Chapter 655: The Shadow Army (Pseudo)
[You have lost the Item: Golden Sentry Serum]
[You have obtained A-Rank Singularity * 2, 30,000 Dimension Points]
[You have deployed the Item: All the World's Evil]
[You have lost A-Rank Singularity * 1, 35,000 Dimension Points]
Kaito Shirogane cede absolutely zero hesitation to the programmatic transaction, systematically submitting the "inflated" chemical serum Hakumen and Gojo had salvaged to the Space terminal to exchange for immediate rewards.
Although the high-tier Singularities he harvested from finalizing Thanos's execution were more than sufficient to cover his operational costs, his sharp intuition verified that this serum lacked the absolute structural capacity to cede himself or any other active Reincarnator the apocalyptic power of a million exploding suns.
Its classification as a World's Rare Treasure, identical to the twin vials of the Dragon King's Blood Essence he had handled previously, was purely because the artifact held an active informational key that linked straight to an advanced worldline.
The stygian Mud of the Holy Grail plummeted from the upper atmosphere, completely engulfing Satoru Gojo's coordinates.
In the very next fraction of a second, Gojo's naturally ostentatious, wild facial features twisted into an even more monstrously contorted grimace. This absolute "strongest" individual—conceptually manufactured by his home universe to function as the literal structural anchor balancing the sorcery realm—had ultimately been curse-executed out of the gate by an interloper like Hakumen via a specialized methodology his mind could have never anticipated.
Deep within his vessels, Gojo had long since accumulated an absolute, roiling ocean of pure resentment and unadulterated curses.
Furthermore, during his prolonged isolation beneath the stygian currents of the Underworld, he had been a single micro-gram of kinetic decay away from mutating into a full Sovereign of Cursed Spirits, his spiritual framework already undergoing severe cursed spirit transformation. Although Kaito Shirogane's forced completion of [The Taishan Fujun Rite] utilized the authority of the Underworld Sovereign to systematically blockade that specific evolution—instead choosing to cleanly contain Gojo's form along with the Underworld itself inside his core—the structural capacity to manifest as a high-tier cursed spirit remained perfectly active within his soul.
And more than that, the single factor forcing an intensely twisted, agonizing thread straight into Gojo's mind was the absolute strategic timeline data he had extracted from the Millennium Bug's lips regarding his own narrative end.
To think his unyielding ego had cede a pathetic, subservient statement like: "I feel highly apologetic for failing to make Lord Sukuna unleash his full potential..."
Merely allowing that specific chronological image to compile inside his brain tissue was sufficient to make Gojo's psychological baseline violently fracture into pieces right on the spot.
He lowered his eyelids, the familiar, dense texture of real physical flesh and blood smoothly re-engineering itself from within the stygian Mud, right alongside an uncontrollable, runaway explosion of pure spiritual corruption.
He could distinctly, sharply perceive that the absolute deepest, most restricted negative emotional parameters anchoring his soul were being aggressively brought to the surface.
Whether it was his deep-seated disgust for the ordinary mortal masses of his home world—creatures entirely devoid of strength yet driven by an insatiable, ravenous greed—or his complete contempt for the absolute rot corrupting the higher echelons of the jujutsu headquarters, or his unyielding resentment toward his own... absolute helplessness; his grand visualization of his ego as the strongest, yet ultimately failing to safeguard a single asset he cared for...
Disgusting. An absolute, multi-layered wave of pure, unadulterated disgust!
Satoru Gojo's long white hair visibly elongated by several inches as his physical vessel finalized its absolute resurrection. The intricate black markings covering his muscles mutated into long, narrow Tracks, extending from the base of his eyelids to wind past his cheekbones, anchoring themselves directly behind his ears like a network of tightly bound mechanical chains, or rows of shut, unaligned eyes.
Gojo forced his eyes wide open. The exact millisecond his brilliant blue-white [Six Eyes] completed their absolute remanifestation, the ambient currents of cursed energy surrounding his coordinates were instantaneously and flawlessly smoothed out. The volatile energy field—which had been exponentially expanding under the active stimulation of his negative emotional parameters—was systematically and mathematically bound under the precise control of the Six Eyes, taming the output into a dense, silent aura wrapping his muscles.
He unhinged his jaw to a severe width, his entire expression contorted into an exceptionally exaggerated, split mask as his mind reeled under the binary friction of his ecstatic joy over returning to material life and the stygian weight of the absolute malice roaring within his core.
The 360-degree perfect field of vision granted by his Six Eyes flamed into active deployment. His diagnostics cleanly captured that across this entirely novel, hyper-advanced world, the primitive native "monkeys" were currently huddling together amidst the smoldering ruins, desperately trying to anchor their psychological baselines after the apocalyptic cataclysm that had just pulverized their city.
Gojo's fingers executed a sharp micro-twitch. His automated, instinctual muscle reflex was to immediately launch a wide-area mass spell formula to wipe the coordinates clean, but his clinical mind forcefully clamped down onto his motor nerves, overriding the impulse.
The corners of Kaito Shirogane's mouth split into an equally wide, monstrously contorted grin. Monitoring this unique individual who had been structurally born into the classification of a "metahuman"—watching that rigid moral framework he had historically used to violently chain his own ego to concepts of absolute good and evil systematically warp, buckle, and rewrite itself under the erosion of the [All the World's Evil]—was nothing short of supreme, absolute ecstasy.
It was identical to evaluating the most pristine, beautifully orchestrated artistic performance.
It cleanly replicated the exact methodology he had witnessed when validating Artoria Pendragon's internal mutation back then.
Gojo's capacity for sub-atomic energy governance was exceptionally elite; he smoothly and instantaneously receded his bloodthirsty intent and raw malice away from the native cattle, his features breaking into a wide, playful smile that was structurally indistinguishable from his regular baseline demeanor prior to his execution.
"Yo, Master-kun. Satoru ~ Gojo, reporting for active duty!"
Gojo's frame was exceptionally slender and tall, and as he raised a lone hand to cede his host this species of completely absurd, flippant salute, it should have looked thoroughly farcical to any observer. Yet at this exact microsecond, not a single living asset or bound yin general within the high-rise found the performance remotely amusing.
Because the unadulterated, raw killing intent Gojo had radiated a microsecond ago had been so monumentally, piercingly dense that this cluster of top-tier practitioners had mapped every single parameter of the malice with absolute clarity.
That was an absolute, unyielding wave of intent engineered to systematically and non-discriminatorively execute every single breathing organism on the grid.
Only Kaito Shirogane held a perfect clinical understanding of the underlying mechanics: Satoru Gojo—an individual whose entire existence had been anchored by the ideological doctrine that the strong must explicitly safeguard the weak—had sustained a total structural collapse of his philosophy under the combined erosion of the chronological events and the All the World's Evil.
He no longer cede a single wisp of narrative value to the existence of the weak, nor did his inner psyche lazily and automatically categorize his own framework under the archetype of the strong.
To his newly re-engineered perspective, only those rare assets who could forcefully demonstrate a spark of absolute righteousness while operating within a total vacuum of unmitigated evil were structurally worthy of receiving a line of salvation or defense; correspondingly, only an individual who could successfully forge his path by systematically dismantling a peerless, monster-tier enemy had the priority to be labeled as "strong".
His internal smile turned thoroughly mocking. Visualizing your ego as the absolute strongest under heaven, only to be effortlessly and cleanly sliced into two halves by a single strike... that's nothing short of a premier, farcical clown show, isn't it...
Madara Uchiha cede zero baseline focus to evaluate their psychological banter. The complex gears of his Sharingan slowly rotated within his pupils, his diagnostics merely capturing that the raw spiritual pressure and presence bleeding from this light-minded, silver-haired stranger had completed a monumental threshold escalation.
His sharp intuition mapped a subtle correlation: this new general was similarly an asset whose underlying power metrics would aggressively scale up when fueled by extreme, hyper-concentrated emotional parameters—a trait that, in a certain structural sense, could be classified as exceptionally aligned with the archetype of the [Uchiha].
Kaito Shirogane casually shifted his left hand, pouring a dense stream of the stygian Mud straight over the coordinates of the Millennium Bug, allowing the absolute first Reincarnator spirit his engine had ever harvested to successfully execute a full Resurrection.
The Millennium Bug pulled a series of sharp, ravenous breaths of ambient air, every single lungful of oxygen acting like an exceptionally precious, high-tier nutrient designed to rebuild his biology. But within a few fractions of a second, his tactical mind completed a cold deceleration, his diagnostics cleanly locking onto a catastrophic structural anomaly.
"Although my biology has been successfully dragged back into life, my system has been completely stripped of the Reincarnator Space Panel... and I have systematically lost every wisp of my active Demi-Human lineage..."
The Millennium Bug meticulously measured the residual lines of Chakra and cursed energy pulsing within his pathways. Bypassing his Demi-Human bloodline meant his raw physical immortality and combat efficiency had sustained a severe, irreversible structural depression; simultaneously, losing his status as an active Reincarnator meant that highly, statistically likely... he was permanently disqualified from executing independent spatial displacement across the multiverse.
In the very next fraction of a second, as his eyes locked onto Mercenary Tao's silhouette, his nervous system involuntarily and automatically generated an overwhelming wave of pure, instinctual terror and absolute submission.
"This is the unyielding, overriding control effect anchoring the Mud of the Grail..."
The ecstatic celebration over returning to material life rapidly evaporated from his mind. Staring at Mercenary Tao—who refrained from allocating a single frame of focus to evaluate his resurrected form—the mercenary lowered his eyes, a deeply twisted, burning thread of pure hatred violently igniting within his soul.
An absolute resurrection quota, painstakingly secured after multiple world cycles, yet his framework had been reduced to a status this pathetically weak and hollow. In fact, his sharp intuition concluded that Mercenary Tao had likely compiled zero strategic blueprints that counted on his assets to cede his engine any real utility on the board...
"Quite the contrary. You possess an exceptionally high, absolute utility on my ledger, Millennium Bug," Kaito noted, his vocal cadence completely indifferent to the mercenary's internal malice. "Highly likely, your clinical mind lacks a clean analytical breakdown to verify the reality, but you are vastly, structurally more useful to my current blueprint than your own thoughts have ever estimated..."
Subsequently, a basic tactical plan was cleanly formulated by his mind, engineered specifically to systematically counter and liquidate the specialized intercept elements of [The Primordial Dragon Court] fated to execute an orbital entry onto this grid within three days.
Omiting Hakumen—who was currently completely, intensely locked inside a state of hyper-focused contemplation, studying Cletus Parker's biology to trace the hidden quest parameters of the Spider-Totem to secure her own resurrection—every single general in the room was systematically assigned a precise tactical directive.
Kaito Shirogane had completely inverted his historical methodology, aggressively and heavily deploying his bound generals to anchor the core parameters of the upcoming defensive operation. This structural pivot forced a sharp thread of preternatural alarm into the Millennium Bug's mind, yet his system held absolutely zero baseline capacity to launch an active resistance.
And across the corridor, the Tree Herder's brow remained wound dangerously tight in a deep frown. Although his physical vessel had been spared execution out of the gate, having unblinkingly monitored the exact mechanics Mercenary Tao deployed to resurrect the Millennium Bug and Satoru Gojo via the Mud, his intellect verified that the statistical probability of his own agency executing a clean escape from this sector in the immediate future was virtually non-existent.
And furthermore... his sharp perception could distinctly capture an exceptionally anomalous metric pulsing within Mercenary Tao's aura. Following his head-on grapple against Superman in the stratosphere, Kaito Shirogane's baseline behavioral profile had turned entirely, monstrously abnormal!
Yet his clinical mind lacked the necessary data to accurately identify where the structural discrepancy lay.
Hakumen kept her narrow eyes locked downward to analyze the unconscious child, her brain tissue calculating every available vector to extract a valid mission link to the Spider-Totem, while her inner mind cede a wave of pure, mocking contempt to evaluate the Millennium Bug's pathetic panic.
Within a hyper-advanced environment like the Infinite Dimension Space, so long as your soul can forcefully break through the logs to reclaim material life, amassing the necessary capital to eventually rewrite your contract to secure absolute freedom was an entirely standard, mathematically viable milestone.
Since Mercenary Tao had already cleanly demonstrated that he was an individual insane enough to aggressively resurrect even his own historical enemies to feed his engine, the remaining strategic directive governing her campaign was clear: she merely required her arrays to forcefully demonstrate to Mercenary Tao that her individual utility sat at the absolute apex of his asset ledger!
The corners of her mouth curled into a sharp smile to reveal her fang. Her psychological baseline automatically and flawlessly remanifested that intense, hyper-arrogant conviction that treated every other interloper on the board as absolute garbage—with the sole exception, of course, of Mercenary Tao himself.
She thoroughly despised Satoru Gojo and Madara Uchiha as a pair of unrefined brutes who possessed a monumental volume of raw power yet lacked a single gram of strategic intellect; she despised the Millennium Bug as a brainless, low-tier mercenary clown; she despised the Tree Herder as a pathetically weak piece of meat who relied entirely on micro-shrewdness to navigate the grid...
Only her own ego—and, well, her clinical focus cede a line of credit to include that genuine, absolute wild beast Mercenary Tao—possessed the required [Vessel Capacity] to truly, flawlessly savor the high-intensity stimulation anchoring the Infinite Dimension!
Hakumen's operational efficiency exploded with unprecedented, monumental momentum.
Kaito Shirogane meticulously scanned the frantic, ecstatic jumping metrics of Hakumen's dark heart via his active empathy grid, his features settling into an expression of profound, rapturous joy. Although his sensory channels were simultaneously and continuously flooded with a non-stop, wide-area saturation of raw human casualties bleeding from the exterior Manhattan ruins—
The absolute agony of individuals who had lost their entire bloodlines in a fraction of a second, the primal terror of organisms whose physical frameworks had sustained terminal traumatic dismemberment, and the suffocating panic of a population that had just witnessed a literal continental submersion—
A volume of negative emotion so monumentally, structurally crushing it caused even his unyielding [Heart of the Thunder Emperor] to execute a series of sharp, spasmodic contractions, it was solely the rhythmic, organic thudding of these elite special individuals' hearts that allowed his soul to verify that his own position hadn't caved to an absolute, messy defeat.
At the very least... at this exact microsecond of the operation, his biological parameters had cleanly, flawlessly converged toward the absolute event horizon of that grander boundary, hadn't they...
The absolute state of existence known across the high-tier logs as—[The Concussive Pulse of the Spiritual Light]!
"Parker. Do your absolute desires incline you to allocate your assets to cede a line of reinforcement to salvage more lives from the ruins?"
Young Cletus Parker had been waiting for this exact operational directive with an intense, frantic momentum. Staring up at the superhero of his heart, Lord Kaito, his small head nodded with absolute velocity, while his underlying soul lusted for the host to drive an even grander threshold of power into his veins.
Kaito Shirogane executed a massive, sweeping wave of his left hand.
"This entire horde of high-tier yin spirits... this absolute legion of my [Shadow Army], is systematically and temporarily lent to your command. You are permitted to guide their displacement vectors across the city blocks, aggressively extracting any native breathing asset from the ruins!"
Young Parker let out an ecstatic, high-pitched childish yell. Kaito calmly propped his chin against his obsidian palm, his narrow eyes closing as he quietly, empahtically monitored the unblemished, pure heart of the boy delivering a succession of rapid, organic thuds.
A colossal, sky-tearing column of hundreds of thousands of pitch-black yin spirits cleanly and flawlessly trailed behind the child's small frame, fish-eying out from the ruined skyscraper to flood the Manhattan grid. Before long, Kaito's internal diagnostic panel indicated that his localized [Reputation] parameters across the native worldline were initiating an exponential, runaway surge.
Left alone within the ruined hall, Kaito Shirogane slowly and methodically pulled the absolute primary strategic trophies harvested from his head-on collisions out from his inventory.
Twin Resource Cards. One flaring with the absolute, unyielding markings of a Crimson Drop Card; the other radiating a pristine, flawless luminescence identical to the texture of carved imperial ruby—harvested directly from the severed lines of Solomon and Thanos.
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