"Alright. Don't overextend," Akiyama Ren warned calmly.
Maki Zen'in nodded once, eyes sharp, then stepped forward. A steady breath in, then out—her body tensed like a drawn bowstring.
Every drop of residual magic and cursed energy she possessed surged into her limbs, muscles hardening as she enhanced her physique with the martial focus Ren had trained her in—melding Jujutsu principles with magic conditioning.
The next moment, she disappeared into a blur.
A thunderous crack split the air as Maki shot forward like a projectile, aiming directly for the Special Grade Imaginary Curse Spirit—Yasakashakusama, the Eight-Shaku Woman.
The towering giantess didn't flinch. In fact, her face twisted into something that almost resembled... contempt. The look wasn't bestial—it was human.
Ren's expression hardened.
That level of self-awareness, that reaction—it was clear now. This Curse had a consciousness. It wasn't just a cursed spirit with instinct; it was evolving, intelligent. Sentient. Comparable, perhaps, to the likes of Mahito or Jogo—spirits born from warped human emotion and sharpened through will.
The Eight-Shaku Woman clenched one massive fist and hurled it at Maki.
Despite the size of her body, the punch came fast—unnaturally fast. She had full control over her frame.
But Maki was faster.
She launched upward in a flash, dodging cleanly before sprinting up the Curse's extended arm like it was a ramp. Her black-bladed weapon, Mist Splitter Reforged, glinted beneath the moonlight.
(Picture the scene from Far Cry 3, Citra's test for Jason.)
The giant's other hand swatted toward her like a fly, but Maki skidded to a sudden stop, then sliced down.
A burst of cursed energy erupted from the weapon—its quasi-divine properties tearing through the Curse's palm in an instant.
Chunks of cursed flesh flew through the air.
Maki smirked, never breaking stride, and surged toward the creature's neck.
Decapitation. That was the plan.
She would sever its head and end it before it regenerated.
But just as she neared her target, the Eight-Shaku Woman's mouth curled into a disturbing grin.
Maki's instincts screamed.
She looked down.
The hand she'd cleaved moments earlier—was already back.
Regrown.
Worse still, the Curse's fingers twisted into a distinct sign—a formation she recognized from one of Ren's lectures on Domain Theory.
"No way—!" Maki's heart dropped.
Then, in a clear, resonant voice—far too human for a Curse—the Eight-Shaku Woman spoke:
"Domain Expansion: He Who Is Free to Transform Others."
The world around them twisted.
Color drained.
The air thickened into something suffocating, like spiritual molasses. A circular barrier enveloped them, locking out reality and reshaping it into a grotesque paradise of desire.
Ren's eyes narrowed as he stood at the edge of the domain's boundary.
The name of the technique wasn't unfamiliar.
He Who Is Free to Transform Others—the name of the Sixth Heaven among the Buddhist Desire Realms, where divine beings sought joy not through purity, but by indulging in mortal pleasures, manipulating karma, and plunging others into cycles of want.
Its ruler was said to be Mara, the Demon King who tempted Shakyamuni beneath the Bodhi Tree.
This wasn't just a Domain Expansion. It was a conceptual attack—a soul-based assault designed to corrupt and consume through temptation and madness.
Ren knew instantly: Maki wouldn't last.
A domain could only be countered by another domain.
And Maki didn't have one.
Without hesitation, he moved.
In an instant, Ren phased into the domain with a spatial step—one learned from integrating teleportation magic from another world with high-level Shikigami movement techniques.
He appeared before Maki, now frozen midair as the domain took effect.
From within his robes, Ren drew out a strange artifact.
A circular disc. Black and silver. Engraved with a dragon's head and eight sword marks around its rim.
The Usurpation Circle.
In another universe, it was known as Pandora's Divine Artifact—used in the heretical ritual of Dark Christmas, where stolen godhood could be transmuted into overwhelming power.
But here, within Ren's hands, it had been refined. Reforged. Integrated through his innate technique, the Alpha-Omega Codex.
He'd taken its essence and rebirthed it as something uniquely his own.
A Divine-Grade Artifact that could extract techniques, spiritual signatures, and domain structures from defeated foes—and make them his.
He raised it now.
Not just to counter the domain, but to steal it.
Because what he saw in the Eight-Shaku Woman's technique wasn't just danger—it was potential.
He Who Is Free to Transform Others was a malleable, high-level Domain.
Akiyama Ren could already see it.
This Domain, corrupted and built upon a foundation of karmic distortion and spiritual seduction, wasn't just a technique—it was a blueprint. If refined, if broken down and reforged through the matrix of his innate ability, it could evolve into something greater. Something that transcended even Special Grade Domains.
A Divine Technique.
It reminded him of what Rimuru had once done—starting with raw, fragmented abilities like Predator and Great Sage, and through countless integrations, forging godlike power. Ren's approach was different, but the goal was the same: integration through understanding.
His purpose in mastering Jujutsu, Magic, and Onmyōdō wasn't just breadth of power.
It was evolution.
The moment he laid eyes on the Eight-Shaku Woman's domain, he'd made his decision.
This one was worth taking.
Ren tightened his grip on the Usurpation Circle, the artifact glowing faintly in his left hand. In his right, he crossed his index and middle fingers—the universal gesture of Jujutsu-style Domain Invocation.
Then, with a quiet, confident smile, he spoke:
"Domain Expansion—Infinite Void."
Two Domains clashed.
The air cracked with metaphysical strain. Space folded and unraveled. Spiritual laws collided.
But the difference was clear from the start.
The Eight-Shaku Woman's Domain was born from instinct and primal corruption. Ren's—an echo of Gojo Satoru's legacy, fused with his own adaptations—was precision incarnate.
Even if both Domains were classified at the same level, what mattered wasn't just the technique, but the user.
It was like comparing a novice shinobi's Fire Style to Madara Uchiha's—the rank might be the same, but the result? Entirely different.
The cursed domain couldn't hold up.
Infinite Void expanded outward like an ocean of data, drowning the Eight-Shaku Woman in an endless deluge of knowledge. The overwhelming information attacked her brain directly, fracturing her will and severing her consciousness.
She screamed.
Then silence.
The body collapsed—lifeless before it even hit the ground.
Ren moved without pause.
Before the corpse could dissolve into spiritual particles, he slammed the Usurpation Circle into the air above it. The artifact responded instantly.
A surge of crimson light erupted.
Beneath the corpse, a blood-red ritual array materialized—its runes glowing with eldritch script drawn from exorcist codices and forbidden grimoires.
Dark Christmas: Initiate.
The ritual began.
Power flowed out of the Curse's body—its cursed energy, domain framework, innate technique—all siphoned through the Usurpation Circle and funneled into Ren's body.
His internal energies flared.
The divine essence circulating through his core absorbed the corrupted energy and purified it, integrating the stolen fragments into his ever-evolving arsenal.
Moments later, a quiet hum resonated from the artifact.
The domain, the technique, the spirit's structure—all of it now belonged to him.
Ren smiled.
"Second Domain. Not bad."
The barrier that had enshrouded the village—the Curtain"—dissolved slowly, like smoke caught in sunlight. With the Eight-Shaku Woman's death, the spiritual pressure blanketing the area lifted.
Peace returned.
But behind Ren, Maki Zen'in stared at him in stunned silence.
She had always known that Ren was powerful—able to wield techniques from sorcerers, Onmyōji, even Magic. But to witness Gojo Satoru's Domain Expansion, Infinite Void, performed in front of her… was staggering.
Still, what shook her more than that was the disc—the Usurpation Circle.
She had seen it clearly.
The moment the cursed spirit died, the artifact devoured its energy, then poured it into Ren like some kind of forbidden vessel.
Now she understood—truly understood—how Ren had grown so powerful so quickly.
What was that disc?
Despite her curiosity, Maki didn't ask.
She simply stood quietly beside him.
She would wait for the day he chose to tell her. If that day never came, so be it. She wasn't the type to pry. As Ren's partner—his comrade—she would protect his secrets, even from herself.
More than that… she would never covet the artifact.
Ren glanced at her, and without needing to probe her mind with a Mind Reading Technique, already understood.
That trust?
It meant everything.
She was worth nurturing—worth bringing into his future, where worlds beyond this one awaited.
Sliding the Usurpation Circle back into his sleeve, Ren turned to her and asked gently, "You okay?"
Maki nodded. "I would've been in serious trouble if you hadn't stepped in."