Amid the ruined walls on Shinjuku's western side, Kenjaku slid down against a broken concrete wall, his cursed technique circuits humming with overload through his meridians.
Nearly a thousand cursed techniques had long since been exhausted in the repeated exchanges of offense and defense. Every one had been dismantled, countered, and crushed by the four working together, leaving him unable to produce even a single fresh variation.
Okkotsu had copied almost all his cursed techniques. Kenjaku knew that continuing would only supply the enemy with more weapons.
His cursed energy had already bottomed out, and the healing speed of his Reverse Cursed Technique kept dropping. Even cuts in his flesh took a long while to begin slowly closing.
For the first time, he truly, clearly realized that he could not escape.
Leaning against the cold, broken wall, he looked up at the gray sky, without much fear in his heart.
Only a faint regret surfaced: regret that he would never see the day all humanity merged with Tengen.
Atop a broken building high above the ruins, Suguru Geto gazed down at Kenjaku, trapped in a corner, his clothes snapping in the wind.
The formation of cursed spirits he had deployed had long since gone beyond mere containment. Dagon occupied the top of a broken building to the side, while Hanami's roots spread beneath the entire stretch of ruins.
Several special grade cursed spirits, collected over years and accompanying him throughout Japan, lurked in the surrounding dust and smoke. Releasing any one of them would have been enough to throw a city into chaos.
These were the assets he had accumulated over nearly ten years, the most vital trump cards of Cursed Spirit Manipulation.
At this moment, there was not a trace of reluctance in Suguru Geto's eyes, only cold resolve.