The Void is a strange place—neither existence nor non-existence. Alan Pierce floats in an endless expanse of nothingness, waiting for a sign, a voice, or some cosmic entity to grant him the opportunity to start anew.
Then, a voice speaks. Not words, but concepts. Three Wishes.
**Wish 1: The Body.** An anime character. Any anime.
Alan's thoughts solidify in the void. *Modulo Yuji.*
The name echoes in the emptiness. A body built for survival. A body that endures the impossible. A body that has weathered the most brutal of curses and kept on walking.
The concept flickers in the void—a canvas of potential.
The voice returns, smooth and neutral.
"Confirmed."
The void pulses with acceptance. The choice of Modulo Yuji speaks volumes—resilience, physical prowess, and the uncanny ability to withstand death itself. The foundation is laid.
The voice resonates again, waiting for the next choice.
**"Wish Two: An Ability or Upgrade."**
The possibilities are endless. What does a body like Yuji's truly need?
The Void ripples with the weight of this choice.
*Construction Technique.*
Not some flashy energy blast or grand magical spell. Not some flashy power. Something far more terrifying. The ability to create. To shape. To mold. To take something from nothing and make it real.
The voice acknowledges, processing.
**"Construction Technique. Confirmed."**
The void stirs with anticipation. Two wishes down. One to go.
The voice returns, patient and expectant.
**"Wish Three: Another Ability or Upgrade."**
Alan pauses. Yuji's body already grants him incredible physical strength, speed, and durability. The Construction Technique gives him creative power—nearly limitless possibilities. But what else would complete this foundation?
The possibilities spiral in the darkness. Regeneration? Flight?
Alan realizes something. When he chose Yuji Itadori's body, he didn't just get the physical vessel. He got everything that came with it.
*Shrine.* Dismantle, Cleave, Fuga.
*Blood Manipulation.*
*Reversed Cursed Technique.*
*Simple Domain.*
*Black Flash—at will.*
He's already insanely powerful. But two wishes remain.
The Void vibrates. The Ten Shadows Technique—one of the legendary cursed techniques passed down through generations. Ten powerful shikigami summoned from shadows. Mahoraga. The unstoppable Divine General.
The voice processes.
**"Ten Shadows Technique. Confirmed."**
The foundation solidifies. Modulo Yuji's body. The totality of his cursed techniques. Construction Technique.
The void shudders.
*Five times Mechamaru's stockpiled cursed energy.*
The scale is incomprehensible. Kokichi Muta spent seventeen years accumulating energy—enough to power massive artillery, launch special-grade level firepower from distant locations. Multiply that by five.
The voice hesitates, perhaps processing the math.
**"Calculating..."**
The void hums with intense calculation. The energy requirement is... staggering. Mechamaru's seventeen-year stockpile can power entire military operations, unleash devastating attacks from beyond the horizon. Five times that amount would be... God-like.
The voice speaks, "Confirmed." But there's a slight tremor, as if even the void finds this massive power request unusual.
The three wishes are complete.
**Body:** Modulo Yuji (includes Shrine, Blood Manipulation, RCT, Simple Domain, Black Flash at will).
**Ability 1:** Construction Technique.
**Ability 2:** Ten Shadows Technique.
**Upgrade:** 5x Mechamaru's 17-year cursed energy stockpile.
The void ripples. Alan feels it now—the sudden flood of unimaginable cursed energy. It's overwhelming. A cosmic tsunami crashing into him, building, growing, accumulating. Seventeen years' worth of Mechamaru's stockpile, multiplied five times over.
The voice speaks again, cold and absolute.
**"The three wishes have been granted. Your reincarnation begins now."**
The void begins to fracture. Light pours through the cracks.
Alan Pierce feels his new body assembling. Every muscle fiber. Every cursed energy pathway. The Ten Shadows dormant in his shadow. The Construction Technique humming in his mind. Shrine ready. Blood Manipulation circulating. RCT primed. Black Flash singing in his bones.
And that cursed energy. It's not just a pool. It's an ocean. A fucking *continent*
The void collapses. Alan feels the weight of *everything*—the impossible curse energy, the techniques, the body—compress into a single point.
Then—*CRACK.*
A body materializes in a dark alley. Buildings loom on both sides. The scent of garbage, exhaust, and city sweat hits his nostrils alerting him to the new reality he's in.
Pain. White-hot, soul-rending agony screams through every nerve ending.
It's not just physical. His soul is being rewoven. Stitched back together with threads of power that weren't there before. The Construction Technique sewing itself into his consciousness. The Ten Shadows sinking into his very shadow. Shrine and Blood Manipulation knitting into his DNA.
And the cursed energy...
The cursed energy is the worst part. It's not just flowing through him—it's trying to *fill* him. A continent of energy forced into a mortal vessel. His body screams at every pore, every cell, every molecule of his newly reconstructed form.
His vision blurs. The dark alleyway stretches and warps. His face hits cold pavement hard.
His body convulsed. He heard his bones creak like ship timber in a storm. His lungs burned as they tried to process the sheer volume of cursed energy flooding his system. His vision darkened, then brightened sharply as his RCT (Reverse Cursed Technique) automatically activated, trying to repair the damage of his own transformation.
sickness washed over him.
The RCT fired again. Every cell rebuilding itself. Strengthening. Adapting.
Alan felt his muscles density shifting. His bone structure reinforcing. His senses sharpening to an almost supernatural degree. Being half-human half-cursed spirit meant his body was already built different—Yuji was the vessel for Sukuna, after all. The most dangerous sorcerer in history.
A dumpster nearby rattled as his cursed energy leaked out involuntarily.
The memories flooded in—decades of combat, technique mastery, understanding the very essence of sorcery. Eighty-four years of being the strongest. Every fight, every victory, every refinement of his cursed energy. It wasn't just knowledge; it was muscle memory. Instinct.
And the control...
His cursed energy became a silent ocean. No leak. No warning. No pressure.
The mastery settled into his bones. He didn't just *know* how to use Yuji's abilities—he *was* them. Every technique was like breathing. Dismantle and Cleave flowed with the precision of a master surgeon's scalpel. Blood Manipulation answered with the speed of thought.
Shrine wasn't just summoned; it was an extension of his will.
And the cursed energy... the sheer volume was now under his absolute command. Five times Mechamaru's stockpile—enough to fuel special-grade attacks for months, to power the Ten Shadows constantly if needed, to activate Simple Domain repeatedly without fatigue.
He took a breath.
The alleyway came into sharp focus.
Alan slowly pushed himself off the pavement, blood trickling from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and watched the wound seal instantly with RCT.
He flexed his fingers. The power was *there*. Waiting. Obedient.
He looked down at himself. Modulo Yuji's body. Muscular but lean. Ready.
A shadow shifted beside him.
Alan stood in the dark alley, flexing his hands and watching shadows ripple unnaturally at his feet—the Ten Shadows stirring, responding to his presence. The memory of eighty-four years of combat sat like muscle memory in his bones.
"Alright," he muttered, his voice low. "Time to figure out where the hell I am."
He stepped out of the alley.
The sensory overload was immediate. The cacophony of honking horns, distant sirens, and a million footsteps hitting concrete. The smell—hot dog stands mixed with garbage, expensive cologne, and exhaust fumes.
He recognized this skyline. The Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building piercing the clouds.
New York.
And if it was New York...
Alan froze.
The massive screens above Times Square showed news coverage from London. The Asgardian invasion. The Dark Elves. Thor fighting off waves of extraterrestrial warriors with Mjolnir. Jane Foster barely surviving.
This wasn't just New York. This was the Marvel Universe.
And based on the news footage—this was *during* the events of Thor: The Dark World.
His body responded instantly. With Yuji's physical capabilities, speed, and cursed energy control, London was well within reach. He could be there in minutes—if not less. The Ten Shadows, Shrine, and his sheer cursed energy stockpile made him a one-man army.
And he knew the timeline.
Alan's mind raced with the timeline. Thor: The Dark World was happening *right now*. After this, Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Then Age of Ultron. Civil War. Infinity War. Endgame.
The stakes were impossibly high.
He cracked his neck and took a deep breath. Eighty-four years of Yuji's combat experience settled into his stance like a second skin.
"No time to waste."