From the very beginning, I was already aware that my ability was far from perfect. There was a major limitation I couldn't simply ignore. The chance of success in creating a Cursed Tool hovered at around eighty percent.
Even that was only achievable if I was completely focused—cutting off every distraction and meticulously defining the various Rules within the Cursed Tool I was forging. A single minor mistake—a slight emotional imbalance, a moment of carelessness—was enough to cause the entire process to collapse.
In a single day, given the current condition of my body and my Cursed Energy, I could only create two Cursed Tools. No more. If I tried to force a third, my body would immediately reject it.
My muscles would grow unbearably heavy, my breathing would shorten, and my Cursed Energy would drain at an abnormal rate. It felt as though my own Innate Technique was scolding me, warning me to stop before I destroyed myself.
That was why I had always been careful. Every use of the purple flames was something I weighed thoroughly—when to use them, for what purpose, and whether the result would truly be worth the price I had to pay. The purple flames were not something I could wield recklessly.
And yet, all this time, I had been living under a mistaken assumption.
I had always believed that the success rate—roughly eighty percent under ideal conditions—was an absolute ceiling that could never be surpassed.
At one point, I even considered that perhaps using an existing Cursed Tool or Cursed Object as a base material might increase those odds. If the foundation was already there, maybe the purple flames wouldn't need to work as hard.
Unfortunately, that theory was never verified. I had never truly obtained a Cursed Tool or Cursed Object from the market.
And then, tonight gave me an answer I had never once imagined.
I never expected that burning the body of a Jujutsu Sorcerer with the purple flames would produce something far more valuable than simply erasing their existence. Their Innate Technique—the very essence of their ability—did not simply vanish. It wasn't destroyed.
It was stored.
More precisely, it was bound.
Fused into the purple flames themselves.
The moment their body disappeared, something remained behind. Traces of their abilities, a raw understanding of the techniques they possessed—all of it was absorbed by the purple flames. Not as information I could consciously read, but as potential embedded deep within the fire itself.
In other words, the purple flames did not merely destroy.
They recorded.
That realization sent a chill crawling up my spine.
When I created a Cursed Tool afterward, I was no longer starting from nothing. I didn't have to build everything from empty space. I could embed the Innate Technique of the Jujutsu Sorcerers whose bodies I had already burned. The purple flames had preserved their blueprint. All I needed to do was draw it out and give it form.
And the results were astonishing.
The probability of success skyrocketed. No longer eighty percent. From what I could feel, it was approaching ninety percent. The process felt far more stable, far smoother than before.
I didn't even need to manually set Rules into the Cursed Tool anymore. Those Rules formed on their own, naturally shaped by the Innate Technique stored within the purple flames.
The more I thought about it, the clearer everything became.
With this method, I could create numerous Cursed Tools with an incredible variety of abilities. Each tool would carry the trace of a different Jujutsu Sorcerer's Innate Technique.
Every enemy that fell did not simply vanish from the world—they were transformed into potential power in my hands. Their deaths became the foundation of my strength.
Of course, failure was still possible. There were times when my body refused to cooperate, times when my Cursed Energy reacted beyond my control. That risk never truly disappeared.
Yet even with those risks, the benefits I gained far outweighed everything else.
If I managed to defeat an enemy who possessed extraordinary abilities, those abilities did not truly disappear. They did not evaporate along with their death. I could use those abilities again, reshape them, and exploit them according to my own will—manifested as a Cursed Tool of my own creation.
"Hahaha! Damn it!"
I burst out laughing again, the sound echoing within my own chest. My ribcage trembled with an euphoria that was hard to contain, a volatile mixture of madness, satisfaction, and disbelief.
"This is incredible!" I shouted, my breath ragged between fits of laughter. "I really am amazing!"
And for the first time, those words did not sound like empty arrogance.
I had never imagined that my Innate Technique could be this beautiful. Not beautiful in a simple or soothing sense, but beautiful because of its complexity.
Every layer of its mechanisms locked tightly into the next, filled with restrictions that could not be bypassed carelessly, filled with risks ready to devour its user if they misstepped even once.
And yet, that was precisely where its strength lay. This was not a kind of power handed out for free, nor a blessing that could be used without thought.
It was a power that demanded deep understanding, relentless exploration, and intelligence behind every single decision. The more it was understood, the sharper it became—and the greater the mistake, the more merciless the consequences.
But my thoughts did not stop there.
Wait a second.
If the Innate Technique of a Jujutsu Sorcerer could be implanted into a Cursed Tool, if a technique bound to someone's soul could be compressed into a fixed function within an object, then what about Cursed Spirits? Did the same principle apply, or was it something far more untamed?
If I burned the body of a Cursed Spirit with this purple flame—this fire that devoured both existence and concept—could their abilities also be absorbed, broken down, and then embedded?
Not merely destroyed, but converted—extracting the core of their abilities and making it part of my own system.
If the answer was yes, then the potential of my Innate Technique went far beyond anything I had ever imagined. It was not just flexible; it was nearly limitless, so long as I could shoulder the risks that came with it. Even so, there was one thing I had to admit, albeit reluctantly.
This ability might still fall short of the sheer absurdity of Yuta's Copy—a ridiculous technique that could replicate other people's Innate Techniques with virtually no effort at all, paired with Yuta's seemingly bottomless reserves of Cursed Energy. No clear limitations. No price that truly hurt. Just copy, use, and keep moving forward.
Tch! Damn golden child.
I let out a slow breath and forced my thoughts away from that direction. Comparing myself to a monster like that would lead nowhere. Forget it.
For now, there was something far more important to deal with. I needed to go check on those two girls. They were still lying unconscious, and it was far too dangerous to leave them unattended any longer. But just before I took a step away, a cold thought struck my mind—sharp and sudden.
Ah, right.
There was still one more hand belonging to that old man.
The image of a severed human hand lying alone on a rooftop immediately surfaced in my head, rendered in nauseating detail. Wrinkled skin, stiff fingers, blood already beginning to dry. The corner of my lips twitched unconsciously.
It would be a massive hassle—no, it would be downright horrifying—if tomorrow the local news ran a sensational headline about human body parts being discovered on the roof of a building in a small city like Akiruno.
This city was far too quiet for something like that. Too small, too peaceful, and far too quick to panic when touched by something brutal. News like that would spread like wildfire, drawing unnecessary attention—including attention from people who really should not be getting involved.
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