The newly reborn Kamo Itsuki was nothing like the boy he once was.
His hair, once the stark black characteristic of the Kamo Clan, now blazed a vivid blood-red, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.
His eyes had transformed into an intense, deep crimson—cold, arrogant, and sharp enough to make even seasoned Sorcerers avert their gaze.
Though his facial features still carried faint traces of his former self, his overall aura had shifted dramatically. Every part of him radiated a power that had awakened from the depths of his blood.
Kamo Itsuki lowered his gaze to his bare body, then at the shattered fragments of the blood cocoon scattered across the ground.
He raised a hand and made two light gestures through the air.
In an instant, the fragments liquefied into thin, shimmering strands of blood that intertwined and fused together, weaving themselves into a scarlet robe that settled naturally over his body.
The robe pulsed faintly, alive with Cursed Energy. It shifted its patterns and design according to Itsuki's will and possessed an astonishing defensive capability.
"With just the defense of this robe," he said calmly, "no Cursed Spirit below Special Grade can lay a hand on me."
His tone held neither arrogance nor excitement—only certainty.
After retrieving the black casket, he turned to leave the secret chamber. For him, the casket had fulfilled its purpose.
But the heirloom still belonged to the clan. Until he formally inherited the title of Clan Head, it had to be entrusted to Kamo Masaki for safekeeping.
This was the backbone of the Kamo Clan's legacy, and returning it was both his responsibility and his vow of loyalty.
Kamo Masaki finally let out a breath of relief when he saw Itsuki step out alive.
For an entire month, unease had plagued him. The black casket had swallowed the boy whole—there had been no sound, no movement, no way to intervene.
Now, seeing Itsuki return not only unharmed but transformed, his heart flooded with pride and relief.
After placing the black casket back in Kamo Masaki's hands, Kamo Itsuki departed from the clan.
He needed solitude.
A place where he could fully merge with the power that now flowed through every drop of his blood.
Only after mastering this evolution could he say he had truly grown.
Eight years later.
Outside an abandoned village on the outskirts of Kyoto Prefecture, Japan.
"This is it, Kamo Itsuki-san."
Tanaka Taro's voice trembled slightly, breaking the oppressive silence around them.
Dressed in the standard uniform of Kyoto Jujutsu High, he clutched his clipboard tightly. His nerves were obvious—this mission would determine Kamo Itsuki's official certification as a First Grade Sorcerer.
In the hierarchy of Jujutsu ranks—Grade Four, Grade Three, Grade Two, Grade One, and Special Grade—Sorcerers almost always surpassed Cursed Spirits of the same rank.
Even so, First Grade missions were life-threatening.
Standing beside him was the Kamo Clan's Divine Child—Kamo Itsuki.
Eight years had sculpted him into something striking.
Gone was the boy; in his place stood a refined and composed Sorcerer.
His scarlet hair was swept neatly back, save for one rebellious lock that fell across his left cheek, swaying gently in the wind.
His features had sharpened with maturity, his expression calm, confident, and unreadable, while his crimson eyes glowed with a quiet intensity.
A faint, easy smile curved his lips—neither mocking nor warm, but effortlessly charismatic.
Despite his gentle demeanor, Kamo Itsuki's power was undeniable.
He and Gojo Satoru were widely known as the Twin Sorcerers of their generation—a title few could dispute.
Tanaka Taro felt a strange mix of admiration and pressure simply standing beside him.
"Mr. Tanaka, just wait here. I'll be back shortly. I won't keep you waiting too long."
Kamo Itsuki offered him a quiet smile.
Everything in his voice suggested absolute control.
Then he murmured an incantation, his tone low and steady:
"From darkness born, the darkest within darkness;
defilement and impurity,
all be purged."
The moment the chant ended, Cursed Energy burst from him in a dense wave.
Thick, black miasma surged outward, spreading over the entire village like ink spilled across a canvas.
A curtain.
Once inside, Kamo Itsuki paused, sensing.
Dozens of distorted, foul signatures flickered across his perception—twisted, corrupted, deeply stained.
He inhaled, steadying his mind, letting the blood within him hum in resonance with his Cursed Technique.
Then he turned toward the northern edge of the village and began walking, each step silent, precise, and brimming with quiet confidence.
There, he sensed it—a dense, pulsating aura that made the air tremble.
The mission target.
A Grade 1 Cursed Spirit known as *Hannya*.
Under the moonlight, a small courtyard sat still and silent, bathed in a faint silver glow.
It looked peaceful, almost holy, as if sealed away from the rest of the world.
Kamo Itsuki pushed open the weathered wooden door with a gentle motion, yet the moment the door creaked, everything shifted.
The courtyard vanished.
In its place stretched a bottomless darkness—an abyss swallowing every trace of light or sound.
Before he could react, a giant crimson serpent rose from the void and coiled around him.
Its scales glimmered faintly in the pitch black, exuding an unsettling, almost ancient malice.
The serpent tightened, holding him immobile.
Footsteps echoed.
A woman stepped out of the darkness.
Her seductive outfit clung to her figure, and a demonic mask covered her face.
She moved with fluid grace, each step part of a haunting dance that seemed to summon the dead.
Her movements were enchanting yet wrong—an illusion crafted to plunge the mind into madness.
When the dance ended, she slowly removed her mask.
Her face was grotesque.
Skin pale as a corpse, eyes glowing faint red, lips curled in a twisted smile that seemed to mock life itself.
Kamo Itsuki felt a chill—an instinctive warning.
"%@#￥…& (…%￥@# BEEP—BEEP—BEEP—#￥%#…!"
The woman shrieked, her voice distorted and inhuman, reverberating like a broken transmission inside his skull.
At that moment, the serpent opened its warped maw and sank its fangs into his neck.
Venom surged through him like liquid fire.
Agony consumed his body, boiling his nerves from within.
He collapsed, writhing on the ground as a hoarse scream tore from his throat.
No matter how violently he struggled, the serpent's coils refused to budge.
The venom intensified.
His vision fractured.
His senses dissolved.
His body melted into blood—literally liquefied—before soaking silently into the darkness beneath him.
Then everything reset.
The abyss blinked out of existence.
The quiet courtyard returned, serene as before.
The pool of blood had vanished, as if it had never been there.
Inside one of the courtyard houses lay Hannya—the masked woman.
Her crimson tongue traced her lips, savoring the illusion of victory.
A disdainful curl tugged at her mouth.
As if to say: *"So weak."*
But then—
A shadow stood at the courtyard gate.
Kamo Itsuki.
Alive. Unharmed.
As if time had rewound to restore him exactly where he stood before stepping inside.
Hannya bolted upright, instincts screaming.
She didn't understand what had happened, but every fiber of her being warned her:
*This person is far more dangerous than she imagined.*
Kamo Itsuki remained still, his crimson eyes deep and unreadable, gazing at the courtyard as though he could see through every barrier, every trick, every illusion Hannya had ever crafted.
Everything about him said only one thing—
This time, he would be the hunter.