Chapter 119 – Choso's Stand, Kenjaku's Vision
Within the Star Corridor, the vast void-space shuddered as Kenjaku tore through the barrier like paper and stepped into the sacred hall.
Waiting for him at the entrance was Choso, his crimson eyes burning with fury.
Kenjaku smiled faintly, his tone as casual as if greeting an old friend.
"Shall we talk? There's no need for hostility. You're of no further use to me, and frankly, I've lost interest in you."
The words were sharp, indifferent — a cruel dismissal from the man who had once created him.
To Kenjaku, Choso had been nothing more than a convenient tool — one of many experiments to advance his grand design. And now that his role was fulfilled, he was disposable.
"Talk?" Choso's voice dripped with venom. "The only thing I want from you now… is your death."
Murderous intent surged from his body, thick and suffocating. The air itself seemed to curdle.
Kenjaku only chuckled. "Where's Tengen?"
Straight to the point. There was no point pretending otherwise — he was here for one thing: the fully evolved being that once safeguarded Japan's jujutsu system.
"You mean that thumb-shaped hermit? She's not too keen on seeing you," Choso replied, his tone laced with mockery. "Can't say I blame her. You really do have a face that inspires disgust."
Kenjaku's grin widened. "Then you must be the decoy she sent to stall me. How noble — or perhaps just pathetic."
He spoke without a trace of concern.
Gojo Satoru was sealed.
Zen'in Shinsuke and Okkotsu Yuta were trapped within the Culling Game.
No one remained who could stand in his way.
"The Culling Game has already served its purpose," Kenjaku continued smoothly. "The non-sorcerers of this nation have completed their pre-assimilation preparations."
Choso's expression darkened. His fists clenched so tight that blood seeped between his fingers.
He wasn't worried about the "assimilation of humanity." He didn't care about the world's fate — not really.
What frightened him was Itadori Yuji, still trapped inside the Culling Game.
Hadn't Tengen said the ritual would last at least two months? Yet it had been barely a week since the barriers activated — how could things have advanced this far?
Kenjaku's voice, calm and almost teacherly, echoed through the hall.
"Another bit of good news: once I seize Tengen here, this country—and the entire world—will simply end."
Seeing Chōsō's confusion, he flicked his fingers.
The space around them dissolved into floating hexagonal tiles.
An instant later, they sat in a darkened movie theater, a massive screen before them.
On it, scenes of an imminent future began to play.
Kenjaku narrated as if giving a
lecture.
"Back in Shibuya, Tsukumo Yuki assumed that merging Tengen with humanity would 'optimize' cursed energy—turn everyone into sorcerers."
"That was only one phase of my plan. The Culling Game was merely a test—an experiment to verify its effectiveness."
He leaned back casually.
"Long before that, I explored a second path: not sorcerers, but cursed spirits."
"I wondered… what if cursed spirit power were elevated to a higher plane? Would a new form of cursed energy be born?"
He glanced sideways at Chōsō.
"That's why I had high expectations for you and your brothers.
A hybrid of human and curse… would it produce something new?"
Kenjaku smiled coldly.
"But you were disappointingly normal. A failed experiment."
Choso's blood surged, forming spears and blades that hovered menacingly around him.
"You dare call us failures?"
Kenjaku spread his arms, almost pitying.
"Don't take it personally. Evolution is cruel — it discards what doesn't serve the next step."
The lights of the phantom theater dimmed, and Kenjaku's silhouette loomed tall and unshakable.
"Still," he added softly, "I must thank you. Without you and your brothers, I could never have understood the flaws in humanity's design."
Choso's voice was low, trembling with restrained rage.
"You talk about evolution as if you're some kind of god. But you're nothing more than a parasite — stealing bodies, stealing lives. You'll never create anything."
Kenjaku's eyes narrowed. "Oh, Choso… That's where you're wrong."
He raised a hand — and the image on the giant screen shifted again.
It showed a world fused into one consciousness, every human mind drowned in the same endless ocean of cursed energy.
"My evolution won't create," Kenjaku said quietly. "It will unify."
The screen flickered — then exploded in a burst of blinding light as Choso launched forward, blood erupting into a crimson storm.
"Then I'll end your delusion right here!"
He brought his palms together, blood gathering and compressing between them into a shining crimson spear.
"Piercing Blood!"
The attack shot forth faster than sound, slicing through the air like a laser of liquid steel.
Kenjaku twisted his body at an impossible angle, narrowly evading it. A small worm-like curse slithered along the blood trail, lunging toward Choso's chest.
"Too slow."
Choso's palms moved in a blur. His cursed blood flared into blades, cutting the worm to pieces. The resulting explosion of energy shattered the ground beneath Kenjaku's feet.
Dust surged outward like a storm — but when it cleared, Kenjaku stood unharmed.
He caught a chunk of debris mid-air and flicked it toward Choso.
Choso frowned — insulted. But before the rock reached him, it burst open mid-flight, releasing a swarm of crawling insect-like curses.
"Supernova!"
Crimson light ignited from Choso's body as his compressed blood detonated outward, vaporizing the curses in an instant.
Through the smoke, a shadow lunged forward — Kenjaku, smiling — and drove a fist into Choso's face, hurling him across the floor.
Choso hit the wall hard, but his counterstrike came just as fast.
A floating sphere of blood hung in the air between them.
"Boom."
It exploded.
The resulting blast painted the entire chamber red. For a moment, it rained blood — thick, hot, and heavy.
But Choso's breathing remained uneven. He knew — this wasn't enough. Not for him.
He steadied himself, blood armor pulsing over his skin. "Tell me one thing before I kill you, Kenjaku."
Kenjaku paused, intrigued.
"What do you want from Itadori? He's not like me or my brothers, is he?"
For the first time, the scientist's eyes softened — not with pity, but with the quiet delight of a puppeteer who's long prepared his next move.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Ah… my dear Yuji."
Kenjaku's voice lowered, each word soaked in sinister pleasure.
"He's not a failure like you. He's the key — the final piece that connects everything."
And behind that smile, Choso could feel it — the promise of something far worse than death.