Three figures crashed into the wooded hills on the outskirts like falling meteors.
Boom!
Mahito rolled over and sat up in a shallow crater.
He brushed the dirt off himself, then looked down at the slowly healing scorch mark on his chest and gave an inscrutable chuckle.
"Pfft."
"Hahahahaha!"
Mahito tipped his head back, his mismatched eyes gleaming with almost feverish excitement, his mouth stretched into an exaggerated grin.
"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"
"So that's Satoru Gojo? That's the strongest of the modern age?"
His voice carried an ignited, irrepressible excitement.
"This is great! This is great, Jogo!"
"If we fight him, we're bound to get stronger, right?"
Jogo stood up and brushed off the dust, a wisp of white smoke rising from the opening atop his head.
He did not answer Mahito, instead turning toward the distant city.
His brow was tightly furrowed.
"Monster."
"If that strike had landed squarely..."
He left the sentence unfinished.
Hanami spoke bluntly.
"Let's retreat."
"He wasn't using his full strength in that last strike."
"If he had, the three of us couldn't possibly be standing here unscathed."
"Kenjaku was right. We're no match for him yet."
Jogo pressed his lips together, the steam above his head thickening.
He did not argue.
Because he knew perfectly well that Hanami was telling the truth.
He had felt the power of that Red very clearly.
The density and compression of that Cursed Energy had far exceeded his expectations.
If Satoru Gojo had put any more force into its release...
Then...
"Leaving already?"
A voice came from above the three of them, its tone lazy and nonchalant.
"Huh?!"
All three looked up at once.
Satoru Gojo stood on a jutting branch, his hands still in his pockets, his white hair faintly haloed in the moonlight.
He tilted his