The stone path led away from the training grounds and deeper into the campus.
Tall trees surrounded the buildings of Tokyo Jujutsu High, their branches swaying gently as if whispering among themselves. The atmosphere here was quieter—less oppressive than the training field, but still heavy with lingering cursed energy.
Masamichi Yaga stopped in front of a long, traditional building.
"This is the first-year dormitory," he said.
"You'll be staying here."
Gojo glanced at it once. "Huh. Kinda plain."
"It's a student's dormitory ,not a hotel," Yaga replied.
Shoko yawned. "Disappointing. I was hoping for haunted luxury."
Yaga slid open the main door and stepped aside.
"Rooms are assigned. No fighting. No structural damage."
Gojo smiled. "Define 'structural.'"
Yaga ignored him and handed out keys.
"Gojo Satoru. Room 101."
"Geto Suguru. Room 102."
"Ieiri Shoko. Room 103."
"Hyodo Emiya. Room 104."
Each of them took their key.
The hallway was quiet, wooden floors creaking softly underfoot as they split off toward their respective rooms.
Gojo's Room
Spacious by dorm standards. A futon, a low table, a window overlooking the forest.
Gojo dropped his bag instantly and flopped onto the futon.
"Yeah," he said to no one. "I can work with this."
Geto's Room
Geto's room was plain and quiet.
A futon, a low desk, a window facing the trees. Nothing fancy. He dropped his bag near the wall and sat on the futon, leaning back on his hands.
He glanced around once.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Not bad."
Outside, the forest was calm. Inside, the room felt steady—good enough to think, good enough to rest.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling.
First day down.
Shoko's Room
Small but comfortable.
Shoko tossed her bag aside and immediately lay back on the futon, staring at the ceiling.
"First-years, evaluations, idiots," she muttered. "I need a cigarette."
Emiya pov-
The room is… simple.
A futon by the wall. A desk I probably won't use much. A window that lets in just enough light to remind me I'm still in the real world. No clutter. No noise.
It's fine.
I set my bag down and sit for a moment, listening. The dorm is quiet. Too quiet—but I don't mind that.
Then I lie down on the futon and turn my face toward the ceiling.
I exhale slowly.
…My thoughts drift anyway.
Two months ago.
That's when I died.
Not heroically.
Not tragically.
Stupidly.
I was a 15-year-old student who had just finished middle school. High school hadn't started yet, and my entrance was still some time away, so I was currently enjoying my holidays.
But honestly… I was getting bored out of my mind at home.
So I stepped outside to buy some ice cream.
I loved watching anime. My favorites were One Piece and Jujutsu Kaisen.
And the person I hated the most?
Gege Akutami.
First he killed Gojo… then Choso… then even Sukuna… and somehow managed to make poor Yuji suffer even more every time.
Seriously. That man had something against happiness.
Anyway—
I was crossing the road.
Broad daylight.
Calm weather.
No distractions.
I even remember thinking to myself,
"Man… imagine getting isekai'd right now."
"Couldn't be me."
So I did everything right.
Looked left.
Looked right.
Looked left again—because experience says the universe punishes confidence.
Clear.
I stepped forward.
And slipped.
On a banana peel.
A banana peel.
I don't even know why it was there. Who eats bananas in the middle of the road? Who discards them like that? I'll never get answers.
I flailed. Windmilled. Regained balance at half a second.
That's when a bicycle hit me.
"Step-Side–"
Just enough to bump me backward like the universe nudging me and saying,
"No, You're not done yet."
I stumbled.
Into traffic.
At this point, I panicked—but in a very organized way.
I curled into a ball.
Covered my head.
Tried to roll because I once saw that in an action movie.
A car screeched to a stop in front of me.
I thought," survived,huh"
Then another car hit me from the side.
And my last thought was—
"I tried so hard
and got so far
but in the end it doesn't even matter."
No tunnel of light. No god. No voice asking me if I wanted a second chance.
Just darkness.
And then—
I woke up in this world.
New body. New name. Cursed energy crawling under my skin like it had always been there.
I stare at the ceiling of my dorm room.
"…I died to a banana peel," I whisper.
Second life.
I'm definitely crossing roads more carefully this time.
After waking up in this world, I realized the second weird thing wasn't the curses.
It was the fact that I already knew my technique.
Inside me exists a place.
A village.
When I focus, my consciousness slips inward and I can see it clearly. Dirt paths. Small structures. Solid stone walls. A Town Hall at the center, quietly anchoring everything.
And the moment it clicked, I almost laughed.
Because I recognized it.
This wasn't some abstract cursed domain.
This was Clash of Clans village.
In my previous life, I'd played it religiously. Not casually. Not "log in once a week."
I was serious.
Town Hall 17.
One upgrade away from the highest level.
Maxed defenses and troops.
And now?
I was inside one.
My cursed technique lets me manifest what exists in that village into the real world around the radius of 100 meter.
I don't generate attacks directly. I don't shape cursed energy into blades or beams. Instead, I summon what already exists inside that village.
Buildings aren't projections—they're real. Walls have mass. Cannons fire cursed energy. Troops respond to my will like trained units.
Structures. Units. Defenses.
I can upgrade my village step by step like in clash of clan.
At my current limit—Town Hall Level 3—that's all I can access.
Walls are solid rock. Not barriers—actual mass.
Troops respond to my will.
Giants.
Barbarians.
Archers.
Goblins.
Wall breakers.
Everything costs cursed energy by the way which is restored by Elixir collector and is stored in Elixir storage, but the Town Hall offsets the mental strain. The village keeps things organized so my brain doesn't melt mid-fight.
If a building is destroyed outside, it repairs itself inside the village over time. Three hours for normal structures.
The Town Hall takes longer.
A week.
I slip back into the village once more.
Town Hall Level 3 stands at the center—sturdy, unpolished, but reliable. Waiting to be upgraded.
Around it, everything that should exist at this level… does.
Defenses first.
Two Cannons—one already maxed, one waiting to be upgraded
.
Simple ground defense.
Two Archer Towers, both Level 3, rising above the huts.
Long range. Clean lines of fire.
One Mortar.
I pause there for a second.
Level 1—but even at its weakest, it dominates the center. Splash damage. Crowd control. The heart of any early base. If something breaks through everything else, the Mortar makes sure it regrets it
.
Hidden between paths are two Bomb traps.
Invisible. Quiet. Waiting. I like that about them.
Then the walls.
Fifty pieces, all Level 3.
Actual stone. Thick enough that you don't just break through them.
Now the utility buildings.
One Barracks, upgraded, quietly training troops on command.
Two Army Camps, expanded enough to hold a proper force—40 force per camp 80 both camps together.
The Laboratory sits slightly off-center, active.
That one matters. That's where strength becomes refined.
Resources hum steadily.
Three Elixir Collectors.
Two Elixir Storages.
"Sadly, there was no gold mine or storage. Otherwise, I would have been rich."
And near the edge—
The Clan Castle.
Inactive . Empty. Don't know whats it gonna be used for probably storage function as there are no clans to join.
Finally, tucked away like tired gods who refuse to retire—
Two Builder Huts.
The life of the village.
That leaves one thing.
I shift my attention to the remaining Cannon.
I give the mental command to the one of the builder.
He exits his hut and go to upgrade the cannon as he starts hammering cursed energy floods into the structure, metal plates phasing apart as scaffolding snaps into existence around it.
The barrel thickens. The firing mechanism refines itself.
Don't know how it works.
Upgrade started.
Three hours.
While the cannon upgrades, my attention drifts to the Laboratory.
That place is… different.
Defenses run on my cursed energy directly.
Troops, however, are definitions.
Upgrading them doesn't just make them stronger—it refines how they exist.
At my current level, here's how it lines up:
Barbarians lv2
– Low durability, high aggression
– Roughly equivalent to Semi Grade 2 curses
They overwhelm through numbers, not finesse.
Archers lv2
– Ranged cursed projectiles, fragile bodies
– Also Semi garde 2
Good positioning makes all the difference.
Giants lv2
– Slow. Tanky. Unreasonably stubborn.
– Solid Grade 2
They draw attention, soak damage, and refuse to go down quietly.
Goblins lv2
– Fast, evasive, specialized
– Not combat-focused
– Think non-combat Grade 3 utility curses
Wall breakers lv1
- Go kamikaze
- Very effective
- Usefull in taking down Semi grade one.
Terrifying in the right context, useless in a straight fight.
I hesitate.
My awareness lingers on the Town Hall, that quiet, stubborn core anchoring everything together.
Upgrading it isn't like upgrading a cannon or a wall.
It's risky.
When the Town Hall is destroyed—or worse, mid-upgrade—my combat effectiveness drops by forty percent while manifesting structure.
Not just output.
Everything.
Control, stability, response speed and even how cleanly structures manifest.
In short—I'd be weaker.
Although troops efficiency remains the same.
Noticeably.
I let that sink in.
One week is a long time to walk around half-nerfed in a school full of cursed spirits, prodigies, and one white-haired lunatic who bends reality for fun.
But…
If I don't upgrade, I stall.
No new structures.
No stronger troops.
No future scalability.
Staying safe now means being obsolete later.
I exhale slowly.
"…Yeah," I mutter. "That figures."
I give the command.
The Town Hall hums.
The second builder quickly exits the hut and start hammering the Town hall stone plates shift. Arcane scaffolding forms around it, heavier and more complex than anything else in the village. The air tightens as cursed energy locks into a long-term cycle.
Upgrade initiated.
Time remaining: 7 days.
Immediately, I feel it.
Like someone turned down the saturation on my senses.
Forty percent.
Still usable.
But I'd need to be careful.
I withdraw from the mental space, letting the village blur and fade as my consciousness pulls back into my body.
The dorm room ceiling comes back into focus.
Quiet.
I turn onto my side, exhaustion finally catching up with me.
"Second life,huh." I murmur, already half-asleep.
Darkness takes me.
_________________________________________