Eight Hours Later
Ethan felt a mental tug from Nue. He shared a mental link with all his shikigami—this was how he usually performed reconnaissance before going out curse hunting. Using shadow manipulation, he sank into his shadow and emerged atop Nue as the New York skyline appeared on the horizon.
In the distance, he saw American Airlines Flight 11, a Boeing 767 headed straight toward the North Tower.
He mentally commanded Nue to get closer to the airplane, positioning themselves parallel above it. As soon as Nue matched the plane's speed, Ethan jumped off its back. At their current velocity, the impact would occur in ten minutes.
He landed on top of the plane's exterior with a loud thud, muffled by the roaring current of air. He sank into his shadow and emerged inside the cockpit, keeping only his eyes above the floor.
The sight that greeted him was grim: two dead pilots and two terrorists sitting in their seats. He fully manifested. They didn't notice him right away.
"Quite a day, isn't it?"
The man with the long beard snapped his head around like a whip. Both were clearly startled. They had been having what they believed to be an amazing day—they were on their way to paradise.
Extremist terrorists often promise, or cite interpretations suggesting, that those who die as martyrs—suicide attackers—will be rewarded with seventy-two virgins, known as Houris, in paradise. They are promised forgiveness of sins and the highest level of heaven. Ethan understood this.
Therefore, he would send them to their gods.
The two men in the pilot seats suddenly found it hard to breathe. Ethan couldn't use any high-powered attacks—they were inside a commercial aircraft cockpit.
That was why, before leaving his room, he had borrowed a set of colored pencils from one of the five-year-olds, Max. He would have to explain to Miss Andler how he lost them later—that was a problem for future Ethan.
The terrorists looked at each other's necks, where what appeared to be children's colored pencils protruded. They didn't understand what was happening.
They were supposed to go to heaven.
They were supposed to be greeted by seventy-two virgins after taking down the plane and the North Tower.
Why was a child—barely ten years old—standing in the cockpit with them?
Why were they dying before completing their sacred mission?
They never found answers. They died gurgling in their own blood.
Ethan's focus was elsewhere.
He had sensed it the moment he landed on the plane—a presence. No… a cursed spirit, far more powerful than anything he had encountered in the two years since arriving in this world.
A Special Grade.
The sheer malice in its cursed energy signature was overwhelming—far beyond any curse he had ever faced. But first, he had to deal with the two remaining terrorists in the main cabin. He made quick work of them, killing them without anyone noticing.
Now came the most important part of the mission: safely transporting the entire aircraft to a safe distance from the city.
He had made advance preparations.
One of his hares was stationed on the outskirts of the city, far from any civilians.
His plan was simple:
Point A: Nue, flying beneath the aircraft—the point of immersion.
Point B: The hare on the outskirts—the point of exit.
In theory, he could move objects through shadows, since shikigami were extensions of his own shadow. However, he had never attempted it on something this heavy.
A Boeing 767 weighed approximately 48,000 pounds, not counting the additional weight of 350 to 450 passengers.
Ethan would have to bear the entire weight for the 0.5 seconds it took to transfer objects over long distances.
He initiated the process without delay. Nue stabilized its wings, and the entire plane began sinking into its shadow.
FUCK—!?
CRACK!!
A sharp cracking sound echoed from his left leg.
He had never felt pain like this—not since the soul-crushing agony he experienced when he touched the Dharma Chakra.
Through sheer grit, he held on and refused to lose consciousness, though he looked like someone who had just run a hundred-mile marathon without stopping.
When it was over, Ethan looked around. He was lying on the ground, grass beneath him, the aircraft resting nearby with severely confused passengers inside. He had no time to process it.
He felt another mental tug from Nue while transporting the plane.
That meant United Airlines Flight 175, another Boeing 767, was already on its way to the South Tower.
CRUNCH!
His left leg was injured—not crushed, but fractured with a hairline crack. At this moment, he desperately wished he had already tamed Round Deer, which could heal through Reverse Cursed Technique.
He reinforced his leg with cursed energy, similar to how Gojo Satoru had done after Toji stabbed him. It wouldn't heal the injury, but it would let him push through the pain.
He sank into his shadow and emerged atop United Airlines Flight 175. Once again, he eliminated the terrorists quickly. Yet again, he unmistakably sensed the cursed energy of a Special Grade tied to them.
He repeated the process, bearing the weight of the entire aircraft and its passengers for another agonizing 0.5 seconds.
Jujutsu sorcery is an art of subtraction.
Elite sorcerers maximize efficiency by eliminating unnecessary steps—hand signs, chants, rituals. By cutting away excess, techniques become faster and deadlier.
One of Ethan's long-term goals was to reduce that 0.5-second delay to near-instantaneous. When he first attempted shadow transfer, it took 1.2 seconds. Through relentless practice, he reduced it to 0.5 seconds.
He planned to apply a binding vow to reduce it to 0.01 seconds—but that could wait until he was safely back in his orphanage room.
For now, he had succeeded.
He had prevented the planes from crashing into the Twin Towers.
If he remembered correctly, the third plane destroyed the western face of the Pentagon, while the fourth crashed in a field in Pennsylvania after passengers fought back.
Ethan knew he couldn't save everyone, but the outcome still felt bittersweet. There was no logical way for him to travel such vast distances in time…
Unless he made a very enticing binding vow.
He couldn't rely on Nue for transport—at its fastest, Nue was only as fast as a commercial aircraft. He needed to exceed Mach 1, all while his left leg screamed in pain.
So, he made a binding vow.
He would no longer be able to summon Nue completely.
In exchange, he could summon Nue's aspects separately:
Wings (mobility and defense)
Electric Discharge (offense)
Each aspect would be ten times stronger.
The binding vow settled instantly.
He felt the loss of his companion like a knife to the heart. He would mourn Nue later. Right now, there was still a plane to save.
Another dilemma arose:
225 miles southwest to Washington, D.C.
200 miles west to Pennsylvania.
He chose the path that would prevent the greatest loss of life—the Pentagon.
Ethan partially summoned Nue's crimson wings. They attached to his back like an angel's.
He took off.
Multiple sonic booms echoed behind him. He didn't know his exact speed, but by his estimate, he was moving as fast as the fighter jets he remembered from his previous world.
Upon reaching the area, he deployed several hares at a safe distance. As he soared through the air, he spotted his target.
The Pentagon—the world's second-largest office building—spanning 6.5 million square feet, with 3.7 million used as office space.
Ten minutes later, he saw American Airlines Flight 77, a Boeing 757, heading straight for it. He repeated the maneuver once more.
His left leg felt like molten lava was being poured into it. He deliberately bore the burden of the aircraft with his non-dominant leg for those agonizing 0.5 seconds.
He safely delivered the third plane far from the city after killing the terrorists inside.
Then—
He felt it.
The presence of the Special Grade was stronger than ever.
Eyes were on him.
A chill ran down his spine.
Approximately two miles away, he saw it—a monstrosity. The Special Grade responsible for the terrorist attacks.
He had many questions when he first sensed it.
Why orchestrate such an elaborate plan?
Why not simply act directly?
A Special Grade should be capable of devastation ten times worse.
Now, seeing its monstrous form even from a distance, he understood.
It was a Special Grade born from the fear of war.
The War on Terror—officially the Global War on Terrorism (GWOT)—was a global military campaign initiated by the United States in response to the September 11 attacks. A conflict spanning multiple wars, many scholars argue it replaced the Cold War as the defining global struggle.
The Special Grade's goal had never been terrorism.
Its goal was war.
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