A god descends

A collision between domains was a contest of wills and rules.

The moment Jogo unleashed "Coffin of the Iron Mountain," the world changed.

Rock walls rose from the ground, twisting and climbing like living things, constructing a vast, enclosed hall of lava in the void.

The ground cracked, and crimson magma surged from the fissures, gathering into boiling rivers.

The air filled with the smell of sulfur and scorched smoke, and the temperature soared high enough to melt steel.

Madara stood in the center of the lava hall, with scorching rock beneath his feet, flowing magma all around him, and inverted stalactites dripping lava overhead.

"Domain Expansion: Coffin of the Iron Mountain!"

Jogo's voice echoed through the hall, carrying the frenzied joy of imminent victory.

He stood on the far bank of the lava river, flames blazing in his single eye, as though he could already see Madara burning to ash.

"Watch me burn you to ash! In this lava hell, not even your soul will remain!"

Madara did not answer.

He merely raised his head, swept his Rinnegan over this space ruled by lava, then slowly closed his eyes.

"Keep dreaming."

He spoke quietly, his voice as calm as though he were stating a fact.

The next second, he opened his eyes.

"Domain Expansion: Heavenly Imperial Pillars."

Pure white light bloomed beneath his feet.

At first, it was only a tiny point, but it spread rapidly, like ink dropped into clear water, like stars suddenly lighting up the night.

Wherever the white passed, the crimson rock walls began to fade and disintegrate, the boiling magma solidified and cooled, and the smell of sulfur gave way to something purer.

Jogo's single eye flew wide open.

"Impossible! What is this!?"

But he soon understood.

Madara was not "overwriting" his domain, nor was he "contesting" it.

He was "superimposing" another.

Inside "Coffin of the Iron Mountain," an entirely different space was being forcibly constructed.

Pure white.

Pure, unadulterated white.

White ground, white sky, white air.

There was no light source, yet the entire world glowed.

There were no boundaries; as far as the eye could see, there was only white stretching endlessly onward.

And within that white, enormous stone pillars rose from the ground.

One, two, three... countless pillars.

The pristine white stone pillars, their surfaces smooth as mirrors, towered into the "sky," arranged in rings around Madara.

Every pillar was engraved with intricate spiral patterns, and those patterns were slowly rotating.

"So this is your domain?" Jogo stood beneath a stone pillar, his single eye scanning this pure white world, genuine astonishment and doubt entering his voice for the first time.

"Fine, let's clash! Let's see whose domain is stronger!"

He formed hand seals again, attempting to unleash his own domain inside Madara's-if Madara could do it, so could he.

But Madara smiled.

It was a smile so contemptuous it bordered on pity.

"Clash? You think you're worthy?"

The moment he finished speaking, the entire white world began to shake, and Jogo sensed an utterly terrifying presence.

"What!?" For the first time, genuine fear appeared in Jogo's single eye.

"A domain clash comes down to whose domain is more powerful, or rather, whose domain counters the other's more effectively."

Madara's voice echoed through the white space, calm, yet carrying an absolute authority.

"Right now, the domains' sure-hit effects have been canceled out. But do you think that means this will be a fair fight?"

He raised a hand and pointed at Jogo.

"Trash, remember what you're about to see for the rest of your life. It will be the last and most staggering sight you ever witness."

While Jogo was still bewildered, a clear tapping sound rang through the white space.

Clink-

It was the sound of a Cursed Staff striking the ground.

Clear and lingering, it carried a certain sacred rhythm.

Then a figure descended from the sky.

His white hair stood on end, its strands rising like flames.

His face was as pale as paper, but those eyes-were Rinnegan.

Deep purple, with six black concentric rings in the pupils and nine tomoe on the outermost ring.

There was no emotion in those eyes, only an absolute indifference that looked down upon all living beings.

He wore a white Six Paths Sage Robe, its broad sleeves drifting slightly in the windless space.

Behind him, nine black spheres floated silently, like nine miniature black holes that devoured everything.

In his right hand, he held a black Cursed Staff, rings hanging from its head, gently clinking together with crisp sounds.

Madara Uchiha: Six Paths Mode.

He was an existence beyond humans, beyond Jujutsu Sorcerers, beyond even the concept of a "living being."

It was the form of one who had stepped into the realm of gods, the essence of touching the world's rules, the ultimate form born after understanding power to its utmost limit.

The moment Jogo saw this figure clearly, his single eye went blank.

It was not fear, nor shock, but an overwhelming disparity at the level of life itself.

Like an ant looking up at the stars for the first time, like a mayfly understanding eternity for the first time, like a two-dimensional creature glimpsing a three-dimensional existence for the first time.

It was a gulf that could not be described as "strong" or "weak."

It was a difference in dimensions.

"Is this... a Shikigami?" Jogo's voice trembled; he did not even realize he was speaking.

"You actually summoned a Shikigami inside your domain? Weren't the domain effects canceled out? Or is this your domain's true 'sure-hit' effect?"

Madara stood atop a stone pillar, looking down at Jogo, a trace of mockery flashing through his Rinnegan.

"Open that single eye wide and welcome your death."

Jogo abruptly snapped back to his senses.

His survival instinct overwhelmed his fear, and he roared at the sky, raising both hands high.

The Cursed Energy within him erupted like a volcano, gathering overhead into a gigantic fireball more than ten meters across.

Inside the fireball, magma churned and flames shrieked, its terrifying heat scorching even the surrounding white space until it warped slightly.

"Maximum: Meteor!"

This was his ultimate Cursed Technique, compressing, condensing, and detonating all his Cursed Energy, with enough power to wipe a small mountain off the map.

Even in this bizarre pure white domain, even against this bizarre "Shikigami," he would fight for his life.

But just as the fireball was about to take shape-

Six Paths Madara instantly appeared before Jogo, less than half a meter away.

Jogo's single eye had not even managed to track his movement.

"What!?"

"Sage Art: Yin Release Lightning Dispatch."

Six Paths Madara raised his left hand, palm facing forward.

Countless bolts of lightning, branching like tree limbs, erupted from his palm.

The lightning pierced the air, pierced the Cursed Energy defenses covering Jogo's body, and pierced his flesh.

"Aaargh-!!!"

Jogo's Cursed Technique was interrupted.

The fireball collapsed a second before it could fully form, scattering into sparks.

The lightning blasted him backward, slamming him heavily into a stone pillar and leaving a web of cracks across it.

It was not over.

Six Paths Madara followed him like a shadow, instantly appearing above the falling Jogo and swinging down the Cursed Staff in his right hand.

The Cursed Staff swept silently through the air, but space warped slightly in its wake, as though even "existence" itself would be severed.

Crack.

Jogo's left arm was neatly severed at the shoulder.

The severed arm flew up, turned into black particles of Cursed Energy in midair, then dispersed.

Jogo crashed to the ground, rolling several times before stopping.

He struggled to rise, his single eye filled with terror, and tried to activate Reverse Cursed Technique to heal his severed arm.

But the next second, his expression froze.

Cursed Energy flowed through the wound, trying to regenerate the arm, but... the wound would not heal!

No, it was not that it could not heal, but that it was "not permitted to heal."

"It won't heal!?" Jogo's voice cracked. "How is that possible!?"

Standing atop the stone pillar, Madara watched the terrified Jogo below, a trace of understanding flashing through his Rinnegan, followed by a nearly ecstatic smile.

"Just as I thought. Just as I thought!"

It had occurred to him.

The Cursed Staff Six Paths Madara wielded was a weapon manifested through the power of Yin-Yang Release.

Yin-Yang Release was the pinnacle of creation and destruction, the fundamental power that bestowed "form" and "life."

In this world of Jujutsu, what Yin-Yang Release corresponded to might be interference on the level of the "soul."

And Mahito's ability was precisely the manipulation of souls.

If the power of Yin-Yang Release could directly attack, or even "erase," souls, then killing Mahito would no longer be a fantasy.

The reason Madara had allowed Jogo to live this long, the reason he had expanded his domain, the reason he had summoned Six Paths Madara, was to test this very point.

To test Yin-Yang Release's effectiveness in countering souls.

And now, the result had exceeded his expectations.

"Trash," Madara said softly, a hint of pity in his voice, "you're no use anymore."

Six Paths Madara moved again.

Jogo did not even see his movements clearly; he only felt a chill at his back.

The tip of the Cursed Staff emerged from his chest.

There was no pain, only a sense of emptiness welling up from the depths of his soul.

Jogo lowered his head and looked at the black staff tip protruding from his chest, the flames in his single eye slowly dying out.

"Am I... going to die?"

He muttered to himself, his voice holding neither resentment nor anger, only an absurd sense of unreality.

He, Jogo, a Special Grade Cursed Spirit, a "true human" who had been plotting to kill Satoru Gojo and rule a new era, would actually die just like this at the hands of a sixteen-year-old brat.

At the hands of a... monster like this.

A short while later, just before his consciousness faded completely, Six Paths Madara withdrew the Cursed Staff.

Jogo's body crumbled like a sand sculpture, turning into countless black motes of light before vanishing completely.

Not even any Cursed Residue remained.

The pure white world began to fade, the stone pillars sinking into the ground one after another as the white light gradually dimmed.

The domain was dispelled.

Madara stood in the mountain forest once more, with scorched black ground beneath his feet and trees knocked askew all around him by the battle.

Six Paths Madara's figure slowly dissipated, turning into motes of light that merged into his body.