An End for the Innocent Hundred Demons, Part One

"Makoto, you seem distracted?"

Suguru Geto's voice drifted out, carrying a sticky, serpent-like chill. His narrow fox eyes squinted slightly, sharply catching the fleeting anxiety in Mizuki Makoto's gaze—the kind that said, I'm about to break.

"Distracted?"

The corner of Mizuki Makoto's mouth twitched, but he forcibly switched back to that mocking expression capable of sending a villain's blood pressure through the roof. He even yawned elegantly, his gaze lazy.

"I was just thinking, when Gojo-sensei gets back, should I praise him for being quick, or complain that he ruined my rare 'live-action Dynasty Warriors' experience? After all, chances to mow down high-quality mobs like this don't come often."

"...Heh."

A vein throbbed on Suguru Geto's forehead, and a crack instantly appeared in his originally elegant cult-leader aura.

"Since you enjoy games so much, I'm sure you won't mind adding two more 'elite mobs,' will you, Makoto?"

He raised his hand again. Though he still did not dare charge in for close combat—Mizuki Makoto: Thank you for your caution—two more Special Grade imaginary cursed spirits, each the size of a small mountain, emerged from the shadows behind him as though by magic.

(Damn it! Geto Suguru, how much stock do you even have?! This is the fifth one already, isn't it?! Have you been so cursed-suppressed all these years away from that white-haired old man?! Did you buy out the entire cursed spirit encyclopedia?!)

Mizuki Makoto let out a miserable roar inside his head, yet he still had to maintain that infuriating smile that said, "Is that all?"

He frantically squeezed every last drop from Ushura Bullet. This spatial-displacement defense was relatively economical in cursed energy, but its drain on his brain cells was practically suicidal.

It was like trying to run Assassin's Creed: Origins at maximum settings on a cobbled-together computer whose fan could barely spin. His graphics card was overheating to the point of catching fire, yet he still had to crank the monitor brightness to maximum and thump his chest while bragging to the neighbors, "Look at this! My graphics are smooth as silk!"

[Current time: 08:33. Objective: Hold out for another 11 minutes and 27 seconds.]

"Makoto! Is it not done yet?!" Maki's voice came through the earpiece, suppressed to its limit.

"Soon... soon..." Mizuki Makoto muttered through gritted teeth, so quietly that only he could hear himself.

Brother Miguel, I was a little loud earlier. You're a real man! I'm begging you, stop forcing yourself to hold on! And Gojo-sensei, please hurry up and kick that black guy with the whip who has everything backward into the sky, then blink back here immediately and take over this mess!

The cost of maintaining overloaded defense for so long was that large red blotches had begun appearing across his retina.

In his eyes, Suguru Geto's signature bun had started leaving afterimages—three, five, black buns everywhere across the damn mountains!

"Mr. Geto, seriously." Mizuki Makoto wiped away the blood seeping from the corner of his eye and showed a grin on the verge of collapse. "If you don't bring out something more impressive, I'm really going to start picturing Planet of the Apes whenever I look at you."

The pressure around Suguru Geto instantly dropped below freezing.

Meanwhile, Mizuki Makoto screamed inwardly.

Gojo Satoru! If you don't get back soon, next year you'll only be able to offer the final volume of Gojo Mai: Household Affairs at my grave! And it'll be an unfinished one! The kind without an ending!!!

His brain was so hot it felt ready to melt, while the ringing in his ears sounded like a thousand cicadas having a wild dance party in his skull.

I know, I know, damn it, stop yelling! My brain is already overloaded! Ushura Bullet's passive defense had reached its limit. To make this meticulous man fully retreat, there was only one option—hit him with something even more shocking, something even more Gojo Satoru-like: a dimensionality-crushing blow.

(Todo Aoi, my brother from another father and mother whom I have never met, sorry about this. Today, I'm borrowing the violent aesthetic of that "truck" that ran you over!)

[Technique Switch: Echo Mimicry—Linked Target Changed: Tsukumo Yuki's "Star's Fury"]

BOOM—!

The flow of cursed energy within Mizuki Makoto instantly transformed from "light threads" into a "rampaging black hole." Though all he had copied was the surface of that "virtual mass," it was enough to raise the stakes of this deception.

He suddenly took a step forward, and the concrete beneath his feet shattered outward in a radial pattern, unable to withstand that virtual crushing weight!

"This is the cheat code personally passed down by Gojo-sensei—Nine Phases, Dusk, Eye of Wisdom!"

He extended his right hand, his five fingers loosely curled. The light at his fingertips was no longer pure azure, but stained with a suffocatingly heavy dark red.

—[Low-Grade Version: Star's Fury] + [Low-Grade Version: Azure].

Under the brutal fusion of Limitless, those two violent forces underwent a qualitative change like a chemical reaction.

Azure Fury—play!

BANG—!!!!!

With him as the center, the space within thirty meters seemed to be viciously kneaded apart by an invisible giant hand. The two Special Grade cursed spirits did not even have time to scream before the irresistible attraction pulled them into grotesque strips, and the terrifying pressure erupting from the center directly ground them into ash scattered across the sky!

When the raging smoke and dust finally dispersed, Mizuki Makoto stood alone at the center of the enormous crater. White smoke rose from his bare shoulder, and the crimson light at his fingertips flickered in and out, making him look impossibly cool.

Suguru Geto stared fixedly at Mizuki Makoto. The composed posture of a cult leader who had everything under control had completely fallen apart.

Before him, this mere Grade 2 sorcerer not only possessed fine control over Limitless, but had also concealed such violence that could instantly kill Special Grade cursed spirits?

"Grade 2 sorcerer"... the phrase stabbed into his memories like a rusted nail.

In the summer of 2006, he and Gojo Satoru had once worn that same rank like a badge, full of youthful confidence as they declared, "We are the strongest."

That sensation of treating space like a toy and toying with the laws of physics in one's palm...

"Satoru... that's impossible..." he murmured.

He trusted Gojo Satoru too much. He knew him too well. That attraction capable of instantly killing a Special Grade was undoubtedly genuine, a completely authentic Azure!

In his eyes, Mizuki Makoto was no longer an imitator. He was a second monster, rapidly hatching—a monster that had perfectly inherited every one of Gojo Satoru's insane traits!

"Satoru... what kind of monster have you been hiding at Jujutsu High?"

Suguru Geto's fingers gripping Playful Cloud had gone white at the knuckles from excessive force.

—Satoru, is this what it means to be the strongest? Even after I left, could you create another me, or even another you?!

(Yes, exactly! Geto, keep imagining. Keep being terrified!)

Mizuki Makoto inwardly gave the cult leader's imagination a frantic thumbs-up.

For someone like Suguru Geto, who had once come infinitely close to being "the strongest," that sense of familiarity had instead become his greatest weakness. If that kind of violence could be "inherited," if Gojo Satoru had truly found a way to mass-produce these "little monsters"... then Geto Suguru's struggle over the past decade would truly have been nothing but a complete joke!

Yet behind all that gorgeous smoke and dust, the real Mizuki Makoto was already on the verge of falling apart.

Only he knew that the forcibly fused Azure Fury from earlier had not been some effortless miracle. It had been an all-or-nothing gamble that had emptied him completely!

To simulate "virtual mass" convincing enough to deceive a Special Grade's eyes, his once-abundant cursed energy had instantly fallen below the red line. The pressure on his brain was even more horrifying—his neurons now hurt as though someone had poured concentrated sulfuric acid over them.

His vision had blurred badly, and Suguru Geto before him had already become a twisted mass of blackness. The only reason he could still maintain this arrogant pose with both hands in his pockets and his chin raised was because of a single obsessive grudge: I absolutely have to survive!

(This is the kind of battle of wits that rivals Zhongli faking his death! As long as I don't fall, all you'll ever see is the abyss called [the strongest]!)

Mizuki Makoto forcibly swallowed the sweet, bloody taste rising in his throat, maintaining that outrageously punchable mocking curve at the corner of his mouth. Even though a light breeze could probably knock him flat right now, until Suguru Geto figured out the truth, that man would never dare gamble with his life.

"Oh my, old man, why did your expression suddenly become so interesting?"

Mizuki Makoto tilted his head. The dark-red light of that "fake Azure Fury" still flickered in the ruins—actually because he was about to lose control of his cursed energy output—but in Suguru Geto's eyes, it was probably a death signal that said, "I'm ready to launch a second strike at any moment."

He wiped his forehead, soaked in blood and sweat, and smiled with savage madness.

"Ha~ Are you wondering what this move is called? Sensei said this was an extracurricular teaching tool specially prepared to prove the 'new era.' As for its name... how about Farewell to the Past?"

He deliberately threw out a barbed taunt, accurately stabbing the other man right in the lungs.

"If this is all your 'In-Class Test' amounts to, then I really overestimated you, former 'strongest.' Before Sensei blinks back and drags you off to write a self-criticism, why not quietly draft one in your head first? When Sensei gets back and sees his 'mass-produced' result beat you flat, what pose should you use to make your exit without looking too pathetic? I recommend a dogeza."

[Current time: 11 minutes and 53 seconds. Objective: Hold out for another 8 minutes and 7 seconds.]

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