"Still want to fight?" Maki looked down at the deathly pale Naoya Zen'in, voice cold and unmerciful. "I was just dodging your attacks earlier. Next time, I can't guarantee you won't die in one strike."
Being reprimanded by someone he once looked down on only fueled Naoya's jealousy. A twisted idea took hold of his mind.
Should he order the Hei unit to kill Maki?
And as for her companions, he could eliminate them too, make it look like a Cursed Spirit attack. The Hei followed him without question; there would be no leaks. Their members were at least Semi‑Grade 1 sorcerers. Taking down Maki's team wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't impossible either.
Naoya's eyes blazed with murderous intent.
"Take this! Huh? You guys are here too? Come help me!"
Suddenly, Kusakabe Atsuya appeared, katana drawn, trading blows with a Special Grade Cursed Spirit. The unexpected clash snapped Naoya out of his thoughts.
He rose to his feet, expression ice cold. "Let's go!"
The Hei unit followed him swiftly as they left.
Kusakabe looked after them dumbfounded. "Huh? Don't leave! Come help me!"
Maki watched Naoya's retreating back with a complex gaze before turning and calling out, "Kusakabe‑sensei, we're coming!"
"Thank you! You really are great students! Oh right, can this Cursed Spirit be credited to my count? I'm just one short of being able to slack off… ahem…" Kusakabe said with a grin.
Maki sheathed her jumonji spear and rolled her eyes. "Then you'd better work hard on your own, Sensei!"
"Ah? I was just joking! Maki! Panda! Toge! Don't leave! I'm serious! Come ba—" But Kusakabe was already left calling after them.
In Hokkaido, Suguru Geto stepped onto scorched earth, surveying the nightmarish scene. Countless charred corpses were piled like a small mountain, and at its peak, the hem of Jogo's cloak fluttered in the wind.
Seeing Geto approach, Jogo's lips curled into a grin as Cursed Energy flared around him.
"You finally arrived? I've been waiting!"
Geto spoke calmly, measured. "You must be Jogo, the Cursed Spirit who controls fire. I heard you already fought Satoru…"
"Shut up!" Jogo snapped at the mention of Satoru Gojo. The memory of having his head ripped off alive by Satoru left a deep psychological scar on him. Still, he sneered down at Geto with confidence.
Geto raised an eyebrow. "You want to face me head‑on? I thought your plan was to stall, to fight smart rather than directly."
Jogo laughed contemptuously. "That was the plan, but wouldn't it be better if I could just defeat you outright? Even though I lost to that monster, I refuse to believe someone like you compares to the Six Eyes!"
In his arrogance, Jogo brushed aside any warning. He didn't challenge Geto to prove his strength, he wanted to reclaim his pride and prove he hadn't lost everything to Satoru Gojo.
"You ready?" Jogo bellowed and leapt forward, fire wrapping his fist with explosive force.
Geto didn't flinch, he backed up at the last second.
Boom!
Jogo's flaming strike hit the ground, causing cracking tremors that spread like shattered glass. Seeing Geto evade, Jogo laughed wildly and pressed the attack, flames bursting with every blow.
Geto defended, using his own cursed energy to resist the heat as they fought across the blasted landscape. The destroyed county looked as if a bomber had passed through it, not a blade of grass left standing.
The more Jogo fought, the more confident he became. He began to understand his opponent's strength — considerable cursed energy and solid combat ability, but nowhere near what a monster like Satoru Gojo possessed. As for Geto's technique of Cursed Spirit Manipulation, Jogo dismissed it as merely controlling lesser curses to swarm opponents.
To him, real strength came from individual power, not numbers.
"If this is everything you've got, then die!" Jogo roared as he stepped back, preparing to unleash a massive Cursed Technique that would incinerate Geto and every curse he planned to summon.
"Wait," Geto said calmly, "Let's trade blows a little longer. I'm almost done."
Jogo froze. "What?"
Geto adjusted his stance, appearing almost helpless. "Let's keep fighting hand to hand. Just a little longer."
Suddenly magma erupted from Jogo's head and from the plug‑like openings where his ears were — a sign he had reached the peak of his fury.
"What nonsense are you talking about? Are you mocking me?!"
Geto sighed, almost dismissively. "Then I'll do it myself."
In a blink, Geto closed the distance.
"Wha — Pfft!"
Before Jogo could react, Geto's fist slammed into his stomach. Geto grabbed Jogo's clothing, pulling him in close, and without expression, unleashed a barrage of blows that left Jogo seeing stars. It almost felt like the strikes weren't just punches but probing at his core.
"All done!"
Geto finished, kicking Jogo away.
Jogo struggled upward. "You bastard…"
His words cut off as he saw Geto's hands glow with cursed energy, molding that mass of energy into a silhouette — one that was horrifically familiar.
A moment later, Jogo's eyes widened.
It was him — a perfect likeness of himself, forged from cursed energy, eyes hollow and empty.
Jogo trembled, his body shaking.
Then his eyes blazed red, fire erupting from all orifices like exploding fireworks.
"Scum! How dare you use me as a test subject! I'll roast you alive and tear you apart piece by piece!"
With no hesitation, he unleashed his most destructive technique, Maximum Technique: Meteor, summoning a massive blazing sphere that hurtled toward the ground.
"An impressive technique," Geto said calmly, standing firm against the burning projectile, "but the cursed Jogo created from cursed energy cannot use Maximum Techniques or Domain Expansion like you can."
Geto raised a finger to the sky.
Domain of the Extreme: Vortex.
A massive eruption exploded upward like a nuclear blast, earth trembling for several kilometers. Jogo stared in stunned silence as dust settled and figures began to emerge.
Suddenly, flame‑shaped shadows lunged toward Jogo — all resembling him.
"What? How is thi— Pfft!"
One of the Jogo replicas slammed into him, bending him backward and smashing him into the ground.
The others joined in, overwhelming him with a brutal assault.
"You… stop… bastards…"
Jogo couldn't finish as the replicas pummeled him. Though these copies couldn't use Maximum Techniques or Domains, their physical strength and flame abilities rivaled his own.
How could he possibly fight this?
Geto stepped forward, expression still unreadable.
"As expected of a Disaster Cursed Spirit," he said, "But replicating five of them has already consumed nearly half of my cursed energy."
"Only half…" Jogo muttered, defeated.
Desperate, he pulled out a cursed tool that resembled a ceremonial vajra and slammed it into the ground. The tool shattered, casting a white halo that bent and distorted space around it.
Geto frowned and fired a pulse of cursed energy, but the halo only flickered before dissipating.
When it vanished, Jogo had disappeared.
Geto walked forward, scanning the ground. Only shards of the broken tool remained.