Meanwhile, on the third floor of the Magic Tower, hidden far behind layers of mana concealment and locks, there lay a private workshop.
From the outside, the room seemed small.
Yet, thanks to the Spatial Expansion magic permanently embedded into its structure, the interior stretched wide like an underground hangar.
The high ceiling was lined with faintly glowing mana conduits. The walls were equipped with a series of stabilizer runes to maintain constant magical pressure.
On one side of the room, stacks of raw Mithril were neatly arranged. Their dim bluish gleam reflected the light from the forge flames.
Several assembly tables stood in rows, covered with half-finished metal frames, crystal cores, and rune plates yet to be activated.
Not far from there, the smithing area emitted a pale blue glow from the magical furnace. The fire was not red, but pale blue—compressed high-level mana.
A jet-black anvil stood firmly in the center, covered in softly glowing faerie runes.
A hammer with a Mithril-coated head rested beside it, along with metal clamps connected to heat-amplifying circuits.
And of course—Gabriel was not alone.
Near the main assembly table stood a brown-haired Elf girl with bright violet eyes.
Eta.
Her aura of enthusiasm was almost tangible, crackling through the air like sparks of electricity.
Gabriel regarded her calmly.
"Eta," he said flatly, "why are you here?"
He glanced toward the project schematics rack in the corner of the room.
"You're not continuing the Zappelin assembly?"
Eta immediately turned, her hair swaying slightly.
"Zappelin can wait," she replied lightly, without hesitation. "Forging artifacts with you is far more interesting."
Her eyes sparkled.
"Direct experimentation with new core magic designs… and large-scale Mithril refinement… it's a rare opportunity."
Gabriel studied her for a few seconds.
Such a gaze was rare—even for someone like Eta.
He exhaled softly.
He understood.
"In other words," he said flatly, "you want to learn by observing the process firsthand."
Eta gave a faint smile—no denial in it.
"Well… that's fine," Gabriel continued. "Coincidentally, I do need an assistant."
He walked over to the furnace, checking the stable temperature of the pale blue flames.
"Fay is currently with my clone."
Eta blinked.
"Clone…?"
"The one developing Homunculus Magic," Gabriel replied.
Eta's eyes widened slightly—not out of emotional surprise, but because her mind was already racing.
"Homunculus…" she repeated softly. "Artificial body engineering? An artificial vessel for a soul?"
Gabriel shook his head slightly.
"Simply put," he said calmly, "it's alchemical magic to multiply offspring."
A brief silence.
Eta processed the information.
"Offspring… biologically speaking?" she asked with genuine curiosity.
Gabriel picked up a raw Mithril bar, weighing it in his hand.
"Existential, alchemy-based construction," he answered succinctly. "No conventional process needed. Once it's finished, you'll see the effects of the formula."
Eta fell silent.
Then the corner of her lips slowly lifted.
"That… is very efficient."
Gabriel glanced at her briefly.
"I knew you'd say that."
The pale blue flames in the furnace flickered slightly brighter.
"Now," he continued calmly, "if you want to observe… prepare the first-stage purification table."
Eta moved immediately, needing no further instruction.
Her enthusiasm was now fully focused.
And amid the sparks of the blue fire and the gleam of Mithril, a new artifact was about to be born.
***
World: Jujutsu Kaisen
Daylight spread over the sky above Tokyo.
In one of the abandoned construction districts—an area almost completely forsaken by humans—a dark Domain stretched out, hidden from ordinary perception.
From the outside, the place looked like a derelict construction site. Yet inside, the space felt like a giant lung, constantly exhaling hot breaths.
Narrow alleys extended into the mist, brick walls cracked as if they had witnessed endless battles.
Steel pipes clung to the broken walls, some snapped and jutting out like exposed ribs.
From the gaps, steam hissed softly.
The air was thick with a thin mist that smelled of metal… and blood.
The concrete floor was perforated in places.
The walls—smeared with dark crimson.
In the middle of the ruined alley, what had once been a Special Grade Cursed Spirit now remained only as fragments of a body, slowly evaporating into particles of cursed energy.
The creature had a humanoid form.
Its skin was pale white, resembling unfinished wax.
Its head was pitch black, devoid of any distinct facial features, while its lower body was clad in loose pants resembling hakama.
Now, the body lay brutally torn apart.
One arm had been flung several meters from the torso.
Its chest was ripped open as if a cloth had been violently torn.
Thick black blood stained the pipes, the walls, even the narrow alley ceiling.
Yet—at the center of all this chaos, someone stood calmly.
Blood-red hair fell softly to her shoulders.
Her dress remained immaculate.
Almost untouched by the violence that had just occurred.
Between her slender fingers, she held a dark red, dried, wrinkled mummified finger—radiating such a dense cursed aura that the air around it trembled.
It was one of Ryomen Sukuna's fingers.
The girl slowly rotated it on her fingertip, as if inspecting a rare jewel.
She was Baobhan Sith.
The hot mist slowly drifted through her red hair, flowing around her body like the breath of a colossal creature hidden within the Domain.
In her mind, a message from the System—regarding one of the three missions assigned to her upon arriving in this world—resurfaced.
Collect Sukuna's fingers.
Sith exhaled softly.
"The Cursed King, hmm…?"
Even before arriving in this world, she had already read all the information provided by the System.
About the being once called a living disaster.
About a sorcerer so powerful that his body had to be divided into twenty parts as a seal.
A legend… quite intriguing.
She tilted her head slightly, eyeing the finger with a faint, almost mocking smile.
It was one of Ryomen Sukuna's fingers.
"Humans always have strange habits…" she murmured softly. "…worshipping things that are terrifying."
She gripped the mummified finger a little tighter.
The cursed aura from the artifact pulsed faintly—as if responding to her presence.
The mist around her quivered subtly.
On the ground, the remnants of the cursed spirit still trembled softly before finally dying out completely.
Sith didn't even glance back at the corpse.
"If all of its body parts are scattered like this…"
Her smile sharpened into something more cunning.
"…then collecting them sounds like a rather entertaining game."
The hot mist hissed again from the broken pipes.
Sith placed Ryomen Sukuna's finger into her magical storage space. After that, she stepped over the black blood puddles without the slightest hesitation.
In this world, twenty fingers were waiting to be found.
And for a fairy like her—hunting legendary cursed artifacts sounded far more appealing than simply going home.
A few seconds later, the Domain around her shattered like cracked glass.
The space that had been filled with hot mist gradually vanished, revealing the true reality: an empty room on the third floor of a long-abandoned construction building.
Cracked concrete walls.
Exposed rebar jutting out like the ribs of a decaying structure.
Sith took a few steps forward.
"Yo! Ojou-chan."
A male voice called out casually from behind her.
Sith paused.
She turned her head slowly.
Standing there was a tall man with disheveled white hair. A black blindfold covered both of his eyes, and his all-black outfit looked far too pristine for someone in a place like this.
He leaned casually against the concrete wall, arms crossed over his chest as if he had been standing there for a long time.
Satoru Gojo.
Of course, to Sith—the name meant nothing.
Her gray eyes scanned the man quickly from head to toe.
No tension.
No surprise.
Only calm observation.
The man's aura was strange.
Calm.
Yet at the same time… the space around him seemed slightly distorted, as if the world itself refused to touch him.
Sith tilted her head slightly.
"Teleportation?" she said flatly.
Gojo shrugged casually.
"Yep. Pretty much that."
His tone was light, almost like chatting at a café.
"And by the way," he continued, casually pointing at Sith, "that thing you just took… it's not some ordinary object."
Sith stared at him for a few seconds.
Then she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Who are you?"
Her gaze flicked briefly down to the black blindfold.
"…Blindfolded idiotic white hair."
The words were spoken flatly—emotionless, yet clearly an insult.
A brief silence followed.
Then Gojo chuckled softly.
"Wow."
He raised one hand to his chest as if dramatically offended.
"First time someone insults me face-to-face."
He then pointed at himself with his thumb.
"Satoru Gojo."
His tone remained as casual as ever.
"The coolest and most handsome teacher."
He paused for a moment.
"Also… the guy usually called in to clean up the mess whenever someone messes with Sukuna's fingers."
The air in the room grew slightly heavier.
Gojo's smile stayed casual.
But behind the black blindfold— the eyes of the strongest sorcerer were carefully watching every move of Sith.
___
Author's Note:
The Sith Walkers aren't really mentioned. Well... it's a filler chapter, after all. So, what do you think?
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(•_<) tehe~