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Chapter 4: The Return to the Shrine
"The best companions often come from unexpected places," Musashi offered gently.
Gilgamesh maintained her regal composure, but gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. The brief moment of vulnerability vanished as quickly as it had appeared, yet it left a subtle shift in the atmosphere around her—as if the others had glimpsed something authentic beneath the imperial facade.
As the minibus wound its way up the mountain road toward the abandoned shrine, darkness settled over the forested slopes. Shoko navigated the increasingly narrow path with practiced skill, the headlights cutting through the gloom to reveal overgrown vegetation reclaiming the old pilgrimage route.
"The barrier between worlds always thins at night," Morgan observed, gazing out the window at the deepening shadows. "Particularly at places of spiritual significance like ancient shrines."
"Is that why the note specified midnight?" Getō asked, his analytical mind seeking patterns. "Some temporal significance?"
"Midnight marks the threshold between days," Durga explained, her cosmic voice gentle in the confined space of the vehicle. "A liminal moment when reality's fabric naturally stretches. In some cosmic traditions, it's called 'the void hour'—when possibility briefly outweighs certainty."
"The void hour," Satoru repeated thoughtfully, the origami crane resting in his palm. "Born from the void... at the void hour?"
"You're overthinking it," Nobunaga declared, stretching her legs as much as the cramped seating allowed. "Sometimes the simplest approach is best. We show up, we follow the magical paper bird, we find the mystery throne, we defeat the cosmic horror. Then sake!"
"Your strategic planning continues to inspire confidence," Artoria remarked dryly.
"It worked for unifying Japan," Nobunaga countered with an unrepentant grin.
"After countless casualties and decades of warfare," Raikou pointed out with gentle admonishment.
"Details, details," Nobunaga waved dismissively. "The end result was glorious."
The minibus jolted over a particularly rough section of road, causing everyone to grab for support. Ishtar, who had been floating slightly above her seat rather than sitting properly, tumbled unceremoniously into Arcueid's lap.
"Undignified transportation," the goddess complained, righting herself with wounded pride. "In my era, I traveled on golden barges pulled by devotees who considered their labor a blessing."
"And now you experience how the common people feel," Arcueid commented with amusement, helping the goddess back to her position. "Consider it educational."
"I require no education in mortal discomforts," Ishtar sniffed, though she did finally settle properly into her seat instead of floating.
"We're almost there," Toji announced, peering through the windshield at the darkened path. "The torii gate should be just around this bend."
Sure enough, the vehicle's headlights soon illuminated the leaning, moss-covered gate marking the shrine's entrance. Shoko brought the minibus to a stop at the widest part of the path.
"This is as far as we go by vehicle," she declared, cutting the engine. "The rest is on foot."
As they disembarked, the night forest enveloped them in a symphony of sounds—distant owl calls, the rustle of nocturnal creatures, the whispering sigh of wind through ancient trees. Despite modern Tokyo being less than an hour away, the mountain shrine existed in its own pocket of timelessness, removed from the city's constant pulse.
"The veil is already thin here," Morgan noted, her hands weaving subtle patterns that left momentary traces of arcane light. "Reality flexes like fabric under stress."
"I can feel it too," Nero admitted, uncharacteristically subdued as she gazed up the stone steps leading to the shrine. "Like the air before a magnificent performance begins—expectant, charged with potential."
Satoru led the way, the origami crane now resting in his breast pocket. As they ascended the worn stone steps, Getō and Toji activated subtle detection techniques, scanning for potential threats hidden in the darkness.
"Something's different," Satoru observed as they neared the top of the stairs. "The shrine's energy signature has changed since this morning."
When they crested the final step, they saw what he meant. The dilapidated shrine complex that Satoru had discovered earlier that day now pulsed with subtle energies. Ghostly architectural elements overlaid the physical ruins—like echoes of the shrine's former glory made semi-visible in the moonlight.
"Temporal bleeding," Morgan identified with professional interest. "The shrine exists simultaneously in multiple time periods."
"Is that dangerous?" Toji asked pragmatically, one hand resting on a concealed weapon.
"Not inherently," Durga answered, her cosmic perception analyzing the phenomenon. "But it indicates significant weakening of reality's structural integrity at this location."
They approached the main shrine building cautiously. The sliding door that Satoru had entered earlier hung partially off its track, creaking softly in the night breeze. Beyond it, darkness waited, occasionally punctuated by floating motes of ghostly blue light.
"The summoning circle should be inside," Satoru reminded them, reaching into his pocket for the paper crane. The moment his fingers touched it, the origami creation stirred, as if awakening from slumber.
With graceful, impossible movement, the crane lifted from his hand and fluttered into the air. It hovered before them momentarily, its paper wings moving with the fluidity of a living creature, before flying deliberately through the broken doorway into the shrine's depths.
"I believe that's our cue," Arcueid observed with a small smile.
They followed the animated paper construct into the shrine's interior. Inside, the temporal bleeding was even more pronounced—glimpses of the building's past splendor flickered around them like half-remembered dreams. Torn paper screens briefly appeared whole and painted with exquisite scenes; collapsed ceiling beams momentarily stood proud and lacquered; empty incense holders fleetingly smoldered with ghostly offerings.
The crane led them unerringly toward the inner sanctum where Satoru had discovered the summoning circle. As they entered the chamber, they found it transformed from its daylight appearance. The hole Satoru had made in the floor had somehow repaired itself, the tatami mats restored to perfect condition.
"I definitely broke that," Satoru commented, pointing to the now-intact floor.
"Time is reasserting itself," Morgan explained, kneeling to examine the mats. "The past configuration is temporarily overriding the present."
The paper crane circled the room three times before landing precisely in the center of the tatami. The moment it touched down, the mats began to glow with soft azure light, revealing the complex pattern of the summoning circle beneath them without physically disturbing the covering.
"Stand back," Durga warned, her multiple arms extending protectively. "A dimensional threshold is opening."
The glow intensified, and the tatami mats seemed to become transparent, revealing the summoning circle Satoru had discovered that morning. But now, additional details were visible—complex geometries and arcane symbols that hadn't been apparent in daylight.
"The circle is evolving," Morgan observed with academic fascination. "Adapting to new parameters."
In the center of the circle, where Satoru had stood to trigger the original summoning, the paper crane began to transform. It unfolded itself, refolded along new lines, expanded, and contracted in ways that defied normal origami limitations. With each transformation, it grew more complex, more substantial, until it no longer resembled paper at all but a crystalline construct that pulsed with inner light.
"What is it becoming?" Nero wondered aloud, her artistic sensibilities captivated by the metamorphosis.
Before anyone could answer, a clock tower bell rang in the distance, its sonorous tone echoing across the mountain—midnight had arrived.
The crystalline construct shattered with a sound like breaking glass, releasing a blinding flash of light that forced everyone to shield their eyes. When they could see again, a figure stood in the center of the summoning circle where the crane had been.
It was a woman, tall and elegant, dressed in a flowing garment that seemed to be woven from starlight itself. Her hair, white as fresh snow, cascaded down her back in complex braids interwoven with small crystalline beads. Her eyes, when she opened them, contained swirling galaxies—similar to Durga's but somehow older, more fundamental.
The newcomer surveyed the gathered group with calm recognition, as if she had been expecting them specifically. When she spoke, her voice resonated with harmonic overtones that suggested multiple voices speaking in perfect unison.
"The confluence occurs as foreseen," she stated. "The Crimson Thrones gather at the precipice."
"Are you the final throne?" Artoria asked directly, her regal demeanor matching the newcomer's dignified presence.
A smile touched the woman's lips. "I am both messenger and message. You may call me Chronos."
"The Greek titan of time?" Getō questioned skeptically.
"A simplified translation for your comprehension," she clarified. "My true designation transcends your linguistic framework."
"Classic cryptic entity introduction," Satoru commented, stepping forward. "Care to be more specific about why you're here and what you have to do with paper cranes and void births?"
Chronos studied him with those galaxy-filled eyes. "Impatient as ever, Void Master. Some aspects of personality remain constant across all timeline variations."
This statement caused several eyebrows to raise. Satoru, however, merely tilted his head curiously.
"Timeline variations?" he prompted.
"I have observed this confluence in seventeen distinct reality branches," Chronos explained, beginning to walk slowly around the perimeter of the still-glowing summoning circle. "In some, you succeed. In most, you fail. In one particularly troubling iteration, you become that which you oppose."
"Well, that's ominous and unhelpful," Nobunaga declared bluntly. "Any practical advice, time lady?"
Rather than taking offense, Chronos seemed amused by Nobunaga's directness. "Indeed. Practical matters first. The Devourer's next manifestation will occur at Shibuya Crossing in precisely forty-seven minutes. It will attempt to establish a permanent anchoring point in your reality."
"That's... very specific intelligence," Toji observed with professional suspicion.
"Time is my domain," Chronos replied simply. "I observe its currents and eddies across the multiverse."
"And the final throne?" Durga inquired, recognizing a fellow cosmic entity deserving of respectful directness. "The prophecy speaks of eleven thrones, yet only ten were summoned."
Chronos stopped her circumnavigation of the circle, coming to stand before Satoru. "The eleventh throne is not an individual entity but a concept given form through combined action. It is the reason you were bound to each other by the summoning."
"The binding itself is significant?" Morgan asked, her sorceress mind quickly grasping implications. "Not merely a limitation or side effect?"
"Precisely," Chronos confirmed. "The Devourer consumes isolated realities by separating fundamental concepts from each other, then absorbing them individually. Concepts in isolation are vulnerable; concepts in harmonious relationship resist consumption."
"So our binding..." Arcueid began.
"Creates a conceptual framework the Devourer cannot easily dismantle," Chronos finished. "Ten divine entities representing ten fundamental concepts, bound together and anchored to this reality through one who exists between infinity and zero."
All eyes turned briefly to Satoru, who for once seemed thoughtful rather than flippant.
"The eleventh throne isn't another person," he realized. "It's what happens when all ten concepts harmonize through their connection to the void—to me."
"Yes and no," Chronos corrected gently. "The potential exists, but has not yet manifested. That is what I meant by 'born from the void'—not a biological birth but a conceptual emergence."
Gilgamesh, who had been uncharacteristically silent, finally spoke. "You speak of concepts and potential, yet something troubles me. If this 'emergence' is so critical, why hide it from the prophecy? Why the secrecy?"
A shadow passed over Chronos's otherworldly features. "Because the Devourer has consumed seventeen realities before yours, learning from each. It now anticipates resistance and adapts accordingly. Had the true nature of the eleventh throne been explicitly stated in the prophecy, the Devourer would have developed countermeasures before you even assembled."
"Strategic information control," Nobunaga nodded approvingly. "Keep your ultimate weapon secret even from your own forces."
"Exactly so, Demon King," Chronos acknowledged. "The eleventh throne's power lies partly in its unpredictability."
"You mentioned Shibuya Crossing," Getō redirected practically. "We have less than an hour. What should we expect?"
"A manifestation significantly more powerful than what you encountered in Shinjuku," Chronos warned. "The Devourer was testing your capabilities there; in Shibuya, it intends to establish permanent presence."
"How do we stop it?" Toji asked, cutting to the essential question.
"The same way you temporarily repelled it before—by manifesting your conceptual powers in harmony," Chronos explained. "But this time, you must go further. You must fully embody your fundamental concepts while maintaining your connection to each other through the Void Master."
"And how exactly do we do that?" Ishtar demanded impatiently. "Divine beings are not accustomed to taking vague instructions."
Instead of answering directly, Chronos raised her hands. The summoning circle beneath them pulsed once more, and ten points of light rose from its circumference—each a different color corresponding to the beam that had summoned each divine woman.
"Observe," Chronos instructed as the lights arranged themselves in a complex three-dimensional pattern above the circle. "Each of you embodies a fundamental concept necessary for reality's stability."
The crimson light pulsed as she turned to Nero. "The Emperor—the concept of Legitimate Authority."
The gold light brightened next as she addressed Artoria. "The King—the concept of Righteous Governance."
The azure light responded to her gesture toward Durga. "The Cosmic Guardian—the concept of Balance."
The emerald light swirled as she nodded to Morgan. "The Sorceress Queen—the concept of Transformation."
The violet light flashed for Musashi. "The Swordmaster—the concept of Perfected Skill."
The silver light glimmered for Ishtar. "The Divine Feminine—the concept of Regenerative Power."
The obsidian light darkened for Nobunaga. "The Conqueror—the concept of Progressive Destruction."
The lavender light softened for Raikou. "The Divine Mother—the concept of Protective Nurturing."
The moonlight silver brightened for Arcueid. "The True Ancestor—the concept of Primal Nature."
Finally, the radiant amber intensified for Gilgamesh. "The First Hero—the concept of Pioneering Will."
As each light was named, it moved to connect with the others, forming an increasingly complex geometric pattern that rotated slowly above the circle.
"Ten concepts, ten thrones," Chronos concluded. "Each powerful alone, but vulnerable in isolation. Together, bound through the void..." She gestured to the center of the pattern, where a space existed for one final connection. "They create the potential for the eleventh concept—one the Devourer has never successfully consumed in any reality."
"And that concept is?" Satoru prompted, his usual snarkiness tempered by genuine curiosity.
Chronos smiled enigmatically. "Names have power, Void Master. This concept must be discovered through action, not dictated by prophecy. Even I cannot speak it directly without alerting the Devourer to its nature."
"Of course not," Satoru sighed. "That would be too easy."
The floating geometric pattern collapsed suddenly, the ten lights flowing back into their respective divine women. Each briefly glowed with her signature color before returning to normal appearance.
"Your transportation awaits outside," Chronos informed them, gesturing toward the shrine entrance. "The confrontation at Shibuya cannot be avoided, but its outcome remains in flux. Remember—individual power will not prevail. Only in harmony can you manifest what is needed."
"Wait," Getō interjected as Chronos began to fade like morning mist. "You're not coming with us?"
"My role is messenger, not warrior," she replied, her form growing increasingly transparent. "Time observes; it rarely intervenes directly."
"Convenient," Nobunaga muttered.
As Chronos faded completely, one final message echoed through the shrine: "The void hour ends, but the void potential remains. Trust the connection, not just the power."
With her departure, the summoning circle's glow faded, the tatami mats regained their solid appearance, and the shrine returned to its dilapidated present state. The group stood in momentary silence, processing the cryptic but urgent information.
"Well," Satoru broke the quiet, clapping his hands together, "seems we have a cosmic horror to stop from establishing permanent residency in Shibuya. Wouldn't want it affecting property values."
"Your flippancy masks concern," Raikou observed with maternal insight. "You understand the gravity of what awaits us."
Satoru's smile turned slightly more genuine. "Can't get anything past mom-instincts, can I? Yes, I'm concerned. Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually want reality to end."
"Then we should make haste," Artoria declared, already moving toward the exit. "Shibuya is at least thirty minutes away, even with expedited travel."
Outside the shrine, they discovered what Chronos had meant by "transportation awaits." Where Shoko's minibus had been parked now stood something entirely different—a sleek, elongated vehicle that resembled a bus but clearly wasn't of conventional manufacture. Its surface shimmered with opalescent colors that shifted like oil on water, and it hovered several inches above the ground without visible means of support.
"That's... not standard Jujutsu High transportation," Shoko commented dryly, cigarette dangling from her lips as she stared at the otherworldly vehicle.
"Time lady has style," Nobunaga approved, striding forward to examine the conveyance. "No wheels—efficient!"
The vehicle's side split open without a sound, revealing an interior larger than the external dimensions suggested—another hint of its non-standard nature.
"Dimensional engineering," Morgan observed appreciatively. "Elegant work."
As they boarded the mysterious transport, they discovered comfortable seating arranged not in conventional rows but in a circular pattern around a central platform. The platform contained a scaled-down holographic representation of Tokyo, focusing specifically on Shibuya Crossing.
"No driver needed," Satoru noted as the doors sealed silently behind them. "Good thing, because I left my interdimensional vehicle license in my other reality."
The transport began to move, accelerating with impossible smoothness. Outside the windows, the forest blurred into streaks of darkness as they descended the mountain at speeds that should have been impossible on the narrow, winding road.
"This thing must be partially phasing through normal space," Getō hypothesized, observing how they passed through areas too narrow for the vehicle's dimensions.
"It exists simultaneously in multiple spatial reference frames," Durga confirmed, her cosmic perception analyzing their conveyance. "A thoughtful provision from Chronos."
As the transport carried them toward Shibuya at supernatural speed, the group fell into strategy discussions. The central hologram adjusted to show enhanced details of the crossing, highlighting potential tactical positions.
"We should establish a perimeter," Artoria suggested, her military mind automatically assessing the battlefield. "Prevent civilian casualties while containing the manifestation."
"Agreed," Toji nodded. "Getō and I can coordinate with any jujutsu sorcerers already responding to the dimensional anomalies. They'll listen to representatives from the Gojo family."
"I'll focus on the rift itself," Satoru decided, studying the hologram thoughtfully. "Based on our Shinjuku experience, we can expect the Devourer to attempt establishing a physical anchor point before fully manifesting."
"What about this 'harmony' Chronos mentioned?" Musashi inquired, her usual boundless energy tempered by tactical consideration. "How do we manifest our concepts together?"
"I believe it requires conscious intent," Morgan theorized. "Each of us must fully embody our conceptual nature while maintaining awareness of our connection to the others."
"Like instruments in an orchestra," Nero suggested, for once applying her theatrical knowledge practically. "Each playing distinct parts that combine into a greater whole."
"Precisely," Morgan agreed. "Individual excellence in service to collective harmony."
"Sounds suspiciously like teamwork," Gilgamesh observed with imperial disdain. "I typically prefer solo performances."
"Yet even the greatest king requires a kingdom," Artoria countered gently. "Power in isolation is ultimately limited."
Gilgamesh didn't respond directly, but her lack of rebuttal suggested the point had landed.
As the transport sped toward Shibuya, the atmosphere within grew more focused. These beings—divine, heroic, legendary—who had been summoned against their will and bound to a teenage sorcerer they'd just met, were now preparing to risk everything to save a reality not their own.
"Why do you fight?" Satoru asked suddenly, the question directed at all of them. "This isn't your world. The Devourer would probably return you to your original realities if you helped it rather than opposed it."
The question hung in the air for a long moment before Durga answered.
"Because destruction is easy," she said simply. "Preservation requires choice."
"Because I've spent too many lifetimes watching civilizations fall," Arcueid added softly. "One grows tired of endings."
"Because a true emperor creates, never destroys," Nero declared with unusual solemnity.
One by one, they offered their reasons—some noble, some pragmatic, some personal. Even Ishtar and Gilgamesh, the most overtly self-centered among them, spoke of the value of a reality worth saving.
As they finished, Nobunaga laughed suddenly, breaking the serious mood. "Also, being bound to you is unexpectedly entertaining, Void Boy. I want to see what chaos you cause next!"
This broke the tension, drawing chuckles and smiles from the group. Even Gilgamesh's lips quirked slightly upward.
"Your attachment to this sorcerer grows obvious," she commented to the group at large. "How quickly divine beings develop mortal sentimentality."
"Says the one who recognized a ramen shop owner for his loyalty," Musashi teased.
"A king acknowledges admirable qualities in all classes," Gilgamesh replied loftily. "It does not indicate personal attachment."
"Of course not," Satoru agreed with exaggerated seriousness. "Just like how you didn't secretly save half your takoyaki for later."
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You presume much, Void Master."
"I observe much," he corrected with a wink. "Six Eyes, remember?"
Before Gilgamesh could formulate a suitably royal retort, the transport began to decelerate. Outside the windows, the familiar neon landscape of Shibuya came into view—but something was wrong. The typically bustling district was eerily empty, emergency vehicles forming a perimeter around the famous crossing. Above the intersection, the sky rippled with unnatural distortions, colors that shouldn't exist bleeding into reality.
"We have arrived," the transport announced in Chronos's harmonic voice. "The convergence point approaches manifestation. Good hunting, Crimson Thrones."
As the vehicle doors silently opened, Satoru turned to face the divine women who had so unexpectedly entered his life less than twenty-four hours ago.
"Ready to save reality, ladies?" he asked with his trademark grin, though his eyes behind the sunglasses held genuine resolve.
"After you, Void Master," Artoria replied formally, but with the hint of a smile.
Together, they stepped out to face whatever awaited them at Shibuya Crossing—ten legendary women and one limitless sorcerer against a cosmic horror intent on devouring their world.
The final battle for reality was about to begin.
Chapter 5: Shibuya Convergence
Chapter 5: Shibuya Convergence (Continued)
Shibuya Crossing—normally the busiest pedestrian intersection in the world—lay eerily abandoned beneath a sky that writhed with unnatural colors. Emergency vehicles formed a hasty perimeter, their lights casting surreal patterns across empty streets. Jujutsu Tech personnel in standardized uniforms maintained barriers that kept civilians at bay while official-looking government agents spoke urgently into communication devices.
As Satoru led his divine entourage toward the cordoned area, a familiar figure broke away from a group of sorcerers to intercept them.
"Principal Yaga," Satoru greeted with exaggerated cheerfulness. "Lovely evening for an interdimensional crisis, isn't it?"
The Jujutsu High principal—a stern man whose perpetually tired expression suggested he'd seen too much supernatural chaos in his lifetime—didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Gojo," he acknowledged tersely before eyeing the ten women with a mixture of wariness and resignation. "I assume these are the entities that set off every detection barrier in Tokyo this morning?"
"Technically, I set those off," Satoru corrected. "These ladies are just along for the ride. Literally—they can't go more than 150 meters from me."
Yaga's eyes narrowed slightly. "Binding spell?"
"Ancient summoning ritual," Getō explained more helpfully, stepping forward. "Principal, the situation is more complex than standard protocol can address. We have intelligence about what's happening."
"I expected as much when I heard Gojo was involved," Yaga sighed. "Very well. What are we facing?"
As Getō quickly briefed the principal on the Devourer, Ishtar floated slightly higher to get a better view of the intersection. Her divine senses detected subtle energy patterns converging on the famous scramble crossing.
"The dimensional breach will occur there," she announced, pointing to the center of the intersection where all pedestrian walkways converged. "Multiple reality layers are already overlapping at that nexus point."
Morgan joined her analysis, elegant fingers tracing arcane patterns in the air. "She's right. The spatial integrity is already compromised. I estimate less than fifteen minutes before full manifestation."
Yaga listened to this exchange with the practiced neutrality of someone accustomed to impossible situations. "My sorcerers have established a three-layer barrier around the crossing. It won't hold against whatever's coming, but it should contain the initial emergence."
"We'll need to evacuate your people before it manifests," Artoria advised, her tactical mind already assessing the battlefield. "This entity absorbs cursed energy—your sorcerers would be providing it with ammunition rather than resistance."
The principal's eyebrows rose slightly. "You seem well-informed for someone who arrived in this dimension today."
"I have led armies against supernatural threats across multiple realities," Artoria replied simply. "Tactical assessment is second nature."
"I fought something similar in the Babylonian underworld," Gilgamesh added unexpectedly. "It consumed divine authorities. Your human sorcerers would be devoured in seconds."
Yaga studied them both for a moment before nodding curtly. "I'll pull my people back to the secondary perimeter. The area is yours." He turned to Satoru with unusual seriousness. "Gojo, for once in your life, try not to destroy half of Tokyo in the process."
"Can't make any promises," Satoru replied cheerfully. "Cosmic horror and all that."
As Yaga departed to coordinate the jujutsu sorcerers' withdrawal, Toji approached their group with Shoko in tow.
"Perimeter's being expanded," he reported. "Government's calling it a 'toxic gas leak' to justify the evacuation. Standard cover story."
"Mundane explanations for supernatural events," Durga observed. "Some patterns remain consistent across all civilizations I've encountered."
"Humans prefer comfortable lies to uncomfortable truths," Arcueid agreed with ancient understanding. "It's a survival mechanism."
"Speaking of survival," Shoko interjected practically, "I've set up a medical station at the fallback position. Not that I have any idea how to treat injuries from a reality-devouring cosmic entity, but I'll improvise."
"Your dedication to healing transcends rational limitations," Durga commented with genuine respect. "A worthy embodiment of preservative principles."
Shoko blinked, unused to cosmic compliments. "Uh, thanks? I think?"
With the perimeter secured and civilians evacuated, the group moved toward the famous scramble crossing. The massive video screens that typically displayed advertisements now flickered with random images—snippets of realities bleeding through dimensional barriers.
"The veil thins rapidly," Morgan observed, her sorceress senses detecting the deteriorating boundaries between dimensions. "We must position ourselves strategically around the manifestation point."
"The scramble pattern of the intersection is fortuitous," Artoria noted. "It naturally creates a ritual configuration that complements our needs."
Under Artoria's and Morgan's guidance, the divine women took positions at key points around the crossing, forming a rough circle with Satoru at its center. As they moved into position, each began to manifest her conceptual nature more fully—subtle at first, then with increasing intensity.
Nero's imperial aura expanded, her casual modern clothing (courtesy of Morgan's glamour) gradually shifting back to her true imperial regalia. Red rose petals materialized from nowhere, swirling around her as she took a theatrical stance. "The stage is set! Let the final act commence!"
Artoria's invisible armor became partially visible—a shimmering outline of legendary Excalibur materializing in her hands. Her posture straightened, her presence growing more regal as the concept of Righteous Governance intensified around her.
Durga's multiple arms fully manifested, each holding different divine weapons that pulsed with cosmic energy. Her skin deepened to celestial blue, her eyes containing swirling galaxies as Balance incarnate prepared for conflict.
Morgan's dark elegance transformed into something more primal—fabric becoming living shadow that writhed around her like serpents. The concept of Transformation made manifest in her very being.
Musashi's twin blades gleamed with impossible sharpness, her usual playful demeanor replaced by the focused intensity of perfect swordsmanship. As she embodied Perfected Skill, her movements became so precisely economical that she seemed to exist in multiple positions simultaneously.
Ishtar ascended several feet into the air, her divine radiance breaking through Morgan's glamour completely. Golden ornaments materialized around her as she fully embraced her aspect as Regenerative Power, her beauty becoming almost painful to behold.
Nobunaga's military uniform sharpened into focus, multiple rifles materializing around her in a floating arsenal. Her grin turned predatory as Progressive Destruction became her defining feature, reality itself seeming to warp slightly around her chaotic presence.
Raikou's maternal aura expanded outward like a protective dome, her weapon growing to its true massive proportions. Her expression remained serene even as her power as Protective Nurturing intensified to divine levels.
Arcueid's crimson eyes began to glow in the darkness, her simple modern clothing replaced by moonlit elegance. As Primal Nature incarnate, the air around her thrummed with the fundamental power of life and death in perfect balance.
Gilgamesh stood proudly apart, golden portals opening around her as her casual attire transformed into minimal golden armor. As the concept of Pioneering Will made flesh, her very presence seemed to impose order on the chaotic energies swirling around them.
At the center, Satoru removed his sunglasses, revealing the full power of his Six Eyes. The Limitless expanded around him not as a defensive measure but as a connecting principle—invisible threads of conceptual infinity linking him to each of the divine women.
"Well, this is dramatic," he commented, though his usual flippancy was tempered by genuine focus. "Everyone ready to create an eleventh concept out of thin air?"
Before anyone could respond, reality fractured at the center of the intersection. The breach began small—a pinprick of absolute darkness that shouldn't have been visible yet somehow hurt to look at directly. Within seconds, it expanded to a swirling vortex approximately two meters in diameter, hovering five feet above the ground.
"Here we go," Toji muttered, taking a position slightly behind Raikou. Without cursed energy of his own, he would focus on protecting the perimeter from whatever lesser entities might emerge alongside the main threat.
From the vortex came a sound like reality tearing—a discordant noise that existed somewhere between sound and concept. The dimensional tear widened further, and from within emerged something far more substantial than the avatar they had faced in Shinjuku.
The Devourer's manifestation in Shibuya took a form that human minds struggled to process. It appeared simultaneously as a massive creature with too many limbs and eyes, a geometric impossibility that shifted between three-dimensional shapes, and a void-like absence that consumed light and matter alike. Parts of it extended into dimensions beyond normal perception, giving the impression that what they saw was merely the portion that intersected with their reality.
"CONVERGENCE POINT ACHIEVED," it communicated directly into their minds, causing nearby electronics to malfunction from the conceptual interference. "MANIFESTATION PROCEEDING AS CALCULATED."
"Not if we have anything to say about it," Satoru replied, his voice carrying unusual authority as the Limitless expanded around him. "Ladies, shall we introduce ourselves properly?"
Taking this as their cue, each divine woman channeled her conceptual power directly toward the entity. Unlike in Shinjuku, where they had attacked individually, now they focused on maintaining their connection through Satoru while projecting their fundamental nature.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Where the Devourer attempted to extend tendrils of consumption into the surrounding reality, it encountered not individual resistances but an interwoven conceptual framework that rejected its intrusion.
"UNEXPECTED CONFIGURATION," the entity communicated, its many-limbed form rippling with what might have been confusion. "CONCEPTUAL HARMONY DETECTED. ANALYZING."
"It's working," Morgan called out, her voice strained from the effort of maintaining her aspect while remaining connected to the others. "The framework is preventing full manifestation."
"But not repelling it," Gilgamesh observed sharply. "It adapts even now."
She was right. The Devourer's form shifted, becoming more focused, more defined—as if learning how to exist more efficiently within their reality's constraints. What had been a chaotic amalgamation of impossible geometries began resolving into something more coherent, though no less alien.
"LIMITATIONS IDENTIFIED," it communicated. "COUNTERMEASURES IMPLEMENTED."
With shocking speed, it launched simultaneous attacks against all ten divine women—not physical strikes but conceptual intrusions that sought to disrupt their fundamental nature. Each experienced it differently:
Nero felt her imperial authority questioned by the collective will of every citizen who had ever suffered under Rome's rule.
Artoria faced the accumulated failures of her kingship—every decision that had led to Camelot's downfall replaying simultaneously.
Durga's cosmic balance tilted as the entity forced her to experience the heat death of universes and the cold birth of new ones concurrently.
Morgan's transformative nature turned against her, her form beginning to shift uncontrollably between multiple possible versions of herself.
Musashi's perfect technique faltered as the entity introduced quantum uncertainty into her movements, making absolute precision temporarily impossible.
Ishtar's divine radiance dimmed as the entity forced her to confront the fading of worship and the mortality of gods across countless pantheons.
Nobunaga's destructive impulse reflected back on itself, threatening to consume her own existence rather than directing outward.
Raikou's protective instinct overwhelmed her with the knowledge of every child she couldn't save, every mother who had failed despite best intentions.
Arcueid's primal nature fractured as the entity forced evolutionary dead-ends and extinction events into her consciousness.
Gilgamesh's pioneering will faced the ultimate futility of creation in a cosmos destined for entropy and dissolution.
Each divine woman faltered momentarily under this conceptual assault, their perfect formation wavering. The connections through Satoru began to strain as individual doubts and fears threatened their collective harmony.
"It's attacking your conceptual foundations," Satoru called out, his Six Eyes perceiving the nature of the assault. "Don't fight individually—remember the connection!"
Struggling against the targeted intrusions, Artoria was the first to recover her focus. "Remember who you are," she called to the others, her voice steady despite the visions of Camelot's fall assaulting her mind. "Your concept exists beyond your individual experience of it!"
"Our strength is not in perfection," Durga added, forcibly rebalancing her cosmic perspective. "But in relationship!"
One by one, they fought past the conceptual attacks, not by denying their vulnerabilities but by acknowledging them while maintaining their connections to each other. As they did, something unexpected began to happen at the center of their formation where Satoru stood.
The space around him began to glow with a light that wasn't light—a conceptual illumination visible not to the eyes but to the understanding. The connections between him and each divine woman strengthened, becoming more tangible, more defined. Where before they had been separate entities connected by tenuous threads, now they began to function as facets of a unified whole.
The Devourer reacted with what could only be described as alarm. "ANOMALOUS PATTERN DETECTED. EMERGENCE PROTOCOL UNSTABLE. RECALIBRATING."
"It's struggling to adapt," Morgan realized, her voice stronger as she reasserted control over her transformative nature. "Whatever we're creating, it cannot easily counter it!"
"Push harder," Musashi encouraged, her swords finding perfect precision once more as she refused to accept the uncertainty the entity had tried to impose. "Break through its conceptual barriers!"
Each divine woman intensified her aspect, drawing not just on individual power but on their connection through Satoru. As they did, the glow around him intensified, taking on a more defined form—something like a throne made of pure conceptual energy, neither solid nor ephemeral but existing as pure potential.
The Devourer launched a second, more desperate attack—this time directly at Satoru himself. Tendrils of void-like consumption lashed toward him from multiple angles and dimensions simultaneously.
"VOID MASTER TARGETED. ELIMINATE NEXUS POINT."
Without hesitation, all ten divine women redirected their protection toward Satoru, their individual powers flowing through their conceptual connection to strengthen his Limitless. The void tendrils encountered not just infinity but infinity empowered by ten fundamental concepts working in harmony.
The result was spectacular. Where the tendrils touched the enhanced Limitless, they didn't simply stop or rebound—they transformed. The void-like consumption inverted, becoming something new, something that hadn't existed in their reality before this moment.
"What's happening?" Getō called from the perimeter, where he and Toji maintained guard against lesser manifestations that had begun emerging from secondary breaches.
"The eleventh concept," Durga answered, her cosmic understanding grasping what was occurring. "It manifests through harmony rather than individual power!"
At the center of it all, Satoru experienced something unprecedented. His Limitless technique, always defined by the infinity between himself and all else, transformed into something more complex—a principle that connected rather than separated, that bridged conceptual gaps rather than enforcing them.
The conceptual throne around him solidified further, no longer merely energy but not quite physical either. It existed as pure possibility made manifest, and as Satoru instinctively sat upon it, the full connection between all eleven concepts finally completed.
The effect was immediate and transformative. The swirling vortex of the Devourer's manifestation began to contract, its many-limbed form convulsing as it encountered something it had never faced in seventeen consumed realities.
"IMPOSSIBLE CONCEPT DETECTED," it communicated, its mental voice fragmented with what might have been fear. "PARADOX CONFIGURATION. CONSUMPTION PROTOCOLS FAILING."
"What exactly is happening?" Satoru asked, his voice echoing strangely as he maintained his position on the conceptual throne. Despite being at the center of this cosmic phenomenon, he didn't fully understand what concept they had collectively created.
"We've manifested Harmonic Possibility," Morgan answered, her sorceress nature allowing her to perceive the conceptual framework they had created. "The principle that diverse concepts can coexist in dynamic relationship rather than hierarchical opposition."
"A concept the Devourer cannot consume," Durga elaborated, "because its fundamental nature is based on separating concepts from each other before absorption."
"Fascinating theory," Gilgamesh commented dryly, golden portals still open around her. "But our opponent appears to be adapting rather than retreating."
She was right. Though the Devourer's form had contracted, it was reconfiguring itself—becoming denser, more focused, as if compressing its power into a more efficient configuration.
"DIRECT CONSUMPTION INEFFECTIVE," it communicated. "IMPLEMENTING ALTERNATIVE STRATEGY."
With shocking suddenness, the entity's entire form collapsed into a singularity-like point before exploding outward in eleven distinct projectiles—each targeting a specific member of their formation. These weren't physical attacks but conceptual intrusions designed to corrupt rather than consume.
"It's trying to corrupt our concepts from within!" Artoria warned, raising Excalibur against the incoming threat. "Stand firm!"
Each faced their projectile differently:
Nero met hers with theatrical defiance, her imperial authority expanding to encompass even this alien intrusion. "All the world's a stage, and even cosmic horrors must play by the playwright's rules!"
Artoria's righteous governance transformed the intrusion, her perfect understanding of just rule converting corruption to order through sheer conceptual authority.
Durga simply absorbed hers, her cosmic balance so fundamental that the intrusion merely became another element to be balanced within the greater whole.
Morgan allowed her intrusion to enter fully before transforming it from within, her mastery of change turning the corruption against itself.
Musashi's perfect technique sliced her projectile into increasingly smaller pieces until they no longer maintained coherent structure, demonstrating that even conceptual attacks could be defeated through sufficient skill.
Ishtar's divine regeneration consumed her intrusion, her fundamental nature as a fertility goddess allowing her to transform corruption into new creation.
Nobunaga laughed as she received hers, her nature as progressive destruction ensuring that the corrupting influence destroyed itself rather than her. "Trying to corrupt chaos? Amateur move!"
Raikou's protective nurturing enveloped her intrusion completely, her maternal instinct so powerful that she treated even this attack as something to be cared for and guided rather than destroyed.
Arcueid's primal nature proved too fundamental for corruption, her existence as True Ancestor representing a conceptual bedrock that could not be easily altered.
Gilgamesh simply refused to be corrupted, her pioneering will so absolute that the intrusion found no purchase against her immovable sense of self. "The King rejects your presumption!"
Satoru, at the center on his conceptual throne, faced the most complex attack—a meta-intrusion designed to sever his connections to the others. His response was classically Gojo: he inverted the attack using Limitless, turning the severing attempt into a strengthening effect that further solidified the eleventh concept.
"Sorry," he quipped as the intrusion backfired spectacularly. "I'm particularly bad at following other people's rules. Ask anyone."
As each corrupting projectile failed, the Devourer's manifestation became increasingly unstable. Its form fluctuated between different states, no longer able to maintain conceptual coherence in the face of the eleventh throne's power.
"PARADOX CONFIGURATION INCOMPATIBLE WITH CONSUMPTION PROTOCOLS," it communicated, its mental voice losing coherence. "STRATEGIC WITHDRAWAL REQUIRED. RECALIBRATION NECESSARY."
"It's retreating," Morgan observed, though her tone suggested caution rather than triumph. "But not surrendering."
"INTEGRATION IMPOSSIBLE AT CURRENT PARAMETERS," the entity continued. "WILL RETURN WHEN CONCEPTUAL HARMONY DESTABILIZES."
"Fat chance of that happening," Nobunaga called out, her arsenal of rifles still trained on the fluctuating entity. "We're just getting started!"
The Devourer's form contracted further, collapsing back toward the dimensional breach from which it had emerged. As it retreated, it left a final communication that echoed ominously in their minds:
"TEMPORARY SETBACK. THE BINDING HAS LIMITATIONS. TIME IS ON MY SIDE."
With a sound like reality healing itself, the breach began to close. The swirling vortex contracted to a pinpoint before vanishing completely, leaving behind only scorched pavement and lingering distortions in the air that gradually faded.
For several long moments, no one moved or spoke. The divine women maintained their positions, their conceptual aspects still fully manifested, connections to Satoru still active. The eleventh throne continued to exist as a semi-visible conceptual construct around him, neither fully manifest nor entirely ethereal.
Finally, Nero broke the silence with characteristic dramatic flair. "Is that it? I was expecting a more definitive finale! Where's the satisfying conclusion?"
"It withdrew to recalibrate," Durga explained, her multiple arms lowering their weapons as she reduced her cosmic aspect to more manageable levels. "But it will return when it believes our conceptual harmony has weakened."
"So we won but didn't win?" Musashi asked, sheathing her swords with fluid grace. "That's... unsatisfying."
"Welcome to cosmic conflicts," Arcueid commented with ancient patience. "They rarely end neatly."
Satoru rose from the conceptual throne, which faded slightly but didn't disappear entirely as he stepped away from it. "Well, we prevented Tokyo from being consumed by an interdimensional horror. I'm counting that as a win for Tuesday night."
As the immediate danger passed, their formation relaxed. The divine women gradually reduced their conceptual manifestations, though none returned completely to their disguised appearances. The experience had changed something fundamental about their presence in this reality—each now existed more fully as herself rather than merely as a visitor from another realm.
Toji and Getō approached from the perimeter, joined by Principal Yaga and several senior jujutsu sorcerers who had observed the confrontation from a safe distance.
"I've seen many things in my years as principal," Yaga commented, his usual stern expression softened by genuine wonder, "but nothing quite like that."
"Did we actually defeat it?" Getō asked directly, ever practical.
"Not permanently," Morgan answered honestly. "But we established a conceptual defense it cannot easily overcome. We've bought time, if nothing else."
"Time for what?" Toji questioned.
"To figure out what it meant by 'the binding has limitations,'" Satoru replied, his usual flippant tone tempered by thoughtfulness. "It seemed awfully confident about that part."
As cleanup crews began to move into the area and government officials crafted cover stories for the bizarre events at Shibuya Crossing, the group gathered more closely around Satoru. Despite their victory, an undercurrent of concern ran through them.
"The manifestation of the eleventh throne was incomplete," Durga observed, studying the semi-visible conceptual construct that still hovered near Satoru. "It exists, but not in stable form."
"Like a newly born star," Morgan elaborated, "still gathering matter and energy before reaching sustainable fusion."
"So what do we do now?" Ishtar demanded, her divine patience clearly limited. "I have no intention of spending eternity bound to this reality, charming though some aspects have proven." Her gaze lingered briefly on a nearby vending machine with something like affection.
"We need more information," Artoria decided, ever the strategic thinker. "About the binding, about the eleventh concept, about everything Chronos didn't tell us."
"And where exactly do we get that?" Gilgamesh asked imperiously. "The time entity conveniently departed after delivering cryptic half-truths."
"I might have an idea," Satoru said, replacing his sunglasses with a flourish. "But you're probably not going to like it."
"Your ideas usually merit that warning," Getō observed dryly.
"We need to consult the Jujutsu High restricted archives," Satoru continued. "Specifically, the pre-Heian records that document early interactions between jujutsu sorcerers and divine entities."
Yaga's expression immediately darkened. "Those archives are forbidden to students, Gojo. Even special grade sorcerers require council approval."
"Good thing I never care about approval then," Satoru replied cheerfully. "Besides, would you rather face the next manifestation without proper information? The Devourer clearly knows something about our binding that we don't."
The principal held Satoru's gaze for a long moment before sighing in resignation. "I'll arrange limited access. Under supervision."
"Supervision?" Satoru repeated with mock offense. "After we just saved reality? Where's the trust?"
"Eroded by years of your creative interpretations of school rules," Yaga replied flatly. "The archives will be available tomorrow morning. Try not to manifest any more cosmic thrones before then."
As the principal departed to make arrangements, Shoko approached with a practical concern. "So where are they staying tonight?" She gestured to the ten divine women. "I'm guessing the Gojo compound isn't ideal after your dramatic exit earlier today."
"My apartment's too small for eleven," Satoru mused. "And hotels might get complicated with..." he gestured vaguely at Durga's multiple arms and Ishtar's persistent floating.
"I could book an entire floor," Gilgamesh suggested imperiously. "My treasures include substantial wealth."
"Which doesn't exist in this reality," Morgan pointed out reasonably.
"I know a place," Toji offered unexpectedly. "An old Zenin property, technically abandoned but still maintained. Off the books, spacious, and warded against detection."
"The Zenin clan won't mind us borrowing it?" Getō asked skeptically.
Toji's smile held surprising edge. "What they don't know won't hurt them. Besides, they owe me a few favors they'd rather not acknowledge publicly."
"Mysterious," Musashi commented appreciatively. "I like it!"
As they prepared to depart Shibuya, Satoru lingered momentarily, looking back at the crossing where the dimensional breach had occurred. Though normal reality had reasserted itself, his Six Eyes could still detect subtle distortions—scars in the fabric of spacetime that hadn't fully healed.
"It will return," Morgan stated quietly, appearing beside him. "And it will be better prepared next time."
"So will we," Satoru replied with unusual seriousness. "Whatever this eleventh concept is that we've started to create, it clearly scares an entity that's devoured seventeen realities. That seems promising."
"Indeed," she agreed. "Though I cannot shake the feeling that we've overlooked something significant. The Devourer's confidence about the binding's limitations troubles me."
"Well," Satoru shrugged, his customary irreverence returning, "if the apocalypse is coming anyway, at least we've got divine company for the end times."
"Your deflection through humor is transparent," Morgan observed, "but not entirely ineffective."
Satoru grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment from the Sorceress Queen."
As they rejoined the others, preparing to follow Toji to the secret Zenin property, Satoru couldn't entirely dismiss Morgan's concerns. The binding that connected him to these ten extraordinary women had happened too easily, too conveniently. And the Devourer's parting message suggested it knew something about their connection that they themselves didn't yet understand.
But those were concerns for tomorrow. Tonight, they had earned a moment of respite—ten divine women, one limitless sorcerer, and a conceptual throne of uncertain significance that might just represent reality's best hope against cosmic consumption.
As Nero dramatically declared while boarding their transport: "The first act concludes with our heroes triumphant yet uncertain! Intermission refreshments are clearly required before the second act begins!"
No one could argue with that theatrical assessment.