Sukuna's wild laughter—like the roar of a fiend from the deepest pit of hell—burst from the center of the swirling abyss of cursed energy.
"Hahahahahaha! You arrogant, white-haired trash! This King will hack you to pieces!"
The oppressive force that followed was cataclysmic. A tsunami of malice crashed outward, pressing down on Hiromi Higuruma, Kento Nanami, Yuji Itadori, and Angel Kurusu. Every breath they took was laced with suffocating terror; their hearts felt seized in Sukuna's fist.
Taisai Tensei turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable as his gaze slid toward Gojo Satoru.
"Aren't you taking your students and colleagues out of here?"
Gojo raised a brow, lips curving into his usual fearless grin. "You're right."
In an instant, his figure vanished—reappearing beside Itadori and Kurusu. "Go," he commanded tersely, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Before the word had even faded, space folded around them, and Gojo, along with Itadori and Kurusu, vanished from the field. Nanami and Higuruma exchanged a brief glance; understanding passed silently between them. Without hesitation, their cursed energy flared and they bolted from the battlefield as two blurred afterimages.
Silence returned—if silence could exist within such pressure.
Taisai Tensei's eyes refocused on the center of the storm. "Not ready yet?"
The response was Sukuna's thunderous bellow—an explosion of cursed energy that warped space itself.
"Shut up! I'll dismantle you to pieces!"
"Domain Expansion—!"
"Malevolent Shrine!!!"
Buzz—!
Reality shattered. The world of rubble and ash was replaced by the grotesque shrine, the bone altar, the endless crimson sea. The atmosphere reeked of blood and madness.
The laws of slashing filled every inch of existence.
Taisai Tensei stood motionless, eyes half-closed.
He was listening—no, feeling. The cut of space itself brushed against his skin, and his soul analyzed the structure of Sukuna's "sure-hit" and "defense-ignoring" rules. Compared to Shibuya, this was sharper—refined, violent, complete.
The true fangs of the King of Curses.
"Die!"
Sukuna's roar reverberated through the domain. Without a gesture, the omnipresent slashes descended—cold lights tearing through space, time, and reason. [Dismantle]. [Cleave].
Billions of blades converged, a symphony of annihilation poised to erase Taisai Tensei and all things.
Taisai's eyes opened. No fear. No hesitation.
Then—clang!
A clear metallic note—metals scraping the air—cut through the chaos.
Yamato had been drawn.
"Not bad," he murmured, the blade leaving a faint trail of blue light. His swing vanished from perception.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Countless of intersecting sword lights bloomed, intercepting Sukuna's invisible slashes midair. The collisions sparked brilliant starbursts, weaving a web of light across the blood-red world.
The shrine trembled. Cracks split its pillars—but it did not collapse. Not yet.
"Trash!" Sukuna spat, four crimson eyes narrowing as his grin twisted wider. "Do you think this is still like before?!"
His four arms moved simultaneously—two sustaining the domain's seals, two weaving Ten Shadows hand signs. Cursed energy ignited, black lightning dancing at his fingertips.
"Furube! Yurayura!"
With this treasure! I summon! Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga
From the sea of blood, three shadows rose— Three colossal Mahoraga, their forms towering and grotesque.
"Triple adaptation," Sukuna hissed, licking his fangs. "Let's see you despair when your slashes become worthless!"
The central Mahoraga stomped down—the shockwave shattered the surface of the sea. In the blink of an eye, it appeared before Tensei, the [Sword of Extermination] cleaving downward with a roar.
Taisai leaned aside. The blade whistled past him, missing by a breath. The second Mahoraga struck immediately, stabbing at his back. Taisai shifted again—an effortless slide, the blade grazing empty air. The third slashed upward, aiming to bisect him.
Taisai lifted his leg and lightly tapped the rising sword. The kick looked weightless—yet the massive blade was sent flying, its wielder staggering back through blood and flame.
The trio of Mahoraga pressed again, relentless. One swung from above. Another swept low, its edge screaming toward Taisai's ankles. The third lunged diagonally, blade angled to sever his midsection.
Perfect synchronization. No blind spots. No escape.
Taisai's eyes narrowed.
He stepped, turned, and spun on the surface of blood as if on stage—light, effortless.
His left hand traced a lazy curve through the air. Yamato followed, slicing through unseen slashes, its faint blue glow dissolving Sukuna's rules of cutting like snow under sunlight.
The Mahoraga's blades closed in. Taisai's foot flicked out—a single tap on the wrist of the nearest monster.
Crack—its massive arm was forced aside, its strike redirected into the ground, splattering blood and curse-mist.
Using the recoil, he slid several meters sideways, evading the next attack.
The blade aimed at his ankle passed beneath him harmlessly, skimming the sole of his shoe.
Sukuna's grin faltered. A flicker of disbelief rippled through his four eyes.
Mahoraga's offensive rhythm was supposed to crush anything—yet Nero moved through it as if strolling in his garden, evading with millimeter precision, parrying with casual grace.
And—was he still fighting with one hand?
This wasn't battle. It was mockery.
"Fuga (Open)!"
Sukuna's fury ignited. The seals maintaining his domain remained steady, but his summoning hands twisted again—Cursed flames condensed into molten arrows in each palm, glowing with destructive heat.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The twin arrows screamed forward—supersonic, their paths perfectly calculated to seal every route of evasion. One aimed for Taisai's forehead, the other for his retreat.
Fast. Ruthless. Perfect.
Domain pressure, Mahoraga containment, and long-range sniping— A flawless triple kill.
Taisai had just swung Yamato. His stance was momentarily open. Sukuna's sneer widened.
Got you.
Clang!!!
A metallic blast shook the domain! The black sheath of Yamato had appeared horizontally before Taisai, deflecting the first arrow into an explosion of blazing embers! At the same instant, his body bent backward—unnaturally, impossibly—his spine arching like willow in the wind.
Whoosh!
The second arrow screamed past his nose, detonating behind him in a column of flame.
Before the sound faded, Taisai's right hand flicked back—Yamato's blade humming.
Clang!
Two incoming domain slashes shattered into sparks.
Every motion flowed like water. No pause. No thought. Parry. Dodge. Counter.
Three entirely different responses executed in the same heartbeat.
Sukuna froze mid-laugh.
"That's nice" Taisai said calmly, sidestepping another Mahoraga strike.
Before the words faded, his figure spun midair. His left hand rose, two fingers forming a sword seal.
"Summoned Sword."
The declaration was soft. Inevitable. Nine blades of faint blue light materialized around him—silent, suspended, their tips locking onto their prey.
He waved his hand. Swish.
The swords vanished. Then—
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
The three Mahoraga froze mid-motion.
Translucent blue blades had erupted from within their bodies—through chest, neck, skull piercing from the inside out. There was no wound, no penetration—only the quiet, surreal blooming of death.
For a heartbeat, even the slashes within the domain halted.
Sukuna's expression twisted. His eyes widened in disbelief. Mahoraga—immune to all techniques, endlessly adaptive—hadn't even had time to react. The towering figures convulsed, then burst apart—exploding into torrents of blood and light that painted the sea crimson anew.
The nine Phantom Swords dissipated like mist.
Taisai landed lightly. Yamato's tip kissed the ground, its blue gleam reflecting off his impassive face. The slashes of the domain came again, endless and furious.
He swung once— Sparks.
His gaze rose toward the shrine and the demon enthroned before it.
"Is that all?" he asked, voice soft, cold, absolute. "It seems you still can't make me sweat"
He raised his chin slightly.
"Sukuna."