Omniverse: The Invincible Me Just Wants to Slack Off

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

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

At this moment of ten thousand jun—

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

A sound so soft, like the sharpest paper knife slicing through stiff cardstock.

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

Then, a mirror-smooth cut clearly appeared at the midpoint of that thick arm!

At the incision, rock-like gray muscle, hard bone... all matter was instantly separated!

The severed surface was so flat it reflected the distant burning flames!

The massive severed arm, like a boulder losing its support, crashed to the ground beside Fushiguro Megumi with a heavy thud, kicking up a wave of air mixed with rock dust that nearly suffocated him!

Fushiguro Megumi's pupils dilated sharply! The resolute smile of mutual destruction on his face froze solid! His mind went blank!

What happened?!

Mahoraga's movements also paused for an extremely brief moment; its head tilted slightly down, as if it too was "looking" at its own suddenly missing arm stump.

A figure, somehow, had already stood between Fushiguro Megumi and that terrifying Shikigami.

White hair, an upright back.

He didn't even glance back at Fushiguro Megumi, who was frozen in shock. He just casually lowered his eyes, as if he had merely brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve.

"Mahoraga?" Chen Tian's flat voice rang out, like confirming an unimportant name. "Alright, since we've met."

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze seeming to flick toward Choso, who lay limp on the ground, covered in filth, already driven mad with fear.

"And one... Mahito."

Chen Tian's gaze turned toward the darkness in the distance, his wrist lifting slightly.

'Clean these two up, and I can go home.'

"ROOOAR—!!!"

Mahoraga's lipless maw let out a thunderous, rumbling roar! Flesh buds squirmed at the wound of its severed left arm, as if trying to regenerate, but were forcibly stopped by some lingering will of severance!

Its remaining right arm shot up! The spiral sword wrapped in ominous energy, engraved with ancient exorcism runes—the "Sword of Exorcism"—suddenly blazed with blinding dark purple cursed energy!

The air churned and tore like thick liquid! Where the blade pointed, space itself groaned under the strain!

No tricks, just pure power and destruction! The giant sword rent the atmosphere, descending with terrifying force to crush the tiny white-haired figure below!

The gale hammered down like a solid weight, whipping Chen Tian's white hair and robes wildly!

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

He just shifted his stance slightly, dodging the blade's direct path.

His left hand, at some point, had already steadied on the hilt of the Enma Sword at his waist. Fingers closed.

"Dimension Slash."

Clang—!!!

The Enma Sword, drawn an inch!

Vroom—!!!!

In an instant! The space in the fan-shaped area before Chen Tian became like an icy lake struck by a boulder!

Countless faint blue, crisscrossing sharp marks appeared out of nowhere! No trajectory, no sequence! Like a net of death woven from absolute severance, suddenly spreading across heaven and earth!

Thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip—!!!

A dense, skull-splitting sound of cutting, like rain hammering banana leaves, rang out clearly across Mahoraga's massive body all at once!

Mahoraga's sword-swinging motion froze instantly!

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

Crackle—!!!

The massive "Dharma Wheel" floating above Mahoraga's head like a ship's rudder let out a grating, agonized screech, as if countless intricate gears were being forcibly jammed!

The wheel trembled and spun wildly, its complex runes flashing bright then dimming rapidly, trying to analyze and adapt to the destructive severance filling the space!

But—useless!

The blue blade-light net branded itself onto Mahoraga's rock-like gray-white skin, cutting deep into its muscles, bones, and joints! Every intersection was an absolutely smooth cut point!

Mahoraga's colossal body, along with the raised Sword of Exorcism, was instantly sliced into hundreds of mirror-smooth cubic blocks, as if precisely divided by an invisible ruler!

Faint blue residual light flickered at the cuts, sealing the gushing cursed energy tight!

Boom—!!!

The massive chunks of flesh, mixed with heavy spiral sword fragments, crashed down like a collapsing mountain of blocks onto the open ground between Fushiguro Megumi and Chen Tian! Kicking up a cloud of dust!

With a crisp "clink," the Enma Sword returned to its sheath.

He slowly turned around.

His gaze fell upon Fushiguro Megumi, who was kneeling on the ground, blood staining his abdomen, his face drained of color, like a petrified statue.

"It's dealt with." Chen Tian's voice was steady without a single ripple, as if stating an established fact. "Leave here quickly."

Fushiguro Megumi's brain had completely stopped thinking.

The arrogance, the resolve, the martyr-like solemnity on his face—all of it was shattered into dust before the sight of that mythical Shikigami being instantly dismembered into fragments!

He stiffly lifted his head, his pupils trembling like an earthquake as they focused on Chen Tian's face.

An absurd realization shot through his nerve endings like an electric current!

White hair... that star... that terrifying slash...

A name forced its way out of his dry, blood-deprived throat, trembling with disbelief:

"Ne... Nero?!"

Chen Tian's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

He didn't answer Fushiguro Megumi's question, not even pausing for a moment.

Chen Tian's figure vanished without warning, as if erased by a rubber eraser.

Only the cold air twisted faintly for an instant before returning to dead silence.

All that remained on the scene were Fushiguro Megumi, breathing heavily; Choso, slumped limply on the ground; and the pile of Mahoraga's rubble, slowly sinking into the shadows of the floor, its edges flickering with a faint blue glow.

The smell of blood, dust, and a burnt odor from space being forcibly cut mixed together, nauseating.

The wild joy of surviving a disaster struck Choso's fear-paralyzed nerves like an electric current.

He scrambled with his hands and feet, struggling to get up from the ground. The terror-twisted expression on his face flipped violently into a manic, almost insane glee.

"Ha... ha... ha!!" A dry, harsh laugh squeezed out of his throat, mixed with the gurgle of swallowed saliva. "Alive... I'm alive! This old man lived through anoth—"

The last syllable cut off abruptly! Like a duck with its neck wrung.

Choso's body froze in place.

The wild grin on his face turned into a frozen plaster mask, instantly filled with shock and incomprehensible confusion.

He moved sluggishly, lowering his head with agonizing slowness to look at his own body.

Fushiguro Megumi looked up blankly, just in time to see this bizarre scene: Choso frozen in place, his eyes fixed on his own chest, arms, abdomen... as if looking at something that didn't belong to him.

In his field of vision, on Choso's skin exposed through his tattered clothes, countless extremely fine, faint blue lines had silently appeared.

These lines crisscrossed like the most precise grid, enveloping his entire body.

At the edges of the lines, the space showed an unnatural, slightly twisted texture.

That was... residual sword light?!

A chill, colder and deeper than facing Mahoraga head-on, seized Fushiguro Megumi's heart!

"No..." Choso's throat squeezed out the first faint breath, carrying an unbelievable terror.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Like countless strings snapping in an instant!

Extremely faint, extremely dense cutting sounds rang out simultaneously on Choso's body! So soft they were almost drowned out by the heartbeat!

His pupils dilated to their limit, all expression frozen on his face, leaving only the deepest fear and confusion.

Then, in Fushiguro Megumi's eyes, Choso's body, along with his tattered clothes, was sliced through as if by an invisible scalpel precise to the nanometer level!

Along those faint blue lines—

Head, torso, limbs... instantly fell apart!

No gushing blood (because every cut surface was sealed by instant high heat and spatial force), only edges smooth as mirrors, faintly shimmering with a blue glow!

His body, like a tower of blocks kicked apart by a mischievous child, collapsed in a dull "crash"!

Hundreds of oddly shaped, smooth-edged human "parts," mixed with a few strands of neatly severed fabric fragments, scattered across the ground like disassembled components.

Among them, a fragment of the head held a completely twisted face, etched with ultimate terror, its hollow eyes staring blankly at the sky.

Only then did the sweet, bloody smell belatedly spread, thick enough to choke.

Fushiguro Megumi suddenly covered his mouth, a violent retching sensation surging up his throat. His pupils trembled violently, his vision almost unable to focus.

That last shred of relief from moments ago was ground to powder by the silent, eerily extreme "dismemberment" before him. Fear, like icy tidewater, instantly drowned his consciousness.

Chapter 8: Shibuya Ends

Deep beneath Shibuya.

Twisted, extending abandoned tracks stretched like the intestines of a giant beast, damp mold spreading over concrete pillars. The air was murky, mixed with the smell of rust, dust, and a faint trace of blood.

A drop of viscous liquid seeped from a cracked pipe, hitting the ground in the dead silence with a hollow sound.

"Aiya..." A light, slightly bored voice broke the stillness.

Mahito sat cross-legged on the cold, filthy edge of the tracks, one hand propping up his cheek, the other casually fiddling with a twisted piece of concrete rubble.

His face, stitched with sutures, wore an expression less like grief and more like someone tallying up toys he'd bought by mistake.

"Dagon's dead, Hanami's dead, Jogo..." He tilted his head, the sutures pulling into a half-smile, half-smirk. "Oh, looks like he's still alive? But those sorcerers caught him."

He clicked his tongue, easily crushing the fragments between his fingers into finer dust. "Probably won't last much longer anyway."

He stopped moving abruptly, turning his head. Those heterochromatic pupils fixed on the figure standing silently in the shadows beside him.

"By the way, who the hell is that white-haired guy? Jogo!"

From the shadows, clad in a worn monk's robe with a half-draped kasaya, Ryoumen Sukuna's gaze was cold.

The knowing, all-seeing smile that once graced his face was gone, replaced by a deep, heavy solemnity, like ink that refused to dissolve.

His narrow eyes narrowed further, piercing through the darkness as if trying to make out some presence that wasn't there.

"Nero..." Sukuna's voice was low, carrying a rare hint of doubt and confusion. "In the past two years, the most reliable intelligence has confirmed he's a complete 'ordinary person'..."

He slowly raised a hand, his fingertips unconsciously twisting the hem of his hanging robe—a subtle gesture that betrayed his inner turmoil.

"A thorough 'ordinary person.' In any intelligence report, there's not a single shred of evidence linking him to cursed energy or techniques." His voice paused, a thread of cold absurdity flowing through his words. "He's just... a singing idol."

Mahito's eyes widened dramatically, the sutures at the corners of his mouth nearly splitting. "Ha?! An ordinary person?!" He looked as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world, his body trembling slightly from suppressed laughter. "So ordinary that he could slash apart Sukuna-sama's 'Fukuma Mizushi' with one strike? So ordinary that he forcibly cleaved the King of Curses back into that brat Itadori's body?"

He suddenly leaned in close to Sukuna, his strange pupils gleaming with a bizarre light in the dim shadows. "Oi oi oi, Sukuna, that joke's not funny at all! That was fifteen-finger Sukuna! A Domain Expansion! And an 'ordinary person'... shattered it with brute force?! Ha?!"

Mahito spread his arms theatrically, leaning back, his tone dripping with absurd mockery.

Sukuna was unmoved by his performance.

He remained silent, a churning fog of unprecedented confusion deep in his eyes.

A thousand years of accumulated experience and scheming seemed to totter on the brink of collapse before this sudden variable.

Nero... that face, perfect as a masterpiece of God, that figure shining on the stage, and the azure blade scar that split the sky above Shibuya—they tore and reassembled wildly in his mind.

"His power..." Sukuna's voice was low and hoarse, as if groping for a concept difficult to comprehend. "It's not cursed energy, nor reversed technique. It's a kind of... pure will. A more absolute intention. Manifested upon space itself."