The three-section staff felt strange in Geto Suguru's hands—a far cry from the weapons he was accustomed to. But as the first wave of Cursed Spirits surged toward him, he had no time for second thoughts.
He swung.
The staff connected with the leading spirit—a twisted, many-limbed thing with too many eyes—and erased it. Not destroyed. Not exorcised. Erased. The spirit simply ceased to exist, leaving no trace, no dissipating energy, nothing.
Geto stared at the staff, then at the empty space where the spirit had been.
"Itsuki," he breathed, "what did you make?"
Behind him, Kamo Itsuki's clone smiled thinly. "Something that should never have existed. Use it well."
Geto did.
The three-section staff became an extension of his body, a blur of white light that carved through the tide of spirits like a scythe through wheat. Each strike was absolute. Each kill was permanent.
'If I'd had this years ago...' He cut the thought short. The past was gone. Only the present battle mattered.
Above them all, in the space where the super cursed womb pulsed like a diseased heart, Kamo Itsuki's main body faced Leviathan.
"Your plan has completely failed, Kamo Itsuki." Kenjaku's voice echoed from the massive form, deep and resonant as an earthquake. "The barrier is gone. Sukuna walks free. And soon—" He gestured with a claw toward the womb. "—something magnificent will be born."
Kamo examined the creature before him with clinical detachment. Leviathan was impressive—he'd give Kenjaku that much. The power of all Geto Suguru's collected Cursed Spirits, fused into a single form.
It still wasn't enough.
"You went through all this—the scheming, the betrayal, the transformation—for that?" Kamo pointed at the womb. "A blind gamble? You don't even know what it will birth."
"The unknown is the point!" Kenjaku's voice rose, taking on an almost religious fervor. "You want to control everything. Predict everything. Perfect everything. But chaos—true chaos—cannot be controlled. Cannot be predicted. Cannot be perfected!"
His crimson eyes blazed.
"The super cursed womb contains the Cursed Energy of every person in Japan! It will birth something never seen before—the pinnacle of cursed energy itself!"
Kamo's expression didn't change. "No experimental data. No controlled variables. You're just piling energy together and hoping for the best. At best, you'll create a useless, malformed spirit."
"That's where we differ!" Kenjaku's roar shook the air. "I embrace what I cannot control!"
"Then let's see whose path goes further."
Kamo raised his hand. Behind him, space tore open, and the Blood God descended.
Kenjaku's massive form shuddered—not with fear, but with desperate resolve. He knew he couldn't win. His power, however amplified, was still just borrowed. Stolen. A patchwork of lesser spirits.
But if he could last just a little longer...
The Blood God's six arms raised their weapons. Its three faces focused on Leviathan with cold, divine judgment.
Kenjaku braced himself. He only needed to survive until the womb hatched. Until he could see, with his own eyes, the chaos he had created.
Then death could take him.
The Blood God struck.
Kenjaku's words died in his throat.
Three heads. Six arms. Massive, godlike form wielding an arsenal of weapons.
He had heard the descriptions. Had imagined them countless times while planning his countermeasures. The Blood God was Kamo Itsuki's ultimate weapon—a shikigami of such power that even Gojo Satoru had acknowledged it as a genuine threat.
But now, watching it attack the super cursed womb with relentless fury, something nagged at the edges of his consciousness.
What does it look like?
The question seemed foolish on its surface. Everyone knew what the Blood God looked like. Three heads—demon, deity, underworld king. Six arms wielding axe, hammer, spear, saber, mace, bow. A towering figure of incarnate slaughter.
And yet.
Three heads. Six arms.
Kenjaku's ancient mind, honed over a millennium of scheming, began to turn.
Sukuna has two faces. Four arms. A form that deviates from the human norm in similar ways.
He looked at the Blood God. Looked at the distant battle where Sukuna and Gojo clashed. Looked back at the Blood God.
No. Impossible. Kamo Itsuki couldn't have—
"Cat got your tongue?" Kamo Itsuki's voice was mild, almost amused. "I asked you a question, Kenjaku. What does my Blood God look like?"
Kenjaku's massive form trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the implication crashing down on him.
Three heads. Six arms. A form that shouldn't exist naturally in any shikigami.
Unless...
"Did you—" Kenjaku's voice came out strangled. "Did you model it on Sukuna?"
Kamo Itsuki's smile was thin and cold.
"Model it?" He chuckled softly. "Kenjaku. I didn't model anything. I simply took Sukuna's essence—his form, his power, his very concept—and I improved it."
The Blood God continued its assault on the womb, each strike wasted, each blow meaningless. But Kenjaku barely noticed anymore.
"You see," Kamo continued, "when I collected those fingers, I didn't just want to prevent Sukuna's resurrection. I wanted to understand him. To dissect him. To learn everything his power had to teach."
He spread his hands.
"The Blood God isn't modeled on Sukuna. Sukuna's form was merely... inspiration. A starting point. The Blood God is what happens when you take the King of Curses' blueprint and perfect it."
Kenjaku stared at the six-armed, three-headed monstrosity attacking his creation with renewed horror.
Perfect. He said perfect.
For the first time in a millennium, Kenjaku wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.