Chapter 43

"..."

"Rika... who is that guy?"

The sounds of fierce combat echoed in the distance, rousing Yuta Okkotsu from the ruins he'd crashed into. Supported by his white spectral spirit, the injured young man clutched his bleeding side and struggled to his feet.

Then, in the very next moment—his eyes widened.

His pupils shrank in disbelief as the intense battle playing out before him seized all his attention.

Am I hallucinating?

Yuta blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes like he couldn't trust them.

A mysterious boy—roughly his own age—was actually beating Xia Youjie?

That cloaked man in monk's robes—cornered and on the defensive?

The pace of their battle was unbelievable.

They fought at blinding speeds, leaping from earth to sky, blows exchanged in a blur that no naked eye could follow. Sound and shadow blurred into an all-out war.

Then came the thunderous sonic booms, echoing across the empty campus like an artillery barrage.

"Bang! Bang! Bang-bang!"

Building after building at Tokyo Jujutsu High crumbled from the sheer force of their clash. Smoke and dust whirled like miniature sandstorms—yellowish-brown cyclones spiraling across the shattered courtyard.

Chhhh!

From the haze above, a slender black blade wreathed in red-black lightning slashed through the air—knocking Xia Youjie's three-section staff straight out of his hands.

Caught off guard, Youjie had no time to summon another cursed spirit. His only option was to block the incoming strike with both palms raised.

The attack connected.

The impact sent him skidding backward, blood spraying from his mangled hands—flesh torn, bone nearly exposed.

"Black Flash!"

"That kid just used Black Flash?!"

Yuta stood there, stunned.

Black Flash—a phenomenon where cursed energy impacts within a window of 0.000001 seconds after a physical strike. The resulting damage is 2.5 times stronger than normal.

Even Yuta, a Special Grade, couldn't consistently perform Black Flash.

But that boy… he wasn't just activating it. He was maintaining it, blow after blow.

Which meant only one thing—

His physical capacity had surpassed human limits.

"How... how does he have such a powerful body?" Yuta whispered, shaken.

Kurosawa Ren—the boy fighting Xia Youjie—was striking with Black Flash as if it were second nature, maintaining complete control.

Suddenly, Yuta remembered something his teacher, Satoru Gojo, had once said:

"When a sorcerer successfully lands a Black Flash, they enter a temporary state—almost like an athlete's 'zone'—where everything clicks. Cursed energy becomes as effortless as breathing. It's a brief moment of omnipotence, where the world seems to revolve around you."

That's the state Kurosawa Ren had entered now.

"Alright… time to back him up," Yuta muttered.

Even if that stranger was a master of hand-to-hand combat, he didn't seem too familiar with jujutsu techniques.

But as Yuta started to move—

"!"

Someone gently tugged his sleeve.

Turning, he saw Rika Orimoto—her monstrous cursed form crouched behind him—extending a long, clawed finger toward the battered bodies of Maki Zen'in, Inumaki, and Panda lying nearby.

"...You're right, Rika," Yuta said softly, calming down. "We need to get them to safety first."

"And as for Xia Youjie… I'll call the teacher. He has to come here now."

"Damn it!"

Xia Youjie surged forward, landing atop a ruined tower, his face twisted with frustration.

His right hand, slashed open by Kurosawa's black blade, throbbed with pain—hot blood dripping freely, nearly exposing the bone.

He hadn't suffered this kind of injury since he became leader of the Panxing Sect.

It reminded him of the time he was nearly killed by that man bearing a cross…

The same overwhelming close-combat skill.

The same indestructible body.

"I can't lose again!"

Snarling, Youjie tore his blood-soaked monk's robe into strips and tightly bound his mangled hand.

"Cursed Spirit Manipulation!"

BOOM—!!

In a heartbeat, it was as if a dam had burst. From the depths of the void, hundreds—no, thousands—of twisted, grotesque cursed spirits came roaring into the sky, swarming toward Kurosawa like a living storm.

"Hmph. Cursed spirit swarm tactics?" Kurosawa sneered.

He dismissed his cursed energy and switched back to pure magic power.

Now grounded, both of his feet firmly planted, every muscle in his body trembled with barely contained power. The air around him warped under the pressure—like heatwaves shimmering off sun-baked asphalt.

From within his chest, the Red Dragon Heart began to beat.

Boom.

Boom.

BOOM!

Like a war drum echoing through his body, the pulsing rhythm resonated across the battlefield.

On the opposite side, Xia Youjie's expression stiffened.

Something was coming.

Something big.

"What is he doing…? Why is he so calm surrounded by cursed spirits?"

The heartbeat grew louder.

The blood in Kurosawa's veins burned—bubbling like molten lava—as the active dragon-blood factor surged through his system, converting vitality into magic at terrifying speed.

In seconds, his body had fully recovered—his strength now back at peak.

"Ninefold Phantom Slash—Shooting Hundred Heads!"

Thunder crackled.

A phantom weapon—an enormous axe-sword—materialized in Kurosawa's hand, radiating raw power.

This wasn't a typical Noble Phantasm.

[Shooting Hundred Heads] was a divine martial technique once used by the legendary demigod Heracles to slay the Hydra. Unlike standard cursed tools, its true essence wasn't in the weapon—it was the technique itself.

Nine consecutive strikes unleashed in less than a second—each one moving at superluminal speed, overlapping in space and time.

Although originally a bow skill, Heracles had evolved it—making it viable with sword, axe, or even bare hands.

BOOM—!!!

Nine axe-like shockwaves tore through the sky like meteorites, crashing into the cursed spirit horde.

Whooosh!

The velocity distorted reality—space itself twisted from the force. Light and shadow reversed within the vortex of energy, plunging the battlefield into momentary chaos.

"What the hell?!"

Xia Youjie watched, stunned.

In less than ten seconds, every single one of the thousand-plus cursed spirits he had summoned were reduced to dust—shredded into ash by Kurosawa's axe flurry.

A thousand spirits—gone. Just like that.

This kid… is a monster.

"You've killed a Grade 2 cursed spirit. Reward: 1 Saint Crystal Fragment."

"You've killed a Grade 1 cursed spirit. Reward: 3 Saint Crystals."

The rapid-fire notifications echoed in Kurosawa's head, and he couldn't help but grin.

He glanced at the shaken Xia Youjie with amusement, as if staring at a walking treasure chest.

"What a great guy—donating cursed spirits just so I can farm Saint Crystals."

Still carrying the glowing axe-sword, Kurosawa stepped forward.

"Well? Got more? Let 'em out. Let's not waste time."

"Hmph!" Xia Youjie scoffed, finally snapping out of his shock.

"Don't think I'll surrender just because of this."

"Transform—Tamamo-no-Mae!"

He flipped his sleeves.

A ghostly, elegant figure in a kimono burst from the shadows—long black hair flowing behind her, a malicious smile curled on her lips.

It was the incarnation of Tamamo-no-Mae—a special-grade imaginary vengeful spirit, one of the sixteen registered by Jujutsu High.

Desperate and pushed to the edge, Youjie had finally unleashed his deadliest card.

"Try cutting this!"

Kurosawa didn't hesitate.

He activated Sengo Muramasa's first technique and hurled his axe with bone-shattering force.

Tamamo-no-Mae barely had time to react.

BOOOOOM!!!

The axe exploded on impact.

The sheer force vaporized the surrounding air, creating a vacuum shockwave over 100 meters wide. Energy twisted and ruptured the space like shattered glass. Nothing could survive that vortex.

Tamamo-no-Mae didn't even have time to scream—her cursed form evaporated into shards of light.

Even Xia Youjie, protected by his Pelican Curse Spirit, was almost blasted out of the sky.

But he held firm.

Bloodied, furious, and humiliated—he soared higher, eyes locked on Kurosawa.

This was it.

Time to burn his last resort—consequences be damned.