Shibuya Station, B5F, Fukutoshin Line Platform.
The air was oppressively heavy.
The thick scent of blood mingled with the foul stench of curses, creating an atmosphere that made one's stomach churn.
At the centre of the platform, the Prison Realm rested silently on the concrete floor.
It resembled a massive, sealed eyeball.
Because of Gojo's fierce resistance from within, the Special Grade Cursed Object had become as heavy as a mountain, making it impossible to move.
Kenjaku, dressed in Geto's monk robes, stood beside the Prison Realm.
A thin sheen of sweat seeped from the stitches across his forehead.
His narrowed eyes suddenly widened.
Shock and alarm churned within them without concealment.
Moments ago, the final scouting curse he had stationed near the surface ruins had been obliterated by a violent surge of lightning.
But in the last instant before the connection was severed, he had seen everything.
Jogo, the "Wrath of the Earth," had been pierced by a single sword and reduced to ashes on the spot.
Sukuna, after consuming fifteen fingers and regaining much of his strength, had watched Malevolent Shrine burned apart by black flames beneath a colossal purple deity over a hundred metres tall.
In the end, he had been forced back into Yuji's body.
"That man..."
"What kind of monster is he?"
Kenjaku's fingernails dug deep into his palms, drawing blood.
For over a thousand years, he had considered himself a master strategist.
He had manipulated both the jujutsu world and the curse faction like pieces on a chessboard.
Yet Rin's appearance was like a meteor crashing directly onto that board.
Not only had it shattered his pieces, it had nearly overturned the entire game.
He could no longer afford to wait.
Turning his head, Kenjaku looked toward the pitch-black staircase leading up to B4F.
At that man's speed, it wouldn't even take thirty seconds to break through the remaining underground defences and reach this platform.
The Prison Realm still needed time to stabilise.
If Rin arrived now, forget taking Gojo away.
Even this hard-earned Special Grade vessel would likely be reduced to ashes by those black flames.
The plan had to be accelerated.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Light footsteps echoed from the far end of the tunnel.
A young man with long hair stitched together in places and grey-blue eyes approached with a grin.
He stepped casually over pools of blood and the remains of Transfigured Humans scattered across the floor.
Mahito.
As the curse born from humanity's hatred of itself, the chaos unfolding throughout Shibuya had been his ideal hunting ground.
"Yo, Geto."
"The commotion up there sounds pretty intense. Did Jogo blow up the whole district?"
Mahito casually played with a Transfigured Human that had been kneaded into a ball of flesh through Idle Transfiguration, sounding as relaxed as if he were commenting on a fireworks show.
His eyes wandered around the platform.
The moment he spotted the Prison Realm lying on the floor, they lit up.
"So that's the thing that sealed Gojo Satoru?"
"Awesome!"
"The biggest obstacle is gone. Now it's time for us curses to really start the party—"
His voice abruptly stopped.
Because he had seen the look in Kenjaku's eyes.
That was not the gaze of a comrade.
It was cold.
Greedy.
The look of a predator staring at its prey.
"Geto... what's with that look?"
Mahito instinctively sensed danger.
The smile gradually vanished from his face.
He took half a step backward as cursed energy surged through his body.
"Mahito."
Kenjaku kept his hands tucked within his sleeves.
His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable chill.
"You were born from humanity's hatred, and your rate of growth has been truly remarkable."
"My original plan was to let you continue tempering your soul through your battles with Yuji."
"Once you reached your perfect form, I would have collected you."
Kenjaku took a step forward.
"But unfortunately, an unexpected variable has appeared."
"And I no longer have the luxury of time."
"What do you mean?!"
Mahito's pupils contracted.
At last, he understood.
This curse user who had always acted like an ally had intended to harvest them from the beginning.
Just like crops waiting for harvest.
"It means your role has ended ahead of schedule."
Boom!
Kenjaku suddenly formed a hand seal.
The aura of Maximum: Uzumaki erupted behind him.
Hundreds upon hundreds of Grade 2 and lower curses surged forward like a black tidal wave, flooding the platform from every direction.
"You dare betray us?!"
"Die!"
Mahito let out a furious roar and slammed both hands against the ground.
"Domain Expansion: Self-Embodiment of Perfection!"
Countless pale arms emerged from the void.
They intertwined into a gigantic web, attempting to drag Kenjaku into a world where souls would be crushed and reshaped at his whim.
But Kenjaku moved even faster.
"Simple Domain."
A visible barrier of cursed energy expanded around him.
The sure-hit effect of Mahito's Domain was instantly neutralised.
At the same moment, Kenjaku shot through the sea of pale arms like a phantom.
In an instant, he appeared directly before Mahito.
"Cursed Spirit Manipulation."
A vast surge of Special Grade cursed energy condensed into an invisible giant hand.
It seized Mahito by the throat.
Mahito desperately attempted to activate Idle Transfiguration and alter the shape of his soul to escape.
But before the absolute authority of Suguru Geto's technique, his cursed energy felt trapped in a swamp.
Every movement became sluggish.
Every attempt at resistance was suppressed.
"N-No..."
"Stop!"
"I've only just begun to understand the true nature of the soul!"
Mahito's body began twisting and compressing uncontrollably.
The sound of cracking bones echoed throughout the platform.
Overwhelmed by terror, he struggled desperately.
But before the methods of a thousand-year-old sorcerer, his resistance was utterly meaningless.
"Become the cornerstone of my evolution."
Kenjaku's fingers tightened mercilessly.
Mahito's scream was cut short.
His body, a being filled with limitless potential, was forcibly extracted through Cursed Spirit Manipulation and compressed into a pitch-black sphere that emitted a nauseating stench.
Without the slightest hesitation, Kenjaku shoved the cursed spirit orb into his mouth and swallowed it whole.
His throat bobbed.
The moment it went down, his entire body trembled violently.
Closing his eyes, he carefully felt the cursed technique known as Idle Transfiguration take root within him.
"So this is what it feels like..."
Kenjaku's eyes snapped open.
___
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