... You’ve gotten a whole lot stronger.. Looks like that beating from Julius actually paid off, huh?”

Subaru gave a flat look.
“Tch. Yeah, well... I was at fault for that—”

SHNK—!!

Mid-sentence, a blade sliced down from above.

Subaru sidestepped instantly—body snapping into motion like a machine. His hand surged upward.

WHUMP—!!

A palm slammed into the cultist’s diaphragm, folding the attacker in half and blasting them backward with a guttural wheeze.

Subaru’s voice was flat as he deadpanned.

“...I’m aware.”

With a sharp exhale, Subaru turned and rushed back into the fray.

He spotted Rem—her movements were starting to falter. Unlike Wilhelm, who carved through enemies with mechanical precision, Rem’s wild, wrathful swings were slowing.

Her spiked mace crushed two cultists in a single arc—but a third slipped past her guard.

A dagger plunged into her shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh. Rem let out a primal roar of pain and anger, blood running down her arm.

SWOOSH—!

Subaru was already there.
He appeared behind her like a shadow, knuckles rising into a wide forearm swipe, batting away an incoming strike.

CRACK—!!

His palm slammed forward, catching the cultist directly in the throat.
They staggered, clutching their windpipe, choking.

Then—

SQUELCH—!!

His fist drove through the cultist’s torso.
Not just a punch—a violent, precise spear of cursed energy, tearing through ribs and organs before exploding out the other side in a spray of viscera and guts.

The cultist convulsed. Subaru yanked his hand free with a wet, sickening sound.

“...Bastard...”

He stared at his blood-drenched arm.
At the carnage he'd just inflicted.
And felt nothing.

Not shock. Not guilt. Not even revulsion.

Only silence.

And a low whisper, barely a breath..
"I love you."

The words came from nowhere.

Subaru’s head snapped sideways, eyes wide—

He blinked hard, breathing unsteady, as his hand slowly curled.

Just for a moment...

It was like he wasn’t entirely in control.
Or rather—he was, but the feeling was twisted.
The violence felt good. Too good.

His thoughts spiraled.

It’s the miasma... isn’t it? Is it effecting me somehow?

THUD—!!

Rem’s mace slammed across his vision, cleaving a cultist that had crept too close.
Their body hit the dirt, entrails spilling like wet rope.

“S-Subaru! Please focus—!!” she cried, voice desperate.

He blinked again, dazed—then shook his head hard, forcing clarity back into his mind.

“R—Right...”

Subaru glanced around the battlefield— Nearly all the cultists were gone. Wilhelm stood amidst the dust, sword dripping, dispatching the final stragglers with cold efficiency.

That was easier than last time... Having Rem here really did make the difference...

But the quiet didn’t last.

BWOOM—!!!

From the edge of the ruins—dozens of grotesque, purple hands erupted like thorny vines, slamming into the ground and latching onto soldiers with terrifying speed.

“Gahk—!!”

Screams echoed as soldiers were lifted, crushed, slammed.

SNAP—SWOOSH!

Wilhelm dashed forward, blade gleaming through the rising dust. One swing—a hand fell. Another—a soldier dropped, gasping but alive. He weaved and cut with the rage of a man who had defied death and loss too many times.

Subaru's blood ran cold.

“He’s here.”

Rem growled low beside him, her grip on her mace tightening.

From the ruins—a figure emerged.

Contorting. Twitching. Screaming in rage.

“WHY… WHY-WHY, WHYYYY?!?”

His eyes bulged.
His green-tinged skin split and cracked.
Each limb jerked like a puppet on broken strings.
His mouth stretched into a grotesque, bleeding grin.

“Why is it YOU—YOU with those overwhelming pangs of LOVE, acting so SLUGGISHLY? So LAZILY? So… SLOTHFULLY! YES!! SLOTHFUL—!!”

He bit down on his own fingers, blood spurting between his teeth.

The madness was palpable.

Several soldiers instinctively stepped back. Even after all they’d seen, this… was different.

This was true evil made manifest.

Subaru took a step forward.

“Betelgeuse Romanee-Conti…”
His voice was firm. “Your plan’s already unraveling. You just don’t know it yet.”

Just a little longer… Gojo-sensei, it’s your move now...

Betelgeuse stumbled forward—almost drunkenly—his arms dangling like broken branches.

“Greed—WHERE is GREED?! He’s always SO PUNCTUAL—YET NOW HE MAKES ME WAIT?! ME!! A FELLOW ARCHBISHOP—WAITING?!?”

He shrieked.

“That... that is SLOTH!!”

SWOOSH—!!

“That’s enough out of you, MONSTER!!”

Wilhelm was already on the move—a bullet of muscle and vengeance.

But Betelgeuse anticipated it.

Purple hands surged—dozens weaving like the limbs of a furious god, lifting high, and crashing down in waves.

CLANG—!!!

Steel met invisible might. Wilhelm’s blade deflected mid-air, screaming under the pressure.

He spun back, boots skidding through dirt, sword still in hand.

“Tch.”

“Rem! Wilhelm!”

Subaru’s voice rang out like a command — no hesitation, no doubt.

“We strike together—now!!”

BOOM—!!

Subaru surged forward first, cursed energy flaring around his limbs like violet lightning. His body blurred — enhanced speed launching him forward in a single bound. Dust erupted in his wake, flung skyward.

THWAM—!!

He slammed his fist down on one of Betelgeuse’s outstretched purple hands, cracking the spectral limb and driving it into the ground like broken bone. His eyes locked with the Archbishop’s.

Betelgeuse’s grin fell further, blood still trickling from his lips.

CLANG—!!

Wilhelm van Astrea was next — descending from above with a silver flash. His blade sliced clean through a trio of reaching hands, twisting mid-air to carve a wide arc at Betelgeuse’s neck.

But Betelgeuse twitched violently, body contorting backward like his spine had no bones, avoiding the slash by a hair’s breadth.

“SO FAST! SO FAST!- YOU ARE STILL DROWNED IN LOVE! FOR YOUR WIFE—SUCH SLOTHFUL OBSESSION THAT SHOULD BE DIRECTED TOWARD THE WITCH!”

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed as he leapt back. “I’ve no words for filth like you.”

CRASH—!!

From the flank—Rem appeared, a cyclone of raw fury. Her mace swung wide, smashing aside multiple spectral hands in a single sweep. Her horn burned bright, violet light surging along her cheek as she roared—

“RAAAAGHH—!!”

Betelgeuse turned just in time to see her leap—
She came down like a falling star.

THWACK—!!!

Her mace connected — and this time, it wasn’t just a blow.
It was annihilation.

CRACK—SPLAT!!

Betelgeuse’s ribcage split wide open, the force of the hit ripping him apart. Organs burst free, unfurling in mid-air like red ribbons, spraying a curtain of blood across the ruined earth.

“Gurk… S-Sa… tella…—”

His voice died mid-breath.

But Subaru didn’t wait.

He dashed forward, vaulting over Rem’s shoulder, using a disintegrating phantom hand as a springboard—

And then—

“—TAKE THIS!!”

His palm drew back, cursed energy converging into a singularity, his knuckles a burning violet star.

CRACK—!!!

The blow landed dead center on Betelgeuse’s skull.
His neck snapped back, sickeningly unnatural, as his body rocketed downward into the earth—

BOOM—!!

The crater rippled out.

Subaru exhaled once.

Then struck again.

THUD-!

CRACK—!!

BOOM-!!

Each strike landed like a hammer of divine judgment, Subaru’s face twisted with raw intensity—no longer anger. No longer fear. Something else, indifference.

BOOM—!!

CRACK-!!

THUD—!!

The crater deepened. Stone fractured. Blood painted Subaru’s hands, his arms, his face.

Rem stepped forward, expression tight.
Wilhelm, silent… but concerned. Very concerned.

She reached out. Her hand gripped his shoulder, firm.

Subaru’s head snapped to the side, breath sharp—
Fist frozen mid-swing.

But his eyes…

Rem staggered back.

They weren’t Subaru’s eyes.

They were void, tinted in deep purple. A swirling malevolence behind the irises. For just a second—he wasn’t him.

Then— A blink. Another. And the light returned.

“Eh… huh… oh—”

He turned, slowly.

And looked down.

What remained of Betelgeuse wasn’t even a man.

The face was gone, shattered and splattered in a red haze, bone and brain matter more visible than any human feature. The skull split open like a crushed melon, remnants twitching in the pool of gore.

Subaru’s breath caught.

His stomach turned.

I did it again.

STEP—

His foot hesitated.

His body trembled.

Eyes wide.

That… that was me..? Again..? It happened again… it's like… I wasn't in control..

Then—
That feeling.

The twist in his stomach. The slithering of something oily and cold down his spine. That unmistakable pressure—
Betelgeuse. Again.

Subaru’s body stood still, unmoving. But inside—

The world was black. An endless, mist-choked void. Shadows deeper than ink, silence louder than screams. This was Subaru’s mindscape. But it wasn’t empty.

Full of love. Twisted, wild, perfect love.

“A-Ah… S-Satella…!!”
Betelgeuse crumbled to his knees, trembling, weeping.

This—this was the one. The vessel he had longed for.

The witch had heard him. The witch had given. Again!!

But then—

Footsteps.

Soft. Measured. Unhurried.

From the black haze, a figure emerged— Masculine. Average height. Spiky hair dancing in an invisible breeze. Pure pitch black. No details. Just a silhouette, with an unsettling gaze.

But the moment Betelgeuse set eyes upon him—

Fear. Real fear surged. Primal and paralyzing, as if his instincts were telling him, whatever this THING was, could kill him in a second thought.

It wasn't death that he feared, no, not at all. He wasn't sure why he felt in such a way, either.

“W-Who… who are you…?”
His voice cracked under the weight of it.

The silhouette stopped a few paces away.
Two gleaming purple eyes opened in the void. They stared down at him like twin galaxies.

Tilt.
A head cocked sideways, in mock curiosity.

“A name? But… you already know me. I just killed you, after all. Or—maybe 'I' didn’t? Technically? Reality’s funny like that..”

Betelgeuse’s teeth chattered. His body stayed kneeling, but his spine wanted to flee.

Then—rage. Instinct.

From his back, dozens of spectral purple hands exploded outward—screaming toward the figure.

STEP—
The figure moved, one step forward.

SWOOSH—

The world inverted.

Betelgeuse blinked.

Why… why can I see my own body…?

It was on its knees. Below him. The head still attached—barely—dangling.

And the figure?

Now behind him, gripping his decapitated head by the hair, lazily swinging his vision from side to side like a lantern.

“Little spirit, did you just try to attack me..? Do you know what I am?"

Betelgeuse twitched, confused.

“W-What are you…?”

The grin—though unseen—was felt.

“Pride.”

A beat. Betelgeuse’s mind warped into delight—
Eyes widening with delirious glee—

“Ah—Aha—!! So it’s you! It’s truly you—!”

But the smile from the silhouette, no, Pride, didn’t change.

“Now come along. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

And just like that—

It wasn’t fun anymore.

Betelgeuse’s expression collapsed. His eyes widened in genuine, utter despair as he was dragged through the endless void, helpless, dangling by the hair like a puppet.

“Eh…? What do you mean ‘you don’t want that thing in here’… Satella?”

Then—

Blackness engulfed everything.

Somewhere Else...

BOOM—!!

Gojo was launched. A meteor. His body plowed through stone, grinding through strata until he burst free into the open sky, a shockwave of debris and dust trailing behind him.

Before he could even breathe—

Regulus appeared.

No sound. No warning.

Hands closed around Gojo’s throat.

“Ever wondered what it’s like to fly without slowing down?”

Gojo coughed out.
“Not really—!!”

FWOOOOOOM—!!

The sky swallowed him. Clouds tore open. The air turned to knives.

Rain that once couldn’t touch him—now punched holes through his flesh.

And then—

CRACK—!!
BOOOOOOM—!!

A distant mountain exploded as Gojo collided with it, the impact caving the peak inward.

Avalanches answered.

Silence.

Only snow fell. Until—

“Ughh…”

A hand emerged from the crater’s edge.

Gojo pulled himself free.
Barely alive. Skin steaming, cursed energy holding his pieces together like a dying machine.

He looked down.

White.
Mist.
Ice.
Silence.

“…This isn’t Lugunica.”

He blinked.

“…Where the hell—”

SWOOSH—!!

A tremor cut through the mist. Instinct screamed.

Gojo turned—

BOOM—!!

A flat palm missed his skull by inches, cleaving the cliff behind him into a jagged diagonal scar.

Gojo kicked back, hands clapping—vanishing into thin air, leaving Regulus alone atop the icy peak.

He reappeared near Flugel’s Tree, just as Subaru had asked, stumbling. His breathing was ragged. Reversed Cursed Technique, strained and sluggish, fought to repair him. Infinity flickering from exhaustion.

Then— it was gone.

“Ugh… Now then, I just need to wai—”

A presence. Too close. Too foreign.

His head snapped to the side.

A small figure stood in the mist. Cloaked in white, almost angelic.
Pale hair fell straight, too smooth, too unnatural. Her eyes—cerulean and empty—stared right into him.

She smiled.

“Ahh… I feel so honored. To think I’d meet the one I wasn’t expecting to. The one who doesn’t belong. Not yet... Too soon...”

Pandora, the Witch of Vainglory.

Her voice was flat, devoid of weight. A whisper against glass.

“But no matter. He… misstepped. Sending you here. That means… he must die. Satoru Gojo… I cannot allow you to be here again.”

Gojo’s brows furrowed.

“…The hell are you even talking about? Who’s ‘he’?”

She tilted her head.

“The one chosen by Envy, of course. I was expecting him by carriage.”

A pause.

“But regardless… I shall correct this error.”

“Satoru Gojo… you will—”

Back in Arlam Village…

Subaru’s chest heaved.
The sensation—the invasive sickness of Betelgeuse’s mind—was gone.

Strange. I didn’t even have to say it this time…?

He sat up, looking toward Rem with a tired smile.

“Sorry! I probably made you worry, huh? I was just ultra-focused, that’s all.”

Rem didn’t respond.

Wilhelm stared at him—stoic, unreadable. But suspicious.

Felix approached, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Phew… I healed what I could. Only a few deaths but… deaths nonetheless.”

Anger surfaced in his voice for a brief second, before he exhaled.

Wilhelm placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We won. Now all we need is—”

“Gojo?” Rem asked, gaze turned away.

“Yeah, Sen…sei—”

Subaru stopped.

He saw it too.

Gojo. Shirt torn, body bloodied, walking forward without a word. Dead eyes. Not tired. Not relieved. Just… empty.

Subaru’s instincts screamed.

“Gojo-sensei… why are you…”

A red glow flickered in Gojo’s hand.

Before anyone could react—his palm snapped sideways, aimed at Wilhelm and Felix.

BOOOOM—!!

The cursed technique hit squarely. The Sword Demon was launched across the village like a missile, crashing through a house as the ground buckled beneath him. He may of survived.

But Felix wasn't so lucky, he was blasted with the same force, but he was not the Sword Demon. His body was broken, crumbled, shattered from the force of the impact.

“…Here…?”

Subaru’s words died in his throat.

Rem stepped forward.

“Gojo, what are you—GAAHK—!?”

CRACK—!!

A fist slammed into her gut. Ribs shattered. The shockwave screamed, flattening nearby structures as Rem was flung across the battlefield.

Silence. Then panic. Soldiers staggered to their feet, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion.

“W-What is he doing?!”

Gojo said nothing.
His hand rose again.
Palm aimed at a group of soldiers.

A blue sphere began to pulse. Subaru moved. Too fast to think.

His fist, soaked in cursed malevolence, swung forth and...

THUD—!!

Impact was made, the fist struck his stomach without stopping. The force was mighty, and Gojo coughed blood, stumbling backward. His stance adjusted automatically.

It hit him…?!
Right—his technique’s exhausted… from Regulus…

“WHY?!”
Subaru screamed, arms outstretched.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, GOJO-SENSEI?!”

Gojo didn’t answer.

He simply stared.

Expressionless.

Until—

BOOM—!!

A shockwave tore the air apart.

Gojo blurred forward, a streak of white and blue, cursed energy flaring like a solar flare in motion. Subaru barely twisted aside—the air itself screamed—and the ground where he’d been standing detonated, cratering violently, dirt and shattered stone flying like shrapnel skyward.

He's slower… weaker… than normal but still—!!
Still fast enough to kill me.

Subaru’s fist pulsed—black and violet cursed energy hissed and danced like writhing serpents around his arm. He drove it forward with everything he had and more.

CRACK—!!

His knuckles slammed into Gojo’s ribs. Gojo staggered back, coughing blood that sprayed in a crimson arc across the grass. His foot dug deep into the earth, cracking the stone beneath as he refixed his stature.

"Why won’t you answer me?!" Subaru screamed, voice hoarse with pain and fury, as he charged again—cursed energy flaring violently with every step, splitting the air.

SWOOSH-!
He launched a jab. Gojo’s arm intercepted, slapping it aside with a heavy forearm swipe.

SWISH—!
Subaru pivoted. His body snapped into a fluid spiral. A sweeping kick rocketed into Gojo’s shin.

CRACK—!
The impact thundered out, echoing across the forest as Gojo stumbled sideways. His boots tore through grass and loose soil, leaving behind gouged trails of uprooted earth.

I dont wanna do this but...

Subaru didn’t stop.

He pounced like a feral animal—fists ablaze, trails of black lightning sparking in their wake.

THUD—! THUD—!

Two jabs—one slamming into Gojo’s side, the other skimming off his collarbone with enough force to fracture. Gojo twisted with the momentum, body turning—but Subaru followed through.

He ducked, surged in, and—

BOOM—!

A gut punch landed hard, the shockwave flattening grass in a twenty-foot radius. Gojo’s breath hitched, coughing blood.

He felt that one..!

Then, Gojo’s head snapped back up, and his hand lashed out without a second thought—

SNAP—!!

He gripped Subaru’s wrist mid-swing. Tight. Like a vice. Subaru barely had time to flinch until contact was made—

THOOM—!!

Gojo’s knee rocketed into his chest.

CRACK—!!

His ribs caved.

Subaru’s entire body folded inward, air fleeing his lungs in a pained gasp.

He flew—smashed into the ground and skidded, dirt pluming behind him like a jet trail. He crashed through a half-destroyed cottage, splinters and tile erupting as he vanished into the rubble.

But then—

BOOM—!!

He burst free in a spray of debris, flipping mid-air and landing on one knee, bloody and shaking.

“Guhk.. uff...”

Gojo walked forward through the smoke, each step like a drumbeat. Infinity shimmered around him for a moment, an attempt to reactivate it—But it was strained. It glitched. Blood leaked from a temple gash, trailing along his cheek.

But he was still terrifying, without it, weakened. He was still far more powerful than Subaru.

Damn it... he's still so far ahead of me..?

BAM—!!

Suddenly he was there yet again, moving like a white blur. Inches away. Subaru didn’t move in time. Gojo's shoulder rammed into him like a freight train—he was launched, body tearing through trees, branches exploding like cannon blasts until—

CRASH—!!

A massive trunk caught him. More bones cracked, bark shattered, and the whole tree tipped over and fell with a deafening THUD. And yet— He moved. Staggered out. Cursed energy howled from his body, lashing out like a storm of razors, distorting the air.

He screamed—and tackled Gojo with a lunge forward. They tumbled through the village, colliding with a stone wall and toppling it as if it were paper. Each strike was nuclear. Parry after parry, blow after blow.

Then the momentum collapsed, Gojo's spine smashed against a tree mid-tackle. Leaves fell in slow-motion. Subaru’s right hook spun Gojo’s jawline—causing blood to fly in a fine arc.

SWISH-!

"HRAAH!!"
Satoru's neck tilted at the last moment, evading a second blow that tore a hole through the side of the tree behind, eviscerating bark like paper.

Then a counter, Gojo's elbow finding Subaru’s temple—THUD!!—skull met bone, a spray of red and ringing in the air.

Flesh split.

Teeth cracked.

Blood rained.

They separated—just for a moment.

Both breathing heavy.

Both shaking.

Someone must of done something.. Gojo-Sensei would never.. do this.. not in a million years!!

Gojo didn’t speak. Just blurred forward again.

This time—Subaru saw it coming.

He twisted. Caught Gojo’s wrist, then twisted his own body, reeling in Gojo until he slammed a knee into the shoulder joint—POP—!!—then hammered an elbow into the back of Gojo’s neck.

Gojo stumbled—his foot slipped in an attempt to fix his broken stance—

Subaru swept.

GOJO FELL!!

But before Subaru could celebrate—

CRACK—!!

Gojo's foot shattered the ground, as if catching himself through instinct alone before he threw himself forward—and smashed his forehead into Subaru’s face. Everything whited out. Blood splashed outward like a haze.

Then—

SLAM—!!

A palm drove into Subaru’s chest. Red cursed energy ignited like an inferno—

BOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The explosion vaporized the ground.

Subaru’s body rocketed backward, smashing through houses, snapping support beams, dragging a trench through the village roads. Trees fell. Earth lifted. Fire spread where cursed energy scorched wood and roof.

And then silence.

He lay amid broken stone and shattered timber. Barely breathing. Vision fading.

Gojo approached—slow. Detached. Eyes hollow.

He knelt.

Placed his hands around Subaru’s throat.

And began to squeeze.

Subaru tried to gasp.

But no air came.

But even now, he smiled—just faintly.

Good… this is for the better… I’ll come back. I’ll fix this. I’ll save him.

His vision darkened. His limbs twitched.

And then—

Darkness.

Natsuki Subaru died once more, to the hands of the one least expected.

Chapter Text

"…"

Subaru blinked.

The world returned in silence.

The towering outline of the Flugel’s Tree loomed above, its colossal roots curled deep into the land. Light filtered through the branches like divine threads. A breeze passed over his skin. It was warm.

But his chest—his neck—still burned.

Then—

"Yooo... Earth… or well... not Earth, to Subaru?"

Gojo’s voice, casual and familiar, cut through the fog.

Subaru’s eyes snapped toward him—a blur of white hair, that carefree grin, the stupid shades pushed up on his head.

His friend.

Subaru stepped back.

Not even consciously.

His body remembered something his brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

Gojo noticed. A brow rose. Not angry, or trying to kill him, just… confused, concerned.

“Huh.”

Subaru’s breathing stuttered.

Logically, he knew—that wasn’t Gojo. Not truly.  But it didn’t matter. His fingers twitched at his side. His throat throbbed with phantom-pain. He had been choked to death by those same hands. Hands that had taught him to wield cursed energy. To endure.

If only I was stronger.

That single thought struck deep. A bitter chord in his chest.

If he had been strong enough—really strong—Gojo wouldn't have needed to protect them. Emilia wouldn’t have to fight. Rem wouldn’t have had to die—again and again.

And maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t have died there, like trash, like a child.

He clenched his fist.

If you want strength that badly... then just let me in—

Something whispered through the crevices of his mind. Not that feminine voice he had grew to accept, but one that vocally seemed identical to his own, merely more malevolent.

"Dude..?"

Gojo stepped forward, no longer smiling, instead filled with concern as he furrowed his brows.

Subaru’s heart jumped.

He forced himself to look up. To meet that gaze.

All around them, soldiers, villagers, and his companions—Rem, Wilhelm, Felix, Crusch—watched him quietly.

Their eyes held a question: Was he okay?

So Subaru smiled.

A weak, crooked little grin pulled across bloodless lips.

"Sorry about that, heh. I was just doing some thinking, you know?"

Gojo relaxed a bit, though still cautious.

Subaru let out a breath, sharp and unsteady.

He wouldn’t do that.
Gojo. Wouldn’t. Do. That.

And yet—

His fingers still trembled at his side.

Either way, you’re Envious of him… of his strength.
Don’t you just want to be him? Perfection incarnate?

Subaru flinched inwardly, squeezing his eyes shut as if to silence the voice scratching from behind his thoughts.

“Right… where was I, then…”

He walked forward, repeating every word he had spoken in the last loop—exactly. Measured. Careful. As though deviating even slightly might invite catastrophe.

This time he would win.

He’s better than you. Always has been. Always will be.
Not just stronger. He’s a symbol.
He inspires.
You? You rely on them. That’s not Pride. That’s cowardice.

Subaru didn’t answer it. Couldn’t.

But his jaw clenched.

His gaze drifted toward Gojo again—effortlessly calm, still the center of attention. Standing tall even after everything.

You seek strength. So rely on ‘me’. Let me in. Let me lift the weight you pretend you can carry.

Wilhelm stepped forward, eyes grave but warm. His deep voice carved through the tension.

“After your role in slaying the White Whale, and your vital part in avenging my beloved Theresia... I’d walk with you through death and beyond tenfold, Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru blinked.

A beat passed.

And yet—he didn’t smile.

Couldn’t.

His eyes dipped to the ground. His mouth opened—but no words came.

His hand trembled at his side, still holding phantom warmth from Gojo’s fingers around his throat.

“…Right…” he murmured.

A whisper. A rasp.

He forced himself to straighten. Shoulders rising like a marionette on frayed strings.

“Let’s get going, shall we…?”

Everything had gone perfectly—just like in the last loop.

Honestly, it was all smooth sailing up until Gojo decided to show up as an enemy in the last loop.

Now, Subaru stood before the mangled corpse of Petelgeuse Romanee-Conti, his body twitching ever so slightly as if refusing to accept death. Not that it mattered. Subaru had crushed him—they had crushed him—alongside Wilhelm and Rem. And frankly, it was easy. Has been for a few loops now.

At this point, Petelgeuse wasn’t a final boss. He was a speed bump. A sick joke. He’d died to everything from Puck’s rage to his own teacher.

Don’t be proud.
You only beat this fractured soul with the help of weaklings… hardly even considerable as a victory.

Rem leaned in, concerned.
“Subaru? Are you alright?”

“…Just fine.”

He lied, of course. But they didn’t need to know.
They didn’t need to worry about someone like him.

You want to be strong, but you reject me.
You want power, but rely on strangers—liabilities—insects.
Cut them loose. Stand alone. Then, and only then... you will understand what it means to be Pride.

“Stop,” Subaru growled.

Or don’t. Keep crawling. Keep pretending. You’re so good at that.

“Enough…”

You hate yourself, and use power as a way to try and satiate that, even if you may know it's inevitable, you want to have purpose... pathetic.

“…Stop…”

Then and only then, is that—

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!!”

His voice cracked through the forest like a gunshot.
Wilhelm froze. Rem stared, startled—concerned.

Then came the silence. The kind that doesn’t just hang in the air… but inside your mind, too.

Somewhere Dark...

A silhouette stood, pitch-black and formless, clutching the severed head of Petelgeuse from the previous loop by the hair. The cultist’s face was twisted in eternal agony—frozen in death. Pride tilted his head, resting a hand on his own cheek.

“How tragic...” he said with a smirk. “I wonder if it’s his own pride, or just good old-fashioned stupidity, keeping him from accepting me.”