A blood-red moon hung above the great hall.
Below it were rows of vacant, lifeless faces.
The White Zetsu quietly slipped into the shadows, moving ahead to search for treasures hidden within the hall. To him, Kenjaku's memories held no importance.
After all, they were nothing but insects.
A violet glow lit up his right eye as Mirai carefully observed the fluctuations of Kenjaku's soul.
Floating beside Kenjaku—visible only to Mirai—
were fragmented scenes from a thousand years ago, treacherous and ever-changing.
A desolate valley, the setting sun dyed in blood.
The ravaged land, crisscrossed with trenches, was carpeted with human remains. Samurai, sorcerers, even ordinary nobles clad in fine robes—all lay among the dead.
Crows filled the sky, feasting freely on piles of mangled corpses.
Atop one such heap—
A boy, no older than six or seven, gnawed on a chunk of dark red flesh of unknown origin. Covered in blood, he ate with a numb, emotionless expression.
"Clang… clang…"
A monk passed through the valley, clad in kasaya robes and wearing a conical hat. The staff in his hand faintly radiated Buddhist light under the crimson sunset.
He showed little reaction to the horrific scene, as though it were commonplace. He simply offered a brief prayer.
The fatal wounds on the corpses bore clear traces of cursed spirits.
In this era, hell existed everywhere.
The monk took the emotionless boy away and raised him in an esoteric Buddhist temple.
The monk, Genshin, seemed to hold considerable status within the sect. From time to time, powerful figures dressed in fine garments would visit the temple to pay their respects.
Among them, the most distinguished was a young woman clad in imperial attire.
All who came would bow respectfully to her.
From lip movements alone, Mirai could barely make out how the girl addressed the monk:
"Master Genshin."
Time passed.
The boy, once six or seven, was now over ten.
One day—
After reading a letter, Master Genshin hurried out. That very night, he brought the young noblewoman back to the temple.
Her elegant clothes were torn, and several bloody wounds marked her arm. Her family had likely met with disaster, and she remained at the temple thereafter.
Their former names were discarded. The master bestowed upon them new Dharma names.
From their lips, Mirai discerned two words:
"Tengen."
"Kenjaku."
Sorcerers of this era were far stronger than those of the modern age.
Through Kenjaku's perspective, Mirai witnessed the strength of many ancient sorcerers.
Master Genshin had awakened a technique known as "Barrier."
It allowed him to seal countless cursed spirits—and powerful curses of the age—within his own body.
Both the boy and the girl became his disciples, donning kasaya robes.
Because their innate techniques lacked offensive power, they had little means of survival in such a brutal era.
Genshin dismantled his own barrier technique and taught it to them without reservation.
The boy displayed greater talent, quickly grasping its essence.
The girl's aptitude was lower, but her mind remained calm and diligent.
The boy, however, was different. His interests drifted toward strange texts—
Rituals, cursed spirits… and even humans.
Through Kenjaku's eyes, Mirai once glimpsed, from afar, the king of that era—
A monstrous being with two faces and four arms.
The King of Curses, battling alone against all.
Time blurred as the scenes rapidly shifted.
Years passed.
For reasons unknown, the strongest being of that era suddenly attacked the temple.
Genshin was no match in direct combat and could only defend.
In the end, he imposed a binding vow upon himself—never to leave the temple—
and unleashed his barrier technique to its fullest extent.
He erected an absolute defense that enveloped the entire temple, forcing the King of Curses to withdraw.
Afterward, the now-grown Kenjaku was placed in confinement by Genshin.
It seemed the attack by the King of Curses had something to do with Kenjaku's actions.
Time shifted again.
Due to both lingering injuries from that encounter and old age, Genshin visibly weakened.
Until, at last, he passed away in meditation.
Tengen grieved.
Kenjaku was lost.
Fragile humans—what did life even mean?
In a single night—
Genshin's body transformed into a grotesque cursed object.
The Prison Realm was stolen from the temple by Kenjaku.
His physical body was forcibly taken away.
Because of the binding vow he had placed upon himself, Genshin's soul could not leave.
It became the "back side" of the Prison Realm, falling into Tengen's possession.
The scenes continued to flicker.
Kenjaku changed bodies repeatedly, the stitched scar across his forehead exposed.
The more powerful a technique, the greater the constraints it imposed.
For example—
Gojo Satoru's Six Eyes constantly flooded his mind with information, requiring blindfolds or dark glasses to reduce the strain.
Tengen's immortality required merging with a Star Plasma Vessel every five hundred years to maintain both human form and consciousness.
Kenjaku's body-hopping was no different.
The stitched scar on his forehead was a binding vow—one that could not be concealed.
Through Kenjaku's perspective, Mirai traveled across countless places from a thousand years ago.
He witnessed the horrifying experiments Kenjaku conducted using both cursed spirits and humans.
He tempted powerful individuals who died with regrets, forming contracts with them.
Among them—
The most special one was the strongest of that ancient era.
In the real world, ten minutes had passed.
A full ten minutes.
Tengen, using the advantage of the domain, had finally managed to barely break the open barrier domain.
Or perhaps—
Mirai had allowed it.
Some parts of Kenjaku's memories were indeed missing—likely due to Tengen's interference.
As the blood-red moon fell, everyone snapped back to reality.
"What did you do?!"
Kenjaku stared at Mirai in horror. He could faintly sense that his soul had been read.
"Stop pretending," Mirai said calmly. "We'll have another chance to meet, won't we?"
At those words—
The fear Kenjaku displayed was no longer an act.
His composure, tempered over a thousand years, shattered completely.
Veins bulged as he glared at Mirai, voice hoarse:
"You…!"
"What exactly did you see?!"
Looking at the panicked Kenjaku, Mirai's lips curled into a faint smile.
"The one who inherits the will…"
"Don't worry, Kenjaku. I'll leave you a chance to meet again."
As his cryptic words fell—
The violet glow in his right eye flickered.
The burnout of techniques lasted only milliseconds. The moment the domain shattered, his technique activated.
Boom!!!
Kenjaku's twisted expression froze.
His entire body was obliterated into dust—nothing remained.
A mist of blood slowly drifted through the air.
The others from Jujutsu High couldn't make sense of the exchange.
They hadn't even had time to think—still processing the fact that Kenjaku had just been completely destroyed.
But in the next instant—
That faint killing intent in those blood-red eyes…
Sent a chill down everyone's spine.
"You all…"
"Seem to have outlived your usefulness."
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