The sky was black, thick with cursed energy. The air reeked of impending doom.
Cursed lightning split the heavens, and at its center, two figures clashed with divine fury. On one side, Sukuna, the King of Curses, unleashed in his full glory. On the other, Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, his body battered but his eyes still burning with unbreakable will.
The battle had raged for hours. Maybe days. The ground was nothing but a gaping crater, the surrounding mountains melted under the force of their blows. Yet Gojo stood firm. His Six Eyes still flickered weakly despite the countless wounds carving into his skin.
His arms trembled, his legs bled, his cursed technique crumbled under Sukuna's overwhelming pressure. He could feel his organs tearing, his consciousness slipping… yet he smiled.
"Heh… you really were a pain till the very end… Sukuna."
A final laugh, distorted by the blood spilling from his lips. Sukuna frowned—then unleashed his last technique.
SHING.
The world stopped.
Gojo's body was cleanly bisected, severed with surgical precision. His head tilted slowly to the side as his eyes closed with one last breath.
He was still smiling. Ironic. Insolent. As if he'd seen something beyond death itself.
Gotham
His breath returned in a violent gasp. Gojo's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding as he jerked upright.
He was drenched in sweat… but no longer on the battlefield. No longer even in Japan.
A massive king-sized bed, draped in black silk sheets, cradled him. Crimson curtains fluttered before floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing a fog-choked city where neon lights danced to the rhythm of honking cars.
His vision, still blurred, struggled to take in the details. Polished mahogany walls. Plush carpet under his fingertips. The strong scent of a woman's perfume.
He turned his head. A lace bra. A skintight black dress. Stiletto heels. Scattered lingerie on the floor.
Gojo blinked. He raised a trembling hand to his forehead.
"…Huh?"
The headache was excruciating, like a dagger had been driven straight into his memories. He staggered out of bed, nearly tripped, then moved on autopilot.
He knew exactly where the bathroom was.
As if it were natural.
His legs carried him to the door left of the bed, which he opened instinctively. The interior was lavish—a sunken tub, illuminated mirrors, black marble and gleaming chrome. He stared at his reflection and froze.
This wasn't his usual face.
Same sharp, angelic features—but older. More defined. More charismatic. His white hair was slightly longer, tousled yet silken. His eyes… just as piercing.
And behind him, a glowing, almost holographic interface flickered to life.
[SYSTEM: GACHA COLLECTION ACTIVATED]
[Welcome, Host. You have been selected for the Multiversal Collection Program.]
[Each heroine or female villain seduced, dominated, or emotionally bonded with grants you a Gacha Token.]
[Use these tokens to spin the Divine Roulette and acquire skills, artifacts, or physical boosts tailored to your current universe.]
[Current World: DC Universe/???]
[Location: Gotham City]
[Legal Identity: Satoru Gojo — CEO of the Gojo Group. Multibillionaire.]
[Status: Official rival to Bruce Wayne.]
Gojo's jaw dropped.
This wasn't a dream. Not an illusion. This system… was real.
He slowly sat on the edge of the bathtub, trying to sort through his thoughts. His death—Sukuna had finally killed him.
"So… I wasn't the strongest after all," he muttered with a sigh.
And now… this room. This bed. This body.
A new life?
Or a forced transmigration into a world he'd once read about… studied… with passion?
He let out a weak chuckle.
"Gotham… huh?" he murmured, gazing at the city through the window. "Guess this is where my next game begins…"
Behind him, from the still-warm bed, a feminine sigh echoed. He turned, a smirk curling at his lips.
The dim light spilled over rumpled sheets, revealing a sinuous figure stretched out with effortless sex appeal. The fabric barely clung to a curved hip, tracing the outline of a delicate body—bare shoulders, a narrow waist, endless legs. Dark hair spilled across the pillow, framing a playful face with slightly upturned lips.
Catwoman.