"We need a clear result, Makima-san." The Prime Minister looked at Makima, his eyes carrying both hope and a command that brooked no refusal.
"A result that can be shown to the public to prove that 'the threat can be handled.' Panic needs an outlet, and the best outlet is seeing the culprit who caused the panic being dealt with."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowered but clearer. "The Cabinet authorizes you to use all necessary resources and take all necessary measures. The target: Exorcise Ryomen Sukuna."
"At the very least, a successful decapitation action must be completed in the public's perception. This will not only calm the panic but also re-establish the state's control over supernatural threats, counteracting the power vacuum left by the disorder in the Jujutsu World."
The meeting room fell into a brief silence. Everyone's eyes were on Makima, waiting for her response.
Makima's ringed eyes slowly swept across the faces of every Cabinet member present. Her expression did not change at all, as if she had only heard an ordinary cleanup task.
A few seconds later, she nodded slightly. :Understood."
Her voice was steady and gentle, yet possessed a strange, unquestionable penetration. "The target is Ryomen Sukuna. I will handle it."
There were no impassioned guarantees, no detailed explanations of an action plan.
A single, simple sentence made the high-ranking Cabinet officials present involuntarily breathe a sigh of relief. It was as if, as long as she agreed, the matter would definitely be solved.
This was the invisible influence exerted by the Control Devil.
Makima stood up, her black leather shoes making a crisp "clack" on the smooth marble floor. She walked straight toward the meeting room door.
Before pulling it open, she tilted her head slightly and added in that flat, rippleless tone, "I will need to borrow some 'resources.'"
"Please coordinate with the Ministry of Justice."
The Prime Minister understood immediately and nodded heavily. "No problem. We will cooperate with you in everything."
...
On the outskirts of Tokyo, in a mountainous forest on high ground far from human habitation, an ancient shrine stood quietly in the night.
The shrine appeared to have been abandoned for some time. The red paint on the Torii gate was peeling and mottled, and the gaps in the stone steps were overgrown with moss.
But at this moment, the originally empty square in front of the Worship Hall was filled with an aura of killing intent and eeriness that was completely out of place with the peaceful forest.
Thirty men wearing uniform orange prison jumpsuits, with black hoods over their heads and their hands tied behind their backs, were forced to kneel on the cold, hard stone slabs. Their bodies trembled slightly, but they could not make much noise—their mouths were sealed with specialized tape.
They were Death Row Inmates "seconded" by Makima through Ministry of Justice channels.
To them, this was perhaps another form of execution, though they would never understand the specific reason even in death.
Kurose and Tendou—two experienced Devil Hunters belonging to Public Security Anti-Devil Special Division 4—stood a bit further away.
Both were also wearing special blindfolds that blocked their vision. This was Makima's requirement. When dealing with certain special abilities, looking directly at the process could bring unnecessary risks.
"Honestly... it's always so ritualistic." Kurose muttered softly, adjusting his uncomfortable blindfold. "Makima-san's abilities always make my skin crawl."
"Shut up and follow orders." Tendou's voice was colder and harder.
He stood straight with his hands naturally at his sides, but his muscles were slightly tensed, ready to respond to any sudden situation.
Makima stood directly in front of the row of kneeling Death Row Inmates.
The night wind blew the tips of her pink hair, but she seemed oblivious. She slightly raised one hand, and for an instant, an extremely fine, thread-like light, difficult for an ordinary person to perceive, flashed from her fingertips and connected to the kneeling prisoners.
Domination was already established.
She didn't need to speak, her will was already conveyed.
The black cloth on the first death row inmate's head was torn off by an invisible force, and the tape over his mouth quietly dissolved. He blinked blankly, adjusting to the dim light, and then saw the woman ahead who appeared exceptionally beautiful yet exceptionally terrifying under the moonlight.
Extreme terror gripped his heart. He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but his throat refused to obey.
A clear, calm voice, as irresistible as a supreme command, rang directly in his mind.
"Say this name."
"Sukuna."
The death row inmate's mouth opened uncontrollably, and hoarsely, tremblingly, he spat out that name.
"Su... Sukuna..."
The moment the words fell, his pupils suddenly dilated, and the light of life was instantly extinguished like a blown-out candle. His body slumped forward limply, hitting the stone slabs, devoid of any sign of life.
Gold light rippled slightly in Makima's ringed eyes as she perceived through some invisible connection.
No feedback. The target had not been "reached."
The second death row inmate was treated in the same manner.
"Sukuna."
He collapsed, dead.
The third...
The fourth...
Each time the name was spoken, it was accompanied by the end of a life. Cold corpses gradually piled up in front of the prayer hall, and a faint scent of blood permeated the air. This was a silent and efficient sacrifice, using thirty deeply sinful lives as the price to activate one of the Control Devil's most bizarre and unpredictable abilities.
After the thirtieth death row inmate uttered "Sukuna" and fell dead, the square plunged into a dead silence. Only the whimpering of the night wind through the mountain forests and ancient buildings could be heard.
Although Kurose and Tendou couldn't see, they could hear the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground stop one after another, and they could smell the increasingly thick scent of blood. Both held their breath, waiting for the result.
Makima stood quietly in place. Her expression remained unchanged, as if what had just occurred wasn't a slaughter, but merely the completion of a daily procedure. She was "sensing." Through the feedback of the ability's activation, through the flow of the "price" transmitted as those lives vanished...
A few seconds later, she tilted her head slightly, and for the first time, a very faint, almost curious ripple flickered in her ringed eyes.
It failed.
Thirty high-quality lives were enough to curse and kill the vast majority of known powerful devils or Curses. However, the feedback clearly told her that the target named "Sukuna" had not been killed. He might not even have suffered any effective damage.
The price of the sacrifices was like a stone dropped into the ocean, failing to touch the core existence of the target. Or rather, it was easily resisted, absorbed, or... ignored by some even more massive, more fundamental power.
"Interesting."
Makima whispered to herself. Her voice was so low only she could hear it.
She raised her hand, and a crow that had been perched on the shrine's eaves at some unknown point flapped down and landed on her arm. The crow's eyes were also of the strange ringed variety.
Through the crow's vision, Makima shared the observations of certain "contractors" or "controlled entities" in the distance—towards Shibuya and within the broader city.
There was no large-scale energy eruption, no abnormal fluctuations of a target's death. Sukuna's presence still existed steadily in a certain direction, it even seemed more solid and active than before?
"Is the weight of thirty people not enough?" Makima pondered.
"Or... is 'Sukuna' not his true name?"
She leaned towards the latter.
At her level, she was well aware of the significance of a "name" to certain ancient beings. The "Ryomen Sukuna" recorded in historical texts was likely just a title or alias. His true name, closely linked to his origin, had probably long since vanished into history or been intentionally hidden and protected by himself.
Using the wrong name to activate a true-name Curse-kill would naturally result in a greatly diminished effect, or even be completely ineffective.
However, the purpose of the probe had been achieved.
At least one thing was confirmed: this suddenly appearing "King of Curses," who claimed to have killed the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, indeed possessed an exceptionally deep foundation or status sufficient to ignore her conventional Curse-kill methods.
This was by no means a newborn Cursed Spirit or ordinary Special Grade that could be easily dealt with.
Makima waved her hand gently, and the crow on her arm flew away silently.
She turned toward Kurose and Tendou. "Clean up the scene. Process it according to 'experimental accident' protocols and report to the Cabinet."
"The target possesses high-level true-name protection or conceptual resistance, conventional Curse-killing is ineffective. Further evaluation of his ability composition and weaknesses is required."
"Yes."
Kurose and Tendou responded immediately, beginning to direct the standby logistics personnel to handle the thirty corpses.
They didn't seem particularly surprised by Makima's failure—how could a target that made the Cabinet so solemn and even required Makima to act personally be easily solved by a single remote Curse-kill?
Makima paid no more attention to the cleanup work behind her. She walked alone to the edge of the shrine's prayer hall and gazed into the distance. Below the mountain, the brilliant lights of Tokyo were like a sprawling sea of stars—prosperous and dazzling, yet in her eyes now, they held a fragile beauty born from being saturated with massive collective fear.
Sukuna... what exactly is your goal?
She did not fear powerful opponents. On the contrary, the more powerful an existence, the more valuable it was to control, and the more it could satisfy the primal desire belonging to the "Control Devil" deep within her.
"It seems a more direct contact is needed." Makima whispered to herself, gold light flowing in her ringed eyes, reflecting the city lights in the distance and mirroring a cold, hunter-like interest.
***
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