Chapter Text
Two Days Earlier…
Gojo walked slowly through the tattered streets, his boots squelching in mud and rotted foliage. The village felt less like a place meant for people and more like something forgotten by time—abandoned, but still breathing faintly.
A pit settled deep in his stomach.
Something was off.
His eyes darted in every direction, scanning far beyond what sight alone allowed. His senses stretched outward—discerning shapes, feelings, intent—until he confirmed what he had already noticed.
Only beastfolk lived here. And they were afraid of Gojo, or at the very least hesitant to get close.
They didn’t say it aloud. They didn’t need to.
Their eyes lingered, hesitant, whenever he passed. Whispers fluttered behind half-closed doors. Children were pulled aside, away from the stranger in white.
Gojo said nothing.
That wasn’t what mattered right now.
What mattered most—what churned his stomach into knots—was what he couldn’t sense at all.
No cursed energy.
Not just from the surroundings—he expected that, especially because he was in an entirely different world where different laws apply, and thus, no cursed energy.
But from Subaru.
Gojo stopped at a quiet bend in the path, frowning, and placed a hand to his chin.
“So where is he, then…?”
He turned the corner slowly.
What was so important that he’d leave before Gojo even woke up?
I mean… he’s free to do whatever he wants. He’s older than me, technically—
"Pff—"
The thought nearly made him laugh.
Still.
Ram had been with them when they fought Elsa and the Archbishops. If anyone knew where Subaru had gone off to, it’d be her.
It’s only right as his teacher that I know what he’s doing..
..Obviously.
With a small bend of his knee, cursed energy surged through his limbs like blood. Then—
CRACK—
He launched upward in a single, effortless leap—hundreds of feet into the sky. Suspended above the village, he floated, hands in his pockets, wind tousling his clothes.
“Mmmh…”
His Six Eyes scanned everything. Every home. Every rooftop. Every distant mana trace that flickered like a dying candle.
Then, his gaze landed on a slightly larger building, tucked away near the edge of the settlement. Still decrepit—but familiar.
“Found her… and… eugh…”
A wince.
He felt it—the lingering mana, thick and unpleasant. Familiar, unfortunately.
Roswaal.
He grimaced.
“The perver—the suspicious guy.”
Fingers wove together as he shimmered out of the sky. Reality blinked—and he stood at the doorstep, fist raised to knock—
“Oh! Satoru—you’re awake!”
A voice called from behind. Gojo turned, already knowing who it was.
Emilia.
The ever-gentle half-elf stood there, trying to smile—but her eyes betrayed her. Something was off.
“I was… pretty scared..” she said, “When I saw Ram and Subaru carry your bloodied body back here unconscious.”
Gojo chuckled, shrugging one shoulder.
“Takes more than a little gut wound to stop Satoru Gojo!”
Though, that’s probably the the easiest ways to actually take me down… but imma keep that on the down low.
Emilia nodded lightly, the concern in her gaze lingering.
“Do you know what happened to Subaru? I noticed he’s not in the sanctuary anymore.”
Gojo’s expression didn’t shift—but inside, his senses sharpened.
“No? Well… he hardly explained even to us…” Emilia said, shaking her head. “He said he was off to the a desert… to kill a… ‘saint’?”
She paused.
“But what really worried me was the look on his face…”
Her voice quieted.
“It was dark. Like… I’ve never seen before. Cold. Detached. The kind of look that didn’t care about now—only about whatever came next. He didn’t even look at you, not really. You were bleeding out beneath him and he just…”
She trailed off.
Gojo didn’t reply.
His thoughts wandered to something he hadn’t spoken of. A memory.
Subaru. Standing among robed corpses. Blood everywhere—none of it his own.
And that look on his face.
Indifference.
A boy from Japan. A normal kid. Transported to a world of magic and monsters.
And now?
Tearing people apart without blinking.
Unnatural.
Suspicious.
Gojo’s frown deepened.
“…Frightening.” He muttered.
A word he never thought he’d use to describe Subaru of all people, yet.. the word came naturally.
He shook his head.
“I just hope he comes back soon.” Emilia said quietly. “I’m not sure if I have what it takes to do the last trial…”
Gojo’s brow twitched.
A lapse.
A flicker of annoyance.
That mindset was annoying.
FLICK—
“Ahk—!”
Emilia winced as Gojo’s finger flicked her forehead. Steam rose faintly from his middle finger before he lowered it.
He then stepped forward.
“Normally I shouldn’t be helping the competition..” he said, one brow raised. “But you do want the throne, right?”
“O-of course I do! What kind of question is—”
“..Then you may well give up right now, 'cause with that way of thinking you're only wasting your time…”
Her eyes widened.
“No one deserves to rule a country with that kind of mindset.”
“You’re your own person, right?” Gojo continued, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what kind of life you’ve lived before meeting Subaru—but stop relying so much on everyone else. Needing help isn’t weakness obviously. But if that’s all you’re doing…”
He paused.
“…Just be more selfish.”
“Selfish?”
Gojo nodded.
“Yes. Put yourself on a pedestal. If you want the throne, you actually have to fight for it. Not with cruelty—but with purpose, confidence. A ruler who doesn’t care for their people is a tyrant. But one who can’t even stand on their own feet?”
He shook his head.
“.. Is just as bad.”
Emilia stood quietly, letting the words settle. Her eyes sharpened. Hands clenched.
Then—she nodded, a determined look forming on her face.
“…You’re right. Everything you said was right. Thank you!”
She turned and jogged off, her footsteps light but purposeful.
Gojo chuckled, then turned back to the door.
He stepped in.
The air inside was thick—old wood, mana, and perfume. His gaze lowered to the bed.
Roswaal lay there, pale and still—bandaged from neck-to-toe and barely conscious, yet still smiling.
“Ahh… if it isn’t Satoru Goooojo~ I was wondering who that was talking outside. Long time no seeeeee…”
Gojo gave him a blank look.
“Uh-huh. What the hell happened to you? You look like you got hit by a bus..”
“Not quite sure what that means—but this..” Roswaal said, gesturing at himself weakly, “Is what happens when a full-blooded human takes on the Sanctuary’s triiiial…”
Gojo leaned forward, clearly wanting to gain new information.
“Go on.”
“This entire place is the Witches’ Graveyard..” Roswaal said softly. “Where the Witch of Greed—Echidna—met her end long ago. The magical barrier keeps demi-humans trapped. Thus, only full-blooded humans may pass through and leave…”
Gojo nodded slowly.
“Witch of Greed, huh? Any relation to the Witch of Envy?”
A flicker of something passed through Roswaal’s eyes, anger. His smile dipped, and his brows creased, but he kept it impressively well hidden despite his emotions.
Gojo noticed.
He didn’t like that question.
“The Witch of Greed… Echidna… far less evil than the one who nearly destroyed the world,” Roswaal said stiffly. “I’d prefer we use her name—rather than that degrading title. Wouldn’t you?”
Gojo just shrugged in response, he had only said that out of curiosity, and got quite an amusing reaction out of the normally quite hard-to-read man.
“Whatever. So—since I can literally teleport—what’s stopping me from just pulling the demi-humans out of here?”
Roswaal’s eyes gleamed.
“No need for such haste, given my… condition, yes?”
Gojo raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.
“Sure… Well… I got what I wanted from Emilia. Now I’ll find wherever Subaru dragged himself off to.”
He turned, hand on the door—
“Now, now… why such haste?”
Roswaal called, voice lilting.
Gojo paused, glancing back.
“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Why do you care?”
“He is his own person, isn’t he?” Roswaal smiled. “Just like you told Emilia. So… let him go. He clearly didn’t tell you for a reaaaason…”
A long silence followed.
Gojo stared.
And didn’t blink.
Even Roswaal began to shift uncomfortably beneath the covers ever so slightly.
“Tsk—let me say this now, so we don't get any future misunderstandings…” Gojo said, voice low. “I don’t trust you in the slightest. If this is your attempt to pull me into one of your little schemes…”
He turned fully.
“…Don’t even bother.”
“Because I will kill you.”
Roswaal flinched ever so slightly. His smile, usually so wide and unsettling, drooped just an inch—just enough to betray a flicker of unease beneath the surface. Yet, the mask of calm amusement he always wore remained firmly in place, a thin veil shielding him from revealing just how deeply he felt the weight of the threat before him.
“I would do no such thiiiing~ I’m merely… looking out for the knight of the one I’m sponsoring~”
Gojo didn’t smile.
He just opened the door and walked out.
SLAM-
Silence.
Inside the room, Roswaal let out a long breath, sinking into the pillow. His gaze drifted to the ceiling.
“…Satoru Gojo…” he whispered. “He is as attentive as he is powerful…”
One hand reached beneath the bed.
He pulled out a black book and pressed it to his chest.
That monster—the Witch of Vainglory, Pandora—is playing a dangerous game with that individual..
“Keep Satoru Gojo in the Sanctuary for two days… she says…”
Easier said than done.
Especially when that man can bend space at will.
Roswaal’s grip on the tome tightened.
Regardless…
You will soon be free, teacher.
“That.. I will make sure of.”
Gojo walked across the mud-tattered street, his stride casual, hands pocketed, head tilted slightly downward as he delegated himself to thought.
My dearest student’s been acting off. Disappearing. Taking off on little solo adventures for god knows what reason. Roswaal’s acting weird too… though, honestly, when isn’t he?
He snickered softly at the thought.
Definitely a pervert…
That chuckle almost cost him.
He felt it before he saw it—a sudden surge of intent, barreling toward him at impressive speed.
His eyes cracked open just in time to catch a blurred fist careening toward his face.
“–?”
CRACK—!
His forearms surged upward, intercepting the blow in an instant. The impact rattled through his bones, the raw power behind it enough to push him backward, skidding a meter or so through the damp earth before he came to a graceful stop.
He straightened.
Then smirked.
“Wooow… you’re pretty good—”
“Keep yer damn mouth shut, Witch Cultist!”
The shout tore through the air like a wild animal’s roar.
Gojo’s eyes locked on the fast-approaching figure—yellow hair spiked back like a lion’s mane, his aura burning crimson with fury.
Garfiel.
Gojo didn’t move. His smirk remained, sharp and playful.
Well… let’s see how good he really is.
SWISH—
Garfiel struck again. A jab. Fast.
Gojo craned his neck to the side, dodging it with precision—missing by a purposeful hair.
Another hook flew in.
He dipped under it with fluid grace.
Every strike Garfiel threw was powerful—easily capable of shattering trees. But Gojo? He danced between them like a mirage, his afterimage practically still caught in the air behind him as he evaded.
He backflipped swiftly, forming a wide gap between them once more.
“ARGHH—STOP DODGIN’ N’ FIGHT, YA BASTARD!!”
Garfiel slammed his foot against the ground. A pulse of crimson mana surging through his leg like lightning.
A spike of hardened earth shot up like a spear, aiming directly for Gojo’s chest.
Gojo didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even shift his stance.
“Not bad.”
He instead casually swept his right arm across—
CRACK—!
The pillar shattered instantly, blown apart by the force of Gojo’s swing. Shards of stone scattered like shrapnel.
Before the dust could settle, Garfiel was already there—rushing in with primal speed, fist reeled fully back.
He might actually land this one—!!
GRAPPLE—
Gojo’s hands shot forward, intercepting the strike cleanly. He gripped Garfiel’s forearm tightly, twisting his body and redirecting the momentum to the side.
With a grunt, Garfiel stumbled forward.
And suddenly—
Gojo was behind him, leaning casually against the yellow-haired boys back, both hands resting in his pockets.
Just kidding~
“But that’s about it.” he said calmly.
Garfiel snarled. His muscles tensed. Hair bristled. Fur began to sprout from his arms as his body began to transform. Gojo welcomed it however, it did seem like a power boost, and he was curious at how far this person could go.
But before the situation could escalate even further—
“That’s enough, Garfiel.”
The voice was soft.
Measured.
But final.
A small figure approached, hands neatly folded in front of her, steps quiet as the falling mist.
Ryuzu.
Gojo’s eyes trailed over to her, smile still lingering.
He’d learned by now.. appearances were often deceiving. After all, he knew a four-hundred-year-old loli back at the Roswaal Estate.
“Eh… but Granny!” Garfiel barked, clearly frustrated. “He reeks of the witch!”
Gojo raised a brow.
“…I do?”
Ryuzu’s gaze remained calm, her expression unreadable.
“He is not our enemy..” she said softly. “Preferably the opposite, if anything.”
Gojo clapped once, cheerfully.
“Ahhh, she gets it!”
Then his smirk faded just a little as he mulled over Garfiel’s words.
I smell of the Witch...?
His mind ticked.
Is it the cursed energy? Does it really resemble miasma that closely…?
Similar enough that even someone like Garfiel—who can sense it raw—can’t tell the difference?
I suppose it makes sense. Considering how Subaru can use it is some weird way to empower himself.
He frowned slightly.
Gojo slid his hands into his pockets again, glancing between the two of them.
"Sooo.." he began, tilting his head slightly, "What exactly is the chain of command here? Because first, muscle-head over here tried to knock mine clean off—and now, 'grandma’ is calling the shots.”
Garfiel bristled.
“Tch. I ain’t takin’ orders—I listen to Ryuzu outta respect 'n respect alone.”
Gojo nodded, smile lingering.
“Right, right. Totally different. Not orders, just really stern suggestions you obey without a second thought?”
“Watch it, blindfold.” Garfiel growled, teeth flashing.
Ryuzu stepped forward slightly.
“Both of you, calm yourselves. Garfiel acts as the Sanctuary’s guardian. His strength and loyalty are... unique. But that doesn’t mean his judgment is always clear.”
Garfiel’s ears twitched.
“I can judge just fine!”
“You would've ripped his face off if it were anyone else you attacked then..”
“It's because he showed up reekin’ like a damn witch cultist, that's a sane reaction if anythin'!”
Gojo raised a brow.
“Come on, Garf! You’ve gotta raise your standards.. think outside the box ya know!”
“Don’t call me Garf.”
Gojo looked away, grinning. “Too late, Garf. It’s already canon.”
Ryuzu sighed, gently rubbing her temple.
“I can see this is going to be a long two days.”
That made Gojo pause.
He turned his head back, expression subtle—tone just a little quieter.
“Two days, huh? That’s oddly specific.”
Ryuzu’s gaze lingered for a beat too long, before her eyes shifted to the muddy ground.
“It’s how long the Sanctuary is expected to remain in stasis before another Trial attempt… with Roswaal's injury, and Emilia preparing for the third trial… the balance is delicate.”
Gojo caught that hesitation immediately.
“She doubted herself.” Ryuzu said plainly.
“Her resolve was shaken before. Subaru is her tether. And now he’s gone. But still she stands tall, confident. It surprised even myself.”
“Tether’s a heavy word.”
“But it is the correct one.”
Gojo hummed softly, his smirk fading just a fraction.
Garfiel kicked at the dirt, arms crossed.
“Don’t see why she needs him of all people, he just seemed insane if anythin' when he showed up. But if she’s serious ‘bout takin’ the throne, she should try standin' tall without him, yeah?”
“She’s not you.” Ryuzu said.
Gojo tilted his head, smirking slightly.
“Can appreciate that mindset. Said a few words to Emilia, glad to see it's having effects. Though a little help can go a long way I suppose…”
Eventually, he dulled out the conversation and glared downward toward his opened palm.
So Emilia is spiraling without him, I'd have hoped what I said.. and he's out there picking a fight with something called a ‘saint’. Wonderful.
Saint.. Sword Saint...? Pff.. nah, Subaru's not that dumb. But more importantly...
He glared down at the snowflake in the center of his palm.
"Is it normal for it to snow at this place?"
Ryuzu's head shifted toward Gojo, brows furrowed.
"Snow…?"
She then looked up, catching flakes into her palm just like Gojo had.
Then she stepped back.
"Garfiel. Call all the villagers together and have them hide at the cathedral!"
She pivoted on her foot and began to run off.
"Eh.. granny—?!"
Ryuzu Shima—stoic, precise, unreadable. But now? She was alert. Tight with caution. And for someone four centuries old, that meant serious.
“…Tch.”
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the village, his boots pounding over the slush as he raised the alarm.
Gojo tilted his head, amused. He fell into step beside Ryuzu, strolling like they were on a peaceful morning jog.
“Sooo…” he said lazily, “Is this some dramatic weather shift, or am I about to have a real good time?”
She didn’t answer at first.
“If it’s what I believe it is…” Her voice was low. “Then a calamity is already on its way.”
Gojo’s smirk faded just enough.
“…Right.”
He stopped moving.
Ryuzu looked back. “Gojo?”
“I’ll take point.” He cracked his knuckles once, then twice. “Figure I’ll go see what kind of ‘calamity’ we’re talking about.”
He vanished, flickering out of view in a ripple of cursed energy.
In an instant, he stood atop a snow-drenched hill.
The sky above was bruised gray, the snowfall accelerating, dancing like ash caught in a slow whirlwind. The ground beneath him was layered in white, already ankle-deep—and spreading.
A silence hung over the forest. Too perfect. Too still.
Gojo walked forward, his shoes crunching softly in the powder.
“…Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Then—a flicker of movement.
He paused.
A small, white shape sat in the snow ahead, low to the ground. Still. Watching.
A rabbit.
Its fur was clean, unblemished. Its eyes—two glowing red coals, unblinking.
Gojo crouched slightly, head tilting.
“Now what are you, huh?”
He extended a hand as if to pet it.
The rabbit lunged—fangs bared, jaws snapping—
SNATCH-
Gojo caught it mid-air by the ears, lifting it effortlessly off the ground as it squirmed and screeched, teeth gnashing.
He held it up like a dirty sock and waved it side to side with a grin.
“…Spicy little guy, aintcha..?”
He could feel it now. The sheer numbers that were from the treeline.
He turned his head.
Another rabbit stood behind him.
Then three.
Then fifteen.
Then—
Too many to count..
The snow rippled as hundreds—thousands—of rabbits emerged from beneath the earth, from the trees, from the storm itself. A living, breathing tide of teeth and claws.
Gojo’s hand tightened.
He crushed the first rabbit with a twist. Its bones splintered like brittle wood.
He dropped it to the ground, lifeless.
“Guess I’m breaking the animal cruelty laws again.”
He swiftly tore off the bandages from his face, revealing the Six Eyes—cold, vivid, and gleaming as they fixed on the horde before him
His smile widened.
“…Let’s try this your way.”
The shriek that followed wasn't natural. It wasn't even animalistic, it was like a banshee's screech.
Thousands of abominations roared as one—and charged.
The snow exploded as the swarm barreled forward.
But Gojo didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Inside the village, the cathedral doors slammed shut.
Ryuzu’s voice echoed against the stone walls.
“Seal it! Do not open until we confirm the threat is neutralized!”
Inside, the villagers huddled in the dark, lit only by torches and the golden windows lingering above. The air was cold, but quieter than outside—where war had begun.
Outside—
“RRRHHHH—!!”
Garfiel roared, now fully transformed. His claws tore through dozens of rabbits, snow and flesh erupting with each swing. But for every one crushed, three took its place.
He turned, fangs gleaming.
“WHERE THE HELL IS THAT WHITE-HAIRED BASTARD?!”
“Behind you—!”
A surge of frost blasted over his shoulder.
Emilia’s magic detonated behind him, obliterating an incoming swarm in a burst of ice shards.
“They just… won’t stop!”
“GOOD. NEITHER WILL I!!”
The battlefield was pure chaos—screeches, claws, blood, ice.
But high above it all, on the hill…
There was only silence.
Until—
KRA-KOOOOOOM—!!
A pillar of vermillion light erupted upward from the tree line, obliterating foliage, but more importantly, countless rabbits.
The blizzard halted.
Snowfall stopped mid-air.
And for one, breathless second—
Everything was still.
Then the hill exploded.
A spiraling blue void of gravitational energy swallowed the forest edge, as hundreds of rabbits were dragged into the vortex, their bodies snapping, disintegrating, erased from existence.
Gojo stood in the eye of the storm, clothes fluttering, cerulean pupils gleaming amidst the thick snow that fell.
“Let me make one thing clear—”
He raised one hand, fingers outstretched.
“—You’re not the hunters here.”
Gojo stood motionless.
The wind stirred faintly, brushing past his silver-white hair. Snow drifted down in slow spirals—soft, indifferent.
But his eyes were locked forward.
Beyond the ridgeline, the snow churned violently—a living tide of teeth and fur. Hundreds of Great Rabbits surged like a white tsunami, rippling across the tundra toward the village outskirts.
Emilia’s figure flashed, frost and magic bleeding from her hands repeatedly. Garfiel roared beside her, holding the line in a blur of muscle and fang.
But the swarm was endless.
Gojo’s expression darkened.
He raised his right hand, fingers relaxed, palm open.
A crimson flare ignited. Raw cursed energy gathered, unstable and ravenous, flickering like the heartbeat of a god in the center of Gojo's hand.
“You’re just prey. So don't misunderstand anything.”
And then—
BOOM—!
The cursed sphere screamed from his hand, ripping through the air.
It erupted on contact. The frozen earth detonated. A shockwave flattened the valley. Blood, snow, and sinew sprayed into the sky in a geyser of red vapor.
The frontline was gone. Simply gone.
Gojo lowered his arm, voice dry.
“If I let that slide, what would that say about the strongest sorcerer, huh? Bad look, seriously!”
He didn’t need to look. Although he didn't exactly feel it.
Tiny bodies began clinging to him—rabbits, dozens of them. Biting. Tearing. Scraping furiously at skin they couldn't touch.
They hung there—suspended inches from his body, limbs twitching in futility.
Infinity.
Gojo didn’t glance at them.
“Hm…”
He kicked sideways. A flick of the foot was all it took—dozens of mangled corpses skidded across the snow. Twisted. Broken. Still twitching before others took it's place.
He rolled his neck, vertebrae cracking like dry wood.
“Even for me, this might be a bit much..”
The sky wept snow above. The ground boiled red below.
And then—
He shifted.
FWOOOM—!
A detonation of blue cursed energy burst from his core, blasting outward in a spherical wave for dozens of meters in every direction. The earth caved. Trees split. The snow vaporized.
Everything—rabbits, rock, frost—was flattened beneath the sheer gravitational pressure of his domain.
At the crater’s heart, Gojo stood.
Breathing slow. Controlled.
And then—
He vanished.
No teleportation.
Just sheer speed.
He tore through the swarm like a phantom, a blur laced with blue afterglow. Each motion was a death sentence—a flicker of red, a slash of blue, a rabbit exploding into a mist of bone and fur.
The landscape shredded in his wake.
Crimson trails carved through snowbanks.
Cobalt shockwaves swallowed the terrain.
Limbs. Gore. Silence.
Then, he halted.
Sliding to a stop with his heels digging into ice.
“Hahh…”
Gojo exhaled hard.
“…I’m already feeling it.” he muttered, sweat beading lightly on his brow.
He looked toward the village. Emilia’s hands trembled with frostbitten fatigue. Garfiel bled from his jaw, panting, still fending off stragglers.
But something was… off.
Too many of the creatures were still tailing him and him alone.
“…Huh.”
Gojo squinted. A thought clicked into place.
He raised one foot.
FWOOOM—!!
The ground ruptured again. Dozens of bodies burst like fruit. Snow soaked in red like ink on parchment.
Gojo’s aura rippled—wild, unstable.
He didn’t hide it this time.
Didn’t suppress it in the slightest.
He released everything.
A flood of cursed energy poured out of him, pressure rippling the landscape. Snow fled from his feet. The very atmosphere screamed.
The creatures turned—every single one of them.
They sensed him.
They charged.
A wave of death.
Gojo stood still.
Silent.
Expression unreadable.
Then—
They reached him.
Clawed. Bit. Swarmed his form in a tide of hunger until, if you were stood outside watching, you wouldn't even be able to see Gojo stood in the midst of it.
But none touched his skin.
His body radiated murderous calm.
And still—he didn’t move.
He just brought his hands together.
Fingers forming a seal, intertwining with one another.
One palm pulsed with Blue.
The other with Red.
The two orbs screamed against one another, collapsing space, fighting to annihilate or devour—forces that shouldn’t mix.
Reality groaned.
“…This might hurt me too.” Gojo whispered.
And then—
The fusion.
Violet.
A brilliant, unstable collapse of existence—a singularity in his palm.
Like the core of a dying star.
His eyes sharpened.
Voice barely above a breath.
“Hollow Purple.”
Snowfall continued. Thick. Unnatural. Suffocating.
Emilia stood with one hand raised, breathing heavily, her silver hair matted with sweat and flakes. The air stung her lungs with every breath. Her magic was waning—sluggish under the sheer volume of the Great Rabbit.
A shriek tore through the blizzard.
Another.
Another.
She raised an arm again, lips barely moving, and fired another blast of ice. It slammed into a charging rabbit, freezing it mid-pounce before it shattered like brittle glass on impact with a nearby tree.
Beside her, Garfiel growled low, blood spattered across his beastly chest and forearms.
Garfiel stomped down hard, crushing several of the beasts beneath his clawed foot with a crack.
“Rghh—! Little bastards don’t stop…!” he hissed through clenched teeth, claws slick with crimson. “They just keep comin’…!”
Suddenly, a sharp voice echoed through the cold air above.
“Al Goa!”
From above, a torrent of flame rained down like an unforgiving bombardment. Hundreds of rabbits were instantly consumed, their blackened corpses crumbling to ash as the intense heat melted the surrounding snow.
Roswaal hovered down gracefully, his robes fluttering in the biting wind. He landed softly but let out a strained breath, clearly pushing his limits.
“Roswaal—! You shouldn’t be—”
Emilia started, eyes wide with concern.
“..You’re still injured!”
She added, the worry evident in her voice.
The mage chuckled lightly through his labored breaths.
“Why yeeeeesss…~ Miss Emilia. I most definitely am. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt my current state to be weaker than young Gaaaaarfiel over there..~” he said with a smirk, nodding toward the warrior.
It was unlike Roswaal to intervene unless there was something to be gained—and despite his weakened condition, he had made the choice. The stakes were high, but the reward far more interesting to him.
Gojo’s trust was worth more than any treasure.
Emilia’s furrowed brows betrayed her worry. Then, almost instinctively, her gaze snapped toward the treeline. She was no longer merely watching—it was as if she were trying to read the battlefield beyond the snow and trees.
“…Wait.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, hand faltering mid-cast. “The sound… it’s changed.”
The shrieks, growls, the endless chittering of the rabbits—the relentless swarm—
It was fading.
Not gradually, not from slow attrition.
But as if something was swallowing them whole.
Entire clusters vanished in moments. Whole patches of the forest beyond the treeline fell eerily silent.
Emilia’s eyes narrowed, searching the far edge of the woods where the snow thickened like fog. Deep within that white void, a faint glow shimmered—violet and pulsing.
“…Gojo?” she murmured.
Garfiel sniffed sharply, ears twitching with every distant impact.
“Tch… that scent… it’s him, alright,” he growled. “But that mana… no—that ain’t mana. That’s…” His voice trailed off.
The ground beneath their feet trembled.
Just once.
Garfiel braced himself, eyes flicking down to the cracking earth.
Then—
KRROOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!
A devastating blast tore across the distant hill, cutting a merciless line through trees, soil, and sky alike. The earth exploded upwards, snow and dirt ripped apart and sent flying. The clouds spiraled outward in fear, as if the blast had torn the very atmosphere agape.
Garfiel’s voice cracked as he swallowed hard.
“Wh… what in Volcanica was that…?”
He had battled titanic monsters, beasts that could level villages. But he’d never felt nature bend itself like this. It was something beyond force—it was a rewriting of the rules.
Emilia’s breath caught.
Her hands trembled—not from fear, but awe.
The blast faded, leaving behind a towering pillar of violet light. It shimmered like annihilation incarnate—terrifying, beautiful, and utterly impossible to look away from.
Her voice was barely audible.
“…Wow.”
Roswaal’s usual composed demeanor broke for a moment. His eyes widened, reflecting the violet glow.
It was unlike any mana he had ever encountered.
Eerily similar to the Witch’s Miasma—yet undeniably different in a way even he couldn't describe.
“Truly a… horrifying individual…” Roswaal said softly, almost reverent. “..Satoru Gojo.”
Where Gojo stood, the world had been rearranged.
A crater had replaced the landscape. Not a pit—but a reverse crater. A ring of devastation surrounding a single untouched disc of earth beneath his feet. Everything else—trees, snow, life—was gone.
Shredded. Disintegrated.
The silence was absolute.
Even the snow had paused mid-fall.
Gojo exhaled.
“Ugh…”
Blood trickled from his scalp, running over his brow and into one eye. His shirt was half-gone. Skin on his chest and shoulder was charred raw, and from the elbow down, his left arm from the elbow was missing entirely—blown clean off by his own technique.
Only muscle, smoke, and blood pooling at his feet remained.
He grimaced. Not from pain—just annoyance.
Then slowly, he raised his arm. What was left of it.
And the flesh began to rebuild.
Tendons twisted. Skin slithered over bone. Fingers sprouted from raw muscle like flowers in reverse bloom, until a new hand sat, fresh and flexing.
Gojo glanced at it.
"...I've really gotta stop nuking myself." he muttered.
He wiped blood from his cheek. The skin beneath was already sealing, scabbing, stitching. His voice was dry.
“’Cause yeah… it hurts..”
He surveyed the field—what was left of it—and gave a faint whistle.
“…Effective though.”
With a roll of his neck, he raised both hands and laced them behind his head. A casual stretch, despite the war zone. His boots crunched against scorched earth where snow fizzled and began to retake it's place before he pivoted on his heel, turning toward the edge of the crater, ready to head back toward the village.
Then—
He stopped.
Mid-step.
His fingers tensed behind his neck.
A shiver ran up his spine.
Gojo’s head turned slightly. Just enough to glance over his shoulder.
And his breath caught.
“…What…”
It wasn’t over.
Not even close.
The rabbits had returned.
Thousands more. No... just as many as before. As if the ones he’d erased had triggered something. Some response. Some correction. An endless tide, surging toward him, white-furred and red-eyed, screaming across the snow.
It was like he’d done nothing at all.
His brows knit slowly. Eyes narrowed behind his silver lashes.
“…This might be a rougher shift than I thought.”