The station reeked of brine and blood. The shattered domain of Dagon had left the air drenched in saltwater, the tiled floors slick with seawater that reflected the trembling light of broken lamps.
The underground was already flooded slightly, a reminder of Dagon's presence.
Groaning walls bore the scars of battle, and the last remnants of cursed energy still gnawed at the edges of the ruined underground.
Megumi leaned against the wall, his breath sharp and ragged, his body pushed well past its limit. Sweat mixed with blood as it dripped into his eyes, but he never wavered.
Nanami had been carried away by Kusakabe, half-blind, body broken, will alone dragging him forward until he could no longer stand.
The man who had seemed like stone, unshakable and immovable, was left clinging to the edge of life.
And Megumi had stayed behind.
Dagon hovered in the wreckage, his monstrous form pulsating with seawater, black eyes narrowing as he raised another tide to crush the boy where he stood.
Megumi knew he wouldn't win. He had accepted that the moment Kusakabe left. This was not about victory; it was about holding the line long enough.
'If I can buy them time, then it's worth it.'
His shadow swirled beneath him. He pressed his palms together, voice hoarse but steady.
"With this treasure, I summon…"
The ground shook. Shadows warped, the ritual circle spreading out like a stain of darkness that drank in the light.
"Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General… Mahoraga."
The shikigami burst forth, its colossal frame unfurling from the abyss. The wheel upon its back spun once, creaking with ancient power, and the oppressive weight of its presence filled the underground like a second domain.
Dagon snarled, raising a tidal wave, but the fight never began on his terms.
Mahoraga moved first. Its fist shot out with inhuman speed, hammering into Megumi's chest.
The boy slammed into the wall, blood spraying from his mouth as his body crumpled under the impact.
Dagon's eyes widened, then he screamed.
A single swing of Mahoraga's Sword of Extermination split him from shoulder to hip, cutting through his body as though it were nothing more than paper.
His ocean-born technique, his surging strength, all of it meant nothing against the ancient shikigami. His body convulsed as he was nearly severed in two, seawater and blood bursting out in torrents.
He should have died then.
But a pale hand rested against his dissolving flesh.
"Don't give out on me now~" Mahito's voice chimed, sing-song and cruel, as he touched Dagon's severely weakened soul directly.
The half-formed corpse twisted and warped under his grasp, the torn fragments of soul compressed, reshaped, transfigured.
Dagon shrieked as his body shrank, collapsing inward until what remained was a compressed curse, a core-like form that Mahito pressed into his own body like a jewel set in a crown.
Mahito straightened, his lips peeling into a sharp, feral smile, wings unfurling as he looked up at Mahoraga.
"Ahh~ So this is the Shikigami of legend. You look more menacing when there's no screen between us~"
The wheel upon Mahoraga's back creaked loudly, groaning, resonating with the cursed air. It stepped forward, each footfall like a drumbeat, its empty eyes fixed on Mahito, who now held a weak, transfigured Dagon within his body.
Dagon's elimination was necessary for Mahoraga to cancel out the subjugation ritual, so now, Mahito was the shikigami's prime target.
Megumi, half-conscious and broken against the wall, could only watch as his desperate act spiraled into something beyond him.
Mahito rolled his shoulders, flexing his hands, his smile never fading. "I was always curious about how strong you are… Let's see your technique in person!"
The shikigami charged.
Its blade swept down in a clean, merciless arc. Mahito twisted, his flesh warping, his body bending in ways human anatomy could never allow.
The blade carved through him, but instead of dying, his body writhed, stitching back together with an eager hiss of cursed energy.
'I need to avoid that blade… This thing can kill me if I'm not careful~'
Mahito's foot lashed out, his soul shaping his body into a whip-like extension that cracked against Mahoraga's face. Bone splintered, only for the wheel on its back to spin.
Mahoraga turned its head back toward him. Unfazed.
Mahito chuckled, delighted. "You really do adapt… but you're not perfect, are you~? My body is my technique. Change is all I am. What will you adapt to?!"
The shikigami rushed him again. The Sword of Extermination glowed in positive energy as it slashed the very air around it.
Mahito's body gained fluidity, separating itself prematurely and letting the blade pass through him. He reformed right in front of the ancient shikigami.
He kneed Mahoraga in the gut, his leg hardening into steel. Then, before the shikigami could register the impact, his arm snapped into a whip, lashing across its chest.
Mahoraga was sent flying back, smashing through several pillars. The underground shook, the ceiling above crumbling and spilling chunks of concrete into the floodwater.
The wheel turned again.
Mahito's teeth flashed in delight. "Yes… adapt all you like~"
The station became their battlefield. Each clash sent tremors through the ruins, Mahoraga's strikes absolute, each one a killing blow; Mahito's counters impossible, his body twisting into whatever weapon the moment demanded.
The shikigami's blade carved a passing train car in half as though it were paper, sparks screaming as the wreckage exploded in fire. Mahito dove through the blaze laughing, his arm reshaping into a claw that raked across Mahoraga's mask.
Cracks formed, but the wheel turned, healing through adaptation.
Mahito changed tactics instantly. From his back sprouted a forest of writhing arms, each one firing jagged spikes of bone, then shifting mid-flight into molten stone, then into hardened steel.
The shikigami staggered, unable to categorize the endless variations. Still, it pushed forward.
Sometimes, a volcano sprouted from a wall, spewing magma onto Mahoraga and melting parts of its body. Other times, Mahito's torso unraveled into a serpent of flesh, constricting its limbs before detonating in a burst of cursed energy.
Each exchange was chaos incarnate. On the outside, it looked like Mahoraga was constantly out of reach.
And yet… Mahito's eyes narrowed, the laughter faltering for the first time.
The wheel spun again, adapting, learning, drawing closer to something he couldn't twist away from forever.
It would eventually adapt to some forms of damage.
'It's not enough. If I want to overwhelm this thing… if I want to go further, I need clarity.'
He thought of Sukuna. Of the storm. Of the flash of lightning and inspiration he had used to sear his soul alive.
But he could no longer pull that card; the lightning in the skies had already died out, not that he would even want to.
He wanted to catch Mahoraga within his domain. And to do that...
'I need to land a Black Flash.'
The idea burned inside him, intoxicating. Black Flash was not something one simply decided to do.
It required harmony between body, soul, and cursed energy so perfect it became transcendence.
And yet, Mahito hungered for it. He had tasted it once before, and the memory of that clarity gnawed at him now.
"Come then!" he howled, his laughter ringing like broken bells through the ruined station.
Mahoraga swung again. Mahito caught the blade in one hand, his flesh molding around it, splitting into dozens of smaller hands that clutched the weapon at every angle. He poured cursed energy through them, each one shifting, mutating, never staying the same long enough for the wheel to lock onto.
His other hand curved back, dripping with transfigured flesh, cursed energy vibrating along his palm.
The moment stretched. The air sang.
He struck.
The impact rattled the station, the walls cracking, the ceiling collapsing further into the flood.
But it wasn't enough. Not yet. No distortion. No bloom of transcendence to allow him to exceed his potential.
Mahito laughed anyway, eyes wild, blood spilling from his mouth as Mahoraga hurled him across the underground. He crashed through a platform, the water exploding around him in waves.
"Closer…! I was so close!"
Mahoraga advanced, relentless. Its wheel turned again, groaning like the earth itself.
Mahito dragged himself from the rubble, steam rising from his broken frame, his body already twisting itself back together. His lips stretched into something feral, painted in crimson.
His soul burned with anticipation.
"Let's keep going then, Mahoraga! I'll find it here… and when I do-"
He staggered upright, one eye swollen shut, arms trembling, yet laughing still.
"I'll clip your wings and steal that wheel for myself!~"
The shikigami's shadow loomed, its blade raised high, the wheel spinning like a judgment passed down from the gods.
And Mahito welcomed it, grinning into the storm.