A calm breeze swept through the medieval city, carrying the symphony of a foreign land—chatter, laughter, and the rumble of life.
It was peaceful. Almost serene.
Standing on the cobblestones, opposite a dragon-drawn carriage, was a young man in peculiar attire. He stood tall, statue-still. His white, otherworldly hair danced in the wind, drawing odd glances from the passersby.
"Eh…?"
He blinked. Once. Twice.
He lowered his dark-tinted sunglasses, letting his eyes—a rich, crystalline blue—drink in the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Well. This certainly wasn't on my bingo card."
Satoru Gojo murmured the words, a smirk tugging at his lips. His Six Eyes processed the world in an instant, flooding his brain with data.
Zero cursed energy… Not a trace.
Instead, something else saturated the atmosphere. Something tangible.
Mana.
Strange, animal-like folk roamed the streets. As Satoru observed them, his eyes deconstructed their biology. At their center flowed a—Gate—a whirlpool storing and releasing energy. Beside it sat the—Od—the source of life. The soul.
Alright. No curses. Magic whirlpools. Furry pedestrians.
"I, Satoru Gojo, have been transmigrated into another world!"
————————————————-
Minutes ago, he was walking through Jujutsu High. Then, reality crumbled. A ringing in his mind until everything flashed white… then he opened his eyes here.
If I was going to get isekai'd, Suguru could've at least joined me. Damn it.
Satoru exhaled, scratching the back of his head. He glanced at a nearby stall. A basket of familiar red fruit sat out front.
They speak Japanese, but the writing is no language I've ever seen. Not that it'll take me long to decode. I am me, after all.
"Uh… right. I am completely broke."
The shopkeeper leaned forward, veins bulging on his forehead. "Then get the hell outta here! I'm not running a charity!"
Right. Learned a few things. Kingdom of Lugunica. Royal Capital. Useless trivia for now.
Satoru sighed and turned into an alley, immediately spotting a trio of suspicious figures. One large, one skinny, one small.
They look like they walked right out of a 'Level 1 Thug' manual. Who am I to judge?
"Well, well, well—look what we have here!" the large man hummed.
"Alright, now listen, we're feelin' generous…" the small one grinned, stepping forward. "So just cough up what you got, and you keep your life."
"Yo. You sure about this?" Satoru smiled, his posture relaxed. "Yikes. Just how far have I fallen? Special Grade Sorcerer reduced to getting mugged by NPCs."
"The fuck are you muttering?!" The skinny one scowled.
Knives flashed in the sunlight. "The hell did you say, basta—?!"
Satoru moved. To them, he simply vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he towered over the skinny man, a palm resting casually on his shoulder.
"You say something?"
If the speed didn't terrify them, the eyes did. Satoru peered over the rim of his shades, his azure gaze glowing with an abyssal weight.
The thug froze. He didn't dare breathe. It was a rabbit staring down a dragon.
Smarter than he looks… though that doesn't mean much considering he has the face of a rat.
Satoru patted the man's shoulder and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Good choice dude." His tone dipped, cold and sharp. "Now, scurry along. Don't let me catch you doing this again."
The trio scrambled away, tripping over themselves to escape.
"Hm. Almost hoped they'd try something. Oh well." Satoru chuckled.
"—Are you unhurt?"
A voice came from behind. Clear. Polite.
——?!
Satoru spun around, eyes widening.
I didn't sense him…
Crimson hair. Cerulean eyes. A knight's uniform. The sunlight seemed to bend around him, spotlighting his presence. But that wasn't what shocked Satoru.
Divine Protection of the Sword Saint. Divine Protection of Arrow Evasion. Divine Protection of Fire Avoidance. Divine Protection of—
"Gah!" Satoru grimaced, jamming his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.
Information overload. Holy hell!
It was like staring directly into the sun.
"...Is everything alright?" the redhead repeated, confusion masking his handsome features.
This guy… he's a monster. Stronger than anyone I've seen in both worlds.
"Ah! Yep! Perfectly fine." Satoru grinned, masking the shock. "Just gave some rats a little fright."
"I see. Most impressive." the knight nodded.
"I'm Satoru. Satoru Gojo. You?"
The knight blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Ah… apologies. It has been a long time since I met someone who did not know me. I am Reinhard van Astrea—the Sword Saint. Though, I hardly consider myself worthy of the title."
Was that… relief?
Sword Saint. I heard whispers of that. Thought it was a myth. But looking at him... yeah. He needs to tone it down; he's giving me a migraine.
"Your attire is unusual…" Reinhard noted, his eyes scanning Satoru. "Funny, actually. A situation like this happened not too long ago. You wouldn't happen to be searching for a silver-haired girl too, would you?"
Hm? I don't really know what he's talking about but… plot hook?
"Eh? Nah."
Reinhard's smile held, but his aura shifted. Sharp. Serious.
"Apologies. It was nice meeting you, Satoru-san, but I have somewhere I need to be. Urgently."
Satoru caught the shift. "I'll tag along! Oh, and knock off the honorifics, Reinhard. I've heard enough 'sans' and 'samas' to last a lifetime."
Reinhard paused, studying him for a second, then nodded. "Very well, Satoru. And you may call me Reinhard if you wish."
"Let's go then!" Satoru hummed.
He reminds me of Suguru. The righteousness, that is.
Satoru felt a pang of something—realization, perhaps. He was free of the Gojo Clan's baggage here. But he might never see his best friend again.
He pushed the thought aside and launched himself upward.
"Lead the way, Sword Saint."
The two sprinted across the rooftops, blurring through the air toward the slums.
————————————————
"Ghk—!"
The sound was wet and desperate, torn from Natsuki Subaru's throat.
The air in the loot house smelled of old wood and fresh blood. Each slash of the kukri knife came close—too close. Subaru barely blocked them, his grip on Rom's giant club slipping with sweat. He wasn't parrying; he was frantically delaying the inevitable.
She's fast. Too fast!
There was no opening. No time to breathe, let alone counter.
The jet-black blade, curved and streaked with a sinister purple hue, raised overhead. The moonlight filtering through the shattered windows caught the steel, promising a swift end.
It was unblockable. Undodgeable.
In that frozen second, Subaru knew. Fate was about to repeat. He would feel the cold steel tear through his stomach, the burning heat of his own blood—
A jagged spear of ice slammed into the woman's side with the force of a cannonball.
"Don't you dare touch him!"
Emilia. She stood at a distance, her hand extended, spirits dancing around her silver hair. It was a perfect support strike, staggering the assassin just enough to halt the fatal blow.
"Nice cover—!" Subaru screamed, his voice cracking. Crimson lines etched across his skin, adrenaline masking the pain of a dozen shallow cuts staining his tracksuit.
"Hoh—?"
"Then… how about this?!"
Subaru didn't retreat. He heaved the massive giant's club backward—a feint. As Elsa's eyes tracked the weapon, his leg sprang outward, a desperate, unrefined kick aiming for her ribs.
GOTCHA!
"—Wha?!"
The impact never came. Elsa didn't even flinch. She had caught his shin mid-kick with a single hand, her grip like an iron vice.
"A valiant effort, but I'd like to see your guts now, they must be so tantalising~" she purred, her smile returning, wider and more twisted than before.
Fear. Pure, unadulterated terror washed over Subaru's face as the kukri's edge glistened in the pale light. He was trapped. One leg caught, balance gone. Would he have to do this all over again? Start from zero?
"That is quite enough."
A voice cut through the tension—calm, clear, and utterly commanding. It froze everyone in place, not through magic, but through sheer presence.
The ceiling above them didn't just break; it disintegrated. A thunderous crash shook the foundations of the loot house as smoke, shingles, and splintered beams rained down.
"Well then…"
From the settling dust, a silhouette emerged. He landed softly, despite the destruction. Each step was firm, radiating a kind of confidence that bordered on divinity.
Unrivaled. There was no other word for it.
"That certainly was a close call… but I am glad we made it in time."
Flame-red hair, a white uniform that remained impeccably clean, and a casual, apologetic smile. It was the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea.
Elsa, who had tossed Subaru aside to create distance, looked on. For the first time, her expression wasn't one of lust for battle, but wary calculation.
"…By 'we', you mean—"
She didn't finish the sentence. A blur of white and black shot down from the hole in the roof, a leg driving into Elsa's stomach with the force of a freight train.
The floorboards beneath her vaporized. Her body snapped inward like a folding chair before she was flung across the tavern, crashing through a table and embedding herself into the far wall.
"Yeah~ He's not alone."
The second figure landed, his shoe tapping against the wooden floor. He stood tall, dusting off his dark, high-collared uniform.
Subaru stared at the two figures, letting out a long, exasperated breath that was half-sob, half-laugh. But then, his brain caught up with his eyes. He stared at the second man. The white hair that defied gravity. The sunglasses. And...
Wait. Are those... sunglasses? Subaru blinked, confused. Do sunglasses even exist in a fantasy world?! Who is this guy?
"No need to worry, Subaru." Reinhard said, placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "My deepest apologies for the delay. We ran into some... navigational difficulties."
Across the room, the pile of debris where Elsa had landed trembled. Wood chips were diced into thin ribbons as she burst from the wreckage, her dress torn but her body knitting itself back together with horrifying speed.
"Oh..?" The white-hared man hummed, tilting his head in interest.
Subaru felt inclined to warn him not to take Elsa lightly, but the man's grin only grew wider to an unsettling degree as the assassin revealed herself once more.
"Black hair... black clothes... and a curved blade unique to the northern provinces." Reinhard recited, his tone shifting to one of professional analysis. "There is no mistaking those characteristics. You are the 'Bowel Hunter.'"
"What kind of edgy nickname is that?!" Subaru shouted from the back, grimacing. "Let me guess, it comes from her sadistic hobby of disemboweling people?"
Elsa stepped forward, licking blood from her lip. Her eyes were locked onto the redhead. "Yes... good. A Knight among Knights, the Sword Saint himself... yes~ This is wonderful."
…I'm being ignored huh.
Satoru Gojo thought, stuffing his hands into his pockets and pouting to himself.
Even after I kicked her through a wall? I mean, Reinhard is famous, sure, but I have my pride.
"Sorry, Reinhard…" Gojo spoke up, his voice lazy but carrying easily over the distance.
The entire room shifted focus to him.
"But I really don't like being ignored. It hurts my feelings! So, I'll be sure to show her the error of her ways ya know!"
Surprisingly, Reinhard offered no protest. He simply stepped back, a gesture of immense respect.
"Very well, Satoru. I would prefer her alive for questioning, but if she proves too dangerous, do what you must."
Ohoo... I can certainly do that. I can already tell she ain't all that.
Elsa moved.
She was quicker than quick. Faster than any average eye could track. The gap between them closed in a heartbeat, her kukri aiming for Gojo's jugular.
"—Don't worry about me."
Gojo didn't take a stance. He didn't raise his hands. He simply took a single, casual step forward.
Then, he shifted—his entire body rotating slightly, almost lazily, as the blade passed through the space he had occupied a millisecond before.
"Missed me~"
It wasn't a punch he had unleashed. It was a backhand, delivered with the casual dismissal of swatting a fly. Yet, the impact sent a shockwave rippling through Elsa's body. Her feet left the ground, and she skidded backward, her heels carving grooves into the wood.
Blood trickled down her forehead. She wiped it away, her eyes narrowing.
He's a fast one.
She recovered instantly, flipping upright and propelling herself off the floor, then the wall, then the ceiling. She became a blur of black and purple, sprinting around the tavern's perimeter at neck-breaking speed, looking for a blind spot.
There.
She dashed in, a homing missile of death, thrusting her dagger toward his exposed flank.
It's checkmate.
Elsa mused, the thrill of the kill rising in her chest.
But her expression faltered.
The dagger stopped.
It didn't hit flesh. It didn't hit cloth. It stopped an inch from his side, suspended in the air as if hitting an invisible wall.
"What—"
A barrier technique?
Gojo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, peering over the rim of his dark shades. A small, mocking grin played on his lips.
"It's not as simple as you're thinking~" He pivoted instantly, gripping the forearm that held the dagger. "Though this does mean I've only been dodging you for style points..."
He leaned forward, his deep cerulean pupils—the Six Eyes—locking onto her pitch-black ones.
"You feel me? Don't take it personally, though... just hope you're stronger in your next life, alright?"
He didn't throw her. He slammed her. He lifted her effortlessly and drove her spine-first into the floorboards. The impact shattered the ground, shaking the entire tavern like an earthquake.
"K-Kuagh!?" Elsa gasped, air forced from her lungs.
This... this strength...
Before she could recover, a kick to her ribs sent her flying through the exterior wall and out into the night.
He isn't even the Sword Saint! Yet... I can't even touch him… truly, this one is favored by the world!
Gojo stepped through the hole in the wall, walking over scattered rubble with his hands in his pockets. He pointed his index finger directly at the struggling assassin.
"—Reversal."
Rich, intense, overwhelming crimson light gathered at his fingertip. It lit up the slums like a second sun—growing, manifesting, screaming with raw power.
Elsa froze. Her instincts, honed by years of slaughter, screamed one thing: Death.
"Ah."
Suddenly, the red light dissipated into nothingness. Gojo clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Well, that would definitely kill her... but it would also blow away half the neighborhood. Reinhard wouldn't like that. And the kid... Subaru? He looks like he's had enough trauma for one night."
"It's your lucky day! Reinhard did ask me to keep you alive, after all!" Gojo called out, tilting his head with a smile.
He blinked.
In the brief moment he had deactivated the technique, a massive cloud of dust and smoke billowed up from the ground. When it cleared...
Elsa Granhiert was gone. Vanished like mist in a gale.
"Huh... Ah... that was dumb of me, wasn't it?"
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, turning back to the tavern where a stunned Subaru and a calm Reinhard were waiting.
A tad annoyed at that... though I can still sense a faint residue.. It's not to the same degree as it was on Earth... I guess Mana is different from Cursed Energy after all. Oh well.