Normally In battles between beings who command realms and domains, the struggle is never purely physical. Yes, fists may clash, powers may rend the air, mountains may fall.
But these are only shadows, crude expressions of something far more profound.
The true fight exists on a level where thought shapes space, where will becomes law.
Two such entities do not simply strike at each other they rewrite reality in overlapping scripts by using their will and making reality obey their will to crush their opponents, their opposing truths clashing until one erases the other In the metaphysical world.
Victory does not come from speed or strength, but from expression and from shaping the world in your image with greater clarity, depth, and inevitability than your opponent. And when that happens, the losing domain folds in on itself, swallowed by the victor's grasp.
---
Gojo had seconds.
The golden glow from his rejection was already dimming, its warmth receding.
Cyttorak's form began to coalesce in his mindscape which was a vast, monstrous, the galaxy around him bleeding into crimson red.
The stars dimmed, their light suffocated, and the black hole at the center strained to hold back the surge of divine malice.
Gojo's breath came ragged. His body in the real world trembled, blood streaking down his face, crusted dark against his pale skin.
But in the midst of that collapse, he raised one hand in just one simple gesture.
Cyttorak's advance halted.
The Elder God's titanic presence stilled, as if tasting something alien in the air.
"What… are you doing?"
Gojo's lips curled into a blood-stained, deranged smile. His voice cracked, but it carried all the same.
"Domain Expansion."
And the Unlimited Void bloomed.
The galaxy that was Gojo's mind became a layered construct as the stars swelled in impossible clarity, nebulae unraveling into fractal infinities, space bending into itself in seamless folds. Every atom of the place sang with unending streams of information, pouring into the mind of anything caught within.
The very concept of emptiness ceased to exist here there was only endless awareness, the crushing weight of infinite detail.
Cyttorak—Cyttorak—froze.
For a heartbeat, then the Elder God was driven back, expelled from the collapsing ruins of Gojo's mind.
---
Normally, even glimpsing such a thing would destroy a mortal mind. The flood of infinite truths would render any thinking creature unable to move, speak, or even breathe.
The number of beings in existence who could comprehend such a phenomenon without being erased was infinitesimal and unfortunately Cyttorak was among them.
Even so… the Void held.
Not for long but only for a few seconds.
But in those seconds, every tendril of Cyttorak's influence vanished.
Gojo sucked in a desperate breath.
He could feel his domain's edges fraying already, cracks spiderwebbing through the perfection of the Void. Panic prickled down his spine.
In the distance, crimson wisps began to seep inward, gathering into heavy coils. His domain shuddered under the weight of a planet pressing against it.
The whispers came next the distant, guttural echoes in his skull. Cyttorak was trying to latch onto his soul itself.
Gojo snarled, forcing more power from deep within. The crimson mist faltered… briefly.
But then the Elder God simply added more, the tide pushing forward again, inch by inch.
He couldn't win like this. Not by holding.
And in that realization… something clicked.
He let go.
---
The barrier shattered. The Unlimited Void lay bare, exposed directly to the Crimson Waste.
Blood streamed freely from his eyes, ears, and nose, his entire astral form burning under the strain.
With no shield to hide behind, every wisp of Cyttorak's realm pressed into him.
He fought not to collapse and not to scatter into nothing.
And then he did the impossible. In that desperate moment with nothing else to do but think of anything that could help. Gojo came up with only one thing to do.
He painted.
In the open air of pure reality, Gojo shaped his intent and will not as a guarded space but as art, an image carved into the fabric of existence itself. No crutch. No shell. Only raw will and perfect expression.
A slow smile spread across his face despite the agony, his eyes blazing with new light.
The Crimson Waste around him began to warp as Stars blossomed in the void.
A black hole spun lazily in the distance, its gravity humming with a rhythm that made thought itself stutter.
In that moment, in that instance, in that single second that stretched out to eternity and under the threat of being nothing but a meat suit a puppet. Gojo had done something a lot of jujutsu sorcery bar one had ever done, he had done something even the original Gojo never achieved before his death.
The Unlimited Void had become a barrierless domain. Gojo's mind flicked to one thought, one name, and his grin sharpened.
'Like Sukuna'.
---
In the depths of the Crimson Waste, the Elder God paused. For the first time since the fight began, there was no mockery in his tone only frenzy.
"Another realm… encroaching on mine?"
"A newborn… and yet—!"
The voice quaked with something between rage and hunger.
"Such quality… such potential. Nurtured properly, it could breach and consume any other realm it touches, a domain that could be carried undetected and summoned instantly. I SHALL HAVE IT."
His words were half a roar, half a vow, as he stared at the foreign sky now blooming inside his dominion, the hum, the stars, the singularity tearing the edges of thought itself in bliss.
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