Outside the Curtain, Iori Utahime stood with her hands folded inside her sleeves.
She wasn't worried.
A Third Grade cursed spirit wasn't a threat to Zenin Mai or Miwa Kasumi. Either of them could handle it alone.
As for Fujima Ren—
Utahime recalled the pale tension in his face earlier, the way his breathing had tightened the moment the mission was mentioned.
If the curse they were hunting approached him, it would be the one in danger.
Ren's body alone already rivaled a Grade 1 sorcerer. Add his cursed energy output and that anomalous Innate Technique, and he was the most dangerous presence in the building.
The problem wasn't his strength.
It was his memory.
His first encounter had been with something far beyond normal—a stitched-faced curse that toyed with souls. That kind of trauma distorted perspective.
This mission wasn't about eliminating a Third Grade.
It was about recalibrating Ren's understanding of himself.
Utahime lifted her chin slightly.
She wanted to see him walk back out of that factory without fear.
Inside, the air was damp and metallic.
A ripple distorted the concrete floor ahead of them.
Something rose from it—a grotesque, catfish-like body supported by six human arms and legs, all bending at wrong angles.
Ren's stomach clenched.
Mai raised her revolver.
One shot.
The curse exploded into fragments of black mist.
Ren exhaled sharply. "Is that it?"
Mai was already reloading. "Hardly. That wasn't even Fourth Grade."
More shapes stirred in the shadows.
She glanced sideways at him.
"First time seeing them up close?"
Ren hesitated. "Second."
The first had crushed him. Torn him apart. Reassembled him.
His jaw tightened.
The memory of flesh twisting with others' bones flickered behind his eyes. His fingers trembled faintly before he forced them still.
Cursed spirits.
He was about to face them again.
Mai noticed.
Her expression shifted—less sharp, more distant for a moment.
"You get used to it," she said quietly.
She reached out as if to grab his clenched fist, then changed her mind and instead tapped his shoulder.
"Next one's yours."
Ren blinked. "What?"
"It's an order."
"We're classmates."
"You're observing us," she replied coolly. "So treat us like instructors for today."
A winged human head peeled itself from the ceiling above, blood leaking from its eyes.
Before Ren could respond, Mai shoved him forward.
The head shrieked as it dove.
Instinct took over.
Ren's hand moved.
A blade of condensed blue cursed energy formed along his palm and snapped outward in a clean arc.
The head split in two.
The severed halves dissolved into smoke before touching the ground.
The slash didn't stop there.
A jagged line carved upward through the ceiling. Concrete burst apart. Dust and debris rained down as multiple floors above were torn through in a straight path.
Silence followed.
Ren stared upward at the exposed layers of the building.
He hadn't intended that much output.
Behind him, Mai crossed her arms.
"See?" she said evenly. "They're not the same as the one you met before."
Ren swallowed.
The gap in power was undeniable.
This thing had barely reached him.
"You're stronger than they are," Mai added. "By a lot."
He blinked again, the realization settling into place.
The fear he'd been carrying wasn't gone—but it was no longer overwhelming.
More curses emerged from dark corners—distorted torsos, crawling limbs, malformed faces.
This time, Ren stepped forward on his own.
Another Cleave.
Another curse dissolved.
And another.
The factory's shadows no longer felt suffocating.
They felt shallow.
He found himself watching the shapes more closely now—not with dread, but with curiosity. How far could a human emotion warp into something like this?
Steel rang.
Miwa drew her blade in a flash of silver and cut a curse cleanly in half.
Her movements were sharp and efficient.
Reliable.
Ren nodded faintly.
He had underestimated them.
He glanced between Mai's precise gunfire and Miwa's disciplined swordwork.
"By the way," he asked, almost casually, "what Grade are you two?"
Mai's revolver clicked empty mid-rotation.
Miwa's blade hesitated.
"…Third," they answered in unison after a pause.
Ren blinked. "Third?"
Mai's face flushed instantly.
"Don't make that tone," she snapped.
"I didn't—"
"Don't look at us like that either!"
Ren frowned, genuinely confused.
He hadn't meant anything by it.
He'd just assumed that since they were handling Third Grade curses so comfortably, they must be at least a level above.
He processed the information silently.
So Third Grade sorcerers could eliminate Third Grade curses without much trouble.
Then what, exactly, had Utahime sent him into?
He glanced at the collapsing remains of another curse dissolving into smoke.
The answer was obvious.
A lesson.
And it was working.