Something was brewing in Vollachia, and knowing his luck, it was bound to be catastrophic.
As if the situation wasn't annoying enough, the chaos had kicked off the very moment he was transported here.
Was it mere coincidence?
Or did that imposter—the false Geto—possess knowledge that extended deep into foreign kingdoms?
Natsuki Subaru forced the thought aside. Dwelling on that person would do no good. All he could do now was hope that Gojo was taking the bad news well...
Or, at least, well enough for someone who had just learned that his best friend was dead, that he had been defeated—rather easily, at that—and that his best friend's corpse was currently being puppeteered for malicious ends.
Of course, that was assuming Gojo would even stick around.
The sorcerer possessed no memories of the past year. Everything that had happened in Lugunica—the bonds he'd forged, the adversities they'd overcome, the fact that thousands hailed him as a hero—was gone.
To the current Gojo Satoru, none of that existed.
For the moment, Subaru had opted not to flee Abel's campsite, despite the sheer insanity of the situation.
To an outsider, staying put likely seemed like the height of stupidity.
But he had a reason: a promise. While lying was a very easy thing for that woman—Mizelda—to do, the stakes were different now. Subaru could always Return by Death if another arrow pierced his neck. But aside from the agonizing reality of having his insides scorched like lava, dying was simply... too easy.
It was an annoying, intrusive thought.
Return by Death was overpowered; nobody who knew the truth of the ability could disagree. It allowed him to rewrite fate until he won. In essence, he was incredibly beatable, yet simultaneously unbeatable.
But he had made a promise to Aldebaran. He would no longer treat his life as disposable currency, something to be thrown away on a whim to gain an advantage in the next loop. He would not commit suicide or "allow himself to die"—unless it was absolutely necessary.
Unless Emilia, Gojo, or the others are truly lost. That was the only exception.
The power was intoxicating. That was yet another hurdle Subaru had to overcome.
When he had first begun using the Authority of Pride, he had stopped caring about anything other than accumulating strength. It had driven him to the brink of madness, forcing him to relive the same few days for nearly a year in a futile, obsessive effort to kill Reinhard van Astrea.
He hated the person he was back then. His weakness had been a source of self-loathing, allowing Pride to manipulate him into using Return by Death countless times like a fool.
Now, he knew better. Power was far from the only thing that mattered.
He could only pray that wherever Gojo was in this vast, hostile Empire, he was managing. Hopefully, the strongest sorcerer was doing fine, even after everything he'd lost.
——————————————————
"...This totally sucks. You hear me? Zero out of ten experience."
Gojo muttered through gritted teeth, peering through a sliver of light in the boarded-up window. The Six Eyes scanned the darkness, piercing through the night.
Outside, demi-humans of all shapes and sizes shuffled through the darkened alleys. Likely hunting for them.
Did we really look that suspicious?
Sure, they had literally crash-landed in the middle of the city, but did that warrant a manhunt involving dozens of people? It was a miracle—or perhaps just a testament to the locals' stupidity—that nobody had thought to check this row of abandoned houses yet.
"...That's lii~ke, the twentieth time you've said that in the last hour, Gojo-san."
Turning his head, Gojo fixed his gaze on Meili, who was perched atop the debris of a crumbled wall a few meters opposite him.
A half-eaten loaf of stale bread sat on his lap. An identical one sat on hers.
"Argh! And this food is garbage! It's like—"
"...Like what the 'homuresu' eat? I don't ree~ally get what that word is supposed to mean... but you've been complaining about that a whole lot, too." Meili muttered, sliding her legs idly.
It stung Gojo's already fractured pride. Here he was, the strongest... former... strongest sorcerer, forced to sit on the sidelines because of his injuries while a little girl sneaked around a city neither of them knew, scrounging for scraps just so they wouldn't die of starvation.
Tossing a piece of the hard bread into his mouth, Gojo chewed aggressively, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh after swallowing.
The last twenty-four hours hadn't just been "not fun" for Satoru Gojo.
They were, without a shadow of a doubt, the absolute worst days of his life.
Under normal circumstances, this new magic would be a playground. A whole new power system to dissect, to master, to dominate? That used to be his idea of a good time. But now, looking at it just made him feel tired.
It wasn't that the the idea of magic was boring. It was everything else.
Waking up in a strange world, surrounded by people he'd never met who somehow knew his name—all while the image of his best friend's death was still fresh behind his eyelids.
What did he even have left?
Quite frankly, he doubted even running Reverse Cursed Technique on full blast would be enough to clear the dull, throbbing ache rattling his brain. It wasn't a physical pain; it was something deeper.
He hated it.
He hated this world.
He hated being in the dark.
He hated the holes in his memory.
And he absolutely hated what he was doing right now.
Satoru Gojo was selfish. That was an objective fact that could not be disagreed upon.
But even he had a shred of humanity buried somewhere. He knew Suguru—the real Suguru—would have looked at him with that judgmental frown if he had simply ignored the weaklings on the battlefield with that imposter, that Pseudo-Geto.
So, he saved them.
But was that really Satoru making the choice? or was he just a ghost going through the motions, desperately trying to follow a dead man's moral compass?
It was simple, really. He had run out of options.
"All that posturing about being the strongest... and look at me now."
Gojo exhaled heavily, his gaze drifting aimlessly toward the ceiling as he forced himself to eat another piece of bread. He needed something sugary at least. He needed the energy.
They had been holed up in this safehouse for perhaps a few hours. The only reason they hadn't moved on was Gojo's current state; he was a sitting duck until the exhausted Limitless technique rekindled its spark.
Perhaps, he could use blue if he got really desperate in his current state.
He wasn't bleeding all over the floor, at least. He was forcing his own cursed energy to clot his veins, manually holding his body together with sheer force of will. For any other sorcerer, maintaining that level of concentration while exhausted would be pretty much impossible. For the Six Eyes, it was merely a chore.
Still, it was a cheap knock-off of the real thing. He still couldn't grasp the core of positive energy—Reverse Cursed Technique. If he had that, maybe he could do more than just temporarily patch holes.
Maybe he could even force-start his burnt-out technique.
"...Though I've never heard of a sorcerer actually doing that."
Gojo smirked faintly, staring at his hand.
But then again, if there was anyone capable of making the impossible a reality...
It would be Satoru Gojo.
——————————————————
A sound.
There was a strange sound.
It wasn't something he could identify immediately, lost in the fog of his own exhaustion. It was a subtle vibration, muffled by the walls of his consciousness.
Growing...
"...ojo..."
Rising...
"Go...jo..."
Intensifying—!
"Gojo!"
That voice.
"Ah?! Wha—"
Gojo's eyes snapped open. His consciousness slammed back into his body, his gaze instantly sweeping the room before locking onto the small, slouching figure of Meili.
"H~ey, Gojo..."
"What, dammit? I was in the middle of some serious beauty sleep, you kn—"
He stopped. She seemed nervous... far more distressed than usual.
"W~ell... there's someone at the door..." Meili muttered quickly, her eyes darting anxiously from him to the wooden entrance.
Gojo winced as he peeled himself off the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His blue eyes narrowed behind his lashes as he looked at the door.
"As in... knocking? Or trying to break it down?"
"Yes. Yes, they are knocking!"
Gojo tilted his head, a lazy smirk forming.
"...Soo... is that sarcasm I'm detecting, or—"
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The rhythmic, polite rapping silenced his confusion.
"—Ah. Well, that answers that. My sarcasm detector is a little rusty, I guess."
"Not the ti~me for joking!"
No, apparently not.
Still, whoever was at the door was either an incredibly confident attacker—or not an attacker at all. What kind of assassin tracks their targets to a hideout only to politely announce their arrival?
Well... I'd probably do that. But that's beside the point.
Gojo thought, rubbing his neck.
"Come on, Meili. It's rude to leave our special guest hanging. It could be cold outside~."
Meili gave him a deadpan stare.
"Seriously? You kno~w there isn't a si~ngle witchbeast remotely close by. Without them, I'm pre~tty much just a normal little girl... Why won't you answer it!?"
"Come on, look at me! Are you really going to make the half-crippled invalid answer the door?" Gojo gestured dramatically to his bandaged state. "I'm fragile right now."
"Argh, damn you..." Meili growled. She turned on a dime and approached the door, glancing back at Gojo, who offered her a supportive, cheery wave.
Of course, he was ready. If it was an attack, he would move.
None of the demi-humans in this area posed a real threat to him, even in this state. If hundreds of them charged like rabid beasts, his already exhausted technique would no doubt bottom out very fast, leaving him unable to use the already limited Blue, but one-on-one?
"You'll be fine!" Gojo said, his tone shifting to something slightly more serious. "I'm here, after all."
Meili sighed, her hand reaching for the knob. She twisted it, slowly pulling the door open as she stepped back to reveal...
"Uhm."
Nobody.
For a split second, Gojo thought they had been pranked. He was just about to laugh when—
A flicker of movement.
It was so fast that the air didn't even have time to displace. In his current exhausted state, Gojo only caught it because of the Six Eyes, the way the silhouette flickered, to how the mana in the air shifted from the motion.
Behind them.
Gojo didn't turn around in panic; he turned with calculation.
Sitting in the center of the room, as if he had been there for hours, was an unfamiliar old man. He was kneeling casually on the floor, a teapot and cup set up before him.
"This ain't the typa place I'd imagine two little kids woulda been hidin' in. That damp air'll stunt yer growth, ya know?"
The stranger declared it casually.
Meili whipped around, her eyes widening in a mix of fear and confusion at the man who had essentially teleported past her.
"Woah, woah, woah." The old man set the teacup down and raised both hands in a mock surrender. "Chill out, chill out. It's not like I'm here t'fight ya or anythin'. Kids these days... so fast t'fight an old man just 'cause I ain't a familiar face."
A million questions raced through Gojo's mind the millisecond his gaze fixed upon the old man.
Why was he here? Just for a chat? Yeah, right. As if.
The geezer was fast. Based on that short burst of speed Gojo witnessed when the man entered, he wasn't a threat to take lightly. Though, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be someone capable of bypassing the Infinity.
But there were two glaring problems with "normal circumstances."
One: The Limitless was currently burnt out from the previous battle.
Two: In this specific state, Gojo's raw speed might actually lag behind this old man's.
Simply put, he was at a massive disadvantage if a brawl broke out right now—even more so if the target was Meili, forcing him to play bodyguard while running on fumes.
Of course, all these factors added up to a genuinely terrifying situation.
But that "terror" wasn't enough to shake the strongest sorcerer. Instead, Gojo just grinned, tilting his head with practiced nonchalance.
"Hah? Me, a kid? You're lumping me in with this gloomy pipsqueak?!" Gojo yelled in mock offense, gesturing wildly at Meili. "We are on totally different levels, gramps! That's disrespectful!"
The old man blinked, a bushy brow rising in amusement. Then, a dry, rasping chuckle escaped him.
"Kakaka! Either way, yer all brats t'someone like me. Don't matter how tall, how small, or how strong—'specially not in a place like this."
Gojo's eyebrow raised. He caught the implication immediately, but he chose to stay silent, letting the old man talk.
Olbart caught the spark of intelligence in Gojo's Six Eyes. He opted to explain, but only after taking a loud, deliberate slurp of his tea.
"Well, the Empire ain't a place to be prejudiced based on looks, ya know? Things like size 'n age aren't important in the slightest. The only thing that lets ya stand out in these parts is strength."
Meili's brows furrowed. She exhaled slowly, realizing the old man wasn't attacking immediately. Yet.
"... 'The Empire'...? But that doesn't make any sense~," Meili said, her voice dripping with unease.
Gojo's expression tightened slightly.
He didn't know the geography of this world, but based on Meili's genuine confusion, the conclusion was obvious. They had been magically transported to an entirely different region—perhaps a hostile kingdom.
Al Shamak.
That was what the spell was called, right? It was unlike anything jujutsu had to offer. Unsurprising, really. Even the Six Eyes had been rendered useless in that void. His mind drifted back to that sensation of absolute nothingness... had it been a moment? An eternity? It was impossible to tell when your senses were stripped away.
"See, lil' missy? When y'act all confused like that, it makes even a geezer like me scratch his head," the old man said casually, setting his cup down.
"—Vollachia..." Meili muttered in disbelief, her face paling. "Just what the he~ll have I gotten myself into...?"
"Precisely. Though, I woulda been a tad disappointed if y'didn't even know the damn country yer standin' in," Olbart grinned, his eyes narrowing into sharp crescents. "Maybe if y'were a bit smaller I woulda accepted such foolishness. Ignorance is a luxury only for the truly young, ain't that right?"
Meili frowned, crossing her arms. "Our circumstances are a bi~t different though, aren't they~?"
The old man tilted his head, cupping a hand to his ear. "Eh? What was that? Speak up, lass."
Gojo decided to intervene, cutting off whatever strange back-and-forth the girl and the geezer were having.
"Ignore the brat, gramps. She's cranky when she's hungry."
Although Gojo found it highly unlikely that a man of this caliber actually missed what Meili muttered, he played along. He shifted his weight, his blue eyes locking onto the old man.
"But seeing as you barged in here preaching about how 'only the strong survive,' you must have an actual reason for showing up, right? I'd be disappointed if you didn't. Everything you've said so far screams 'threat,' but you're acting like a neighbor dropping by for sugar." Gojo smirked, though his eyes remained cold. "We crash-landed here by accident. You should cut us some leeway, don't you think?"
The old man just hummed, scratching his chin.
"Mmmmm... I ain't too sure what yer talkin' about. I only just got back to Chaosflame myself, keep quiet about that though—the Lord of this place seems real cranky—but darn! Not everythin' is a threat, ya know? You kids are real jumpy." Olbart chuckled, gesturing vaguely at Gojo's battered state. "Though, that paranoia of yours is probably why yer still breathin' and not six feet under. Even if 'still breathin'' currently looks like... well, that."
Gojo didn't believe a word of it.
He didn't need the Six Eyes to see that this man was a viper in human skin. The "harmless elder" routine was a mask, and a thin one at that.
Gojo's casual smile deepened, but his posture shifted. He subtly gestured to Meili—a signal she understood immediately, causing her to scramble behind him.
"Drop the act, you old bastard. Why are you here?"
Olbart shrugged. He reached for the teapot, pouring a fresh stream of steaming liquid into a cup. He swirled it gently, blowing on the surface before taking a loud sip.
"Tea," Olbart exhaled, satisfied. "Would ya like some tea, kid? I took the liberty of brewin' this for myself, but do either of y'want a taste? I've spent decades perfectin' it. I can say with confidence it'll be some of the best tea ya will ever have."
He held the steaming cup out toward the empty air between them.
The gesture was met with total silence. Neither Gojo nor Meili moved an inch.
Olbart sighed, his shoulders slumping theatrically. "Ya know, ol' people go ta the bathroom more often than not, and ya wanna scare 'em into pissin' their pants? I'm shakin' in my boots here, yeah? Can an ol' man not even share a cup or two these days with his juniors?"
Offering tea. A universal gesture of hospitality. In any normal retirement home, it would be sweet. But here? In a city called Chaosflame, inside the Empire of Vollachia?
Gojo often got a kick out of pissing off the higher-ups of Jujutsu society. He hated them because they were traditionalist rot. But currently, he was getting a similar vibe from this man—only this rot had fangs.
And yet, something—perhaps curiosity, perhaps pride—made him move.
"Gojo, wh~at are you—?" Meili hissed.
"—It'll be fiiiiine! Look at him, he says he's 'shaking in his boots,' right?"
Gojo kept his casual smile plastered on his face, never breaking eye contact with Olbart as he lowered himself into a cross-legged sitting position directly in front of the man.
"About darn time, ain't it? My arm was this close to droppin' off from waitin'." Olbart grinned, his eyes narrowing into crescents as Gojo took the cup.
The ceramic was warm.
Under normal circumstances, Gojo would have the Infinity active. Nothing would touch him—not the cup, not the heat, not the tea. But he couldn't keep it up right now. The burnout from the battle, combined with the strange mana of this world, had left him vulnerable.
This was a dangerous gamble. He was sitting within striking distance of a man who could likely slit his throat before he could react if he didn't maintain focus in his current state, especially without his absolute defense to assist him.
But refusing would be admitting fear. And Satoru Gojo did not do fear.
"Well, I do tend to please," Gojo said, lifting the cup. "Unless the elderly in question is a damn snake."
He let the insult simmer in the air as he brought the cup to his lips.
He had briefly considered poison, but he discarded the thought. If this man wanted them dead, he wouldn't need arsenic to do it.
So, he drank.
"I'll be honest with ya, since yer drinkin' with me..."
Gojo listened intently as he lowered the warm cup, his eyes never leaving the old man's face.
"I ain't interested in the slightest in that little gal over there." Olbart gestured dismissively to Meili, who scowled. "I'm here 'cause of you."
Gojo blinked.
Interesting.
This raised a very obvious question: how did this man know where they were? And more importantly, how did he know Gojo was the primary threat—or asset—despite Meili being the one native to this world?
"Why? I mean, I do take pride in being reaaally interesting, but I'm still curious."
The old man hummed, scratching his chin with a jagged fingernail.
"Let's just say, ya got somethin' that can help with Vollachia's... wild situation. We're on the cusp of an unavoidable civil war, 'n you might just be able to help stop it."
Gojo's eye twitched.
It all sounded well and good but something wasn't adding up. The Six Eyes could tell whether the old man spoke truth or was lying, and although he hid it surprisingly well, Gojo wasn't too sure. The way the old man spoke about "stopping a war" lacked conviction. It felt hollow.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... I ain't exactly the type to explain everythin', ya know? Takes time, takes effort... aaaall too much for a senile old bag of bones like me." Olbart sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping.
Gojo just smirked at the theatrics. "You said something about a 'Lord' of this place earlier. What's that about, gramps?"
"Ahhh... ahh... slip o' the tongue! Guess I'm a bit too lax here, huh? Must be that friendly face o' yours. Well... I don't really know much about her myself. We've never really had many sit-down conversations like this, but I suppose we are 'co-workers', ya know? Somethin' along those lines. 'Yorna Mishigure.' She's the ruler of this city, Chaosflame. Probably would like me even less if she knew I was here, kakaka!"
"'Co-worker'?" Gojo raised a brow.
"Well, the name's Olbart. Olbart Dunkelkenn."
Olbart opened his wide mouth, flashing a cheerful, toothy grin after dropping the name.
"Uh, cool?" Gojo responded flatly.
However, behind him, Meili stiffened. Her breath hitched audibly.
"Dunkelkenn...?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "The Vicious Old Man... one of the Nine Divine Generals...?"
Seeing Gojo's mostly indifferent expression, Olbart shook his head in mock disappointment.
"Darn, 'n here I thought I was a celebrity. Hurtin' my feelings here, kid. At least the 'lil missy gets it though."
Gojo didn't know the title, but judging by Meili's reaction, this old man was bad news. Top-tier bad news. With a shrug, he answered.
"——Satoru Gojo. That's my name. Don't go forgetting it, old man~."
"Ah? That so? a name like tha'... so ya are Vollachian after all? With a name like that, y'must be... that or y'from Kararagi? Real interestin'. You been sleepin' under a rock for the last decade or somethin'?" Olbart asked, tilting his head like a curious bird.
A misunderstanding regarding his origins. Gojo could use that.
"Meh..."
Slowly, Gojo rose to his feet. His muscles coiled, not in relaxation, but in preparation.
Preparation for what, you may ask?
Olbart set down the teacup with a soft clink. He didn't stand. He just angled his gaze up toward Gojo. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy with tension.
"Y'got an answer to what I said before, Satoru Gojo?"
Gojo just hummed, looking down at him.
"Mnnn.... about helping you with a civil war? I'm going to be honest, old dude. I couldn't care less about what's going on in this place..." Gojo watched as Olbart's gaze darkened, the "kindly grandfather" mask slipping just a fraction. "And by the looks of it... neither do you. That isn't your actual goal at all, is it?"
Olbart blinked. For a split second, genuine surprise crossed his face.
"Darn, kid. You're even more perceptive than I let on... you're gonna give this old man a heart attack."
"———"
"———"
The silence broke instantly.
The moment Gojo's right foot slid along the cracked wooden floor, Olbart moved. It wasn't movement the eye could track easily; it was a rapid, silent dash, his hand arcing straight toward Gojo's jugular like a scythe.
But Gojo had already calculated the trajectory.
A subtle flare of azure cursed energy jolted out from Gojo's hands. It wasn't the infinite void, but a raw, attractive force—
He didn't aim it at Olbart. He aimed it at the structure.
The force surged, pulling the center of the ceiling downward in a violent implosion of wood and debris, directly between them.
In that split second of chaos, Gojo dashed. He snatched Meili by the waist, ignoring her squeak of surprise, and leaped straight up through the hole he'd just created along the rooftop.
"What a pain," Gojo grunted, landing on the roof tiles. "Forcing energy out like that really isn't helping my recovery. My head is pounding."
"What are you compla~ining about?!" Meili yelled, clinging to his jacket as the wind whipped her hair. "That was a Divine General! We're going to die~!"
"Stop whining and hold on!"
The moment his feet grasped the edge of the rooftop, Gojo launched himself forward with a surge of cursed energy, putting as much distance between them and the Vicious Old Man as possible.
The chaotic sprawl of the city was, fortunately, perfect for free-running.
The streets below exuded a lawless vibe, a total no-man's-land where unity was a foreign concept. It was a crucible of haphazard principles and architectural madness, befitting a place crowned with the name 'Chaosflame.'
As Gojo sprinted along the rooftops, the Six Eyes processed the layout in high-definition flashes.
At the heart of the city lay the most conspicuous feature: a castle painted in glossy vermillion. The streets spiraled out from it like a distorted galaxy. Ancient ruins stood shoulder-to-shoulder with gleaming new construction; squat hovels were overshadowed by sudden, towering spires; and desolate, sandy lots sat adjacent to lush, vibrant parks.
Countless beams and scaffolding bridged the gaps between buildings, creating a lattice that made the city look as if it were caught in a giant spider's web.
This was a city that rejected discipline, neatness, and decency. There was only one title fitting for such a place: The Demon City.
Satoru's eyes narrowed as he ran, calculating his next move. He didn't dare look back.
There was zero chance that a collapsing ceiling was enough to kill a "Divine General.", as it was put, they sounded impressive. However, Gojo had picked up on a crucial piece of intel. Olbart had mentioned he wasn't supposed to be here in this city, for whatever reason that might be.
Therefore, Gojo's destination was the castle.
It wasn't that he trusted this "Yorna Mishigure," but Olbart clearly wanted to avoid her. If she was the Lord of this city, she was likely another Divine General. In a three-way deadlock, Gojo could find an opening. He just had to hope she was friendlier than the old man—or at least territorial enough to attack Olbart for trespassing.
"Hah... hah..."
Gojo wasn't ignorant of physical exhaustion. In fact, without something like the Reverse Cursed Technique, he was mortal in that regard. The lack of blood which he'd lost during the fight from his previous injuries was still making his head spin, the world tilting slightly on its axis.
Reaching out mid-air, Gojo's hand grasped a steel pillar jutting out from a spire like a dead branch. With an explosive surge of Cursed Energy, he yanked himself upward, using the momentum to slingshot himself off the dark surface and propel himself through the air toward the next rooftop.
He did his best to ignore Meili's shrieking in his ear.
"God, you'd think she'd never flown through the air before."
"Are y~ou seri—?!"
"——Oh, crap!"
The Six Eyes screamed a warning. Reflexively, Gojo twisted his body in mid-air, a kunai whizzing past his ribs, missing by a millimeter. He skidded onto the next rooftop, his boots sliding on the loose tiles, before he regained his balance and kept sprinting.
In his peripheral vision, he caught the blur of Olbart. The old man was down in the streets, weaving through the confused demi-human crowds like a phantom.
"Hmph! Old man, why aren't you comin' up here?!" Gojo shouted down, masking his fatigue with bravado. "Scared of heights or something?! You a baby!?"
Olbart cackled as he ran, his voice projecting clearly despite the distance.
"Kakakaka! Not at all, kid! Guess I'll have to refute that—can't have people thinkin' I'm afraid of a little climb!"
With a sudden bend of his knees, Olbart launched himself onto the roof of a parked dragon carriage. He didn't stop there. With a second, silent bound, he rocketed upward, clearing two stories in a heartbeat and landing softly on the same rooftop as Gojo.
Guess mocking him wasn't the brightest idea huh.
Then, Gojo's eyes flared.
Olbart vanished.
One moment he was there, a silhouette against the moonlight. The next, he passed behind a chimney and was gone, engulfed by the night. Not literally—the Six Eyes could track the flow of energy—but the man's suppression of presence was masterclass.
"Some sort of ninja, huh? ——Hrk!"
Gojo slammed his foot into the roof tiles, braking hard. He contorted his body in a desperate semi-circle to evade a hand that materialized from the darkness, aiming to pierce his chest.
He dodged the fatal blow, but a shallow cut opened on his side. The momentum threw him off balance. His foot slipped on the incline, and he tumbled over the edge, plummeting toward the streets below.
"Tch—!"
Gojo rotated in the air, free-falling. He clenched his fist, reinforcing it with blue energy, and punched the brick wall of the nearest spire. The impact shattered the masonry, creating a handhold that jerked him to a violent halt, dangling high above the ground.
Above him, Olbart peered over the edge, crouching like a gargoyle.
"Interestin'... yer wounds ain't leakin' any blood at all. That's odd. Real odd. Not like any technique I've ever seen before. You a shinobi, kid?" Olbart asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
Gojo panted, hanging by one arm, his other arm clutching the girl tight.
"—I feel si~ck..." Meili groaned, her face turning a shade of green.
"That's the least of our problems, Meili..." Gojo muttered, staring up at the smiling old man. "Just don't vomit on the outfit. It's designer... well it's probably not, but it looks expensive, and it's already in tatters. I don't want vomit on in alongside that."
"Ya ruinin' the mood we had goin' on here with this non-serious talk. You're gonna make this ol' man cry, ya know, kid?" Olbart said with a theatrical frown, his eyes fixated on the white-haired sorcerer dangling on the building opposite.
"Cut me some slack, you old fart!" Gojo retorted, though his posture remained loose, deceptive. "Why the hell do you even have to kill me? You're just gonna fail, you know, 'cause I'm me. But hey, if you try being nice, maybe I'll feel merciful enough to spare you when I'm back at full strength!"
Olbart raised a bushy brow, before a wide, jagged grin split his face.
"Kakaka! I really do like you, kid! That arrogance... such a damn shame."
The old man took a step forward, the ceiling tiles not even creaking under his weight.
"Tell ya what. Listen 'ere, alright? I normally just kill my prey and be done with it, but I'm feelin' reaaaal generous tonight."
Gojo remained quiet.
"I'll just say, my big goal aligns perfectly with what I was talkin' about before. All that chaos with what's goin' on in the Empire... a civil war is brewin'. But it can all be snuffed out. All I gotta do is kill one single person t'save thousands. Ain't that just the perfect endin'? Like a fairy tale or somethin'."
Gojo stared at him, unimpressed. Then, he shook his head.
He was more than capable of cold logic. He understood the utilitarian argument—the trolley problem.
"I'd kill one to save a thousand in almost any other circumstance. But this?" Gojo gestured vaguely at the city around them. "This whole situation you got going on in this kingdom ain't my problem in the slightest. And honestly? I don't see any reason to help either."
The way Gojo saw it, this Empire was a land of wolves. Strength ruled over all else. Survival of the fittest. That meant, in all likelihood, any one in five people he saved was probably a cold-blooded killer. It might line up with Suguru's old moral compass to save the 'weak,' but Gojo had moved past that.
To save hundreds of killers would likely equate to thousands of innocent deaths in the long run. That would only make him the villain in the end.
"In a place like this..." Gojo's voice dropped, cold and devoid of sympathy. "It would be better to let it all burn and start on a clean slate than to save a kingdom full of killers. That's how I see it."
At Gojo's words, Olbart's eyebrows shot up further than ever before. He stroked the grey hair on his chin, humming under his breath.
"That so? That sooo?"
In the corner of his eye, Gojo saw the way Meili was looking at him—a mix of shock and fear. But he didn't care. She was a hypocrite if she was going to scrutinize him for his opinion on this hellhole, seeing as she was an assassin herself. He could tell what lay behind that childish face.
So, he ignored her.
"Alright, ya know what, kid? You've really interested me. So I've changed my mind!" Olbart grinned, snapping his fingers with a sharp crack. "I'm gonna spare ya!"
"...Seriously?" Gojo muttered, raising a brow skeptically.
"Yeah. Seriously. Consider it a gift from me to you, yeah? Oh, 'n alongside that, I'll even throw in another parting gift. Free of charge!"
Gojo instantly frowned at the implication. The Six Eyes screamed a warning.
"Uh... that's uh... that's fine, really. You don't gotta do that, old man!"
"Kakaka! I insist, I insist!"
"No, no, really, that would just be rude of me to accept!"
"Don't even worry 'bout it, kid! It's on the house!"
"Naaah, it's fiiiine, really..."
Gojo didn't like the idea of a 'parting gift' at all. He could tell by the gleam in the old man's eye that it was nothing good.
Meanwhile, Meili watched the bizarre back-and-forth in stunned silence. She looked between the sorcerer and the Divine General, a vein bulging on her forehead.
"Gojo, what the he~ck are you doing?! He's going to kill us!"
"Ah, right, right."
That seemed to snap Gojo out of his banter.
In an instant, Gojo's fist clenched the brick wall he dangled from. Cursed energy surged, not as a simple reinforcement, but as a magnetic singularity.
The blue blast contorted the structure of the spire, twisting the masonry like it were paper before imploding the entire upper half of the building.
Even with his limited output, Blue was a force of nature.
Gravity took hold instantly. The massive structure groaned and began to tip, falling directly toward the old man who looked up at the collapsing tons of stone with mild curiosity.
"Huh. I seriously got to stop underestimatin' ya..."
Gojo heard the mutter, but he was already moving. The sound of the building crashing down behind, splitting in half and crushing the area where Olbart stood, roared behind him as he sprinted along the rooftop, aiming for the castle.
"I know, I know, Meili... I'm incredible as hell. Don't even mention it. Even if I think I am about to pass out." Gojo grinned weakly as he leaped through the air.
"Well don't pa~ss out in the air!" Meili shrieked, clinging to him. "I'll die! I'll die!"
"Right, right, of course, that's my—"
Gojo's senses flared violently.
He snapped his head to the side mid-stride.
As he slid along the tiles, he caught the movement. Olbart flickered out from the shadows, weaving through the dust cloud of the collapsed building. He was completely unscathed.
Persistent old bastard, ain't he?
Gojo's first instinct was to use Blue again. Even with the lowered output, it would be far more effective than a physical strike in his current state.
But he didn't. Or rather, he couldn't. Any recovery he'd managed to make with his cursed technique in the last few hours was almost already snuffed out yet again.
As dazed as he was, Gojo attempted to block the approaching palm. He raised his arms in a guard, but the old man moved like smoke. Olbart's hand slithered past the guard, snake-like, and smashed directly into Gojo's solar plexus.
Gojo braced himself. He waited for the sensation of immense pain, of ribs cracking, or even impalement.
But he felt none of it.
"——?!"
There was no pain. Only a strange, hollow sensation that rippled through his entire body.
He stumbled backward, confused and stunned. His gaze locked onto Olbart, whose hand had already retracted behind his back. The shit-eating grin was plastered on the old man's face as he stood perfectly still.
"——A gift, huh?"
That was all Gojo could manage to say.
Suddenly, the exhaustion multiplied a hundredfold. Or perhaps—whatever Olbart had done to him—was taking effect. The world tilted. The edges of his vision turned black.
His legs gave out.
As the darkness swallowed him, the last thing Satoru Gojo felt was the sensation of the world getting... bigger.
And then, sleep took him.