October 31, 2018.
Shibuya, Tokyo.
The annual Halloween Eve turned this already bustling district into a sea of revelry where monsters danced together.
Countless young people in eccentric costumes crowded the intersections. The sounds of music and laughter intertwined, pushing the city's clamor to its peak.
However, as the clock's hands quietly passed 7:00 PM, a massive black hemispherical curtain, hundreds of meters in diameter, descended from the sky without warning, tightly capping the entire core commercial district of Shibuya within.
At first, the crowd didn't notice anything amiss. It wasn't until people realized they couldn't leave the area no matter what—as if an invisible transparent wall blocked their path—that panic spread like a plague.
"We can't get out! What's going on?!"
"The phones have no signal either!"
"Look! The entrance to the underground subway station is open, and something is driving us down!"
Terrified screams erupted from the crowd.
Cursed Spirits and Curse Users hiding in the shadows began herding the common people, driving them like livestock deep into the depths of Shibuya Station.
...
8:30 PM.
Shibuya Station, B5F, Fukutoshin Line platform.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat and the sound of despairing sobs. Thousands of ordinary civilians were packed tightly onto the narrow platform, making even breathing extremely difficult.
On the tracks opposite the crowd stood three figures radiating a terrifying pressure.
Jogo with a volcano atop his head, Hanami whose eyes were pierced by branches, and Choso, the eldest of the Cursed Womb: Death Paintings, standing with arms crossed and an expressionless face.
"Will he really come?" Jogo exhaled a puff of scorching white smoke, his single eye staring intently at the stairs leading to B4F.
His fear of Satoru was still etched into his bones. The experience of having his head twisted off was something he would never forget.
"He'll come."
Hanami's voice echoed in his mind. "Geto said that as long as these civilians are used as human shields, Gojo won't dare use his Cursed Techniques with such devastating power. Here, he's a tiger with its teeth pulled."
Tap... Tap...
Steady footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
The noisy platform instantly fell into a deathly silence as the civilians instinctively held their breath.
A slender figure slowly descended the stairs.
The black uniform of Jujutsu High and a black blindfold covering his eyes.
Satoru walked alone into this death trap tailored for him, hands in his pockets and a cold arc hanging on the corner of his lips.
"Yo, we meet again, Mount Fuji."
Satoru stopped. Facing tens of thousands of hostages and three Special Grade Cursed Spirits, he didn't retreat in the slightest. Instead, he casually removed his blindfold, revealing those Six Eyes as brilliant as a galaxy.
"Hiding in the sewers and planning for so long just to come up with such a boring setup? Did you think that by using these ordinary people as shields, I'd be helpless against you?"
Satoru cracked his neck, a mocking curve appearing at the corner of his lips.
"Get one thing straight: you're the challengers here."
Boom!
The moment the words fell, Satoru's figure vanished from the spot.
He even took the initiative to deactivate the defensive barrier of Infinity to avoid affecting the dense crowd of civilians around him. Relying purely on Cursed Energy to strengthen his body, he turned into an afterimage and cut directly into the formation of the Special Grade Cursed Spirits.
"Don't underestimate us!"
Jogo roared, clasping his palms together as dozens of columns of blazing magma erupted from beneath the tracks.
Hanami followed closely, thick roots coiling toward Satoru's legs like venomous snakes.
Choso pulled back, condensing high-pressure blood rays at his fingertips.
But Satoru was too fast. He wove through the gaps between the magma and roots with incredible flexibility, his right leg swinging high and slamming into Hanami's shoulder.
Bang!
The hard shell of the Special Grade Cursed Spirit cracked under Satoru's monstrous strength.
Satoru seized the opportunity to grab the branches at Hanami's eye sockets, Cursed Energy exploding in his palm.
"Gahhhhh!"
Amidst a tooth-grinding sound of snapping, the two branches in Hanami's eye sockets were ripped out by the roots by Satoru. Dark green Cursed Spirit blood sprayed out wildly.
"Hanami!" Jogo's eyes nearly burst from their sockets.
Satoru turned his head, his blue eyes coldly locking onto Jogo.
Just as he was about to press his advantage and finish off the remaining two Cursed Spirits—
From above B5F, a blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out.
Thousands of transfigured humans, modified by Mahito's technique, jumped down from the B4F ceiling.
As soon as these hideous monsters landed in the crowd, they began to frantically bite and slaughter innocent civilians. Flesh and blood flew, and screams filled the air.
"Hahaha! Gojo! Let's see how you save these people!" Jogo laughed wildly as he retreated.
Satoru stood there, watching the slaughtered civilians, his brow finally furrowing.
If left alone, everyone here would be dead within ten minutes. But if he used a large-scale technique, these civilians would also die at his hands. It was an unsolvable moral dead end.
But he was Gojo Satoru.
Domain Expansion.
Satoru formed a hand seal in front of his chest.
He precisely compressed the duration of the domain to a crazy limit—0.2 seconds!
Unlimited Void.
Buzz!
The entire space of B5F was instantly swallowed by a void of white.
Whether it was Cursed Spirits, transfigured humans, or ordinary civilians, everyone's brain was forcibly flooded with half a year's worth of useless information in that instant, leaving them all in a state of standing coma.
Satoru abandoned all techniques and, relying purely on physical strength, snapped the necks of exactly one thousand transfigured humans with his bare hands in just 299 seconds.
"Huff... Huff..."
When the last transfigured human fell, Satoru knelt on one knee, gasping for breath.
Fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead. The high-intensity Cursed Energy manipulation and physical exertion left even the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer feeling deeply exhausted.
"Well done, Satoru."
A gentle, familiar voice suddenly sounded behind Satoru.
Satoru's body suddenly froze and his Six Eyes widened as he turned his head with difficulty.
Less than five meters behind him, a square, flesh-colored box covered in eerie runes had fallen to the ground at some point. The box was slowly unfolding, like a giant opening single eye.
And standing next to that box, was a man wearing a robe, with his hair in a bun and a stitched scar across his forehead.
That face, that voice.
Suguru.