The morning peace was short-lived. By noon, Makima had assigned the "Newcomers" to a cleanup mission in an abandoned industrial district.
Denji and Power tagged along, mostly because Denji was promised a burger and Power wanted to see if the "Ghost Boy" would bleed.
They were tracking the Bat Devil's leftovers—a swarm of minor, fly-like Devils that had infested a warehouse.
But as they entered, the air grew thick and heavy, vibrating with a frequency Okarun recognized instantly.
"Wait,"
Okarun whispered, his white hair beginning to ripple.
"This isn't a swarm. It's a lure."
From the shadows of the rafters, a massive, spindly creature descended.
It was the Stitch Devil, a mass of jagged needles and thread that sought to sew reality together into a stagnant mess.
"I'll handle this!"
Power yelled, forming a blood spear. She lunged, but the Stitch Devil simply vibrated its body, allowing the spear to pass harmlessly through its "seams."
"It's phasing!"
Momo shouted, her hands glowing pink.
"Okarun, it's using the same trick you do!"
Okarun stepped forward. He didn't look scared anymore.
The Sukuna-energy in his veins thrummed in rhythm with his Turbo-engine.
"If it's in the same layer as me... then I can cut it."
Okarun vanished. He didn't just run; he accelerated into the Cutting Phase.
To Denji and Power, he became a series of crimson-violet flashes streaking through the warehouse.
SHRAK! SHRAK! SHRAK!
Each time Okarun passed through the Stitch Devil, the space itself groaned.
Using the "Cleave" style he had subconsciously learned from Sukuna's fragment, Okarun didn't just hit the Devil—he adjusted his frequency to match its seams and sliced them apart.
The Stitch Devil shrieked as its "un-hittable" body was diced into perfect, glowing cubes.
As the Devil began to dissolve into black smoke, Okarun didn't stop.
He felt that familiar, hollow hunger in his chest—the one he'd felt with the Phase Devil and the Finger.
"He's doing it again!"
Momo watched, her eyes wide, as she moved to his side to act as his anchor.
"Okarun, be careful!"
Okarun reached into the center of the evaporating Devil.
His hand turned into a translucent violet vortex. Instead of the Devil's power manifesting in him, the smoke was sucked directly into his core. He wasn't gaining a new "technique"; he was digesting the raw essence of the Devil to fuel his own engine.
A massive surge of heat erupted from Okarun. The violet light in his eyes grew sharper, more focused.
"I don't feel its power,"
Okarun gasped, his body steaming.
"But the 'Golden Line'... Ayase-san, look!"
He opened his hand. The faint golden trail leading back to Kamigoe City, which had been a thin thread, was now the width of a rope. It pulsed with newfound stability.
"It's like... a battery,"
Okarun said, his voice deep and resonant.
"The Devils in this world are pure conceptual energy. If I absorb enough of them, I can create a bridge strong enough to push through the distance to our world."
Denji walked up, poking the spot where the Devil used to be.
"Whoa. You just... ate the whole thing? No mess? No blood? Man, your cleanup is way better than mine."
Power looked disappointed.
"You did not leave me the head! How am I to boast of a kill if the ghost-boy drinks the prize?!"
Momo ignored them, her face softening as she looked at Okarun.
She could feel his heart beating—stronger, more mechanical, but definitely him.
"So, we just need to hunt more? We turn this world into a gas station until we have enough to get home?"
"Exactly,"
Okarun nodded, a determined look on his face.
He looked toward the Tokyo skyline.
Somewhere out there was the Gun Devil—the greatest source of fear in this world.
Okarun knew that if he could get a piece of that, they wouldn't just go home; they'd have enough power to ensure they never got lost again.