The detached red energy sphere didn't soar into the distance.
Instead, it exploded violently mid-air, releasing a shockwave of cursed energy so overwhelming that the entire battlefield trembled.
The terrifying force surged outward like a tidal wave. The filth on the left side were reduced to ashes instantly, their twisted bodies disintegrating before they could even scream.
Across the night sky, countless glowing pentagrams—exorcist seals—bloomed one after another, burning through the darkness like divine fire.
At the same time, the gale-like wind from the explosion swept through the field, carrying dust, shattered stone, and blood into the air.
Gojo's snow-white hair was blown wildly, strands scattering across his forehead, though his confident grin never wavered.
"ROAR!"
The remaining filth shrieked, roar.
Mindless, low-level creatures with no intelligence still charged forward, their grotesque forms twisting as they clawed desperately. The hunger in them was absolute—they wanted nothing more than to devour the human sorcerer standing arrogantly before them.
CLENCHED!
Gojo clenched his right hand into a fist, while his left hand snapped outward, seizing the horned, rhinoceros-shaped filth that lunged at him.
With a single effortless motion, he swung the monster overhead and smashed it into the ground.
The creature burst apart like brittle glass, reduced to scraps of flesh and ash.
The aftershock of his casual swing sent the filth behind it flying, their bodies torn apart by nothing more than the pressure of his strike.
"Curse… Force…"
From within the horde, a new presence leapt forth. A humanoid filth, its body twisted and half-decayed, its mouth moving in broken syllables, emerged.
Its aura was different—denser, darker, heavier.
A true Snake Level filth.
Its pitch-black arm extended grotesquely, stretching like liquid metal, and shot straight at Gojo's chest with killing intent.
The ground behind Gojo split open violently as the force carried through. Soil, stone, and debris exploded into the air like a battlefield artillery strike.
And yet, Gojo himself?
He didn't shift an inch.
"Finally… another real Snake-Level ant?"
With casual cruelty, Gojo's hand snapped up, grabbing the creature's arm mid-strike. His grin widened into a mocking smirk.
"Pathetic."
He yanked.
The filth was dragged from mid-air like a rag doll, slammed down hard into the ground. A thunderous crack split the air. Before the creature could recover, Gojo's foot came down mercilessly, crushing its torso.
BANG—!
A brilliant pentagram erupted beneath the stomp, obliterating the filth into nothingness.
"You ants… you're really starting to bore me."
Gojo's voice carried across the battlefield, calm but tinged with irritation, boredom. His strikes were efficient, but the sheer number of enemies felt endless.
"Well, that is enough playing around."
He said, as he activate his Cursed Technique.
Cursed Technique – Blue!
Gojo raised his right hand, fingers curling into a hook. At once, a crimson vortex of cursed energy formed, swirling with violent instability. The very air groaned under the strain as space distorted.
Countless filth were dragged screaming into the air, their bodies colliding mid-flight, bursting into chunks. Even the surrounding buildings quaked violently, their frames bending as if reality itself was being pulled apart.
A sound like grinding metal and tearing fabric echoed across the battlefield as the vortex pulled stronger and stronger.
WHOOSH!
One of the taller buildings at the edge of the street lurched, drawn upward by the magnetic pull. Bricks cracked and glass windows shattered, raining down shards of crystal-like debris.
(Note: Deliberately controlled.)
Inside the protective barrier, the Onmyoji stood frozen. Even seasoned veterans felt their throats go dry.
Umaru, Kirara Hoshino, and Shirakawa Shiroha stood pressed against the barrier, their eyes wide.
The pentagrams and glowing seals bloomed one after another above them, like fireworks painting the sky red. But the light—it was apocalyptic.
"This… this is Kami…?"
One elderly Onmyoji could no longer withstand the sight. His legs buckled, and he collapsed, trembling in disbelief.
"Haaa… Haaa…"
Others gasped for breath, hands clutching their chests as if the weight of Gojo's cursed energy crushed their lungs.
The air itself felt heavy.
But Amawaka Seigen—the stoic commander—remained stone-faced.
This wasn't new to him. A year ago, he had seen Gojo fight.
Back then, the destruction had been even greater.
"…Umaru," Kirara whispered, clutching her friend's sleeve tightly. "I-Is that really your brother?"
Her voice shook, disbelief and confused.
Umaru didn't answer immediately. Her lips trembled before she finally nodded, forcing the words out.
"He's… my older brother."
There was no mistaking it. That carefree, lazy, sweets-loving idiot she knew… was the same person now wielding godlike power before them.
It was surreal.
"So… brother, when you said you had work… you meant…"
Umaru's voice cracked slightly. "You meant wiping out this entire army of monsters?"
Her chest felt heavy with guilt and awe— Scared. To her, power was something people fought for gradually, like in video games—grinding level by level, step by step, This level of power can only be gain after a heavy sacrifice.
(Gojo: Ah, she's overthinking again. This is just me being casually overpowered.)
She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes.
"Brother…"
Kirara's golden eyes were locked on Gojo. She didn't speak, but inside, her heart was pounding. He was terrifying… but also undeniably captivating.
Shirakawa Shiroha peeked timidly from behind them, gripping the hem of her skirt, her voice barely audible.
"Umaru… h-he's really… amazing."
Among the civilians trapped within the enchantment, murmurs spread rapidly.
"This… this is the strength of an Onmyoji?"
"He's terrifying! If he said he could destroy a whole city alone, I'd believe it!"
"City? Please. Look at that. One man could wipe out a country."
"Father, Mother! I'm in love—I want to marry this Onmyoji master!"
"…Asako, I'm your boyfriend, right?"
"Oh, right. You are my boyfriend."
"…That tone is way too cold!?"
The ordinary citizens couldn't stop whispering, their awe and terror blending into a feverish excitement.
All of them spoke of one name.
Gojo Satoru.
To them, he wasn't just a sorcerer. He was a saint, a god, a force of nature incarnate.
And Gojo? He just stood amidst the destruction, his snow-white hair swaying in the wind, a smirk tugging at his lips as he whispered to himself—
"…Tch. Still not enough of a workout."
...
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