Tokyo, Shinjuku Ward.
The streets in the early hours had already been wrecked beyond recognition.
"Whoa!"
A figure went flying out of the rubble.
He crashed through half a ruined wall and rolled several times over a heap of stones before barely steadying himself.
A large section of clothing had been torn away at his shoulder, exposing the bruised muscles beneath.
Miguel knelt on one knee, holding the Black Rope across his body, his chest heaving.
"Hah... hah..."
His gaze passed over the shattered debris and landed on the figure walking slowly toward him.
Satoru Gojo.
Dressed entirely in black, his hands in his pockets, his blindfold covering most of his face.
But the slightly upturned corners of his mouth said it all.
This guy was playing around.
"Hah..."
Miguel exhaled a stale breath.
"Is this guy... really human?"
Satoru Gojo tilted his head.
"Oh? You can still get up?"
"You can take more of a beating than I expected."
Miguel said nothing.
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright with the Black Rope, but his knees were visibly trembling.
There was only one thought in his mind.
Geto, are you still not done over there? I can barely hold this monster back anymore.
Satoru Gojo had already come within ten meters of him.
"Quite a few more people came along on your side, didn't they?"
"I sensed a whole bunch of Special Grade presences again."
"That Cursed Tool mirror of Wangchuan's is behind it again, right?"
"Otherwise, there couldn't suddenly be so many more curses."
He paused and tipped his head.
"You're the one in charge of keeping me busy, right?"
Miguel's pupils contracted slightly.
"You figured it out?"
"Obviously."
Satoru Gojo chuckled.
"You came running to Tokyo in the middle of the night without any decent backup,