Slash—! Flash!
Every time the Cursed Blade Muramasa cleaved through the air, slashes imbued with Positive Energy smoothly bifurcated the bodies of the Cursed Spirits. White steam billowed from the wounds, and the monsters crumbled into piles of ash, scattering across the floor before they could even let out a scream.
However, despite the overwhelming lethality, the state of the battle was far from easy.
"...Damn it, there's no end to them!"
In the darkness of the Punishment Room, new Grade 2 Cursed Spirits crawled out incessantly. It was an absurd, relentless onslaught of sheer numbers.
"Kieeeeeek!"
A grotesque Cursed Spirit lunged from my blind spot, aiming for the nape of my neck. Reflexively, I channeled a surge of Positive Energy into my arm—the one not holding Muramasa. As I stepped back, I naturally hammered a heavy backspin blow into the creature's face.
Crack—!
"Kyaaaaaak!"
The spirit's head shattered like burnt paper upon contact with the Positive Energy, and the body was sent flying. But even as I neutralized that single target, three more Cursed Spirits were already regrouping behind me, ready to pounce.
"Haa, whew..."
Rough breaths caught in the back of my throat. This was less a battle of physical endurance and more a war of concentration. It was during that momentary lapse while I tried to catch my breath—
Thwip!
"...Ugh!"
A Cursed Spirit that had been prone on the floor lunged up and sank its sharp teeth deep into my flank. My face twisted in pain as flesh was torn away. I reflexively surged my Cursed Energy to activate the Reverse Cursed Technique and heal the wound. In that instant—
Click—!
Mahoraga's Dharma Wheel, hovering above the crown of my head, gave a heavy, mechanical turn.
The weighty sound of the friction snapped me back to my senses. The flow of Cursed Energy coursing through my body suddenly felt exceptionally vivid.
'...Wait, what the hell am I doing right now?'
The realization hit me. I was currently maintaining an Innate Domain—albeit an incomplete one—that controlled the space. On top of that, I was burning Cursed Energy for high-speed mobility and layering Reverse Cursed Technique into my physical combat.
Maintaining a Domain alone drained a massive amount of Cursed Energy, but adding the constant output of Positive Energy? My energy consumption wasn't just extreme; it was like opening a dam and trying to pour the entire ocean through it. If I ran Reverse Cursed Technique again just to heal physical wounds? My Cursed Energy would bottom out in an instant, and these two days in the Punishment Room would become my grave. This was the ultimate waste of resources.
"I guess I got a little too excited after getting a new Cursed Tool, haha."
I let out a dry laugh and glanced up at the Dharma Wheel above me. Under these extreme conditions, it had adapted to the danger of subconscious energy waste and sent me a warning.
"Thanks to you, I've realized it. Much appreciated."
It wasn't just that. The Wheel's turn provided an intuitive understanding of Cursed Energy manipulation—specifically, the output efficiency of Reverse Cursed Technique. Feeling my efficiency improve, I decided to completely overhaul my combat style.
"It's your fault, you're the problem, kyaaaak!"
Smelling blood, the Cursed Spirits swarmed simultaneously from all directions.
Instead of readjusting my grip on Muramasa, I slammed the blade vertically into the hard concrete floor of the basement.
Clang—!
The moment I abandoned my defense, the spirits lunged in joy, pouring over my body. Sharp claw marks carved into my skin, teeth tore at my flesh, and hot blood soaked through my clothes. Pain thrashed through my entire body, but I didn't use Reverse Cursed Technique to heal the wounds.
'The output of Reverse Cursed Technique! If I expand that further...'
Instead of using the Positive Energy to heal the internal damage, I began to vent it outward through my open wounds like rising smoke.
"...The barrier of a Domain is closed," I muttered, looking indifferently at the Cursed Spirits tearing into me.
"And this space is the range of my technique. That means no matter how far it looks, everything in this room is perfectly within the palm of my hand."
Ssssssss—!
The pure white Positive Energy flowing from my wounds spread across the floor of my Domain like spilled ink, diffusing instantly. The space itself had become a massive medium for the Reverse Cursed Technique.
"...Gy—Gyaaaaak?"
"Kieeeek? Smoking is just a temporary habit... Kaaaaak!"
"The king has donkey ea—ea—ears..."
Starting with the monsters biting my flesh, every Cursed Spirit standing within my Domain began to wither and die, screaming like weeds hit by concentrated herbicide.
As the Positive Energy saturated the space through the Domain, the endless waves of spirits came to a grinding halt. Within the white mist filling the Punishment Room, the hideous monsters recoiled in the agony of incineration.
I straightened my shoulders and spread my arms wide, forming a shape like a crucifix. I acted as the conduit until even more Positive Energy erupted from my body to fill the void.
The interior of the Punishment Room was dyed in a blinding white light. Inherently, Cursed Spirits are born from human negativity—wrath, sorrow, and resentment. Thus, their ends were typically punctuated by horrific curses and foul language.
But as the flawless, pure Positive Energy filled the room, a strange tranquility followed. Instead of profanities, the distorted forms of the spirits slowly crumbled within the white light—looking almost like lambs finding salvation.
Standing like a cross at the center of the descending white light, I whispered softly to the fading monsters.
"I forgive you of your sins."
Deep within the darkness of the cruel Punishment Room, the word of salvation echoed.
Screeee—
The heavy iron door of the Punishment Room opened with an ominous groan of metal on metal after two days.
Backlit by the faint light leaking through the gap, a silhouette walked slowly out from the darkness.
"...Haaa."
Step, step.
The person who emerged with heavy footsteps was Kuroda Hachiro. He was in terrible condition. His clothes were shredded into rags by beastly claws, and his exposed skin and the remains of his garments were plastered with dark, dried bloodstains.
To anyone watching, he looked like a wretched mess who had spent two days and nights in a hellish den of Cursed Spirits, barely clinging to life through bone-grinding agony.
Seeing this, the Old Elder waiting outside the door let a sinister, satisfied smile spread across his lips.
"Have you finally come to your senses?"
The elder slowly approached Hachiro, who stood with his head hung low, covered in blood.
"Do you still have the heart to bare your teeth and oppose the direct line and the elders of the Zenin Clan? You arrogant, impudent brat."
Despite the elder's piercing mockery, Hachiro did not show the insolent attitude he had two days ago.
He wordlessly nodded his head and slowly brought his bloodless hands together in front of his chest, taking a posture of prayer—as if in total submission.
Seeing that perfect posture of obedience, the elder's cloudy eyes gleamed with delight.
Finally, the conviction that he had successfully muzzled this difficult wild horse set in. Very pleased, the elder reached out with his rough palm and patted Hachiro's bloodied shoulder.
"Heh. Yes, you should have bowed like this from the start."
The elder leaned in and whispered low into Hachiro's ear.
"Keep this in mind. A caterpillar is happiest when it eats pine needles. No matter how much you struggle, you're just a branch-family bloodline that must crawl beneath the massive roots of the Zenin Clan."
"..."
Hachiro remained silent, simply listening to the elder's lecture. Eventually, he spoke in a short, raspy voice.
"May I... humbly go and rest now?"
His tone was thoroughly self-deprecating, almost servile in its politeness.
The elder, basking in the leisure of a victor, waved his hand grandly.
"Be off with you. I'll even send a doctor to your room."
Hachiro bowed once more and dragged his heavy footsteps down the hallway until he disappeared around the corner.
Once the blood-soaked figure was completely out of sight, the elder finally burst into the laughter he had been holding back.
"Kekeke! Such arrogance... and yet he was nothing more than a mere child in the face of the Punishment Room's terror."
Humming to himself, the elder stepped into the open Punishment Room to tidy up and check the status of the Cursed Spirits.
"This is a bit of a problem, though. The brat must have wasted quite a few Grade 2 spirits while flailing around... How long is it going to take to fill this massive room with spirits again? Tsk tsk."
Muttering as he entered the dark basement, the elder lit a wall torch to illuminate the space.
"...Huh?"
A vacant sound escaped the elder's mouth.
His cloudy eyes began to tremble violently as they took in an unbelievable sight.
The massive basement that should have been crawling with hundreds of Grade 2 Cursed Spirits—
There were no horrific monsters, and no blood-soaked corpses. In fact, there wasn't a single trace of Cursed Residue—the unpleasant lingering energy that should naturally remain when a spirit is exorcised.
It was as if someone had pressure-washed the entire space with powerful holy water; the basement was eerily empty, filled only with strangely clean, fresh air.
This was no longer a Punishment Room. It was nothing more than an empty cement box.
'Don't tell me... he wiped out hundreds of Cursed Spirits without leaving a trace? He wasn't suffering... he massacred them early on and spent the rest of the time resting before coming out?!'
The image of Hachiro bowing his head with bloodied hands in a submissive prayer flashed through the elder's mind.
The impudent brat he believed he had perfectly broken just moments ago hadn't been defeated. He had been looking down on the elder like a bug, sitting atop the peak of the mountain and thoroughly deceiving him.
"Ah... Aaaaaargh!!"
His face turning beet-red with shame and rage, the elder screamed into the empty basement as if spitting up blood.
"You deceived me!! You dared to deceive me!! KURODA HACHIROOOO!!"
As his desperate scream tore through the air—
Clack, clack.
Leisurely footsteps echoed from behind the open iron door, and a highly amused voice rang through the basement.
"Hahaha! Good heavens, why are you shouting like that, Elder? You're far too old to be making such a scene."
"...Clan Head?!"
Gasping for breath, the elder spun around to see Naobito entering the Punishment Room with his gourd in hand. Naobito looked around the clean basement and let out a scoff of disbelief.
"I did tell that brat to 'survive moderately' in the Punishment Room, but..."
Naobito took a sip of liquor from his gourd and flashed a mean, mocking grin at the elder, who was stiff with rage.
"I didn't expect him to clean the whole damn place before leaving! Hahaha!"
On the Zenin Clan hallway heading toward the guest quarters.
I couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up with every step I took.
"Heh, hehehe..."
By now, that gloomy old elder must have looked inside the Punishment Room. The moment he realized the branch-family brat he intended to squash like a bug had actually sterilized hundreds of spirits without leaving a speck of dust.
Thinking about that geezer's face turning red while he clutched the back of his neck in fury made all my fatigue vanish instantly.
"Ah, what a shame. I should have seen that expression with my own eyes."
Just as I was about to giggle to myself and round the corner—
"Hey!"
"...Whoa, you scared me!!"
Along with a booming shout that rattled my eardrums, someone suddenly popped out from behind me.
Even though I had lowered my guard, I hadn't felt a single presence or even the flow of Cursed Energy. Chills ran down my spine as I reflexively placed my hand on the hilt of Muramasa and whipped around.
"Hahaha! Well now, I thought you were brave, but you've got the face of someone who's just seen a ghost!"
Standing behind me was none other than the current Clan Head, Naobito Zenin.
A mischievous grin was plastered across his face. He had used Projection Sorcery—that overwhelming speed that forces one second into 24 frames—for the childish prank of startling a 14-year-old from behind.
"Good grief, Old Man! Give a guy some warning, will you? You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Haha, why so surprised? I'm just taking a stroll in my own house."
Naobito laughed heartily, nonchalantly shaking his gourd.
"I just took a light stroll toward the Punishment Room... and I saw a very entertaining sight. A certain old man looked like he was about to keel over and cough up blood."
Seeing the playful glint in his eyes, it was clear he had gone specifically to witness the elder's reaction.
I grinned back at him.
"Well, that is quite unfortunate. Oh, and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for giving me such a good Cursed Tool. If you hadn't picked it out personally, I would've had a miserable time last night."
I meant it. If Muramasa hadn't supplemented my Cursed Energy, I might have faced a serious crisis when my energy bottomed out before I realized the efficiency of the Reverse Cursed Technique. At my polite thanks, Naobito stroked his beard, his expression turning slightly serious.
"Hmph. You survived, so the blade's value is proven. For the time being, those old fogies won't be able to put any unreasonable pressure on you or pull any cheap tricks, given how they've lost face."
Naobito glanced around the surroundings before lowering his voice.
"However, those men have one last move left."
"One last move?"
"Exactly one year from now, the elders will try everything in their power to shove you into Jujutsu High in Tokyo."
Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.
The core institution of the jujutsu world, where countless talents gather.
"It's a shallow calculation to exile you as far away as possible to minimize your influence on the clan while simultaneously using you to keep an eye on that arrogant brat from the Gojo clan."
"..."
The moment I heard Naobito's words, the fragments of the original story's timeline in my head snapped together like a giant puzzle.
Tokyo Jujutsu High. One year from now.
That meant the time I would be entering Tokyo coincided with when Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto would be entering as students.
'...One year left, then.'
The point where the curtains rise on the massive tragedy of Jujutsu Kaisen.
The turning point where Toji begins his move, the Star Plasma Vessel protection mission ends in failure, Gojo awakens as the strongest, and Geto falls into darkness.
Hidden Inventory. A perfect excuse to enter the center of the storm where all causality swirls had been handed to me by the Zenin elders themselves. A chilling sense of anticipation stirred deep within my chest.
I hid my expression and casually laced my fingers behind my head, responding noncommittally.
"Whatever, it doesn't matter."
"Oh?"
"It's not like I planned on staying in this suffocating neighborhood forever anyway. I guess I'll just keep leeching off the Zenin Clan's resources and train in peace until I'm kicked out to Tokyo in a year."
Naobito scoffed at my sly attitude, finding it hard to believe.
"Hahaha! You really are a black-hearted snake. Fine, go ahead and rest as much as you like."
Watching Naobito walk away, I unlaced my fingers and looked up at the sky.
One year. In this outlier world, it was long enough to set the stage for the board I wanted, and short enough to feel the pressure.
It was time to prepare for the storm.