[245]: The Fallen

Outside the shrine, a group of jujutsu sorcerers and onmyoji were gesturing wildly, drawing in the air or on the ground, occasionally breaking into arguments.

"Excuse me…" Uraume started to approach, intending to ask who was in charge here.

But the group, seemingly immersed in their own strange atmosphere, didn't even look up. With expressionless faces, they casually pointed and said:

"If you're here to pray, go that way. After you're done, you can leave. We don't offer lodging. If you're here to fight, head over there…"

"…" What kind of situation was this?

Rime narrowed his eyes warily.

Could it be that they had been expecting someone to return—and had become so accustomed to it they behaved like this?

Could the shrine already be rigged with countless traps?

Just waiting for them to walk in?

"Interesting," the pink-haired boy murmured, clearly intrigued. Without hesitation, he stepped toward the direction they had indicated.

Strangely, he didn't kill anyone.

Perhaps because there was someone stronger waiting ahead, he didn't care about the rest.

---

"What kind of ridiculous coincidence is this…?" Cyr stared at the approaching figure, his voice tinged with subtle disbelief.

"Isn't that…" Gojo Haru's voice also held some surprise.

Wasn't that the very person they had just been discussing?

And now… he'd come knocking on their door himself.

The newcomer had pink hair, four muscular arms, a solid physique, and most strikingly—a malformed lump on his face with two extra eyes embedded in it.

In total, he had four eyes.

Was he handsome? Not really. He looked… unsettling.

But ugly? That wasn't quite right either.

There was something bizarrely compelling about his form—something distinctly inhuman, like the eerie deities painted on ancient temple murals.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" Cyr called out immediately.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the pink-haired boy replied dismissively.

"My name is Fallen. Now, who is the strongest here?" His crimson eyes swept across the group.

Maro, Gojo Haru, Cyr, and Koen—all were silently sized up by that piercing gaze.

"You here to challenge me?" Cyr chuckled lightly.

"Not challenge—command," the pink-haired boy said with undisguised arrogance and contempt.

"I command you to fight me."

The sheer arrogance—the middle-school syndrome-level attitude—was almost surreal.

So this was how Sukuna was in his youth? Cyr mused.

Then again, the guy stayed arrogant even in old age.

"No." Cyr rejected the demand without hesitation.

"You're too weak right now." He said bluntly.

Perhaps one day, Ryomen Sukuna would become the strongest in Heian-Kyo—but at this moment, before Cyr, he was still far too weak.

How old was Sukuna when he rampaged across Kyoto in the original timeline? Cyr thought. At least twenty or thirty?

But this one looked at most sixteen—around Cyr's own age.

"I don't fight nameless nobodies," Cyr said with a smirk.

"If you want to face me, first make a name for yourself. Go fight the jujutsu sorcerers and onmyoji of Heian-Kyo."

"They're technically my subordinates. Only after you defeat them will you be qualified to face me." His silver-blue eyes remained calm as he spouted the nonsense without blinking.

"Do you have a domain technique? Ever faced death? How many have you defeated? If you don't even have a decent track record, fighting you would only drag down my reputation." the white-haired, blue-eyed boy said coolly.

The pink-haired boy didn't get angry, but the white-haired, bowl-cut boy beside him was clearly fuming.

Still, since the pink-haired one didn't speak, he didn't dare to speak either.

"What you said makes sense," said the boy who called himself Fallen, sweeping his gaze around before nodding.

His original intent had been to seek out a worthy opponent to hone himself against.

He hadn't planned to target the strongest so soon—but the rumors outside were just too exaggerated.

Half-human, half-god. Conquered Kyoto by the age of fifteen. No one could lift their heads in his presence… and so on.

So, his curiosity was piqued.

The arrogant speech earlier had merely been to provoke a reaction—to bait the other into fighting.

Unfortunately, it didn't work. Worse, he was even subtly mocked in return.

The message, overt and subtle alike, was clear: his current power and reputation weren't enough.

But the boy's words also seemed to contain another meaning…

Weren't they also nudging him toward stirring up Kyoto's jujutsu sorcerers and onmyoji?

"In that case, let's fight after the Emperor builds me a shrine as well," the pink-haired boy said, turning to leave without the slightest reluctance.

Strangely, from the strongest white-haired boy, he'd sensed something peculiar—

A familiar and intimate aura.

But that aura… shouldn't it have already vanished with those he'd slaughtered?

"My Lord… are we just going to leave like this?" Rime asked quietly, his voice cold but tinged with concern.

"Rime," Sukuna said as he walked, "do you think it's possible some members of the Cult escaped?"

"...I don't know," Rime replied, shaking his head.

"Everyone should've been present during the festival," Sukuna muttered, his tone odd.

Then where did that familiar aura come from?

He'd lived in the Cult for so many years—he'd never seen that boy.

If someone like that had really been part of the cult, they wouldn't have been wiped out so easily.

Those pretentious old fools had dared to lecture him? They didn't even realize how weak they were.

Sukuna sneered to himself.

---

Back in the shrine.

Maro frowned as he watched the strange white-haired youth be easily talked down and leave.

There was something about that guy that rubbed him the wrong way.

"Fallen…" Cyr murmured, rubbing his chin. "I feel like I've heard of that name before."

"The Zen'in clan investigated the Fallen Cult a while back," Gojo Haru reminded him.

Zen'in Akira had even discussed pulling the Gojo clan into the investigation.

"He's connected to that cult?" Cyr asked curiously.

It was almost like the cult had been named after him.

"Maybe… very closely," Gojo Haru replied, his tone uncertain.

"A while ago, all the cult members were slaughtered in their hideout by an unknown individual. And now, a boy calling himself Fallen appears…"

"The cult worshiped Susanoo, aiming to craft a perfect vessel to house the god."

"If I'm not mistaken, that boy was the vessel they prepared for Susanoo."

"Now I get why we never saw him at Zenrin Temple…" Gojo Haru muttered.

Because he'd likely been taken away and hidden by the Fallen Cult.

And judging from his name and his arrogant nature now… he didn't seem like someone who had suffered much.

In fact, there was a strange familiarity to him.

Like looking at his younger self.

That young Gojo Haru—raised on a pedestal by the Gojo clan, hailed as the Divine Child by all, and utterly full of himself.

It was likely that Haru had been treated as a god—or a god's vessel—by the cult as well.

°°°

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