The city's night sky was supposed to be calm—
But tonight, Tokyo's skyline was cracked by a gaping wound—a sprawling Field of Calamity that had devoured several blocks of a commercial district.
Inside, the world twisted into a rotting wasteland. Towers became jagged skeletons of concrete, the air was filled with black maisma (mist) , and the stench of cursed corruption smothered every breath.
For the Onmyoji who had rushed in from the Tokyo branch, it felt like stepping into a nightmare.
"Everyone, let's head back to reality," one of the younger exorcists declared. His voice carried a forced cheer, his smile thin and brittle.
He smile in a hope of giving the survivors the strength needed to walk away from this hell.
He wasn't a captain, nor a veteran—just an ordinary member of the Tokyo squad. But after sealing several minor kegare (Filth) infestations, he could see it in everyone's eyes: the fear, the unease, the cracks forming in their composure.
Some of the newer recruits trembled, their knuckles white as they gripped their charms.
They were scared—
If they lingered here any longer, their minds might break before their bodies did.
So he laughed, though his chest felt tight.
"Relax, people. Mission's done. Let's get out of this creepy place. The world's waiting for us."
The others nodded faintly. A few even exhaled in relief.
But when his hand went to his waist, reaching for the talisman of return, his smile froze.
His fingers grasped at empty cloth.
"...Huh?"
He checked again. And again.
His heart sank.
The familiar charm was gone.
He had rushed into the calamity so quickly, so blindly, that he had forgotten the one thing he needed most: the spell that unlocked the gate to reality.
His expression twitched. He could feel cold sweat prickling his neck.
'Damn it…' he muttered inwardly
He dared not speak too loudly. If the others realized what had happened, panic would spread like wildfire.
Still, he had to find a solution. Quickly.
'The captains outside… yes, they'll have one. If we regroup with them, we'll be fine.'
He forced his voice steady and raised his hand.
"Change of plan, everyone! We're heading to regroup with the captain's squad outside the barrier. They'll guide us back."
The others didn't question him.
If anything, they seemed relieved at the idea. With grim determination, they followed his lead deeper into the distorted cityscape, unaware that their little detour would never have been necessary—had their leader remembered his talisman, they didn't think that. Never do they want to.
.....
Elsewhere, closer to the epicenter of the calamity, a lone figure walked with his hands casually in his pockets.
Gojo Satoru.
The strongest sorcerer of his world, and now a man whose very existence warped the flow of this realm. Ever since his arrival, impurities—the cursed filth known here as kegare—had begun appearing in greater numbers, and far stranger forms.
But Gojo didn't seem concerned.
Whistling softly, he walked as though this wasteland was nothing more than a shopping street.
His white hair glowed faintly in the pale light of the corrupted sky, and though his blindfold hung loosely in his pocket, his eyes—icy blue and infinite—watched everything with serene confidence.
Then, the air shifted.
An enchantment snapped into place around him, walls of cursed energy forming a dome that sealed off his escape.
Gojo stopped, tilting his head.
"Oh? Someone's trying hard today."
From the shadows stepped a figure unlike the lesser filth that plagued the streets.
Its skin was dark, almost earthen brown, covered in cracked veins of crimson light. Its frame was humanoid but grotesque, and in the center of its forehead, a single bloody eye glared with hunger.
Gojo whistled.
"Well, aren't you a pretty one."
The creature's voice rasped, echoing with malice.
"Gojo Satoru. Strongest in the Yin-Yang Realm today. The stories were true."
Gojo sat down lazily on a half-collapsed stone wall, crossing one leg over the other.
"And you are?"
The monster's lips twisted.
"They call me a Basa… though not one your kind has seen before."
Gojo tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Basa, huh…? Interesting. I've seen plenty of filth, but nothing like you. Then again, the moment I stepped into this world, the rules started bending, changing. You're might even be my fault. I can guess the reason but still let me ask why?"
He smiled, amused by his own words.
The Basa's grin widened, teeth jagged.
"Thousands of humans were dragged into this calamity, and you ask why? They were bait. The real prize… is you."
For the first time, silence pressed down between them.
Then Gojo laughed.
It wasn't a chuckle, but a full, unrestrained burst of laughter, shoulders shaking as he wiped the corner of his eye.
"Man… how long has it been since someone said that to me? First, curses back in my world… and now you. Ah, this is too fun."
The Basa's expression darkened.
"You think this is a game? When you die here, the balance will tip. Humanity will drown in filth. And your corpse will mark the beginning."
Gojo's laughter softened into a grin. He stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his shoulders.
"Alright then. Show me what you've got."
The Basa moved, the moment the words were heard—
Its leg slammed into the ground, launching forward with a speed that split the air. A black aura gathered in its clawed hand, dense enough to warp the space around it. With a guttural roar, it struck.
The impact shook the ground. A distant hill disintegrated, reduced to rubble in an instant. Dust and debris clouded the air, blotting out the battlefield.
The Basa exhaled heavily, scanning.
"…Is it done?"
But then, a voice emerged from the settling dust.
"Not bad."
Gojo stood exactly where he had been, not a scratch on him. His white hair gleamed in the dim light, untouched by dirt.
The ground behind him, however, was a different story. It looked as if a massive force had crushed it flat, cracks spiderwebbing out in every direction.
Gojo's lips curved.
" You'll have to do better than that."
The Basa's eye widened in disbelief.
"Impossible!"
Before it could recover, Gojo was already in front of it.
His hand clamped around the creature's arm, twisting it with ease, and his knee drove sharply into its ribs.
Basa howled as it was launched backward, body twisting violently through the air.
But Gojo wasn't done.
In the blink of an eye, he was there again, fist colliding with the creature's jaw. The Basa's body veered sideways, crashing through a half-ruined tower.
Concrete shattered like paper.
Gojo's movements blurred, his pale figure flickering like lightning.
Each appearance came with another strike—fist, kick, elbow—relentless, precise, merciless.
The Basa was like a ragdoll in his hands, battered from every direction.
"Damn you!" the creature roared, desperation bleeding into its voice.
Its clawed hand tore a talisman from its chest, and it screamed a cursed incantation.
"Dark raven, heed my call! As urgent as an order!"
Black feathers burst from its back, wings sprouting in an explosion of cursed energy. Its hands and feet twisted into hooked talons, sharper than steel. The wings flapped once, and a shockwave rippled outward, slicing into the ruins around them.
The air shook.
Gojo only smirked.
"Oh? You've got upgrades. Cute."
The Basa lunged again, claws tearing through the space where Gojo stood—
Only to feel a crushing hand seize its throat.
Gojo's pale blue eyes burned with cold amusement as he slammed the creature into the ground, dragging it across broken streets. Sparks flew as its wings screeched against the rubble.
"You should remember," Gojo said, his tone light, almost conversational, almost friendly, "a sandbag is still a sandbag, no matter how big or how many 'Sand' are filled in."
The Basa flailed, it's wings beating furiously, managing to break free with a desperate situation.
It rose into the air, screeching in fury.
But Gojo was already behind it.
His foot connected with its side, sending it flying like a cannonball.
It tore through one ruined building, then another, concrete exploding into dust clouds. By the time its body skidded to a halt, it had plowed through five entire structures.
Gojo dusted his hands and tilted his head.
"Still alive? Good. This might actually be entertaining for sometime"
The Basa coughed, dragging itself up from the rubble.
Rage twisted its face, hatred blazing in its eye. But beneath that hatred, for the first time, was fear.
Because standing across from it was not just a man.
It was Gojo Satoru—untouchable, invincible, and laughing in the face of calamity.
...
If you'd like to support me and read chapters in advance, feel free to check out my Patreon: patreon.com/Zero0000683