According to everything I could piece together, Reverse Cursed Technique was less a "technique" and more a miracle born from either insanity or mastery.
In simple terms, cursed energy was negative energy—produced through fear, anger, grief, stress, and all the ugly emotions people carried. The Reverse Cursed Technique came from taking that negativity and multiplying it into positive energy capable of healing.
Which sounded ridiculous. It was like telling someone to turn smoke into clean water through math. Still, I knew it was possible.
Satoru Gojo achieved it in a near-death state. But I am not Satoru Gojo; I am Naoya Zenin.
Others reached it through absurd levels of control and talent in curse energy manipulation. Since I had no intention of letting someone stab me through the skull to replicate Gojo's route, that left me with the second option.
Control.
And for some reason, I had that in abundance.
No false modesty—my cursed energy control was excellent. Maybe the previous Naoya's talent mixed with my obsessive mindset. Maybe transmigration glitched something in my favor. Whatever the reason, shaping cursed energy into threads, layering it, spreading it, and controlling multiple flows at once had become strangely natural.
So naturally—
I decided to do something stupid.
I stood alone in the woods, the same clearing where I usually trained with Maki and Mai. I had sent them off to train under Mei Mei today. If this experiment went badly, I didn't need witnesses mocking me for the next ten years.
"Now then," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "Let's put theory into practice."
I extended both hands. Thin strands of cursed energy flowed from my palms like silk threads, dozens at first, then hundreds. They shimmered faintly in the air, crossing around me like a spider web made of malice. I manipulated each strand independently, tightening some, loosening others, and braiding small bundles together.
Nothing unusual. So far, so good.
The theory was simple: if I could precisely control multiple streams of negative cursed energy and force them into synchronized collision, maybe I could create a positive reversal. Simple theory.
(A/N: I know that RCT don't work that way, but he will achieve it because of another Innate technique he possess, which I will explain in later chapter.)
Thin black-blue threads spread from my palms like spider silk, dozens of them floating in the air. Each thread pulsed with unstable negativity. I controlled them individually, weaving them through the space before me.
And spin it in continuous motion. While adding threads, one crossed another.
Then another.
I twisted pairs together. Nothing happened till now.
I layered four strands into a braid while continuing the spin.
Still nothing.
Sweat formed on my brow.
"Come on…"
I condensed two threads tighter, forcing them to rotate with higher rpm around each other like gears. The friction between energies made the air hum. Sparks of cursed energy snapped around my hands.
Interesting. I added more. Like adding gasoline to a spark.
Six threads then Eight and finally twelve.
Their rotation became violent, shrieking like metal grinding against metal. The threads writhed, resisting combination, as if negative energy itself rejected the concept of becoming something else.
"Just a little more…"
I forced the strands inward.
Compression, Torque and then collision. For one beautiful fraction of a second... I felt it. A strange warmth like the first ray of sunlight early in the morning kissing your cheeks.
*BOOM*
Then everything exploded.
"Oh no—"
A violent burst of cursed energy exploded directly in front of me. The shockwave slammed into my chest and launched me backward through the clearing. My body crashed into a tree hard enough to shake leaves loose in every direction.
Crack.
I heard something break before I even felt it, and then arrived pain after a dramatic pause.
My hands—I looked down; my vision was covered in blood, but I still managed to see.
Both hands had ruptured open from the inside out. Flesh torn, skin split, blood pouring down my wrists. Bone showed in places it absolutely should not.
And then I screamed.
"FUUUCCCCKKKKK!"
The sound echoed through the woods so loudly birds fled the trees. I collapsed onto my knees, clutching what remained of my hands, then instantly regretted touching them.
More screaming.
Somewhere in the distance, voices shouted.
Servants who are running towards the source of explosion and scream.
"What happened?!"
"Get help!"
"Don't touch the hands!"
Excellent advice.
I was half-conscious by the time they reached me. Someone wrapped cloth around the bleeding. Someone else yelled for a vehicle. My vision pulsed in and out between white pain and dark nausea.
I vaguely remember being carried. I vaguely remember someone threatening to kill whoever let this story spread.
Then came the hospital: bright lights, doctors, bandages, Needles and pain so sharp it felt personal. Even after treatment, the agony lingered like fire in the nerves.
Final results:
Both hands fractured. Right hand: 16 stitches. Left hand: 18 stitches. Multiple internal ruptures. Heavy bruising across chest and back from impact. Zero Reverse Cursed Technique achieved.
I lay in the hospital bed hours later, staring at the ceiling with tears of pain still drying near my eyes.
"…So close," I whispered.
The doctor nearby stared at me like I was mentally unwell.
~~~
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