The last thing Suguru Geto remembered was pain. A hand—Satoru Gojo's—steady and merciless against his broken body. The warmth of friendship that once existed between them was gone, replaced by inevitability: betrayal, loss, and justice. Darkness swallowed him whole, and for a brief moment, he welcomed it.
But death was not the end.
When Geto's eyes opened again, the air reeked of oil, rust, and blood. A world far louder than his own greeted him—sirens wailing in the distance, advertisements flashing on screens overhead, and beneath it all, the gnawing static of something far more sinister.
Not curses.
Something other.
He stood in the middle of a deserted street, surrounded by shattered glass and flickering neon lights. Corpses lay mangled nearby, torn apart by claws and teeth too grotesque to belong to animals. Yet, their killers had left no cursed energy behind. Instead, an oppressive force clung to the air—visceral, primal fear, woven into reality itself.
Geto frowned. This… isn't jujutsu.
A shriek split the night. From the alley staggered a creature with a head shaped like a gun barrel, jagged teeth dripping with blood. Its body was a mess of metal and sinew, fear given form. It was no cursed spirit, but the atmosphere it exuded was unmistakable—human terror, crystallized into a predator.
Geto's lips curved into a dark smile.
"Interesting. You're no curse. But you smell like one."
The creature snarled and lunged. Geto's reflexes carried him forward, sidestepping effortlessly, his hand already swirling with black orbs—captured curses, his arsenal even beyond death. The spirits lashed out at his command, pinning the beast against the concrete.
With a practiced motion, Geto extended his hand. The monster's form convulsed as its essence tore free, condensing into a dark sphere. He lifted it to his lips and swallowed.
The taste was different—sharper, heavier, almost metallic—but the result was the same. Knowledge flooded him: the Gun Devil fragment's savage hunger, the echo of its power. His body accepted it, and he felt the familiar weight of control settle into place.
Geto's grin widened.
"So, even devils can be ingested."
The corpse dissolved into nothing, leaving behind only silence. This world was teeming with beings like that—born not from negative energy, but from human fear itself. If they could all be consumed, then this realm was nothing short of a banquet.
A banquet waiting for its king.
He stood, scanning the city skyline. The night pulsed with movement, countless devils lurking unseen. A world where humanity's imagination birthed monsters more tangible than curses. A world crying out for someone strong enough to bend it to order.
"Monkeys," he muttered, almost fondly. "Even here, they create their own suffering."
For a brief moment, Geto thought of Gojo—those unrelenting blue eyes, that merciless final strike. Their story should have ended there. And yet, fate had offered him a new chapter in a world overflowing with devils to consume, armies to command, and humanity once again at his feet.
Suguru Geto walked into the blood-soaked night.
In this realm of devils, he would rise again—
and this time, nothing would stop him.