On the battlefield in Shinjuku.
Amid the ravaged, scorched earth, Kashimo had just dragged himself back from the brink of death.
The instant he sensed Sukuna making a binding vow to unleash a chantless World-Cutting Slash, he used his remaining electric charge to propel himself out of position. The soundless slash skimmed his shoulder and split a bottomless fissure in the ground behind him.
He caught his breath and looked at Sukuna, who stood opposite him, battered beyond recognition yet still forcing himself to remain upright.
"Lie down and wait to die. There's no point struggling anymore," Kashimo said coldly.
"Heh..." Sukuna's lips stretched into a bleeding smile, the last of his defiance roiling in his crimson eyes. "We'll see about that."
Before his words faded, a bone-chilling cold erupted above the battlefield.
A massive block of ice materialized from thin air. Sealed within its crystalline layers were two thousand-year-old relics: Hiten and Kamutoke, the cursed tools Sukuna had wielded a millennium ago.
The instant the ice shattered, a tremendous shock wave sent Kashimo flying. Billowing white smoke swallowed Sukuna's figure.
The smoke cleared.
What emerged was a body like that of a demonic god. Four arms, two mouths, ancient cursed marks covering him from head to toe. For a jujutsu sorcerer, it was the perfect form for combat.
The mouth on his abdomen could recite chants in place of his usual mouth, while one pair of arms formed hand signs and the other launched hand-to-hand attacks.
Sukuna raised a hand and shattered the lingering ice overhead with Dismantle. Hiten and Kamutoke fell into his two pairs of hands, the cold gleam of the cursed tools reflecting the crimson of his eyes.
"Ah... it's been so long since I felt this." Sukuna smiled, his deep, resonant voice issuing from both