"Just a few transfigured humans. You really think they can shake me?"
The black sword Mukuro had thrown aside reappeared in his hand. The first few transfigured humans rushed forward, only to be cut cleanly in half in a flash. Their bodies hit the ground before they even realized what had happened.
Right after that, the two bulky transfigured humans stepped in. They were clearly different from the small fry.
"Soul Multiplicity: Polymorphic Soul Isomer."
Mahito had forcibly fused several souls that did not strongly reject each other. Their physical strength and burst power far surpassed that of ordinary transfigured humans.
Whoosh!
With sharp air-breaking sounds, the two leapt up and charged straight at Mukuro.
Bang!
Four powerful fists smashed down together. Mukuro stepped back, and two deep craters appeared where he had just been standing.
"What's wrong? Where's that strength you used on me earlier? Don't tell me you can't bring yourself to swing because they used to be human!"
Mahito laughed arrogantly in his final form.
As the most special cursed spirit, he still could not see Mukuro's soul through the body of someone with no cursed energy. Combined with how he had been beaten earlier due to technique burnout and low cursed energy, at least in his own view, Mahito had felt utterly humiliated.
Now the tide had finally turned. He waited for the moment Mukuro's soul would tremble. That would be the end of the special grade.
"They're strong, right? They're made by kneading together the souls of many people. Killing one is the same as killing a whole group!"
Mahito spread his arms wide, shouting as if trying to squeeze every bit of value out of them.
The next instant, they were dead.
Mukuro's blade rose and fell once.
And Mahito finally got the moment he had been waiting for. At the instant the blade swung, Mukuro's soul wavered.
A special grade sorcerer. A flaw had appeared.
Mahito kicked off the water, blasting several meters of spray into the air. His speed far surpassed his earlier humanoid form. He knew this chance would come only once.
So this burst of power was fueled by everything he had.
In less than a blink, he was in front of Mukuro.
Clang!
Mukuro snapped back to his senses. The black blade swung and struck Mahito's armor-like shell. Sparks flew with a metallic screech, but the blade slid off without breaking through.
"Accept my curse, Mukuro Fushiguro!" Mahito laughed wildly.
The moment the blade touched him, he knew that even with his boosted offense and defense, he could never win a direct clash. So he took a reckless gamble.
He split his body along the path of the blade, making it look as though he had been cut cleanly in half. Simultaneously, both hands landed on Mukuro's shoulders.
"Idle Transfiguration."
Mukuro's body swelled and twisted, then exploded right in front of Mahito's eyes. All that remained in his hands were two lumps of mangled flesh.
"Mmnn, hahaha! Beautiful! Is this the soul of a special grade sorcerer? So delicious!"
Mahito's upper body crashed into the water. Holding the two chunks of flesh, he burst into manic laughter.
At this moment, he felt unstoppable.
A special grade sorcerer. Stronger than Satoru Gojo.
So what?!
"Are you excited? Happy?"
A familiar voice sounded nearby, carrying a teasing tone.
Mahito froze. He knew that voice too well. But that person shouldn't… he looked down at the lumps in his hands.
They were the heads of the two Polymorphic Soul Isomers.
"Pff!"
A sharp pain exploded from his waist. Mahito spat out a mouthful of blood and looked down.
His body had not been deliberately split.
It had truly been cut clean in half.
Dark green blood spread across the water's surface.
"What are you, exactly?!" Mahito screamed as he tried to stop the bleeding, forcing cursed energy to patch his damaged soul, only to find that almost none remained.
At this point, he was breaking down. This was no longer about winning or losing. He couldn't even touch his opponent.
That terrifying power was impossible to deal with.
Mukuro could have crushed him at any moment, yet deliberately created illusions, letting Mahito believe he could win. Then, at the peak of his excitement, he was thrown straight into the abyss.
The emotional whiplash drove Mahito nearly insane.
"Just a little illusion and you're already losing it? I wanted to keep playing. Stay with me."
Mukuro stepped closer and crouched down with a smile. The number in his right eye shifted from "1" to "6."
"Who wants to—"
Rip!
Before Mahito could finish, Mukuro grabbed his face and tore off the armor-like shell, exposing the blood-soaked stitched face beneath.
"Idle—"
Even now, Mahito struggled. His trembling hands weakly reached for Mukuro's ankle.
Psh!
Both arms were severed. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
All that remained was a half torso with no arms, lying quietly in the river.
The Black Flash state had long passed. Mahito's cursed energy drained rapidly. He no longer had the strength to rebuild his body.
"Mechamaru, how many pieces do you think I should cut him into so he stays right on the edge of death?"
Mukuro rested the back of his blade on his shoulder and asked a question that sounded like something straight from a demon to Mahito.
"Huh? Sensei, you're not killing him?" Kokichi asked, confused. He had no idea how to answer that.
Was this… an extra lesson?
"Forget it. I'll do it myself. If it hurts too much, scream louder. My hearing's bad."
Mukuro's blade traced along the stitched lines of Mahito's body, cutting upward piece by piece. In moments, only a head remained, as if Mahito had given up resisting.
Bang!
A strange sound rang out. Mukuro looked up.
The curtain in the sky had shattered.
'That old man? Or Jogo and the others?'
Light suddenly returned to Mahito's dead eyes.
In the instant both of them looked up, tiny legs sprouted from the remaining head. It bolted toward the source of cursed energy with everything it had.
Friend or foe did not matter. If it was an ally, he would be saved. If it was another sorcerer, he could take a hostage.
Mahito's face twisted with excitement. The stubby legs ran so fast they left afterimages.
He had already decided. Using his last cursed energy to fight Mukuro meant certain death. So he poured everything into this single gamble.
And now, he had won.
"Give me—"
At last, a black-cloaked figure came into view.
Mahito had never wanted a human at his side more than he did in that moment. Drooling, tiny hands growing from his head, he lunged toward the figure.
Boom!
Space split open, and a dragon-shaped curse burst out, slamming him to the ground with a single claw.
"What kind of gift is this little thing supposed to be?"
Watching Mukuro, who was following leisurely behind Mahito, the black-claoked figure pulled down his hood, revealing a distinctive tuft of bangs that swayed in the wind.
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