He's Back!!
Shibuya's streets were a jagged scar across the night, the air thick with the stench of burnt metal and blood, the distant rumble of collapsing structures a grim heartbeat beneath the chaos.
Above ground, the echoes of Mahoraga's fury had drawn a ragged band of sorcerers—Grade 2s and 3s, their uniforms torn and faces smeared with grime—clinging to the edges of the ruins like survivors of a shipwreck.
They'd been battling curses all night, their stamina fraying, when the ground quaked anew, and the Divine General erupted from the subway's depths, its obsidian form a nightmare against the flickering glow of shattered streetlights.
Toji Fushiguro stood alone in its path, Playful Cloud gripped tightly in one scarred hand, the Prison Realm clutched in the other—a small, pulsing box that seemed to hum with a life of its own.
His feral grin split his face, eleven of Sukuna's fingers a heavy secret at his belt, their dark energy a quiet thrum against his side. His sharp green eyes glinted with reckless intent as he faced Mahoraga, the towering beast's wheel spinning with an ominous hum, the Sword of Extermination gleaming gold in the dim light.
The nearby sorcerers froze, their breaths catching as they watched the man with no cursed energy square off against a force that had leveled half the city.
"C'mon, you overgrown shadow puppet," Toji taunted, his voice a rough bark as he cracked his neck, his stance loose but coiled like a spring.
"You wanna dance? Let's see if you've got the guts to keep up!"
Mahoraga's hollow gaze locked onto him, its blade slashing downward in a golden arc that shrieked through the air, a killing blow aimed to split him from skull to spine.
Toji moved—his Heavenly Restriction speed a flicker of motion—as he thrust the Prison Realm forward, the artifact meeting the blade with a bone-jarring crack.
The impact shuddered up his arms, cursed energy sparking wild and unchecked as the box trembled, a faint hairline fracture snaking across its surface like a vein of ice. Mahoraga recoiled, its wheel spinning faster, its massive form shifting as if testing this new resistance.
Toji skidded back, his boots grinding against the cracked pavement, his grin widening as he shook out his stinging hands.
"That all you got? I've dodged worse from barflies swingin' broken bottles!"
The sorcerers gaped, their weapons trembling in their grips as they watched the impossible unfold before them. A young Grade 3, his katana dented and his barrier flickering like a dying candle, stammered,
"He's… he's actually fightin' that thing?!" His voice cracked, his wide eyes darting between Toji and Mahoraga, disbelief warring with exhaustion.
A grizzled woman with a scarred cheek, her hair matted with blood and dust, gripped a chipped axe, her tone a hushed mix of awe and dread.
"That's Toji Fushiguro… he's supposed to be dead!... Never mind that, but how's he even standin' against that monster?"
Mahoraga's roar split the night—a guttural, earth-shaking bellow that sent a ripple of fear through the onlookers—as its blade swung again, a golden streak that tore through a mangled car with a screech of rending metal.
Toji darted to the side, his reflexes razor-sharp despite the strain, raising the Prison Realm once more to intercept the slash with a deep thud. The artifact quivered in his grip, another crack splitting its edge, faint wisps of cursed energy leaking out like smoke from a dying fire.
"Tough bastard, huh?" Toji muttered, his arms aching as he slid back, his boots kicking up sparks against the pavement.
"Good thing I've got tougher toys—let's keep this party goin'!"
The sorcerers' murmurs grew, their terror giving way to a stunned fascination as they edged closer, drawn by the spectacle despite their instincts screaming to flee.
"He's blockin' it… with that thing?!" a wiry Grade 2 whispered, his staff trembling as he squinted through the dust, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
"It's holdin' up—how's that even workin'?!" The scarred woman shook her head, her axe lowering slightly as she stared, her words rough with disbelief. "No cursed energy… and he's makin' that beast look like a chump. He's a damn phantom or somethin'…"
Mahoraga's wheel accelerated, its slashes a golden storm that battered Shibuya's ruins—each strike cratering the ground, sending chunks of concrete and twisted steel flying through the air like shrapnel.
Toji weaved through the onslaught, his speed a blur as he met every blow with the Prison Realm—crack, crack, crack—the artifact's surface fracturing further with each hit, its glow intensifying as cracks webbed across it like a breaking dam.
"Keep swingin', ugly!"
Toji barked, ducking a slash that sheared through a storefront's facade, the debris raining down as he raised the box to block another, the force shoving him back with a grunt.
"You're gonna run dry before I even break a sweat!"
A cluster of sorcerers huddled behind a toppled truck, their faces pale but their eyes glued to the fight. A Grade 2 with a busted lip, his arm cradled against his chest, muttered,
"He's… he's pushin' it back! That's not human!"
Another, a wiry kid with a cracked talisman, clutched it tighter, his voice a shaky whisper.
"Toji Fushiguro… heard he was a legend, but this? This is insane!"
The scarred woman snorted, her grip steadying on her axe as she watched, her tone gruff but tinged with respect.
"Insane's right… but he's holdin' his own. Never seen anything like it…"
The fight escalated, Mahoraga's blade coming down faster, heavier—a golden torrent that carved through the air with a deafening howl, splitting a rusted bus in half as it aimed for Toji's chest.
He twisted aside, his breath hitching as the wind of the strike grazed his cheek, then raised the Prison Realm again—CRACK—the loudest yet, the artifact buckling under the force, fissures glowing as cursed energy pulsed wildly within.
"Gettin' pissy, huh?" Toji grunted, his arms trembling as he skidded back, his boots sparking against the pavement, sweat beading on his brow for the first time.
"Let's see how much more you can dish out before you're done!"
The sorcerers edged closer still, their fear morphing into a strange, ragged hope as they watched Toji defy the odds. A Grade 3 with a trembling spear whispered,
"That box… it's breakin'—look at it!" His companion, a woman with a bloodied forehead, nodded, her voice hushed with tension.
"He's pushin' it too far… but he's still standin'. How's he doin' this?!"
The scarred woman's eyes narrowed, her tone low and steady despite the chaos.
"He's a damn force of nature… no idea what's in that box, but it's takin' a beatin' and he's not flinchin'…"
Mahoraga's wheel spun at a fevered pitch, its slashes a relentless barrage—each blow a golden blur that cratered the earth, tore through walls, and sent shockwaves rippling through Shibuya's ruins.
Toji danced through the storm, his movements a flicker of instinct and muscle memory, meeting every strike with the Prison Realm—crack, crack, crack—the artifact's fractures deepening, its glow flaring as if something within strained against its bonds.
"You're a stubborn bastard, I'll give ya that!"
Toji shouted, dodging a slash that split a streetlight in two, the metal clanging as it fell. He raised the box again, blocking another blow that forced a hiss through his teeth, his arms burning from the strain.
"But I've got all night—bring it!"
The sorcerers' voices rose, a ragged chorus of disbelief and adrenaline.
"He's… he's still goin'!" a young Grade 2 stammered, his blade forgotten as he stared, his hands shaking less from fear now and more from awe.
"That thing's a nightmare, and he's laughin' at it!"
Mahoraga's fury peaked, its blade descending in a golden storm—a slash so fast it blurred the air, so heavy it split the pavement in a jagged rift as it aimed to end Toji once and for all.
He twisted away, the wind of the strike tugging at his shirt, then raised the Prison Realm with a grunt—CRACK—the artifact buckling, its surface glowing as fissures spread like wildfire.
"Gettin' desperate, huh?"
Toji rasped, his arms trembling as he slid back, his boots digging furrows into the ground, sweat dripping from his jaw.
"Let's see how you like this encore!"
The sorcerers held their breath, their eyes wide as the fight teetered on a razor's edge.
"That box… it's gonna give!" the Grade 3 with the spear whispered, his voice tight with tension as he gripped it harder.
"He's crazy—he's gonna get himself killed!" The woman with the bloodied forehead shook her head, her voice low and urgent.
"No… he knows what he's doin'… look at him!" The scarred woman's smirk faded, her tone dropping to a hushed murmur.
"He's playin' with fire… and he's winnin'…"
Mahoraga's wheel spun at a frenzied blur, its slashes a relentless onslaught—each blow a golden tempest that tore through Shibuya's wreckage, shredding steel and stone alike.
Toji met every strike with the Prison Realm—crack, crack, crack—the artifact's cracks glowing brighter, its shell fracturing as if ready to burst.
"You're tough, I'll give ya that!"
Toji shouted, ducking a slash that shattered a wall into dust, the debris pelting his back as he raised the box again. The next blow forced a grunt from his throat, his arms screaming as he held firm—CRACK—the sound echoing like a gunshot through the ruins.
The sorcerers' murmurs turned to gasps, one choking out,
"It's… it's breakin' apart!" Another, his voice trembling with awe, muttered,
"He's still standin'—how's he still standin'?!" The scarred woman's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her axe as she watched, her words a low rumble.
Mahoraga's blade came down one final time—a golden storm of death that split the night with a scream, its force shattering the air as it aimed to crush Toji into the earth.
"Showtime, big guy!" he roared, his voice raw as he planted his boots and thrust the Prison Realm forward, pointing it directly into the strike's path.
The impact hit like a thunderclap—CRASH—and the Prison Realm shattered, its fragments exploding outward in a surge of dark, spiraling cursed energy that lit the ruins like a dying star.
The ground buckled, a shockwave tearing through Shibuya as the artifact's core erupted, a blinding pulse that swallowed the night. Mahoraga staggered, its blade faltering mid-swing, its wheel slowing as the energy surged—and from the chaos, a figure shot upward, a streak of light piercing the smoke-choked sky.
The silhouette soared high above Shibuya, a shadowed form against the dark, its presence a sudden, electric jolt that silenced the ruins.
The sorcerers flinched, their voices a ragged jumble of shock and dread. "What the hell just broke loose?!"
"Wait! that's…not a curse, that's ...."
Toji stood firm amidst the shattered rubble, his feral grin fading into a tight, knowing smirk as he tracked the figure's ascent, the eleven fingers a heavy secret at his belt.
"Well, shit," he muttered, his voice a low rasp as he rolled his neck with a crack, the chaos he'd ignited twisting wild and untamed.
"Guess the pretty boy's back to steal my spotlight…"