Greeting fellow readers, MasterW here.
Now, to get the memes I had on my head out of way "You were thinking I died, bitch surprise~"
Yeah, sorry for the delay, bad news was my computer completely broke down, making me have to buy a new one and redo the chapter from zero, which made it kind of tedious. But still, here it is, the new chapter.
Also, obligatory Lady Gaga - Judas soundtrack, because I kept blasting it on my headphones while writing chapter.
Once again, I'm sorry for making you all wait so much
Without any further to do, enjoy!
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(Third Person POV)
The air within the battle-zone shattered. The playful gauging of abilities was over.
This was the endgame.
"Domain Expansion"
Their voices were a synchronized declaration of war.
Two colossal forces erupted from them, slamming into each other with the force of colliding worlds.
"Infinite Void!" Gojo's domain, a boundless space of infinite information, sought to overwhelm and paralyze.
"Void Palace" Akira countered, his domain a manifestation of absolute nullification.
For a breathtaking moment, the two realities warred for supremacy, the air crackling with conflicting laws of physics and cursed energy.
But then, Gojo's Six Eyes processed the impossible.
His domain wasn't being overpowered; it was being unmade. The barrier of his "Infinite Void" was being erased, the cursed energy structuring it turning into nothingness before it could fully manifest.
It was like trying to build a castle on a foundation of disappearing sand.
His domain collapsed.
In the next instant, the world shifted.
Gojo found himself standing on a vast, still lake. The water was unnervingly shallow, less than an inch deep. Beneath it, for what felt like hundreds of meters, was not earth, but a deep, grainy expanse of grey ash, giving the water a murky, lifeless color.
Above, a massive, bleeding eclipse dominated the sky, an orange-red corona streaking downward like tears of the sun, casting the entire desolate plane in an eerie, twilight glow.
Akira stood opposite him, his hands falling from their prayer-like sign into a ready, open-palm stance.
His crimson eyes glowed in the hellish light.
Gojo instantly assessed his situation. He was at a severe disadvantage. His domain had failed, and the burnout meant his Cursed Technique was temporarily unavailable. He was trapped in his opponent's world, stripped of his greatest weapons.
Akira gave him no time to think. He launched forward, his movement a silent blur over the shallow water, not causing a single ripple.
What followed was a brutal, primal exchange of hand-to-hand combat, stripped of all their cheating like techniques
Akira was a tempest of precise, devastating strikes. His style was an eclectic, ruthless fusion of disciplines. He opened with a flurry of chain punches, his fists a blur aimed at Gojo's centerline, forcing him into a desperate, swaying defense. As Gojo leaned back, Akira seamlessly transitioned into a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at his ribs. Gojo blocked it, the impact jarring his bones, but the force was immense.
Gojo, a master in his own right, countered with a sharp jab and a low sweep, trying to disrupt Akira's balance. But Akira anticipated it, leaping over the sweep and, while in the air, twisting his body to deliver a spinning back-fist that Gojo barely dodged, the wind from it whipping past his face
They were a whirlwind of motion under the bleeding sky.
Akira used his legs with terrifying efficiency, mixing powerful front kicks to keep distance with low, slicing sweeps whenever Gojo tried to close in. His hands were just as deadly with open-palm strikes aimed at nerve clusters, knife-hand chops targeting the neck, and swift, debilitating elbow strikes in the clinch
Gojo fought back with everything he had. His own martial skill was top-tier, a product of a lifetime of being the target of every curse and sorcerer who wanted to make a name for themselves.
He landed a solid cross to Akira's jaw and a punishing knee to his midsection. But Akira absorbed the blows with a grunt, his stance barely faltering, and immediately returned fire with a double-palm strike to Gojo's chest that sent him stumbling backward through the ash-filled water.
As the exchange wore on, a cold realization dawned on Gojo, cutting through the adrenaline. He was analyzing Akira's domain, knowing it had a sure-hit effect but wasn't instantly lethal.
He was biding his time, waiting for his technique to recharge. But in this pure contest of physical skill, stripped of all their cheat-like powers he realized something
'Akira was a better fighter'
It wasn't a vast gap, but it was undeniable.
Akira's movements were more economical, his transitions smoother, his anticipation sharper.
Every technique flowed into the next with a ruthless, practiced grace that Gojo's more straightforward, power-based style couldn't quite match.
Akira wasn't just fighting; he was composing a symphony of violence, and Gojo was struggling to keep up with the rhythm.
For the first time in his life, in a direct physical confrontation, Gojo Satoru was being outclassed.
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The spectator room was tense, their view completely blocked by the impenetrable black sphere of a Domain.
All they could do was watch the ominous ball and speculate.
"Tch, we can't see anything," Kusakabe grumbled, frustration evident. "We have no idea what's happening in there."
Maki turned to Miko. "You said you've seen your teacher's domain before?"
Miko nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, but only for a second. It was enough to instantly deal with a Special Grade curse. Even though we were inside the curse's own domain at the time, his overwrote it instantly."
Kusakabe's eyes widened. "Then that means his domain is powerful enough to crush a Special Grade's domain in a second. Now imagine what it's doing to Gojo right now."
"But Gojo also activated his domain," Shoko reminded them, her voice laced with concern.
"We don't know which domain won the clash" Yaga concluded, his voice heavy.
"Look!" Panda shouted, pointing at the screen.
All eyes snapped back to the monitors. The black sphere was disintegrating, fading from existence. And what emerged from it sent a shockwave through the room.
It was Gojo. He flew out of the dissipating domain, executing a flawless flip in the air before landing hard on the asphalt. But the sight of him was staggering. His face was swollen and bruised. His arms mottled with dark contusions his cheek having purpling bruises and his lips and nose bleeding into the ground.
The damage vanished in an instant, healed by his Reverse Cursed Technique, but the image was seared into their minds.
Gojo had lost the domain fight.
"No way," Kusakabe muttered, his voice barely a whisper. The others who knew Gojo's true power were equally dumbfounded.
Before they could process it further, Akira shot out from the fading domain remnants, launching himself at Gojo. The hand-to-hand combat resumed with even greater ferocity.
"Sensei won the domain fight!" Miko exclaimed, a spark of happiness in her voice.
"But that means his technique is burned out now," Mai Zen'in countered, a sharp glint in her eye.
"Eh? What does that mean?" Hana asked, confused.
Shoko decided to explain, her gaze fixed on the brutal exchange. "When someone uses a Domain Expansion, their Cursed Technique is temporarily exhausted afterward. It's called 'burnout.' Right now, both Yoshioka and Gojo can only rely on hand-to-hand combat, Cursed Energy reinforcement and Reverse Curse Technique until it recovers."
Zaimozuka, watching intently, added, "But whoever lost their domain first will recover their technique faster. In this case, that would be Gojo-san"
Shigeo, standing beside him, connected the dots. "So then, Sensei won't have his technique, and Gojo-san will be able to use his without Sensei's 'Erase' to stop it."
Saeko nodded grimly. "And Gojo-san will have more breathing room since Yoshioka-sensei won't be able to use 'Restore' to summon the 'Purple' he absorbed."
Kusakabe folded his arms. "Then Gojo's strategy is clear. He needs to press his advantage during that small window where Yoshioka is vulnerable and he isn't."
The plan was sound. If not for the one variable they hadn't accounted for.
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The fight was a storm of reinforced fists and kicks.
Even without their powerful techniques, they were a blur of motion, each impact cratering the ground.
But the disparity seen within the domain was even more apparent now. Akira was a maestro of violence, his movements a seamless, brutal flow. Gojo, a master in his own right, was being systematically broken down.
Akira pressed the offensive, a relentless onslaught. He feinted a high jab, drawing Gojo's guard up, then dropped into a low sweep that Gojo barely jumped over. As Gojo landed, Akira was already there, his elbow smashing into Gojo's raised forearm. The defense held, but the force was immense, staggering Gojo back forming a bruise in his limb that instantly healed.
Akira didn't let up. A spinning hook kick connected with Gojo's side, a sickening thud echoing, followed by a piston-like straight punch that broke through Gojo's guard and snapped his head back drawing blood.
Gojo recovered instantly and turned on the defensive, parrying and dodging, but Akira's pressure was inexorable.
Finally, Akira saw his opening. He bypassed Gojo's guard with a swift palm strike to the chest, then followed with a devastating roundhouse kick that sent Gojo flying backward into the wall of a ruined building with a thunderous crash, blood flowing from his forehead
Before the dust could settle, Akira was on him.
He grabbed Gojo by the hair and slammed his face into the concrete wall, then began sprinting sideways, grinding Gojo's head through the structure. Shrapnel, chunks of concrete, and rebar scraped and embedded themselves into Gojo's face, a brutal, visceral display of raw power.
But then, Akira's hands closed on empty air.
Gojo's Cursed Technique had returned. The limitless space of his innate defense was fully active once more.
"About time," Gojo grinned, his face already healing, the embedded debris pushed out and falling to the ground.
With a casual application of "Blue," he created a massive attractive force, yanking Akira off his feet and hurling him across the street.
Akira crashed into a thick support pillar of an overpass bridge, the concrete cracking under the impact. Gojo didn't give him a moment. He launched himself forward, cocking his fist back, it glowing with condensed Cursed Energy.
The moment seemed to stretch, the very flow of the fight warping around his fist. Then, impact.
BLAM!
A distortion of space, a flash of black and red. The sound wasn't just an impact; it was reality itself cracking.
"Black Flash!"
The fist, carrying the sublime enlightenment of connecting with the essence of Cursed Energy itself, slammed into Akira's stomach.
The force was cataclysmic.
The pillar behind Akira vaporized, and he was launched through the resulting gap like a cannonball, tumbling to a stop under the bridge in a kneeling position, one hand clutching his blackened, smoking midsection.
Empowered by the Black Flash, Gojo didn't hesitate.
He pointed upward and then downward, pulling his Limitless to its absolute limit. With a groan of tearing metal and concrete, he ripped the entire section of the bridge Akira was under from its foundations and hurled it downward like the hammer of a god
Akira, looking up from his kneeling position, saw the colossal structure descending to crush him. He raised his single free hand, palm open.
And the moment the multi-ton mass made contact with his skin
He chanted a single, calm word.
"Delete."
The entire section of the bridge, every beam, every slab of concrete, every piece of rebar, vanished into nothingness.
Gojo stared, his eyes wide with utter disbelief. He knew Akira's technique would come back, but this fast? The burnout should have lasted another minute, maybe two. How was this possible?
His Six Eyes analyzed the residual energy, and the answer clicked into place, a conclusion so insane it was almost poetic.
"Oh, you crazy bastard!" Gojo shouted, a laugh of pure, unadulterated shock and admiration escaping him. "You used your Reverse Cursed Technique to heal your burned-out technique?!"
In any sane sorcerer's mind, forcibly jump-starting a Cursed Technique with RCT was a recipe for catastrophic feedback, potentially frying one's brain. Only a madman would attempt it.
(The irony that Gojo Satoru was calling someone else a madman for doing that was lost on no one.)
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The spectators of the fight watched what just happened, the room was once again plunged into stunned silence.
"No way..." Kusakabe breathed, for what felt like the tenth time.
"How many times are you going to say 'no way' during this fight?" Mei Mei joked, though her own eyes were wide with professional fascination.
"Wait, is that bad?" Yuria asked, confused by the veterans' reactions.
Shoko took a long, slow drag from her cigarette before answering. "He used his Reverse Cursed Technique to heal his exhausted Cursed Technique." She exhaled a plume of smoke. "I'd have said it was impossible, but the fact is, we're seeing it happen right now."
Hana tilted her head. "Why isn't it possible?"
"Because," Shoko explained, "An exhausted Cursed Technique after a Domain is different from physical damage. It's like a machine that has overheated; it needs time to cool down. RCT heals the body's 'hardware,' not the metaphysical 'software' of the technique."
Maki nodded in understanding. "So, RCT can heal damage but can't cool down an overheated technique."
"That should be the case. That's the established norm," Kusakabe replied, his voice strained. "But it seems the norm just got thrown out the window."
Hakari let out a low whistle. "That means Gojo-sensei's plan just failed spectacularly."
Kirara finished the thought, her voice a mix of awe and dread. "And we're back at square one."
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A tense silence had fallen between the two white-haired fighters. The air, thick with residual cursed energy, seemed to solidify around them.
They had traded world-shattering techniques, domains, and brutal hand-to-hand blows.
A mutual, grudging understanding passed between them: they now knew the full, terrifying scope of each other's power.
Or so Gojo thought.
"Restore" Akira chanted, his voice calm.
In his left hand, a sheathed katana materialized.
The scabbard was a deep, jet black accented with subtle purple highlights. His fingers closed around the hilt, and he drew the blade with a soft, grating sound.
It was unlike any sword Gojo had ever seen. The blade wasn't a single, solid piece of steel.
It was a mosaic of a thousand fragmented shards, all held together and creating a jagged, shimmering appearance
Akira dismissed the scabbard with a thought, erasing it from existence. Gojo's Six Eyes processed the new variable of their fight instantly. 'His 'Restore' can summon objects he's previously erased. He has an entire arsenal at his fingertips'
"Weird sword," Gojo commented, his tone light but his focus absolute. "Does it have a name?"
Akira stared, then settled into a unique, flowing stance, the fragmented blade held steady. "Thousand Demon Dagger."
"That doesn't look like a dagger," Gojo retorted, falling into his own combat-ready pose.
"Hmm," was Akira's only reply before he shot forward.
The introduction of the blade added a dangerous new dimension.
Gojo's Limitless should, in theory, stop the physical sword just as it stopped any other object. But Akira wasn't relying on the blade's physicality alone.
Their exchange became a deadly dance.
Akira's swordsmanship was as unorthodox as the blade itself. Fluid, unpredictable, and ruthlessly efficient.
He didn't use wide, slashing arcs. Instead, he employed swift, precise thrusts and short, sharp cuts aimed at vital points, the fragmented edge humming with a strange energy.
Gojo weaved and dodged, his preternatural reflexes keeping him just ahead of the shimmering tip. He reinforced his body with dense cursed energy, knowing a direct hit would be catastrophic even if blocked.
Then it happened.
Akira feinted a high thrust, and as Gojo leaned to the side, the blade seemed to phase through the infinitesimal space of the Limitless. The tip grazed Gojo's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
Gojo leaped back, his hand going to his face in genuine surprise. The cut healed instantly, but the implication was staggering. His Six Eyes, working at light speed, analyzed the residual energy on the blade and around Akira.
He saw it now.
A faint, constant shroud of Akira's domain-like energy enveloping him, and by extension, his weapon. It wasn't a full Domain Expansion, but a persistent, concentrated application of its barrier.
'He's cloaked in the barrier of his domain, Gojo realized, a wild grin spreading across his face. 'It's a pushback, a domain amplification focused on offense. He can cut through anything, including my defense. This just got a lot more interesting!'
The fight intensified. Gojo, now fully aware of the threat, pushed his reinforcement to its limits. His movements became even sharper, his counters more desperate.
He was no longer just dodging; he was fighting for his life against a blade and an attacker that could ignore his greatest defense.
Akira pressed his advantage, a relentless storm of shimmering fragments. He forced Gojo into a corner against the wreckage of a building. Seeing an opening, Gojo brought his heavily reinforced forearm up in a powerful block against a downward slash. It was a move that should have stopped the blade cold.
But the Thousand Demon Dagger was not a normal blade.
At the moment of impact, the unseen force holding the fragments together released. The blade didn't break; it disassembled. The thousand shards separated, flowing like a stream of metallic hornets around and through Gojo's blocking arm. They reassembled on the other side, the blade completing its downward arc and slicing a deep, clean gash across Gojo's chest.
Gojo gasped, stumbling back several paces. He looked down at the grievous wound, then back at the now-reformed, shimmering blade in Akira's hand.
His Reverse Cursed Technique flared, sealing the cut in an instant, but the shock of the maneuver remained.
He now knew the purpose of the shards of the blade.
Gojo's eyes, which could see the minute details most people couldn't instantly counted the shards composing the blade, and realized how it could be used
He stood there, chest heaving, a new layer of respect and wariness in his eyes.
The air, already thick with the aftermath of their cataclysmic clash, grew deathly still. Gojo Satoru, a trickle of blood still drying on his newly healed chest, broke into a wide, manic grin.
He slowly raised his hands, bringing them together in the unmistakable, interlocking finger sign of his Domain Expansion.
Akira's crimson eyes narrowed.
He didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he joined his own hands in the prayer-like sign, releasing from his hands the Thousand Demon Dagger and making it float right beside him, the blade connected to his energy
"Domain Expansion!" their voices roared in unison.
"Void Palace!" Akira's domain began to manifest, the desolate lake of ash and the bleeding eclipse starting to bleed into reality.
Gojo's voice followed, but it was laced with a playful, mocking tone. "Infinite vo—oops, bit my tongue!"
The immense pressure of his nascent domain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. It was a feint. A brilliant, audacious bluff.
Akira's eyes widened a fraction, the only sign of his surprise.
The momentum of his own domain was already unstoppable. The world around them dissolved, the ruined cityscape washing away into the familiar, shallow lake of ashen water beneath the ominous, bleeding sun. The Void Palace was active.
But Gojo stood within it, unharmed and grinning triumphantly. He had tricked Akira into expending the colossal energy required to activate his domain, while conserving his own.
"Gotcha," Gojo said, his voice echoing in the sterile silence of the Void Palace. "Now, let's see how you handle a guest in your own home. Let's take it from the top"
The dynamic of the fight had shifted instantly.
The battle was now on Akira's turf, but Gojo had all his techniques ready and waiting for the right moment when his opponent's Domain ends.
The hunter had just been lured into his own trap
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A collective gasp rippled through the spectator room as the screens were once again swallowed by the impenetrable black sphere of a Domain.
"The sword..." Kusakabe muttered, his brow furrowed in intense thought. "It managed to cut him. It must have a unique technique to bypass the Limitless."
Shoko took a slow drag from her cigarette, her tired eyes analytical. "I'm not so sure. The energy signature was strange. It felt less like a technique of the blade and more like an extension of Yoshioka himself."
Nanami adjusted his glasses, his voice calm and precise. "The critical move was the feint. Gojo baited him. He forced Yoshioka to commit to opening his Domain while conserving his own energy."
Mei Mei nodded, appreciation in her tone. "It was a masterful bluff. Yoshioka was compelled to activate his Domain defensively, believing he was about to be engulfed by the Infinite Void."
Utahime crossed her arms, a worried frown on her face. "So now, Gojo just has to survive inside Yoshioka's Domain. The moment it collapses, Yoshioka's technique will be burned out, and Gojo will have his window to strike"
Maki, her gaze sharp, added the crucial counterpoint. "But we've seen Yoshioka can use his Reverse Cursed Technique to heal that burnout."
Shoko exhaled a plume of smoke, her expression grim. "Yes, he can. But it doesn't seem to be an instantaneous process. There appears to be a brief moment of vulnerability, a lag between the burnout and the RCT taking effect." She looked around at the others, her meaning clear. "And that moment is all Gojo will need"
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Within the stark, oppressive silence of the Void Palace, the fight became a brutal ballet of limitation and adaptation.
With his Limitless neutralized by the domain's sure-hit effect, Gojo was stripped of his primary defense.
He was now just a man, an impossibly strong, fast, and skilled man, facing a blade that could cut him.
Akira pressed the advantage with cold efficiency. The Thousand Demon Dagger was a whirlwind of shimmering death in his hands. He didn't just swing it; he commanded it. With a thought, the blade disassembled mid-swing, the thousand shards separating and shooting towards Gojo like a cloud of razored hornets.
Gojo's body became a canvas of motion and evasion. He twisted, ducked, and weaved with preternatural grace, his Six Eyes calculating the trajectory of every single fragment.
But the onslaught was too dense, too unpredictable. A shard grazed his shoulder, another sliced his thigh, a third left a deep cut along his ribs.
Crimson lines appeared on his white shirt and pants, each wound healing almost instantly with a flare of Reverse Cursed Technique, but the cumulative strain was real. He was being worn down, cut by a thousand tiny deaths.
'Okay' Gojo thought, his mind racing even as his body danced through the storm of steel. 'No anti-domain technique will work here. His sure-hit cancels all external Cursed Energy applications. But it allows reinforcement and RCT... a binding vow maybe? Powerful, but it gives me a chance. I just have to outlast it'
His senses, heightened to a cosmic degree, felt the fabric of the domain itself.
The barrier of the Void Palace was beginning to wane, its energy diminishing like a dying star.
'It's ending. Now!'
He created a sliver of distance with a burst of reinforced speed and began to chant, his voice a steady counterpoint to the hum of the flying shards.
"Nine Ropes. Polarized Light. Crow and Declaration. Distance between Front and Back"
He formed the hand signs for his technique.
He couldn't activate it yet, not inside the domain, but he could prepare it, channeling the colossal energy required, holding it at the very precipice of manifestation
He figured out that if no technique was released, Gojo could manipulate his without any trouble, and with his control of Curse Energy thanks to his Six Eyes, he could manipulate every single bit of Curse Energy in his body
Akira saw the tell-tale signs of energy being moved and condensed inside Gojo and lunged forward, the shards of his dagger converging into a single, thrusting point aimed at Gojo's heart. Gojo didn't stop his chant.
He evaded, his movements a desperate, beautiful series of near-misses, the tip of the blade grazing his side as he continued to pour power into his unfinished technique.
The world flickered. The ashen lake, the bleeding sun, they wavered and dissolved like a mirage.
The Void Palace collapsed.
In that exact instant, the infinite space of the Limitless snapped back into existence around Gojo. He used it not for defense, but for propulsion, violently throwing himself backward, putting a hundred meters between them in the blink of an eye.
Akira stood and moved forward. His technique now burned out from maintaining the domain. He had a couple of a second before he could even begin the attempt to heal it with RCT.
Gojo didn't give it to him.
"Maximum" Gojo roared, his fingers snapping forward. "Hollow: Purple!"
The perfected sphere of imaginary mass, the very one Akira had erased at the start of their battle, erupted into existence.
It was larger, more violent, fueled by Gojo's pent-up energy and the enlightenment of the Black Flash.
It didn't just travel; it obliterated the space between them, hurtling towards Akira with apocalyptic speed.
Trapped, technique-less, and with no room to dodge, Akira's eyes narrowed. The scattered shards of the Thousand Demon Dagger, still hovering in the air from their last attack, reacted to his will. They flew back, not to reform the blade, but to interlock and overlap in front of him, creating a dense, shimmering shield of cursed metal. At the same time, he crossed his arms in front of his face, reinforcing his body with every ounce of cursed energy he could muster.
The Hollow Purple made contact.
There was no sound of impact, only the deafening roar of reality being unmade. The purple orb detonated against the fragmented shield, and for a moment, the shards held, glowing with incandescent light as they resisted the annihilation.
But the power was too absolute.
The shield shattered, the shards sent flying in every direction like shrapnel from a bomb.
The full, unchecked force of the Hollow Purple then washed over Akira.
The resulting explosion was a sun being born and dying in the heart of the fabricated city.
A wave of pure power expanded outward in a perfect sphere, vaporizing everything it touched, buildings, streets, the very ground itself, leaving behind a smooth, glassy crater nearly a kilometer wide.
The shockwave hit the barrier walls of Tengen's construct, making the entire pocket dimension shudder.
In the spectator room, the screens went white, then dissolved into static as Mei Mei's crows were annihilated.
The only thing left was the image of that all-consuming purple light, and the terrifying silence that followed
---------------------------------
A tense, horrified silence gripped the spectator room. The screens had gone white, then dissolved into frantic static as Mei Mei's crows were erased from existence.
"Tch," Mei Mei clicked her tongue, her fingers already flying across her phone's screen. She texted her brother, Ui Ui, who was stationed safely outside the barrier.
{Mei Mei: Replace the crows. Now}
{Little Brother: Yes, dear sister}
Within moments, the screens flickered back to life, the new crows transmitting a scene of utter devastation.
A colossal, glass-floored crater stretched out before them, shrouded in a thick, settling plume of dust and smoke.
As the dust began to clear, two figures emerged, standing at a great distance from each other.
Gojo Satoru stood, brushing debris from his shoulders, a few minor cuts and bruises already fading from his skin as his Reverse Cursed Technique worked.
But it was the sight of the other figure that sent a jolt of pure shock through Yoshioka's students.
Akira stood, his immaculate black suit in tatters.
His left hand was completely gone, severed at the wrist.
In his right, he clutched only the empty, ornate pommel of his katana. His usually pristine white hair was caked with dust and ash.
It was the first time any of them had ever seen their invincible sensei so... damaged.
"Sensei..." Hana whispered, her voice trembling.
"No way..." Miko breathed, her hands flying to her mouth.
"He... he actually hurt him," Zaimozuka stated, his usual bravado completely gone, replaced by stark disbelief.
Shigeo could only stare, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. Lala clutched his arm tighter, her usual cheer replaced by wide-eyed worry
They knew this was just a mock fight, but still, seeing their teacher in that state was…... jarring
-------------------------------------------------------------
On the battlefield, Gojo grinned across the devastation. "Want to give up?"
Akira didn't respond with words.
The stump of his wrist began to glow with a soft, greenish light, flesh and bone weaving itself back together in seconds. The deep gashes and burns across his body vanished as if they were never there.
Then, he turned the empty hilt in his hand. From every direction, from under rubble, from the very air, the thousand shimmering shards of the Thousand Demon Dagger flew towards him, reassembling with a series of sharp, chiming sounds until the fragmented blade was whole once more.
With a final, deliberate motion, Akira tore the remnants of his suit jacket and tie away, leaving him in his torn, white dress shirt.
He settled back into his fighting stance, the reconstituted katana held ready. His crimson eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
Gojo's grin widened into something genuine, something beyond mere battle-lust. It was a smile of profound gratitude.
For years, he had stagnated at the pinnacle, a king with no challengers, his battles mere formalities. But this fight... this was different. It demanded strategy, creativity, and every ounce of his power. It forced him to think, to adapt, to feel the thrill of a true struggle.
He took his own stance, his heart lighter than it had been in a long, long time.
'Thank you, Akira,' he thought, the sentiment a quiet, sincere note in the symphony of their conflict. 'Thank you for this fight. Thank you for making me feel truly alive again.'
-----------------------------------
(Thousands of Years Ago)
(Third Person's POV)
The wind whipped across the endless grassy plains outside the walls, a freedom that was both exhilarating and deadly. Aaden Yerges, his hair a stark white against the vibrant green, rode his horse with an easy grace, a soft hum on his lips.
[Are you really humming the opening theme of Attack on Titan... in its own world?]
'Hey, no one here knows what it means, so it's fine,' Aaden thought back, a faint smirk touching his lips. 'It's my little inside joke with the universe.'
[Okay then. Now, what I wanted to ask is... why do you do it?]
'Do what?'
[You hold yourself back. It has surprised me. I thought humans, especially those with power, were driven to dominate, to make others submit. Yet you do the opposite. You could shatter the very foundations of this world, but you never do. You lock your stats and skills to match each world you visit... Why?]
Aaden's gaze grew distant, watching the horizon where fear and giants lurked. 'Because what would be the point?' he mused internally. 'I could solve every problem in this world in a single afternoon. I could vaporize the Titans, tear down the walls, and force a utopia. But then... why travel to other worlds at all? If I'm just going to be an unstoppable god in each one, imposing my will, every journey would be the same. There's no growth in that. No... story.'
[So, you do it for fun.]
'That,' Aaden agreed, his smirk returning, 'and to live an adventure. After all, isn't that the purpose of this whole journey in the first place? To experience a new life in every single world, not just have the same boring monotony'
[Yet you still keep yourself strong enough so that nothing is a threat to you]
'Hey, you said it before, I'm only human. Besides, to really make an influence, one has to be strong, isn't that right?'
[I guess so...]
'By the way,' Aaden's tone shifted to curiosity, 'Now that you brought it up, can I know why I can't go back to a world I've visited before? Is there a cooldown? A rule?'
[...You really want to know?]
'Yeah, why? Is it something ba—'
"Captain! We have contact from the right!"
The voice of Petra Ral cut through his internal conversation. He turned to see his subordinate galloping towards him, her expression focused.
"Captain Hange saw the titan and wanted to ask if you could neutralize it for study," She reported.
"Sure," Aaden said, his demeanor instantly shifting to that of a seasoned soldier. He grabbed the handles of his ODM gear, the familiar weight of the blades a comforting presence. "One dismembered titan, coming right up!"
He spurred his horse forward, and as they crested a small hill, the Titan came into view, a 7-meter class, wandering mindlessly.
Without hesitation, Aaden fired the grappling hooks of his ODM gear. With a burst of gas, he was launched into the air, a white-haired blur against the blue sky, his blades already beginning their precise, deadly work.
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(Petra Ral's POV)
Petra watched, mesmerized, as Captain Yerges became a whirlwind of steel and gas. His movements were a blend of impossible precision and brutal efficiency, each slice calculated to disable the Titan without destroying its nape.
He was an artist, and the Titan was his morbid canvas.
The enigmatic young captain had been a topic of hushed, awe-filled conversation in the Survey Corps for years.
He'd joined just two years before the fall of Shiganshina, a prodigy even among recruits.
The stories from the training camps were the stuff of legend, but seeing him in action was something else entirely. He was a Titan-killing machine, humanity's sharpest sword.
Even the legendary Lieutenant Levi, who had appeared later, followed Captain Yerges's orders without question.
The bond between the captain, Levi, and the other two members of the original squadron Furlan, and Isabel was deep, an unshakable unit.
It was said the captain had saved them all on their first mission, his leadership and skill convincing them to dedicate their lives to him and the Corps.
Petra watched as Aaden landed gracefully on the now-immobilized Titan, waiting calmly for Hange's capture team to arrive.
Her mind drifted to the stories of Shiganshina.
The Corps had been fortuitously stationed there. Their expedition delayed by late supplies.
When the Colossal Titan appeared and the gate was shattered, it was chaos. But the experienced Scouts had been there to help, saving countless lives.
Then the Armored Titan came.
Cannons were useless. Their blades bounced off its hardened skin. Despair was setting in.
Until Aaden Yerges, then just a new recruit, had moved. He didn't try to break the armor. He found the gaps, the microscopic seams and joints, and exploited them with surgical precision. He moved so fast he was a blur, slicing tendons and muscle, forcing the colossal being to its knees over and over.
The legend said corpsmen were assigned just to ferry new blades to him, a continuous relay to maintain the relentless pressure, and others to stop other titans from interfering
In the end, the unthinkable happened. The Armored Titan, humiliated and crippled after being sliced hundreds of times, turned and ran.
Aaden Yerges became the Hero of Shiganshina. The One Who Made Titans Run.
Petra looked at the white-haired young man standing atop his latest capture, his posture relaxed but ever-watchful.
A faint blush touched her cheeks. There were rumors he was seeing someone from the Garrison, a woman named Rico or something.
She desperately hoped they were just rumors.