The facility lights flickered twice before stabilizing.
That alone told Yutsumi something had gone wrong.
Masaki Takeda—no longer a false student, no longer a living illusion—sat restrained in the center of the containment hall, wrists bound with layered cursed seals. His head was bowed, hair obscuring his face. The air around him pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat struggling to remain steady.
Yutsumi stood near the observation glass, hands clenched at his sides.
He could still feel Masaki.
Not the boy—
The space he had been holding together for three years.
It was gone now.
And whatever had replaced it was far less gentle.
"His cursed energy output is climbing," a technician said nervously. "He shouldn't be able to—"
The restraints shattered.
The sound was sharp and final, like bone snapping.
Alarms screamed.
Masaki lifted his head.
His eyes were empty.
---
Tsurugi moved before anyone else could react.
"Evacuate," he barked. "Now."
Yuka spun toward Yutsumi instantly, grabbing his arm. "You're coming with me."
"I can help," Yutsumi said.
"No," she snapped. "You already did."
The floor buckled as Masaki stood.
Cursed energy poured out of him—not chaotic, not wild—but condensed. Refined. Weaponized.
"He's stabilized his grief," Maru said, eyes widening slightly. "At the cost of empathy."
Masaki smiled faintly.
"I understand now," he said. "If reality hurts… then I just need one that doesn't."
The walls peeled away.
The containment hall twisted into a distorted cityscape—skyscrapers folded inward, streets looping endlessly, gravity bending sideways. A constructed domain, incomplete but expanding rapidly.
Yutsumi's breath caught.
This wasn't the same technique as before.
Masaki had evolved.
Tsurugi stepped forward, sword drawn, cursed energy roaring to life around the blade.
"Stay back," he ordered. "Both of you."
Yuka hesitated—then pulled Yutsumi behind her without argument.
That hesitation scared Yutsumi more than the domain.
Tsurugi entered the distorted space.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Masaki attacked.
The ground surged upward like a wave, concrete transforming into jagged spikes aimed directly at Tsurugi's vitals.
Tsurugi leapt, twisting midair, sword flashing as he cut through warped space itself. His cursed energy sharpened, forming a thin, shimmering field around the blade.
"Simple Domain—Edge Alignment."
The spikes shattered.
Masaki tilted his head. "You're strong."
"I don't need your approval," Tsurugi replied, landing lightly.
Masaki raised a hand.
The city screamed.
Buildings collapsed inward, compressing space around Tsurugi, attempting to crush him with sheer pressure.
Yutsumi felt it instantly.
Masaki wasn't controlling the space.
He was rewriting the rules inside it.
Tsurugi grit his teeth, muscles straining as his simple domain expanded—just enough to preserve a pocket of reality around himself.
"Yutsumi," Yuka whispered urgently. "Do not analyze this."
"I already am," he replied quietly.
And that was the problem.
Yutsumi's cursed technique reacted automatically.
He wasn't copying Masaki's domain.
He was mapping its logic.
Every rule. Every exception. Every flaw.
His cursed energy adjusted itself subtly, stabilizing his perception so the warped geometry no longer disoriented him.
He saw the truth.
Masaki's domain was fragile.
Because it was built on denial.
Tsurugi charged.
Their clash was violent—steel against reality, cursed energy detonating with every exchange. Tsurugi's sword carved precise arcs, slicing through impossible angles, forcing Masaki back step by step.
Masaki laughed.
"You don't get it," he said. "I don't have to win. I just have to persist."
The city trembled.
Outside the domain, Maru staggered.
His third eye—still sealed—throbbed violently beneath his skin.
"I… can't maintain observation," he muttered.
Then he collapsed.
Yutsumi spun toward him. "Maru!"
The moment Maru hit the ground, something opened.
Not fully.
Just enough.
A thin slit appeared on Maru's forehead, glowing with terrifying density.
Cursed energy surged outward, warping inertia itself. Debris froze midair, then moved sideways, obeying no known law of motion.
Yuka stared, frozen in horror.
"That kind of output—" she whispered. "He'll kill everyone."
Yutsumi felt it again.
That tug.
That invitation.
Maru's power wasn't cursed energy as humans understood it.
It was translation.
Yutsumi's technique adapted instantly—not copying the power, but understanding how Maru restrained it.
Without thinking, Yutsumi reached out and placed his hand on Maru's shoulder.
Yuka screamed his name.
Too late.
Yutsumi's cursed energy synchronized—not with Maru's power, but with his limiters.
The surge stabilized.
The third eye snapped shut.
Maru gasped awake, coughing violently.
"What did you—" he started.
Yutsumi staggered back, dizzy but conscious.
"I just… adjusted it," he said, breathing hard.
Yuka grabbed him, shaking. "You promised."
"I didn't break it," he said quickly. "I adapted it."
Inside the domain, Masaki screamed.
His city fractured violently.
Tsurugi didn't hesitate.
He poured everything into one strike.
The sword sang.
A single, precise cut tore through the core of the domain—not destroying it, but ending it.
Masaki collapsed.
The false city disintegrated into dust.
Silence followed.
Tsurugi stood over Masaki, chest heaving, sword dripping cursed energy.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Usami's voice crackled through the communicator.
"Containment successful. Medical teams en route."
Yutsumi exhaled shakily.
Yuka pulled him into a crushing embrace, trembling openly now.
"You can't keep doing this," she whispered desperately. "You're going to disappear."
He hugged her back, gently.
"I'm still here," he said.
But neither of them fully believed it.
From a distant observation platform, Cross watched the battle footage replay.
His expression was grim.
"The girl sacrifices," he murmured. "The eldest fights."
His eyes fixed on Yutsumi.
"And the youngest… adapts the impossible."
He turned away.
"That child," Cross said quietly, "will decide who starts the war."
---