Kamo Itsuki's eyes sharpened with resolve. "Looks like I'll have to get serious."
"You're bold to say that." Gojo Satoru grinned, confidence overflowing. "Then come on—try it."
The instant his words fell, the two clashed once more.
But this time, it was no longer a simple exchange of blows.
"Crimson Scale Leap — Load."
"Blood Manipulation — Armor."
Kamo Itsuki activated his techniques first, his speed surging, his body reinforced by layers of hardened blood.
The boost tipped the balance—he now pressed ahead, while Gojo Satoru gradually lost ground in close combat.
Yet even with the advantage, Itsuki's blades and fists never landed.
Every time he approached, Gojo activated Limitless, and Itsuki's strikes dissolved into nothingness.
Once Limitless is active, nothing can touch him…
Itsuki analyzed calmly between exchanges.
He noticed something crucial: Gojo hadn't been maintaining Limitless continuously.
He only activated it the moment an unavoidable attack approached.
That meant there was a window—a weakness.
Itsuki's eyes gleamed.
"Blood Manipulation — Blood Tachi."
A blade of condensed blood formed in his hand, drastically increasing his reach.
Against a barehanded opponent, the advantage was clear.
Spotting an opening, Itsuki struck, slashing toward Gojo's waist—
—but Limitless nullified it as easily as the others.
Gojo expected Itsuki to withdraw as before.
But his Six Eyes caught something beneath the arena—Cursed Energy spreading underground.
Itsuki didn't pull back.
He had laid a trap.
Gojo had no choice but to maintain Limitless.
Gojo Satoru maintained Limitless for: thirty seconds.
From the shadow behind him, a spike of hardened blood erupted upward, aiming straight for the back of his skull.
"Blood Manipulation — Blood Spike."
Dozens more followed, bursting from every direction, stabbing toward him relentlessly.
Gojo Satoru maintained Limitless for: one minute and forty seconds.
Still not enough.
Every spike dissolved harmlessly—so Itsuki escalated.
"Blood Manipulation — Blood Orb Barrage!"
A storm of crimson bullets flew from his fingertips, hammering against the barrier of Limitless from all angles.
Gojo Satoru maintained Limitless for: three minutes and fifty seconds.
Itsuki did not stop.
He attacked continuously, forcing Gojo to burn through his energy.
Nearly six minutes passed.
Finally, Gojo Satoru's expression tightened—he couldn't maintain Limitless any longer.
He seized the opening.
"Cursed Technique Reversal — Blue!"
A glowing blue orb formed in his palm, unleashing a crushing suction force.
The pull devoured everything—Itsuki's projectiles, shattered tiles, debris—forming a massive sphere of compressed stone.
Yet Itsuki did not retreat.
He had been waiting for this moment.
"Blood Manipulation — Crimson Bind!"
Blood tendrils lashed from his feet into the ground, anchoring him in place and resisting Blue's pull.
Rooted firmly, he charged through the gravitational storm, step by brutal step.
Then, at the perfect range—
"Blood Manipulation — Warhammer!"
A colossal hammer of hardened blood materialized in his hands.
Itsuki swung it downward in one decisive, shattering strike.
The impact exploded through the plaza.
Gojo Satoru was launched like a bullet, smashing through a stone pillar and lodging deep into the wall of a nearby building.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the structure, dust raining down as spectators recoiled from the shockwave.
Hearts pounded.
Breaths halted.
As the dust settled, Gojo Satoru slowly slid down from the wall.
He brushed dirt off his shoulders, expression calm—yet he was breathing heavily, far more than he wanted others to notice.
Within moments, he steadied his breath again.
Itsuki's blow looked devastating, but Gojo remained uninjured.
Seeing the ring-out, the host raised his voice:
"The match is over! Gojo Satoru has been knocked out of the arena—Kamo Itsuki wins!"
The plaza erupted in shock.
No one had expected this.
A duel that should have had a foregone conclusion had flipped entirely.
Yet rules were rules.
A ring-out was a ring-out.
When the host invited the next challenger, the arena fell into stunned silence.
No one dared step forward.
No one dared to step forward. Everyone understood that neither Gojo Satoru nor Itsuki were opponents they could challenge lightly.
With that, the youth sparring session came to an end. The crowd slowly drifted back to the banquet hall, returning to the warm glow of celebration. But beneath their cheerful expressions, each of them carried a quiet realization—today's match marked the rise of two prodigies, and Itsuki's name, in particular, would resound for years to come.
Under the watchful gazes of their clans, Itsuki and Gojo did not return to the festivities. Instead, their elders guided them toward a quiet treatment room reserved for healing.
The room sat tucked away in a corner of the manor, surrounded by tall bamboo groves swaying gently in the breeze. Sunlight pierced through the leaves in scattered shards, leaving shifting patches of light on the stone path.
Inside, the faint smell of medicinal herbs lingered in the air, soothing the senses.
Neither of the boys had sustained obvious injuries, but the elders insisted on a full examination. Divine children were the pride of their clans—every precaution had to be taken.
Gojo walked behind Itsuki, his star-bright eyes flashing with curiosity. His Six Eyes focused on Itsuki's back, scanning him as though attempting to unravel every secret hidden beneath his skin.
Itsuki felt the stare but didn't turn around. Instead, he sighed quietly, a helpless curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Inside the treatment room, Ieiri Shoko was already waiting. The young healer's smooth brown hair framed her face, and her clear eyes shone with intelligence. She had watched the entire fight and already formed her own judgments.
Gojo might be concealing mild internal trauma, and Itsuki should, in theory, be suffering from anemia after expending so much blood in his final technique.
So Shoko decided to treat Itsuki first.
Closing her eyes, she activated Reverse Cursed Technique. A soft glow enveloped her hand—but her brows slowly drew together.
That was strange.
With how much blood Itsuki used, he should have been light-headed or weakened. Yet her technique detected nothing out of balance. His body was perfectly healthy, as though he had never fought at all.
When she opened her eyes, surprise filled them.
Itsuki offered a small, knowing smile and thanked her.
"Thanks."
"Ah—no problem. Really," Shoko replied, still puzzled but maintaining her composure.
She moved on to Gojo next. Surprisingly, he was also nearly uninjured. Completely unharmed, if her technique was to be believed.
Gojo thanked her as well, though with far less modesty.
Seeing both boys in perfect condition, the Kamo clan elder stepped forward, eager to transfer the treatment fee. But Shoko hurriedly refused, insisting she hadn't done any real work.
Gojo cut in before the elder could insist again.
"Don't be shy, Shoko. This guy just earned tens of millions today, so he can pay for my treatment too."
He jabbed a finger at Itsuki, who let out a resigned laugh.
"Come on, it was a small loss. I'll treat you to dessert—how's that?" Itsuki replied.
Gojo puffed up like a child unwilling to lose ground.
"Oh, I'll make sure to get my money's worth. Shoko, you come too. Help me eat him into bankruptcy."
Shoko blinked, caught in the middle.
"Um… but I don't like sweets."
Itsuki jumped in quickly.
"That's fine. Order whatever you want. I'm treating. We can count it as the treatment fee."
Gojo scoffed loudly.
"What was that again? One thing at a time? Treatment fee still needs to be paid—and the meal is on me."