Bellumshade would admit to himself that he wasn't the strongest among the Special Grade cursed spirits. Hell, he wasn't even in the top five. He could accept this because war—while often considered an inevitable, high-stakes endeavor—can be catastrophically disrupted by a single, well-placed encounter or strategic failure. The immense, often fatal toll of conflict proves that even one decisive battle can destroy resources and morale. The complexity of war means that simpler, more direct strategies are often more effective, and a single, well-executed action can change the course of an entire conflict.
After all, war does not survive a one-on-one encounter.
The Special Grade cursed spirit Bellumshade knew that the top five Special Grades existed in leagues of their own. It wasn't fair how strong they were when their concepts were so mundane… but he wasn't going to whine about it.
After all—might makes right.
He knew his Domain Expansion excelled at crushing high-level sorcerers through attrition rather than burst damage. He even harbored fantasies of killing a certain bald sorceress, taking his sweet time while savoring the despair on her face. Inside his domain, the longer one stayed, the stronger Bellumshade became—and the weaker his opponent grew.
The domain resembled a colossal command center fused with endless battlefields.
All enemies were forcibly "drafted." Their cursed energy, stamina, and even techniques were gradually requisitioned by the domain, weakening them while empowering Bellumshade. The longer one remained inside, the more they were spent.
After Bellumshade deployed ETERNAL THEATRE OF WAR, three seconds after the domain barrier took hold, it cracked—from the outside.
Bellumshade was shocked—not only that his domain had been breached externally, but also by the appearance of what he could only describe as a pink mammoth with yellow stone-age markings. As soon as it appeared, it sank back into the wretch's shadow.
The Special Grade cursed spirit Bellumshade was now experiencing cursed technique burnout.
The moment Ethan realized the cursed spirit was about to deploy its domain, he interlocked his fingers to form a shadow puppet resembling an elephant's head and poured as much cursed energy into it as his technique allowed.
Max Elephant is a high-cost, heavyweight shikigami of the Ten Shadows Technique, specializing in massive area-of-effect water attacks and crushing physical damage. It can flood entire areas, force opponents through walls, or be dropped from the air to crush targets—including a domain's outer barrier—at the cost of immense cursed energy.
When Sukuna took over Megumi's body, he compressed the water released by Max Elephant to fire high-pressure water beams through partial summoning. This attack was inspired by the Kamo Clan's Piercing Blood.
Noritoshi Kamo once used this technique against the unregistered Special Grade cursed spirit Hanami, managing to damage its head—an impressive feat considering the curse's durability.
After Ethan compressed and condensed Max Elephant's water to its absolute limit using Convergence, he clapped his hands together and fired the water from his fingertips. The stream—now reinforced with cursed energy—reached the speed of sound, striking the Special Grade directly in the head and piercing straight through.
Bellumshade was exorcised.
Ethan collapsed onto the ground, his back against earth that had been a battlefield just moments ago.
Three seconds.
That was how long he had spent inside the cursed spirit's domain.
He remembered the menacing smirk on Bellumshade's face the instant the barrier took hold. That alone had been enough—Ethan had suffered a fatal wound stretching from his left collarbone to his right kidney.
He hadn't seen the attack coming.
Thud… Thud…
He wouldn't survive this with simple reinforcement. There was too much blood loss.
No—he needed something else.
Reverse Cursed Technique.
The thought came unbidden.
He couldn't tame Round Deer in his current state.
Gojo Satoru had learned Reverse Cursed Technique after his near-death experience with Toji Fushiguro, allowing him to heal fatal wounds.
Cursed energy is born from negativity. Even if one can reinforce their body, reconstructing damaged flesh is impossible—that's why negative energy must be multiplied by itself to form positive energy. That process is Reverse Cursed Technique.
Ethan had read this explanation hundreds of times and attempted it daily for over two years. But now—after landing two consecutive Black Flashes—his understanding of cursed energy was on a completely different level.
Something clicked.
He began multiplying negative energy upon itself, producing positive energy, and focused it on his wounds.
The fatal gash began knitting together. Soon, it closed entirely, leaving only a faint scar that quickly started to fade. He immediately directed the remaining positive energy to his left leg.
Snap.
The constant pain he'd endured since his first flight rescue that morning vanished.
As a test, he applied RCT to his brain. It felt like a numbing agent had been injected directly into his mind.
He felt a sudden urge to summon his shikigami using Reverse Cursed Technique—but something nagged at him.
He was forgetting something…
Ah. The fourth plane.
He would check later.
And the civilians aboard the third plane he had placed under a veil.
In the distance, he could see the veils were still intact. In hindsight, the veil had been unnecessary—the battle had occurred far from the aircraft—but he preferred having it and not needing it, rather than the reverse.
He had deployed two veils: one functioned as a do-not-notice-me charm, while the other prevented non-sorcerers from leaving in exchange for allowing free entry to sorcerers.
He quickly summoned one of Nue's aspects—Wings—and took to the skies with a sonic boom. He dispelled the veils, watching civilians near the barrier's edge stumble back a few steps as it vanished.
It had been only fifteen minutes since he transported the aircraft and fought the War Curse. That was how short jujutsu battles usually were—quick and lethal. Still, this had been the longest fight Ethan had ever experienced.
He flew northeast toward New York City.
He had been awake since 12:01 a.m. He hadn't dared risk inaccurate foreknowledge, and thankfully, most of it had proven correct. It was now approximately 10:30 a.m. He was exhausted—not physically, but mentally.
He had used only about ten percent of his cursed energy reserves, yet this had been the most draining battle of his life.
All Ethan wanted was to return to his room and collapse onto his foldable bed.
He increased his speed by reinforcing his wings with cursed energy and arrived in New York in under five minutes. He landed on the orphanage terrace—a side usually abandoned—and, as a precaution, deployed a notice-me-not barrier.
He walked toward the main lobby, where a Hitachi plasma TV—donated by the Stark Foundation—was broadcasting live news.
He had chosen which plane to save based on minimizing loss of life. He saved the third plane, which would have devastated the Pentagon's western side. He knew he couldn't save everyone—even at his speed, he couldn't be in two places at once.
As he entered the lobby, everyone was glued to the TV.
He dreaded the report:
In the ensuing struggle, the plane nosedived into a field near a reclaimed strip mine in Stonycreek Township, near Indian Lake and Shanksville—about 65 miles southeast of Pittsburgh and 130 miles northwest of Washington, D.C.—killing everyone onboard.
Ethan tuned it out and returned to his room.
He understood logically that it wasn't his fault.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt.
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