CHAPTER 11: SORCERER KILLER

BOOM.

The courtyard shook violently as the battle of pure instinct and skill unfolded—Toji Fushiguro versus Satoru Gojo, the so-called strongest. But strength meant nothing to someone like Toji... someone born without cursed energy but forged into a weapon of human brutality.

Gojo shot forward, blood still oozing from his earlier wound, but his expression was alive—excited.

"This... this is fun, huh?" he laughed, raising his hand.

A sudden crackle of cursed energy.

"Cursed Technique: Lapse — Blue!"

The surrounding space warped and bent violently as vacuum pressure surged toward Toji, dragging him forward like a ragdoll. It was as if gravity itself had been rewritten.

But Toji… didn't even flinch.

CLANG!

He drove the heel of his foot into the stone floor, snapping it apart—but using it to launch himself sideways, evading the crushing pull. Gojo's smirk widened.

"You're quick. But not quicker than spacetime!"

He flung another compressed Blue orb, this one smaller but faster.

Toji slashed through it mid-air with a twisted grin, sending a shockwave that cracked the distant walls.

Then—he vanished.

No, not vanished. Charged.

Toji closed the distance with horrifying speed, blade glinting—Gojo's eyes widened a fraction, barely enough to move.

Their arms clashed, momentum rolling off them like tidal waves.

BLAM!

BAM!

CRASH!

Each blow was a meteor—cursed energy met raw power in an unrelenting barrage. They tore through ancient stone, broken tiles, and even the inner barrier lines.

"I gotta admit—" Gojo grunted, blood flying from his mouth as he took a punch to the gut. "You're not bad for a guy without cursed energy."

Toji didn't answer. His eyes were razor focused.

Gojo raised his hand once more.

"Cursed Technique: Lapse Blue — Max Output."

The world twisted. A massive gravitational void erupted around them, pulling debris, air, sound—everything toward its nucleus.

Toji flew in—through the chaos, straight toward Gojo, blade first.

Gojo's smile faded.

SHUNK.

Silence.

Gojo's body stiffened. His neck was skewered clean through—Toji's cursed tool had pierced his throat from one side to the other.

The gravitational field collapsed.

Blood gushed.

Gojo stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You talk too much," Toji whispered coldly, twisting the blade, and with a sudden jerk—

Gojo Satoru fell.

Elsewhere — Tokyo Suburbs

Mei Mei finished applying the final stroke of red lipstick. Her mirror reflected only calm confidence.

A knock came at the door.

"I'm coming," she said coolly.

She picked up her black axe, shaped like a twisted bird wing.

Her phone buzzed once more.

[UNKNOWN CALLER: THE JOB'S SIMPLE. UTAHIME. THE PAY: 10 MILLION YEN.]

Mei Mei's eyes glimmered—not with hate, not with curiosity. Only calculation.

She stepped into the dark streets, cloak fluttering behind her.

"There's no such thing as too much money," she murmured.

And so—one assassin had struck.

And another now walked into the night.