The final demonstration belonged to Kamo Itsuki. He took a measured breath, his hands weaving through a complex series of seals with fluid precision. His voice was a low murmur, but the incantation carried weight: "Blood Manipulation: Blood God Descent."
From his feet, a tide of crimson erupted, not as a spray, but as a living, spreading entity. It flowed with purpose, covering the entire arena floor in moments, forming a vast, churning pool that reflected the sky with a sinister sheen. Strange ripples pulsed across its surface, thrumming with the gestation of something ancient and profound.
Then, it rose. From the heart of the pool, a colossal humanoid form coalesced—a titan of solidified blood with three fierce visages and six mighty arms. Each hand gripped a weapon of glistening crimson: spears, swords, a shield. It was not a mere demon or puppet; it was a Blood God, an Asura given form, radiating an aura of raw, devouring vitality that seemed to warp the air around it.
The construct was no mindless golem. A chilling, predatory awareness gleamed in its six eyes. With a motion that was almost casual, one of its swords swept horizontally.
The air didn't just part; it screamed. A visible rift tore through the space above the arena, and the resulting wind pressure wasn't a gust, but a wall of force that shoved everyone back a step, tearing at clothes and stealing breath. It was the preamble to an apocalypse, contained in a single, idle swing.
In the observation booth, Tsukumo Yuki's usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by stark, professional assessment. "A casual strike with the presence of a natural disaster," she stated, her voice tight. "This… exceeds the baseline of Special Grade." Her gaze was a mix of awe and deep-seated wariness.
The Higher-ups were beyond words. They stared, pale and silent, gripped by a terror that was both immediate and existential. This was not a power to be rated or controlled; it was a force of nature that happened to wear a human face.
On the sidelines, Haibara Yu trembled, his voice a whisper. "Senior Kamo… that's not just strong. That's inhuman."
Nanami Kento, ever analytical even in shock, voiced the cold truth. "If that entity were to go rogue, the resulting chaos would engulf the entire nation. This power alone threatens the equilibrium of the jujutsu world."
Seeing the judging committee rendered utterly speechless, Kamo gave a slight, satisfied nod. He waved a hand. Obediently, the towering Blood God sank back into the pool from whence it came. The vast expanse of blood then reversed its flow, retreating swiftly and cleanly until it vanished beneath Kamo's feet, leaving the arena scarred but empty, as if the apparition had been a collective nightmare.
A stunned silence held for a long moment before hushed, frantic whispers broke out among the departing elders.
"How would it fare against the Zen'in's Mahoraga…?"
"Mahoraga adapts, but this thing obeys. That's a different kind of threat entirely."
"There must be a limit, a cost… we must uncover it."
"The Kamo Clan hid this well. There was no prior intelligence…"
Of course, there hadn't been. This was no clan secret, but Kamo Itsuki's own creation—a sovereign Shikigami born from the fusion of every cursed technique he had mastered and refined.
As the Higher-ups filed out, their minds were a whirlwind of dread and calculation. The emergence of one Special Grade was an era-defining event. Three, emerging simultaneously from the same class? This was not a coincidence; it was an omen. The old order, already brittle, now had three sledgehammers poised against it.
Some began mentally reviewing offshore accounts and emigration papers. In the coming storm, survival would require foresight.
Back on the field, as the last official vanished, Gojo Satoru took an exaggerated, deep breath. "Ahhh. Finally. With those old geezers gone, even the air tastes better."
The three newly-minted Special Grades were left alone on the scarred earth, the weight of their demonstrated power and the unspoken future hanging between them. The assessment was over. The real test was just beginning.
Tsukumo Yuki let out a long, weary sigh, the tension leaving her shoulders as if she'd finally stepped out of a stuffy room. In her simple black coat, she looked less like a legendary Special Grade and more like a strategist finally able to speak freely.
"Senior Tsukumo, what's your history with the Higher-ups?" Ieiri Shoko asked, her tone gentle but curious. "You seem to resent them."
"It's not resentment," Yuki corrected, shaking her head. "It's a difference in philosophy. Jujutsu High treats the symptoms. I want to cure the disease."
The statement hung in the air, drawing puzzled looks from the group.
"Think about it," she continued, her gaze sharpening. "We chase curses that have already been born, putting out fires. My goal is to stop the arson. To create a world where curses don't form at all."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, passionate pitch. "Curses are born from the leakage of human negative emotions—cursed energy. So, the solutions are logical: either remove cursed energy from all of humanity, or teach all of humanity to control it. Eradicate the fuel, or give everyone a lid for their tank. No leakage, no curses."
Geto Suguru listened intently, his brow furrowed in deep thought rather than the dawning, fanatical horror he might have once felt. He was turning the idea over, examining its practical weight, its ethical edges.
Kamo Itsuki watched him carefully, a silent wave of relief washing through him. This is different. The foundational trauma that had primed Geto for such an extreme path—the helpless sacrifice of Amanai Riko—had never happened. The Geto listening now was still the idealist who believed in protecting the weak, not the broken man who saw them as the source of all poison.
"It's a grand vision, Senpai," Geto said finally, his voice measured. "But the scale… removing or teaching billions? It sounds less like a plan and more like a rewriting of human nature itself."
Yuki grinned, undeterred. "All the best ideas do. But you're right. It's the 'how' that's the real work. I'm just laying out the 'why'." Her eyes swept over the three of them—the limitless one, the collector, the innovator. "You three… you represent a concentration of power the world hasn't seen in centuries. You could spend your lives putting out fires, becoming the greatest firefighters in history. Or," she paused, her gaze lingering on each of them, "you could ask why the matches keep being struck, and who keeps selling them."
It was an invitation, not to her specific path, but to a broader way of thinking. To look beyond the mission scroll and the next curse.
Gojo Satoru, who had been listening with an unusually thoughtful expression, broke into his characteristic smile. "Sounds like a lot more work than just blasting things. But… it's definitely not boring." His tone suggested the idea had been filed away for future consideration, a new puzzle to solve.
Kamo met Yuki's eyes and gave a slight, acknowledging nod. The seed had been planted, but in healthier soil. The path forward wasn't predetermined. For now, that was enough.
The group began to disperse from the scarred evaluation grounds, the formalities over. They walked away not just as newly certified Special Grades, but as individuals who had just been presented with a question that far exceeded the title's definition: what, exactly, did they plan to do with all this power?
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