The chaos of Shibuya was a sensory nightmare.
Screams echoed through the concrete tunnels, and the air was thick with a "Curtain" so dark it felt like obsidian.
As Okarun and Momo moved toward the center of the district, they stumbled upon a scene of carnage.
A Grade 2 Curse was hunched over a small, wooden box, its elongated fingers trembling with greed. The box had been forced open, revealing a mummified, wax-like finger wrapped in restrictive charms.
Even from twenty feet away, the pressure was suffocating.
"Okarun, don't get near that!"
Momo shouted, her psychic aura flaring in a desperate warning.
"That energy... it's not just malice. It's an apocalypse in a jar!"
The Curse hissed, lunging for the finger. But Okarun was faster.
His Turbo-Phase form flickered, and in a violet flash, he was standing over the box.
"I have to move it,"
Okarun whispered, his voice a distorted hum.
He reached down to grab the finger, intending to phase it into a pocket dimension.
The moment his fingers brushed the cursed object, a bolt of black lightning arced through his body.
Inside Okarun's mind, a massive, skeletal throne room materialized.
A four-armed shadow leaned forward, a sadistic grin spreading across its face.
"A new host? How bold—"
But Sukuna's voice cut off into a choke.
Okarun wasn't a vessel. He wasn't a container. His Turbo Devil nature, combined with the Phase Devil's spatial hunger, reacted to the finger like a predator encountering a high-calorie meal.
"I'm not... letting you in,"
Okarun roared, his white hair turning a violent, glowing crimson.
The Turbo-engine in his chest began to spin at impossible revolutions.
He didn't just touch the finger—he consumed the energy radiating from it.
The mummified digit didn't disappear, but the cursed power within it was forcibly stripped away, pulled into the vacuum of Okarun's two devil hearts, and didn't know he had it.
Okarun screamed as his body underwent a terrifying structural change.
His "racing suit" skin turned pitch black with crimson etchings that mimicked Sukuna's tattoos.
His white hair didn't just trail off into static; it became as sharp as monomolecular wire.
Momo watched in horror as the Grade 2 Curse lunged at Okarun.
Okarun didn't punch.
He didn't kick. He simply stepped to the side.
As he moved, the space he occupied seemed to shiver.
A series of invisible, razor-thin lines sliced through the air.
The Curse didn't even have time to scream before it was diced into a hundred perfect cubes, evaporating into purple mist before the pieces even hit the ground.
"Okarun... what was that?"
Momo gasped, her hands trembling as she reached out to him.
Okarun turned to her. His eyes were no longer just human—they were glowing with a pale, predatory light.
"I can feel it, Ayase-san. The space around me... it's not just a road anymore. It's a blade."
Deep within the subway, Yuji Itadori suddenly clutched his chest, gasping for air.
"Well, well..."
A voice echoed inside his head. Sukuna was laughing—a genuine, amused sound.
"It seems a little thief has stolen a bite of my soul. And he didn't even die."
"Sukuna? What are you talking about?"
Yuji gritted his teeth, fighting the nausea.
"Find him, brat,"
Sukuna commanded, his voice dripping with murderous intrigue.
"I want to see the face of the one who thinks he can digest the King of Curses."
Okarun stood in the middle of the street, the "Cutting Phase" aura flickering around him.
He felt stronger than he ever had—stronger than Granny Turbo, stronger than the Phase Devil. But with every beat of his heart, he felt a cold, sharp hunger for more.
"We have to go to the station,"
Okarun said, his voice now carrying a terrifying authority.
"I can see the 'seams' of the barriers now. I'm going to cut them all down."