The smoke of Shibuya hung thick, ash drifting over the ruins in slow spirals. The cold that clung to the air was unnatural, sharper than winter, born from the quiet presence of Uraume.
Their frost gnawed at the shattered asphalt, riming cracks with glittering veins of ice.
Yet the cold was only a backdrop to what stood at the center.
Mahito, body still marked with fractures from his battle with Mahoraga, grinned as if the wounds were badges of honor. His posture was loose, almost playful, but the cursed energy that rippled from him carried weight.
Kenjaku faced him in silence. His borrowed features were calm, expressionless but for that faint smile that never gave away enough.
For the first time in centuries, calculation failed to steady his stance. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he let out a breath that misted against the cold.
"You have grown into something I did not plan for," he said, voice even. "I believed you a pawn, possibly valuable for your technique, yet tethered by your immaturity. But today you have proven otherwise. Against Sukuna, you achieved what no curse should. You forced even me to hesitate. I had not thought such a day would come."
Mahito laughed, shoulders shaking, the sound light as bells yet warped with something unhinged. "So flattering~. But I told you before, Kenjaku, compliments won't get you anywhere. If you see me as strong, then good. If you see me as dangerous, even better. But don't imagine your words soften me. They only confirm the obvious."
Kenjaku dipped his chin slightly, not in deference but in acknowledgment. "Perhaps so. Yet facts must be stated. I had intended to claim your soul, to assimilate your ability into my arsenal, a last piece of the puzzle... Now I see that will not be done today."
His arms spread slightly, robes whispering over the wind. "But that does not mean I leave defeated."
The next instant his shadow rippled. It bulged in shape, warped, then split, and from the fissures poured an endless tide of curses.
Some slithered as serpents of shadow. Some rose on six arms or sprouted bone wings that cracked the air. Others crawled like masses of hands and eyes, their cries overlapping into a maddening chorus.
They poured from Kenjaku in hundreds, in thousands, the street shuddering beneath their weight. The sky darkened as winged curses blotted out what little light pierced the smoke. The stench of their energy was suffocating, a wall of hatred and hunger that pressed against the skin.
Uraume did not hesitate. The cold around her tightened to a killing frost, her hand snapping up as ice bloomed into existence, jagged spears radiating outward. "This ends here."
She lunged for Mahito, cutting through the swarm. Her speed left streaks of frozen air in her wake, and in a heartbeat she closed the distance. With her other hand she conjured a coffin of solid ice, snapping it closed over Mahito like jaws.
She had watched his fight with Mahoraga. She knew the trick of his body. Physical damage meant nothing. To end him, she would freeze his very soul in a tomb of frost.
The ice coffin slammed shut with a deafening crack. For a moment Mahito's silhouette was lost inside the crystalline prism.
Then came the glow.
Orange light pulsed within the ice, faint at first, then searing, veins of heat splitting through the frost. The prison shuddered as cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Mahito's voice came muffled, yet unmistakably amused. "Cute trick. But I already prepared for you."
His right arm erupted, reshaping in an instant. Flesh boiled, bones twisted, and his limb transformed into a cannon of molten rock. With a gleeful laugh, he fired.
A torrent of magma tore from his arm, exploding outward in a volcanic blast that shattered the coffin of ice.
The eruption engulfed Uraume, the force throwing her back across the ruined street. She crashed through the husk of a collapsed building, stone and rebar melting where the magma splashed.
The ground hissed, water vapor screaming into the air as snow and ice dissolved on contact.
Mahito stepped forward from the steam, his grin wide, his eyes alight. "I've long surpassed the likes of you~."
Uraume staggered to her feet. Her robes were scorched, skin blistered and blackened across her arms and side. Yet already the burns began to fade as reversed cursed technique flooded her body, knitting charred flesh back into pale perfection. She raised her gaze, unshaken, though the set of her jaw betrayed what she now knew.
This curse outstripped her. He had surpassed not only the sorcerers, but Sukuna himself, as weakened as he was. His victory was not a fluke, and the humiliation of her master's fall began to settle as grim truth.
Around them the battlefield devolved into carnage. Mahito's army of warped creations hurled themselves at Kenjaku's tide of curses.
Fly Soldiers filled the sky, intercepting winged spirits, their bladed limbs tearing wings to ribbons as shrieks echoed above.
On the ground, Soulsborne locked against grotesque monsters, chains binding, spectral hymns warping perception, spears of ink piercing through amorphous flesh.
Kenjaku's curses answered in kind, devouring, ripping, overwhelming by sheer number. Explosions of cursed energy lit the ruins like fireworks. Concrete collapsed, flames spread, smoke billowed thicker until the air was choking.
Mahito was not still. His laughter carried through the chaos as he pressed further. The ground beneath his feet bulged, cracked, then split as miniature volcanoes erupted across the block. Lava spewed in fountains, rivers of molten rock spilling outward, consuming curses and rubble alike.
The swarm shrieked as lava swallowed them, bodies burning to ash. Kenjaku's curses burst apart one after another, their screeches mixing with the roar of boiling stone. The battlefield became a hellscape, magma lakes cutting paths of annihilation.
The Fly Soldiers dove again, their wings slicing through the last curses overhead, clearing the skies.
Kenjaku's smile vanished completely by that point. 'So he can truly steal techniques... This is worse than I thought.'
He had no way of knowing the full extent of Mahito's technique, but now he was finding out more and more.
Frustratingly, Jogo had been one of the curses he wished to devour for himself, but Mahito had beaten him to that too.
Worst of all, Jogo's technique was more than likely among the best to use against a large grouped up army of curses.
His gaze flicked toward Mahito, toward the magma rivers carving through the swarm. 'If I leave him unchecked, he will shift the balance of everything.
Sorcerers, curses, the Culling Game itself. He could unravel centuries of my preparation. Today was supposed to tighten the noose. Instead I am the one standing inside it.'
Still he steadied himself. Calculation was habit, and habit never broke. 'I must live. His technique will be mine eventually. If not today, then tomorrow. That is enough.'
He lifted a hand, cursed energy surging, and the air around him warped. Symbols of a domain began to coalesce, the ground vibrating as a spherical boundary threatened to bloom.
Mahito's eyes narrowed. He snapped his arm outward, magma surging at his command. A geyser of molten stone burst from the ground, cutting across the forming lines of cursed energy. The heat warped reality itself, dispersing the fragile structure before it could seal.
Kenjaku's attempt faltered, the incomplete domain shattering like glass.
Mahito wagged a finger, voice sing-song. "Ah ah~. Not today. I could clash domains with you… but where's the fun in that? I'd rather watch my toys play~."
Kenjaku's curses fought on, but the balance had shifted. Mahito's creations, empowered and versatile, held the advantage. The sea of lava gnawed away at the overwhelming numbers.
And Uraume, though healed, found herself panting, her body moving slower than instinct demanded. Her ice melted before it touched Mahito, her certainty eroded with every clash.
Then, as though fate itself punctuated the chaos, a flicker of movement cut through the storm.
Uraume, unwilling to yield, summoned a spear of frost, launching it with killing precision toward the heart of the battlefield. Its trajectory was not for Mahito, but for the boy off to the side behind him.
Megumi, sheltered in the lee of Mahito's presence, unconcious and unaware of the danger streaking for him.
The air froze in a line, the spear promising death.
Before it struck, a figure landed between.
The frost shattered against an unseen force, blocked cleanly.
Yuki Tsukumo stood tall, her expression as sharp as the crack of ice splitting stone. Her arrival drew a hush even through the chaos, her presence commanding. She glanced once at Mahito, once at Uraume, then set her stance as cursed energy surged around her.
"Now, now..." she said coldly, "I certainly missed a few things~"
The battlefield seemed to hold its breath.
Mahito looked at her with a smirk. "Shitty timing as always~ party's almost over."
Kenjaku couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
'I didn't want to do this but... At this point I'll have to do anything to escape.'