Mahito's Domain Expansion, Cursed Genesis spread like an infection across the battlefield.
But this time it did not form walls, did not raise barriers to lock Mahoraga inside.
It was unbound, an open sprawl of shifting flesh and countless faces, surging outward and yet anchored to Mahito's very being.
The domain moved as he moved. Wherever he stepped, the writhing nightmare followed.
Mahoraga's blade of light carved through the cursed landscape, but there was no boundary to sever. The wheel on its back spun furiously, shrieking against the endless distortion.
Mahito's smile widened, his teeth bared, blood still running down his chin.
"Ahh… so this is what you saw, Sukuna. A shrine without walls. An extension of the self, painted on a non-existent canvas~" His tone lightened, playful again as laughter bubbled from his throat. "But unlike you, dear King, I've gone in a different direction"
His eyes slid shut.
Darkness swallowed him, sudden and absolute. The writhing faces of his domain vanished from sight. He saw nothing of the collapsing street, the crumbling buildings, the towering shikigami before him.
Because that was the price.
A binding vow. To move his domain as an extension of himself, to break the rules of barriers, Mahito had given up vision whenever it was active.
But he did not need eyes anymore.
Mahito saw the world through souls, through the endless chorus of energies flickering in every direction.
Mahoraga was an ancient storm of brute force and adaptation, its soul a vast wheel grinding endlessly toward balance. And nearby, barely clinging to life, was Megumi Fushiguro, his soul faint and trembling like a candle in a hurricane.
Mahito licked his lips, savoring the sight. "Delicious."
Mahoraga surged forward, sword cleaving in another arc. Mahito slipped aside, his body unravelling into a dozen twitching forms before reassembling an instant later. He laughed as the blade missed him by inches.
"Too slow~! Oh, I can feel every twist of your soul, little wheel. I don't even need to watch you anymore. You dance exactly as I wish!"
He reshaped his arm into a spear and drove it forward, piercing Mahoraga's chest. The wheel spun, the wound knitting itself closed, adaptation already at work. But Mahito didn't retreat. He pressed in closer, hand sinking into the shikigami's body, his cursed energy swirling, probing deeper—not into flesh, but into the essence beneath.
"Yes… yes, there it is. The core. The technique. You're not just some mindless beast, are you? You're tied to him."
His gaze, or rather, his awareness, shifted toward Megumi's fading soul. The ritual connection glowed between them like a thread of shadow.
"To take you, I'll need a piece of him."
Mahito's grin sharpened, his voice lilting with cruel delight.
"It will rip poor Megumi's soul to shreds. Leave him comatose, body alive but empty, just another broken doll. But you know what?" He leaned in, whispering against Mahoraga's hollow face as though it could hear.
"…It's a price I am willing to volunteer him to pay~."
Mahoraga roared, swinging its blade in a desperate cleave. Mahito twisted aside, the light grazing his ribs and slicing chunks of transfigured flesh away. Pain lanced through his soul, sharp and biting, but he laughed all the louder, pressing his other hand deeper into the shikigami's chest.
Cursed energy flared, a grotesque resonance between Mahito, Mahoraga, and Megumi. The thread connecting the shikigami to the sorcerer strained, screamed, then snapped.
Megumi convulsed where he lay, blood spilling from his lips. His soul shrieked, Mahito drank the sound in like fine wine.
The wheel above Mahoraga spun wildly, then slowed. Its form shuddered, growing indistinct, melting into streams of shadow that were drawn into Mahito's waiting hand.
The ancient shikigami dissolved, absorbed entirely into him.
Mahito threw back his head and howled in triumph, his laughter spilling out across the ruined district. "Magnificent! Oh, the power, the adaptability, the final form of the Ten Shadow! I'll wear them all! Megumi, i am oh so grateful~ You've given me so much more than you ever imagined!"
He straightened, the remnants of Mahoraga's form folding into his flesh, his body warping subtly to accommodate the new prize. A faint halo of rotating energy spun behind him, mocking the wheel that had once belonged to the shikigami.
Mahito flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders, delighting in the sheer abundance of strength coursing through him. "Mmm. Perfect~. Absolutely perfect. With this, even I am confident of facing Sukuna again. I've surpassed the template he carved for us all."
His domain pulsed outward, the writhing flesh and faces groaning in unison before beginning to recede. Mahito shut it down, opening his eyes once more to the ruined street. His vision returned slowly, the world bleeding back into shape.
Megumi lay broken against the rubble, chest rising shallowly, soul threadbare.
Mahito crouched beside him, tilting his head. "Still breathing, hm? Remarkable. I did say you were useful, didn't I?" He pressed a hand against the boy's battered body, healing flesh and knitting bone with casual transfiguration. The soul damage, of course, he did nothing about.
"You'll live, Megumi. You'll even look healthy. And when your friends ask what happened, I'll tell them I did everything I could to save you. Isn't that touching?" His voice dripped with mocking sweetness. "They'll trust me too, since I went out of my way to show how I helped Yuji..."
He stood, brushing the dust from his clothes, his smile as wide and playful as ever.
Mahito glanced down at his hand, feeling the faint thrum of another soul within him, the compressed form of Dagon, writhing like a caged animal. For a moment, his grin dimmed into contemplation.
"I could eat you," he mused aloud, voice thoughtful. "Take your soul, add your strength to mine, just as I did with Mahoraga. But no… This is a rare opportunity, to think I'd be able to freely transfigure the soul or a special grade curse~."
His grin returned, sharp as a knife. "You'll make a fun research piece."
Sill, Mahito couldn't help but sigh when feeling the amount of fatigue that was welling up inside him.
Lying out a domain twice a day was already unheard of for anyone who wasn't Gojo, but he had also been hit by Mahoraga a few times, and even grazed by the Sword of Extermination. It was fair to say that he was now at his weakest.
'No doubt, it's about time for him to make an entrance.'
As if on queue, the air shifted.
Mahito paused, his smile freezing. A new presence brushed across his senses. Two, in fact, one impossibly familiar, the other cold and distant like winter itself.
From the fractured street, they emerged.
Kenjaku, wearing Suguru Geto's stolen body, his smile placid, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. And at his side, Uraume, the frost-haired attendant, their expression unreadable, aura crisp and biting.
"Mahito," Kenjaku said smoothly, his voice calm, measured, dripping with the same calculating amusement that had always unsettled his allies. "I see you've been busy."
Mahito's grin didn't falter. If anything, it widened, childish delight sparkling in his tone. He spread his arms as though welcoming an audience to his grand performance.
"Busy? No, no. I've been perfecting. What brings you around, though? You and Sukuna's attack dog… come to collect what's left of me?"