Two hours earlier. Sendai.
The guardian barrier rose around the city's core, its light stronger, denser, more absolute than any other node. Kamo Itsuki's clone had poured everything into this one—every lesson learned from the super barrier's collapse, every refinement from the Beehive prototype, every scrap of cursed energy he could spare.
If this barrier failed, everyone inside would die. Not from the battle's direct impact—that would be instantaneous, painless, merciful. But from the aftermath—the shockwaves, the debris, the simple physics of two gods colliding over a city.
Kamo's clone stood at the barrier's edge, watching the sky.
Above, two figures faced each other across a gulf of centuries.
"That brat Kamo Itsuki seems confident in you." Sukuna's voice carried across the ruined city, casual as conversation over tea. "Fine. I'll deal with you first. Then him."
He raised a hand.
*「解」
Dismantle. *
The slashes came not as individual attacks, but as a storm—invisible blades filling the air, crossing and recrossing, seeking the man who floated so calmly before them. A rain of death, each droplet capable of splitting buildings.
Gojo Satoru did not move.
The slashes reached him—and stopped. Infinity held. The invisible blades piled up against an invisible wall, compressing, stacking, but never reaching.
Sukuna's eyes narrowed.
'Limitless. The technique that makes distance meaningless.'
He changed tactics. The storm ceased. One slash remained—gathering power, condensing, sharpening. Not many attacks, but one. The strongest he could make. Moving at twenty times the speed of sound.
It struck.
The explosion that followed was not the point. The slash continued through the explosion, carving a line across Sendai, splitting buildings, streets, the very earth itself. A canyon opened in the city's heart. The shockwave flattened everything for a kilometer in either direction.
Only the guardian barrier remained untouched.
Gojo Satoru floated in the center of the destruction, unharmed, unruffled, his white hair barely stirring.
"That was rude," he said.
Sukuna's lips curled. 'Conventional attacks won't work. The effect of Limitless cannot be forcibly broken.'
He leaped.
Domain Expansion Counter.
Sukuna wrapped himself in the technique—a Barrier without a Cursed Technique, worn over his body like a second skin. When Gojo's Limitless tried to push him away, the Counter would catch it, neutralize it, render it harmless.
The drawback was obvious: Sukuna could not use his own Cursed Techniques while maintaining the Counter. But he had never needed techniques to destroy.
His fists would suffice.
Gojo dove to meet him.
They collided like falling stars, the shockwave of their impact shattering windows for blocks. Fists met—not with the crackle of Cursed Techniques, but with the solid thud of flesh striking flesh.
Sukuna's fist, enhanced by the Counter, met Gojo's Limitless—and passed through. Not breaking it, but bypassing it. For an instant, the two were simply men, throwing punches that could crater concrete.
Gojo's Six Eyes analyzed. Calculated.
'The Counter neutralizes my Limitless on contact. But neutralization takes time—an instant, a fraction of an instant. If I can strike before the Counter fully activates...'
His next punch shifted—not meeting Sukuna's fist, but sliding past it, aiming for the chest.
Sukuna's second hand caught it.
Four arms. Two faces. A body built for combat in ways Gojo's was not. Sukuna had anticipated the feint, had left an opening deliberately, had planned for Gojo to exploit it.
"Clever," Sukuna said. "But not clever enough."
His other two hands moved.
Gojo's eyes widened.
The battle had truly begun.
His right fist—already committed, already swinging—continued its arc toward Gojo Satoru's face. At the same time, his other right hand intercepted Gojo's fist aimed at his chest. Four arms moved with a coordination that defied human biology, each limb operating independently, each one a weapon.
Gojo's Six Eyes tracked the motion. Analyzed. Calculated.
'He hasn't reduced the cursed energy in his attacking fist. He's not defending—he's trading. One hit for one hit.'
Gojo's attack did not land fully. He pulled back, his left hand already forming the seal for Blue.
*「蒼」
Blue. *
The gravitational field erupted between them—not pushing Sukuna away, but pulling. Pulling him past Gojo, pulling him into the building beside them, pulling him through walls and support beams and glass facades.
Sukuna's charged punch struck empty air.
He crashed through the building's interior, debris exploding around him, and came to rest in a cloud of dust and shattered concrete. His Domain Expansion Counter had neutralized the pull's direct effect on his body—but it could not neutralize the building he was pulled into.
Gojo hovered outside, brushing dust from his shoulder.
"Even using your Cursed Technique, you can't break my defense," he called out, his voice carrying through the rubble. "But I won't use my Cursed Technique. I'll bully you with yours."
He smiled.
"Mad yet?"
Cursed energy poured from him—not as an attack, but as pressure. The building groaned. The debris around Sukuna flattened. Gojo was not trying to crush him; he was trying to hold him, to pin him in place, to make him a stationary target.
Sukuna's hands moved.
*「解」
Dismantle. *
The slash was not aimed at Gojo. It was aimed at the building behind him, at the walls that confined him, at the structure that anchored the gravitational field. The building parted, sliced cleanly from foundation to roof, and Sukuna stepped through the gap as it collapsed behind him.
Gojo's Blue pulled again—not at Sukuna, but at the debris, at the falling walls, at the thousand fragments of destruction that now filled the air between them. They became a storm, a whirlwind, a curtain of stone and glass that hid his approach.
His fist emerged through the curtain, aimed at Sukuna's chest.
Gojo had learned something over the years. When he punched, he used Blue—not before, not after, but at the moment of impact. The opponent felt the blow, and then felt themselves pulled into the blow, the same force striking twice, the damage multiplying rather than adding.
Even his ordinary punches carried destructive power that most Sorcerers could never achieve.
Sukuna met him head-on.
Domain Expansion Counter flared around his body, neutralizing the Blue's pull on his flesh—but the momentum of his charge was his own. He poured cursed energy into his knees, launched himself forward, and used Gojo's Blue to accelerate.
They collided like falling stars.
The shockwave flattened buildings for three blocks in every direction. The guardian barrier flickered, held, and the unconscious thousands within slept on.
Gojo's fist struck Sukuna's guard. Sukuna's knee drove toward Gojo's ribs. They broke apart, reformed, struck again.
"Though tormenting you has its charms," Sukuna said, blood trickling from a cut above his eye—already healing, already gone, "battles like this are what truly quicken the pulse."
His grin widened, showing teeth.
"This is how it should be! Curse me! Kill me! Show me what this era has produced!"
Gojo's smile matched his.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
The next exchange would be faster. Deadlier. More personal.
Above Sendai, two gods fought.
Below, the city crumbled.
And somewhere in the chaos, the final pieces were moving into place.