"How long will it take to set up the Reverse Cursed Technique Barrier?" Suzuki Yu asked, his silver hair drifting in the lunar gravity.
Kamo calculated. "About half an hour."
"And how much time do the unconscious people have left?"
"If my Barrier holds—" Kamo paused, recalculated, factored in variables. "At least an hour. Probably more."
"So I still have some time." Suzuki Yu's dark eyes gleamed. "Would you like to play with me? Consider it... an exchange for my cooperation."
Kamo looked at the barren lunar surface, at the craters and shadows and distant Earth. "Play? What exactly do you want to play?"
"I know there's something called Cursed Techniques. Your Barrier is one application of them, yes? Let's play with those." Yu raised a hand, and a shield materialized around him—translucent, shimmering, humming with power. "This is a Cursed Technique I've known since birth. I'll defend. You attack. The time limit is half an hour."
He smiled, innocent and eager.
"If you break my shield, you win. If you don't, I win. Either way, after half an hour, I'll cooperate with your plan. I promise."
Kamo's own smile did not reach his eyes. "No problem. As you wish."
Inside his body, in the micro-environment where he conducted his most sensitive analyses, Kamo's blood worked.
Suzuki Yu's blood sample—obtained during the clothing exchange, processed in seconds, analyzed in minutes—was yielding results. Not complete, not yet, but enough.
'Omniscient Mastery of a Thousand Techniques.'
The Cursed Technique was unprecedented. Any technique used against its wielder would be learned. Any attack would be understood. Any defense would be adapted to.
The shield Suzuki Yu had deployed was not merely a shield. It was a recording device. Every attack that struck it would be analyzed, cataloged, absorbed. The Cursed Technique behind it would become Suzuki Yu's own.
And that shield had already withstood Blood God's assault—which meant Suzuki Yu had already adapted to Mahoraga's adaptation. Already learned how to create Blood Gods. Already begun building a library of techniques that would make him unstoppable.
Kamo's mind raced.
'He's not suicidal. He's not resigned. He's patient.'
Suzuki Yu's cooperation, his easy agreement to die, his calm acceptance—it had all been a performance. A mask. A way to lower Kamo's guard while he gathered information, learned techniques, and positioned himself for the only outcome he truly wanted.
'He's stalling. Every minute I spend attacking his shield, he learns more. Every technique I use, he acquires. And when half an hour passes...'
When half an hour passed, the Japanese people would have only thirty minutes left. Kamo would be forced to choose: continue fighting a being who was rapidly becoming his equal, or abandon the battle to save millions.
Either way, Suzuki Yu won.
'Kenjaku. Even in death, you've found a way to torment me.'
Kamo's hands curled into fists.
He could not kill Suzuki Yu—if Yu died, the seven corporeal souls used to create him would dissipate, and the Japanese people would never wake. He could not seal him—Yu would adapt to the prison realm, master its sealing abilities, and escape stronger than before. He could not use ordinary attacks—Yu would learn them, turn them against him.
He was, for the first time in years, genuinely unsure how to proceed.
"Aren't you going to attack?" Suzuki Yu called out, his voice carrying across the lunar silence. "Half an hour isn't that long, you know."
His smile was kind. His eyes were not.
Kamo Itsuki took a breath. Centered himself. And began to move.
"Here I come. Be careful."
Kamo Itsuki raised his right hand, index and middle fingers extended, forming the shape of a gun. At his fingertip, a single drop of fresh blood condensed—crimson, dense, humming with contained power.
"If it were anyone else, they might not be able to handle you." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "But you chose the wrong opponent."
The blood droplet twisted, deformed, reshaped itself. Runes emerged on its surface—complex, ancient, meticulously carved. To a trained eye, the patterns bore a striking resemblance to the protective shield Suzuki Yu had deployed.
"I am Kamo Itsuki."
*「赤血操術・殲滅血弾」
Blood Manipulation: Annihilation Blood Bullet. *
The bullet shot forward—not at supersonic speed, not at hypersonic, but at something beyond measurement. It tore through the lunar vacuum, leaving a trail of disrupted particles, aimed directly at Suzuki Yu's shield.
Suzuki Yu smiled.
Kamo Itsuki had faced many problems in his life.
Breaking through the shield was not the primary issue. Sufficient destructive power, applied instantly, could shatter any defense. He had many ways to achieve that.
The real problem was what came after.
If he broke the shield but failed to subdue Suzuki Yu, every subsequent attack would be learned. Every technique would be acquired. The being before him would grow stronger with each exchange, adapting, evolving, becoming unstoppable.
He needed a solution that worked in one blow. A technique that could not be adapted to, because there would be nothing left to adapt.
The Annihilation Blood Bullet was not just armor-piercing. It was concept-piercing.
Years ago, when Tsukumo Yuki had proposed eliminating all human Cursed Energy, Kamo Itsuki had rejected the idea. Not because it was impossible in the short term, but because it was unsustainable.
Even if an individual's Cursed Energy was eliminated, their descendants would still possess it. Fushiguro Toji had no Cursed Energy; his son, Fushiguro Megumi, had the Ten Shadows Technique.
One sample was not enough to draw a conclusion. So Kamo had conducted rigorous experiments.
Through Fushiguro Toji's blood, he had developed a serum. Injected into a subject, it eliminated their Cursed Energy completely. He had tested it on a large population, then observed their descendants.
The results were conclusive: the serum's effect did not pass to the next generation. The plan to eliminate human Cursed Energy was not feasible.
But the serum itself—the serum was useful.
The Annihilation Blood Bullet struck Suzuki Yu's shield.
There was no explosion. No shockwave. No dramatic light show. The bullet simply passed through—not by force, but by resonance. The runes on its surface, copied from Suzuki Yu's own shield, allowed it to treat the defense as if it were not there.
Suzuki Yu's confident smile faltered.
The bullet entered his body.
Kamo Itsuki had not tried to break the shield. He had tried to bypass it.
And within the bullet, carried in its core, was the serum. Concentrated. Potent. Designed to eliminate Cursed Energy at its source.
Suzuki Yu's eyes widened. He felt it—the draining, the fading, the quiet death of something he had only just begun to understand.
"What... what did you do to me?"
Kamo lowered his hand. His expression was calm, almost gentle.
"I made you human."
Suzuki Yu stumbled. His shield flickered, dimmed, failed. The Cursed Energy that had sustained it, that had sustained him, was being erased.
He looked at his hands—still beautiful, still perfect, but growing fainter. More transparent.
"You said you would cooperate with my plan," Kamo said quietly. "I'm holding you to that."
Suzuki Yu laughed—a soft, wondering sound. "You really are... something else."
His form began to dissolve, not into death, but into return. The seven corporeal souls that had composed him, now freed from the Cursed Energy that had bound them, began to separate.
"I suppose I lost the game," Yu said, his voice fading. "That was... fun."
Kamo nodded. "It was."
Suzuki Yu's eyes met his one last time.
"Take care of them. The people who made me." A pause. "Take care of everyone."
Then he was gone.
And where he had stood, seven streams of light rose—silver, gold, crimson, blue—each one carrying the essence of millions, ready to return to their owners.
Kamo Itsuki watched them ascend, then turned to begin setting up the Reverse Cursed Technique Barrier.
The battle was over. The real work was about to begin.