"I'm in a good mood right now-you can all come at me together."
Kashimo lifted his chin, sweeping his gaze over them.
He had deliberately raised the detonation altitude of Maximum Technique: Skyfall, confining the destructive force that could have engulfed the entire competition grounds to the air above. He hadn't expected it to kill anyone anyway. Mechamaru was a remotely controlled mechanical cursed corpse; the destruction of the puppet generally wouldn't affect its operator.
As for the Blood Manipulation user who had been blown apart, Kashimo glanced over his mutilated corpse without lingering for even a second. He wasn't a good person anyway. Dead was dead, and he wouldn't feel guilty about it.
Four hundred years ago, he had killed far more people than this. Every one of them had a name, a family, and unfulfilled dreams. He had never lost sleep over any of them.
After all...
Weakness was the original sin.
He withdrew his gaze and mentally tallied the results. Aside from Noritoshi Kamo, most were merely gravely injured or unconscious. Mechamaru's loss was negligible.
This was indeed what he had intended.
Deplete Jujutsu High's fighting strength as much as possible and ensure the Culling Game began swiftly. A few severed arms or legs could all be reattached with Reverse Cursed Technique, but that took time. And time was what he and Kenjaku needed most.
At the edge of the crater, Maki Zenin slowly rose to her feet. She held the long sword in her hand, its blade gleaming coldly in the dim light. There were no tears on her face, no fear-only an almost scorching anger that seeped from her very bones.
Her eyes were fixed on Kashimo, reflecting his figure-the man she had once called "teacher."
"Kashimo..."
Her fingers tightened around the hilt, her knuckles