A calm breeze whisked through the medieval city, carrying the symphonic chatter of a foreign tongue.
It was peaceful—almost annoyingly so.
On a cobblestone street, opposite a dragon-hitched wagon, stood a young man who looked like he had been copy-pasted from a different reality.
Which… well might not be too far from the truth.
Satoru Gojo stood tall and firm, a statue of modern sleekness amidst the high-fantasy grit.
His snow-white hair fluttered in the wind, drawing stares from demi-human passersby—creatures with ears and tails that Satoru's brain was still trying to categorize.
"Eh…?"
He blinked once, twice, thrice.
Slowly, he reached up, sliding his dark-tinted sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.
The moment the seal was broken, the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of raw data.
His Six Eyes processed the unfamiliar horizon at a speed that would have liquified a normal brain.
"Well, this certainly wasn't on my bingo card," Satoru murmured.
He scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar, oily residue of Curses. But there was nothing. No resentment, no festering fear manifested as monsters. Instead, the air was saturated with a shimmering, tangible mist.
Alright, so... mana in the air. Furry folk on the streets. And...
He focused on a passerby. Through the Six Eyes, the person became a transparent map of energy. He saw the Gate, a rhythmic, pulsing whirlpool at their center, and the Od, the flickering candle of the soul that fueled it.
No Cursed Energy. Just this... magical plumbing. Satoru smirked, pushing his glasses back up to dampen the flow of information. Okay, so it basically equates to one thing...
"I, Satoru Gojo, have been transmigrated!"
He felt a pang of annoyance. Just moments ago, he'd been strolling through the serene grounds of Jujutsu High, probably thinking about what souvenir to buy Suguru. Then, a ripple in reality, a painful ringing in his ears, and—poof.
If I was gonna get isekai'd, Suguru could've at least tagged along. This is gonna be a drag without him.
Satoru let out an exasperated sigh and started wandering, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stopped at a fruit stall, eyeing a basket of red, apple-like produce. He picked one up, turning it over. The price tag was written in swirling, nonsensical glyphs.
Strange. They speak Japanese, but the writing is gibberish. Not that it'll take me long to learn—I am a genius, after all.
He looked at the vendor.
"Hey, pops. I'm a little short on the local currency. You take yen?"
The vendor, a burly man with a face like a squashed melon, leaned forward.
"Nobody takes shoddy money like that! You look like a noble, but you have the wallet of a beggar. Get the hell out of here, brat!"
"Yikes, touchy!"
Satoru chuckled, tossing the fruit back into the basket and retreating with raised arms.
"Keep your hair on. I'm going."
He turned into a narrow alleyway, his mind already drifting to the architecture of the castle in the distance.
Lugunica. Royal Capital. Fancy names for a place that doesn't have a single vending machine.
His musings were interrupted by three figures stepping out of the shadows. One large, one wiry, one tiny. It was so cliché Satoru almost wanted to laugh.
"Well, well, well—look what we have here!" the largest one hummed, cracking his knuckles.
"We're feelin' real nice today…"
The smallest added, flashing a rather ugly looking grin.
"So just cough up everything you've got—the fancy shades, too—and we'll let you go."
Satoru stopped, tilting his head. A calm, mocking smile played on his lips.
"Yo~ Are you guys really sure you want to do this? Seriously... how far have I fallen? A Special Grade Sorcerer—well, the Special Grade—reduced to being mugged by low-tier mobs from a gag manga."
"The hell did you say, you bastard?!" The skinny one pulled a pair of daggers. "Think you're better just 'cause you're a bit prettier than us?!"
Satoru's grin widened.
"Weeeell, hehe~ you said it, not me."
The skinny one lunged. To the onlookers, it looked like Satoru simply glitched.
In the space between heartbeats, he wasn't in front of the dagger anymore—he was standing behind the man, casting a long, terrifying shadow.
He rested a casual palm on the thug's shoulder.
"You say something?"
The alley went ice-cold. Satoru let his glasses slide down just a fraction.
Behind the lens, his eyes didn't just look blue—they glowed with the terrifying light of an infinite sky.
It was the look of a god peering at an ant through a magnifying glass.
"A-Ah…"
The man couldn't move. His muscles refused to obey.
Mm, smarter than he looks.
Satoru patted his shoulder like a proud older brother.
"Wise choice. Scurry along now! Don't let me catch you playing 'bandit' again~!"
The trio bolted so fast they nearly tripped over their own feet.
"Hm. I was almost hoping they'd try something. Boredom is a killer after all…"
Satoru chuckled to himself.
"——Are you alright?"
The voice was like a bell—clear, noble, and heavy with a weight Satoru recognized instantly. He spun around, and for the first time since arriving, his Six Eyes screamed a warning.
Crimson hair. Cerulean eyes. A man who looked like he was made of light and justice.
I didn't sense him until he spoke. That's a first.
"Oh. Yes, I'm fi—"
Satoru stopped. He looked over his glasses, and his brain felt like it was being hit by a tidal wave of "YES."
Divine Blessing of Salt Reasoning? Divine Blessing of Projectile Evasion? Divine Blessing of... wait, is he just MADE of blessings? What even are they? Gah! Information overload!
He shoved his sunglasses back up with a grimace, rubbing his temple.
"...Is everything alright?" the red-haired man repeated, his confusion masked by a handsome, polite concern.
This guy… he's a monster! Hahaha! Stronger than anyone I've ever seen back home, probably including Suguru!
Satoru took a breath, reining in the battle-maniac urge to test the man's limits.
"Ahhhh~ Yep, peeeerfectly fine. Just giving those guys a little fright before they did something they'd regret~"
Satoru said, his cocky grin returning.
"Most respectable indeed," the man replied with a slight bow. "I am Reinhard van Astrea—— the current Sword Saint. Though, I don't really consider myself worthy of the title."
Sword Saint? Sounds flashy. Though he's definitely got the stats for it.
"I'm Satoru. Satoru Gojo. And don't worry about the title, Reinhard. You definitely look the part. A bit too much, actually. Looking at you is like staring at the sun."
Reinhard blinked, taken aback by the bluntness.
"Haha… that's a new one for sure. Regardless, your attire is unusual, Satoru. Funny, a situation like this happened not too long ago. You wouldn't happen to be searching for a stolen insignia too, would you?"
"Eh? Nah—I'm just a tourist who took a very wrong turn."
Reinhard started to respond, but suddenly, his posture shifted. His eyes sharpened, scanning the horizon. The polite facade remained, but the energy around him became a coiled spring.
"Apologies. It was nice meeting you, Gojo-san, but I have somewhere I need to be. Urgently. There is a... disturbance in the slums."
"I'll come too! And knock off the 'Gojo-san' crap, Reinhard. I've heard enough of that 'Lord Satoru' nonsense back home to last a lifetime. It's annoying."
Reinhard paused, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
"…Very well, Satoru. Follow me, though I will be moving with some haste."
"Let's go then!" Satoru hummed, leaping onto a nearby roof with zero effort.
As they blurred across the skyline, Satoru looked at Reinhard's back.
He reminds me of Suguru. Same 'righteous' vibe. Same burden.
He felt a flicker of unfamiliar turmoil, but pushed it down.
I'm not sad. I'll see him again. Until then, let's see what this world has to offer.
—————————————————
Inside the slums, the air was thick with the scent of blood and old wood.
"G-Grh!"
Natsuki Subaru was flagging. Every swing of the jet-black dagger was a death sentence he barely evaded. Elsa Granhiert moved like a shadow, her blade raised for a final, unblockable strike.
Fate was about to reset—until a shard of ice shattered against the wall. Emilia's magic forced Elsa back, buying a few precious seconds.
"Nice cover!" Subaru yelled, though he was covered in cuts. He tried a feint, a desperate kick aimed at her ribs, but she caught his leg effortlessly.
"It worked once, but what about twice~"
Elsa whispered, her eyes dancing with murderous glee.
"That's enough."
A calm, almost bored voice filled the room.
——BOOOM!
The ceiling disintegrated. Debris rained down as two figures landed in the center of the tavern.
"Well then…" Reinhard stepped out of the dust, his smile never faltering. "That was a close call. I'm glad we made it in time."
Elsa seemed to find joy at the sight of the redhead making an appearance.
"Mmm… by 'we,' you mean——"
A blur of white and black. Before Elsa could finish her sentence, a foot connected with her stomach. The impact didn't just kick her; it felt like a concentrated blast of pressure. She was sent hurtling through the air, smashing through the tavern wall and into the street outside.
"Yeah~ He's not alone."
The white-haired teenager grinned after seemingly appearing from nowhere, his foot settling back onto the ground.
Subaru stared, jaw-dropping.
Who is this guy? Are those... Designer sunglasses?!
"No need to worry, Subaru. Sorry for the wait," Reinhard said.
"You're a real lifesaver, man…" Subaru wheezed, clutching a nasty gash on his arm. "I was probably two seconds away from having my guts measured by that lady!"
"Apologies for the delay, Subaru, I am glad you have held on until this point."
Reinhard said, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. He didn't look like a man in a slum; he looked like a god who had wandered into a dumpster.
"But I brought reinforcements."
Subaru's eyes darted to the white-haired teenager leaning against a splintered support beam. Satoru was currently adjusting his sunglasses, looking more like he was at a high-end beach resort than a murder scene.
"Reinforcements?" Subaru blinked. "He looks like he's lost on his way to a boy band audition! And are those… designer shades? In a fantasy world?!"
"Careful, dude. These shades cost more than this entire neighborhood. And for the record, I'm the one who just saved you from a very messy stomach ache."
Outside, the rubble shifted. Elsa Granhiert stood up, her black cloak shredded, blood trickling from her lips. But she wasn't angry. She was vibrating with excitement.
"That weight… that pressure…" she whispered, her eyes locked on Satoru. "You aren't a Knight. You aren't even from this country, are you? I wonder if those guts are as magnificent as that charming face of yours~?"
"Gross, trying to manipulate an innocent-minded boy into something obscene?!"
Stepping forward and cutting through the strange banter, Reinhard spoke.
"Black hair... black clothes found primarily in Gusteko—— you are the 'Bowel Hunter,' I take it?"
Reinhard identified her, his voice dropping an octave.
"What a trash nickname."
Satoru commented with a roll of his eyes.
"Seriously, 'Bowel Hunter'? If you're gonna be a villain, at least get a brand manager. It's gross."
"Satoru,"
Reinhard warned.
"I would prefer her alive for questioning. If you can manage to restrain yourself."
"Ohoo... I can do that. She doesn't look like much anyway,"
Gojo said, stepping over a broken chair. He looked at Elsa and beckoned with a finger.
"Come on, then. I'm in a bit of a hurry. I haven't had sugar in three hours and I'm starting to get craaaanky!"
Elsa didn't need to be told twice. She vanished.
To Subaru and Emilia, she was a blur of violet and steel. To Satoru, she was moving in slow motion. He didn't even bother to take his hands out of his pockets as she appeared behind him, her dagger aiming directly at his body.
Checkmate~
The dagger stopped dead an inch from him. It wasn't a parry. There was no sound of metal on metal. The blade simply hit an invisible, absolute wall.
"What—?"
Elsa's eyes widened. She slashed again. And again. A flurry of strikes that should have turned Satoru into confetti. Each one stopped short, held back by an infinite distance.
"Missed me~"
Satoru chirped. He finally turned, his cerulean eyes flashing with a predatory light behind his lenses.
"It's called Infinity. It's a bit technical, but basically? You can't touch me. Ever. Nobody can~ sort of my forte, being the best, I mean."
He reached out—lightning fast—and gripped her forearm.
"——Wind magic, then?"
Elsa flushed from the grip, and instantly raised her dagger in an attempt to slash once more.
"Mmm… not quite missy."
He didn't punch her. He simply displaced her. With a casual flick of his wrist, he slammed her spine-first into the floorboards. The impact didn't just break the wood; it sent a shockwave through the entire tavern, causing the remaining roof tiles to rain down.
"Gah—!"
Elsa coughed, the air leaving her lungs in a violent rush.
Before she could recover, Satoru's foot connected with her ribs, launching her back out through the hole in the wall like a cannonball.
Satoru stepped out into the moonlight, his silhouette tall and imposing. He raised two fingers, his middle finger crossing over his index. A spark of terrifying, crushing crimson energy began to swirl at the tip.
The air itself began to scream, twisting under the sudden vacuum of power. The cobblestones beneath Elsa's feet began to pulverize into dust.
"Satoru, wait!" Reinhard called out, stepping into the doorway. "The civilians!"
Satoru paused with pursed lips. He glanced back at the terrified Subaru and the wide-eyed half-elf girl. He clicked his tongue, and the red light dissipated into nothingness.
"Ah, right. Collateral damage. Boring,"
Satoru muttered.
"Reinhard, you're such a buzzkill man!"
In that split second of hesitation, Elsa struck the ground. A thick haze of debris filled the street.
When Reinhard cleared it with a single sweep of his hand, the alley was empty.
"Huh. Well, that was dumb of me..."
Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely annoyed for the first time.
"Trying to track someone without a hint of Cursed Energy is like trying to find a black hole in a dark room. I guess I'll have to get used to this 'mana' stuff—— should be easy though."