Shibuya, Settled

The aura of death instantly froze Fushiguro Megumi's blood!

He could even feel the vicious wind kicked up by that enormous fist tearing at his skin!

At this critical moment—

A faint, extremely slender arc of blue light cut without warning across the path of Mahoraga's descending arm!

A barely audible sound, like the sharpest paper cutter slicing through thick cardstock.

Mahoraga's arm, powerful enough to shatter mountains and split rocks, abruptly stopped less than half a meter above Fushiguro Megumi's head!

Then a smooth, mirror-like cross-section appeared clearly in the middle of its thick arm!

At the cut, rock-like gray muscle, hard bone... all matter had been instantly separated!

The flat surface reflected the distant flames!

The huge severed arm crashed down beside Fushiguro Megumi with a heavy thud. The blast of air, mixed with rocky dust, nearly suffocated him!

Fushiguro Megumi's pupils abruptly widened! The resolute smile on his face, the one that said he would take his enemy down with him, froze completely! His mind went blank!

What had happened?!

Mahoraga's movements also paused for the briefest moment. Its head dipped slightly, as though it, too, were "looking" at the newly missing section of its arm.

At some point, a figure had appeared between Fushiguro Megumi and the terrifying Shikigami.

White hair, a tall, straight back.

He didn't even look back at Fushiguro Megumi, who was reeling in shock behind him. He merely lowered his eyes casually, as if he'd just brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve.

"Mahoraga?" Chen Tian's calm voice rang out, as though he were confirming an unimportant name. "All right. Since we've run into each other."

He turned his head slightly, seeming to glance at Shigeo Haruta, who was sprawled on the ground, pissing and shitting himself, scared out of his mind.

"And one more... Mahito."

Chen Tian looked toward the darkness in the distance and raised his wrist slightly.

Once I've taken care of these two, I can go home.

"ROAR—!!!"

Mahoraga let out a thunderous roar from its lipless maw! Buds of flesh writhed at the stump of its severed left arm, seemingly trying to regenerate, but some lingering intent to cut forcibly stopped them!

Its remaining right arm shot high into the air! The Spiral Sword—"Sword of Exorcism," wrapped in an ominous aura and inscribed with ancient exorcism symbols—suddenly blazed with dazzling, dark-purple Cursed Energy!

The air churned and tore like viscous liquid! The space itself groaned under the strain of the sword's point!

There was no flourish, only pure strength and destruction! The great sword tore through the atmosphere, bringing with it the terrifying force to crush everything, and came crashing down toward the tiny white-haired figure below!

The gale struck like a solid hammer, whipping Chen Tian's white hair and clothes into a frenzy!

Chen Tian didn't even look up at the descending sword.

He merely leaned slightly to one side, letting the blade miss its direct path.

His left hand was already resting firmly on the hilt of the Enma Sword at his waist. His fingers closed around it.

"Dimension Slash."

Clang—!!!

The Enma Sword slid one inch from its sheath!

Vmmmm—!!!!

In an instant! Centered on Chen Tian, the space in a fan-shaped area before him turned into an ice-covered lake struck by a boulder!

Countless crisscrossing streaks of blue light appeared out of thin air! No trajectory, no order! Like a net of death, woven from absolute cuts, spreading across the heavens and earth in an instant!

Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft—!!!

A barrage of slicing sounds, dense enough to make one's scalp tingle, rang out across Mahoraga's massive body like rain beating on banana leaves!

Mahoraga's sword swing froze abruptly!

It hung motionless in midair, like a giant insect pinned in amber! The "Sword of Exorcism," carrying the force of a thousand jun, was a hair's breadth from Chen Tian's head, yet could advance no farther!

Crack-crack-crack-crack—!!!

The enormous "Dharma Wheel" floating above Mahoraga's head, shaped like a ship's wheel, let out a grating screech, as if countless precision gears had been forcibly jammed!

The Dharma Wheel shuddered and spun wildly. The complex symbols on its surface flared to life, then rapidly dimmed as it tried to analyze and adapt to the destructive cuts filling the space!

But—it was useless!

The blue net of sword light branded itself across Mahoraga's rock-like gray-white hide, cutting deep into its muscles, bones, and joints! Every intersection was an absolutely smooth cut!

Mahoraga's massive body, along with the raised Sword of Exorcism, was precisely divided by an invisible ruler, instantly sliced into hundreds of cubes with mirror-smooth edges!

Blue light glimmered at the cuts, firmly sealing in the surging Cursed Energy!

BOOM—!!!

Huge chunks of its corpse, mixed with heavy fragments of the Spiral Sword, crashed down onto the open ground between Fushiguro Megumi and Chen Tian like a collapsing tower of blocks! Dust billowed into the air!

With a crisp click, the Enma Sword slid back into its sheath.

Only then did he slowly turn around.

His gaze fell on Fushiguro Megumi, who was kneeling on the ground, blood staining his abdomen and all color drained from his face, like a stone statue.

"It's taken care of." Chen Tian's voice was perfectly steady, without a ripple, as if stating an established fact. "Get out of here, quickly."

Fushiguro Megumi's mind had stopped working altogether.

The arrogance, resolve, and martyr-like solemnity on his face had been crushed to pieces by the sight of the mythical Shikigami being dismembered in an instant!

He stiffly raised his head, his pupils focusing on Chen Tian's face as though shaken by an earthquake.

An utterly absurd realization shot through his nerves like an electric current!

White hair... a celebrity... that terrifying slash...

A name forced its way out of his dry throat, cracked from blood loss, trembling with disbelief:

"Ne... Nero?!"

Chen Tian's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

He didn't answer Fushiguro Megumi's question. He didn't even pause.

Chen Tian's figure disappeared from where he stood without warning, as if erased by an eraser.

Only the cold air warped slightly for an instant before everything fell silent again.

All that remained at the scene were Fushiguro Megumi, breathing raggedly; Shigeo Haruta, sprawled on the ground; and the pile of Mahoraga's shattered remains, slowly sinking into the shadows on the ground, their edges flickering with a faint blue light.

The smell of blood, dust, and something charred, left behind by space being forcibly cut, mingled together and sickened the senses.

The joy of surviving against all odds struck Shigeo Haruta's fear-numbed nerves like an electric current.

He scrabbled with his hands and feet, struggling to get up. His face, twisted with terror only moments ago, abruptly transformed into a crazed, almost idiotic expression of delight.

"Ha... ha... hahaha!!" A dry, grating laugh squeezed from his throat, mixed with the gurgle of him swallowing his saliva. "I... I survived! I survived ag—"

The final syllable cut off abruptly, like a duck strangled mid-quack.

Shigeo Haruta's body suddenly stiffened in place.

His wild grin froze like a plaster mask, instantly overtaken by doubt and incomprehension.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his head and looked at his body.

Fushiguro Megumi lifted his head in confusion, just in time to witness the bizarre scene: Shigeo Haruta stood frozen, staring fixedly at his chest, arms, and abdomen... as if he were looking at something that didn't belong to him.

In his field of vision, countless extremely fine, faint blue lines had silently appeared on the skin exposed by the tatters of Shigeo Haruta's clothes.

The lines crisscrossed like a finely crafted grid, covering his entire body.

The space along their edges looked unnatural, slightly distorted.

Those were... lingering traces of the blade?!

An icy dread, deeper than what he'd felt facing Mahoraga, seized Fushiguro Megumi's heart!

"No..." The first feeble sound squeezed from Shigeo Haruta's throat, filled with incredulous terror.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Like countless strings snapping all at once!

Extremely faint, densely packed slicing sounds rang out across Shigeo Haruta's body at the same time, so quiet they were nearly drowned out by his heartbeat!

His pupils widened to their limit. Every expression froze on his face, leaving only the deepest terror and confusion.

Then, before Fushiguro Megumi's eyes, Shigeo Haruta's body, along with the tattered clothes on it, seemed to be passed over by an invisible scalpel, precise down to the nanometer!

Along those blue lines—

His head, torso, and limbs... fell apart in an instant!

There was no spray of blood, because each cut was instantly sealed by the tremendous heat and spatial force. Only smooth, mirror-like surfaces remained, glimmering faintly with blue light!

His body collapsed like a tower of blocks kicked over by a mischievous child, disintegrating with a dull clatter!

Hundreds of human "parts" of different shapes, their edges smooth as mirrors, mingled with a few neatly severed scraps of cloth and scattered across the ground.

One piece of his head bore a frozen face, twisted beyond recognition and etched with utter terror. Its vacant eyes stared straight up at the sky.

Only then did the sickly-sweet stench of blood begin to spread, so thick it was suffocating.

Fushiguro Megumi clapped a hand over his mouth. A powerful urge to retch surged into his throat, his pupils trembling violently, his vision barely able to focus.

The last trace of relief he'd felt was crushed to dust by this silent, utterly bizarre "dismemberment." Fear, like a cold tide, engulfed his consciousness.

Chapter 8: Shibuya, Settled

Deep beneath Shibuya.

The abandoned tracks twisted and stretched like the bowels of a giant beast, while damp mold spread across the concrete pillars. The air was foul, thick with the smell of rust, dust, and a faint trace of blood.

A drop of viscous liquid seeped from a broken pipe and struck the ground in the dead silence, its sound hollow.

"Well, well..." A light voice, tinged with boredom, broke the silence.

Mahito sat cross-legged on the edge of the cold, filthy tracks, propping his cheek up with one hand while casually playing with a twisted chunk of concrete in the other.

The expression on his stitched-up face seemed less like grief and more like he was tallying up toys he'd bought by mistake.

"Dagon's dead, Hanami's dead, Jogo's dead too..." He tilted his head, the stitches pulling his mouth into a crooked, almost-smile. "Oh, wait. Maybe he's still alive? But those Jujutsu Sorcerers caught him."

He curled his lip and easily crushed the chunk between his fingers into finer dust. "He probably won't last much longer, anyway."

Suddenly, he stopped and turned his head toward the figure standing motionless in the shadows beside him.

"By the way, who was that white-haired man, anyway? Jogo!"

In the shadows, Geto stood with an old monk's robe on, his outer vestment half-draped over his shoulders.

The confident smile that had seemed to see through everything vanished from his face, replaced by a deep solemnity, like ink that could not be diluted.

His narrow eyes were half-lidded. His gaze pierced the darkness as if he were trying to see an absent figure.

"Nero..." Geto's voice was low and deep, carrying a bewilderment and doubt he had never felt before. "The most popular celebrity in Japan these past few years..."

He slowly raised a hand, unconsciously rubbing the edge of his hanging robe between his fingers. The small gesture betrayed his unease.

"A thoroughly 'ordinary person.' In every report, there's not the slightest record of any connection between him and Cursed Energy or Cursed Techniques." His voice paused, a cold sense of absurdity flowing through his words. "He's just... a singer."

Mahito's eyes widened dramatically, the stitches at his grinning mouth almost tearing apart. "Huh?! An ordinary person?!" He sounded as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world, his body trembling slightly as he held back laughter. "Ordinary enough to cleave apart Sukuna's 'Fukuma Mizushi,' the one that dismantled everything? Ordinary enough to force the King of Curses back into that brat Itadori's body?"

He suddenly leaned closer to Geto, his mismatched eyes flashing with a strangely gleeful light. "Come on, Geto, that joke isn't funny at all! That was Sukuna with fifteen fingers! A Domain Expansion! And an 'ordinary person'... smashed it apart with brute force?! Huh?!"

Mahito spread his hands theatrically and leaned back, his tone dripping with ridiculous mockery.

Geto wasn't affected by his performance.

He remained silent, an unprecedented fog churning deep in his eyes.

A thousand years of accumulated experience and planning seemed to be tottering in the face of this sudden variable.

Nero... that perfect face, like a masterpiece of God, and his dazzling figure onstage clashed and reassembled in Geto's mind with the blue slash above Shibuya that had cut through everything.

"His power..." Geto's voice sank, slow and low, as though he were trying to grasp a concept he found difficult to understand. "It's neither Cursed Energy nor a reversed technique. It's a kind of... purer, more absolute will. An existence that stands above space."