Chapter Nineteen: The Third Mission, Osaka Factory Part Seven
Outside, Narumi Seto, the person who had brought the team composed of the three shamans—Zenin Obito, Kasumi Miwa, and Zenin Mai—was with the support team trying to strengthen the barrier.
The scene outside the factory was one of controlled panic. A dozen support staff, none sorcerers themselves but trained technicians of cursed energy manipulation, scurried around the perimeter. They carried talismans, chanted sutras, and adjusted complex, glowing arrays etched on the ground. The air hummed with a different kind of energy—one of desperate containment.
The pressure coming from the abandoned factory was rising steadily.
It wasn't just a feeling anymore; it was a physical force. The translucent dome of the barrier, which usually shimmered faintly, now pulsed like a sick heart with each surge of malice from within. The ground beneath their feet vibrated faintly, a low thrum that set their teeth on edge.
One of them screamed, almost able to feel the cursed energy due to the increase coming from the factory.
"What's going on in there? The barrier can't contain this cursed energy! Wasn't it supposed to be only Grade Three?!"
The technician, a young man with glasses askew, pointed a trembling finger at the barrier, which was now visibly straining, showing spider-web cracks of violet light where the pressure was greatest.
Narumi went there and inspected the barrier.
He was a man in his thirties, with a weary, pragmatic face that had seen too many missions go sideways. He wore a standard Jujutsu Management uniform, neat and professional, a stark contrast to the chaos around him.
He was a man with great experience in barriers, although he didn't possess cursed energy, but he was an expert in barriers that relied on cursed energy.
His expertise was theoretical and technical. He couldn't feel the curse's rage, but he could read its output on the scanners, interpret the stress fractures in the barrier's matrix, and calculate the impending failure point down to the second. It was a cold, numbers-based kind of dread.
This was one of the lessons he had obtained over the time he had been in this job.
Lesson #47: Intel is always wrong. Lesson #12: Always prepare for two grades above the briefing. He was currently violating Lesson #12, and it was biting him in the ass.
He quickly helped the others strengthen the barrier.
His voice was a calm, commanding center in the storm. "Reinforce Sector Gamma! Apply supplemental talismans to the eastern ley line! Don't let the waveform collapse!" He moved with efficient grace, placing talismans with precise slaps against the shimmering barrier wall.
But inside, his heart was beating strongly.
Beneath the professional exterior, a cold sweat beaded on his brow. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum solo of guilt and fear.
—This is dangerous. Will they eliminate the curse or not?—
The unspoken question hung over him like a sword. He'd driven those kids here. He'd handed them the flawed briefing. Their lives were on his ledger.
With the increase of cursed energy in the place, the barrier was at its maximum stages of bringing an amount of suitable equipment and talismans to deal with and contain curses from Grade Three.
The setup was designed for a standard Grade Three incursion—a nasty cleanup, not an apocalyptic event. The talismans were burning out faster than they could replace them, their paper edges curling and blackening as they overloaded.
But the rise in cursed energy was almost reaching from Grade Two to the more dangerous Grade One.
The scanners beside him were blinking crimson, their displays showing graphs spiking into red zones labeled GRADE ONE THRESHOLD. An alarm began to beep, a soft, insistent beep-beep-beep that was somehow more terrifying than a siren.
Eliminating this curse required at least a Grade One shaman or a group of Grade Two to be able to fight such a level of danger.
The math was brutal. Three Grade Three students, one injured, one exhausted, one… an unknown variable (Obito), against something brushing against Grade One. The odds were not just bad; they were tragic.
"Sir! Something is coming out!"
Narumi heard the explanation from one of the support members. His head snapped towards the speaker.
The barrier was equipped with a sensing system that shows if cursed energy is about to come out.
A series of small, glowing orbs embedded in the barrier's framework—usually a calm blue—were now flashing an urgent, warning yellow. They detected concentrated cursed energy masses moving towards the barrier's edge from the inside.
The moment that person said that, someone was coming out.
The sensors indicated three distinct, human-sized energy signatures moving rapidly towards the perimeter. But their readings were chaotic, muddled by the overwhelming background noise of the boss curse's power. Were they the sorcerers? Or were they curses in a humanoid form, a common trick of intelligent curses?
Narumi also felt that something would come out, but he didn't know what.
His gut, honed by years of near-misses, screamed that it was the kids. But his training, the protocol, the cold logic of the numbers on the screen, argued otherwise. In this soup of Grade One-level energy, how could three Grade Threes still be alive and moving? Their life signs should have been snuffed out.
If he had known that the cursed energy about to come out of the barrier consisted of Obito, Mai, and Kasumi, who were running at full speed to get out of the place, he would have tried to help them.
A fleeting image: the three of them, battered and bleeding, desperately sprinting for their lives towards the false safety of his barrier. He almost gave the order to thin a section, to create an exit.
But at this moment, fear controlled him.
The fear wasn't for himself, not entirely. It was the fear of catastrophic failure. Of letting a Grade One curse, or even a fragment of it, escape into Osaka. The potential death toll, the political fallout, the end of his career—it all crystallized into one imperative: Contain. At all costs.*
Therefore, he ordered directly, "Strengthen the barrier and prevent anyone from coming out!"
His voice was sharp, cutting through the din. It was the voice of a man choosing the many (the city) over the few (the three inside). It was the correct procedural call. It was also a death sentence.
This action was within the protocol.
Manual, Section 8, Clause 4: In the event of an uncontained energy surge exceeding mission parameters, the perimeter must be secured and reinforced to prevent egress of any cursed entities, regardless of origin signal ambiguity. He was following the book. The book was written in blood.
The support team acted quickly and quickly prepared additional talismans to ensure no curse would escape to the outside.
They moved with trained efficiency, their faces grim. They didn't know who was inside; they only knew their job: seal the box. More talismans flew through the air, slapping onto the barrier with sharp pats. The hum of the barrier grew louder, denser. The yellow warning lights on the sensors began to flicker towards red—EGRESS DENIED.
—This way, no curse will come out, and that is certain, at least for a short period.
The barrier solidified, its translucency turning into an opaque, shimmering wall of golden light. It was now a one-way filter: things could still theoretically come in (though why would they?), but nothing, nothing, could get out.
—
At the same time, he felt that the shamans might be in danger.
The guilt was a cold stone in his stomach. He saw their faces again—the calm blue-haired girl, the sharp-eyed Zenin, the nervous boy. Kids. They were just kids.
But a curse escaping control at this time meant that the entire support team, including him, would die.
The selfish calculus was also true. If that thing got out, they were the first line of defense—a line of non-sorcerers with talismans against a Grade One. It would be a slaughter.
His action was selfish, but at the same time, it was accurate, as he realized that at a time like this, it was impossible for any of the shamans to survive.
He looked at the spiking energy graph. It looked like the core of a small star going critical. No one could survive that. His logical mind concluded they were already dead. The moving signatures were just curses wearing their skins, or residual energy echoes.
Especially since all the people he had sent in to fight Grade Three curses had somehow risen to a level he didn't know to Grade One.
The data didn't lie. The energy signature from the main room was undeniable. A semi-Grade One evolving into a full one. In his mind, the three students had either been absorbed, transformed, or vaporized by that process.
That forced him directly to not open this place and wait.
He made his choice. He would wait for the Grade One backup he'd called for. They would deal with whatever came out, even if it wore a human face. It was the only sane choice.
At the same time, he had taken out his communication device and quickly requested support.
He pressed the device to his ear, his voice tense but controlled. "Sir, the curse is close to reaching Grade One level. Please send a Grade One sorcerer as quickly as possible."
After contacting his superior, the sounds of the support team who were making restoration sounds to maximize the activation of the talismans to the maximum possible extent were released.
The air filled with a low, rhythmic chanting as the support staff began a synchronized sutra, their voices merging into a powerful hum that reinforced the barrier's structure. The ground glowed where they stood, intricate patterns of light spreading from their feet.
And at the same time, the strength of the barrier that separated the factory from the outside world increased.
The opaque wall of golden light flared brighter, becoming almost solid. The pressure from inside seemed to push against it, causing it to bulge slightly in places, but it held. For now.
—I'm sorry, kids. You shouldn't have had to die, but this is what I must do.
He released a sincere apology in his mind, a silent funeral rite for three young lives he had sent to their doom.
And he was sure that the three young shamans had died in this barrier.
He had to believe it. The alternative—that he was actively locking living children in with a monster—was too monstrous to contemplate.
And that those who were coming out at this moment were just other curses about to reach them.
He steeled himself, looking at the barrier with the grim resolve of a soldier manning the gates of hell. "Hold the line," he muttered to his team. "Nothing comes out."
—
Inside the barrier, Obito, Mai, and Kasumi—the injured and exhausted adolescents—were running towards the exit.
Their flight was a stumbling, pained, desperate scramble. Kasumi ran with a lopsided gait, cradling her shattered arm. Mai weaved as she ran, still fighting waves of nausea and dizziness. Obito brought up the rear, his body screaming with every step, his vision blurred from exhaustion and the aftermath of the Sharingan.
But suddenly, he felt that the barrier, which was supposed to allow them to exit, had become much stronger.
One moment, they could see the distorted outlines of trees and the support team's vehicles through the shimmering wall. The next, the view vanished, replaced by a solid, glowing, golden surface that hummed with oppressive energy. It was like running towards a window only to have a steel shutter slam down in front of it.
What stopped them. Obito said, "What's going on? Why does the barrier feel like it's trying to keep us from leaving?"
His voice was a panting, confused rasp. He placed a hand against the barrier wall. It was warm and vibrated under his touch, pushing back with gentle, unwavering resistance. It felt alive, and hostile.
Kasumi released a frustrated sound.
She let out a sharp, pained "Tch!" and slammed her good fist against the barrier. It didn't budge, only emitted a low thump.
But she didn't blame the people outside after she knew she was about to die; she was ready to sacrifice her life to eliminate the curse.
Her near-death experience had put things in perspective. She had made her peace. The betrayal of the barrier was just another logistical problem, not a personal one.
But at this moment, she was feeling some negative emotions as she ached from all over her body, especially her arm, which was in bad condition.
The adrenaline was fading. The full, crushing weight of her injuries was settling in. Her arm was a throbbing column of fire. Her ribs ached from the impact. Every breath was a labor. The frustration was a bitter taste in her mouth.
"They are closing the barrier. They are preventing us from exiting. Perhaps they think we are a group of curses trying to get out."
Mai's voice was weak, but her analysis was razor-sharp. She leaned against the barrier, her forehead touching the warm surface, her eyes closed. She didn't need to see; she could feel the intent in the energy. It was designed to keep something in. And right now, their own cursed energy signatures, battered and fluctuating as they were, probably read as 'something.'
Obito was stunned.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. They think we're curses. After everything—the near-death, the desperate fighting, the stupid heroics—they were going to be sealed in and left to die because of a bureaucratic safety protocol. The dark comedy of it was almost beautiful.
While Mai's feet were about to hit the ground due to fatigue from using cursed energy.
Her legs finally gave out. She slid down the barrier wall into a sitting position, her back against the humming gold light. She was spent. Utterly. Completely.
In the end, among the three of them, her cursed energy was the lowest, and at the same time, her technique was the one that used the most concentration power, right after Obito.
Obito had burned out with explosive, unsustainable bursts. Mai had been a slow, precise bleed of energy, crafting each bullet with mental focus. That kind of expenditure drained the soul as much as the body.
But Obito had better control because he was using the Sharingan's ability at that time, so his control over cursed energy mitigated the amount of damage.
The Sharingan had acted as a regulator, a targeting computer that made his energy expenditure brutally efficient, even in its wild state. He was physically broken, but his 'engine' hadn't melted down from internal feedback like Mai's had.
But in terms of physical damage, all three were at their maximum endurance.
Kasumi: broken arm, internal bruising, severe lacerations. Mai: neural fatigue, cursed energy depletion, minor internal bleeding from backlash. Obito: muscle tears, neural burnout, possible concussion, general system shock. They were a triage nightmare.
"So... are we going to die this way?"
Obito said that, shocked. He couldn't imagine dying this way. He began to doubt himself.
Obito said that, shocked. He couldn't imagine dying this way. He began to doubt himself.
—I should have just run away. I shouldn't have saved them. I'm going to die now in this despicable world.—
The thought was a venomous whisper in the back of his mind. All his efforts, all the pain, just to be locked in a glowing box and wait for the giant eye-monster to find them. It was the ultimate punchline.
But before he could continue thinking, he slapped himself.
SMACK!
The sound was startlingly loud in the confined space near the barrier. His own hand connected with his cheek with enough force to turn his head sideways and leave a red mark.
The two girls were surprised by this matter. They stared at him as if he were crazy.
Kasumi's eyes widened slightly. Mai looked up from her slumped position, a flicker of confusion in her exhausted gaze. Has he finally snapped?*
But he didn't care, and he said, "I can't die this way. Not here."
He wasn't telling them; he was telling himself specifically. The slap had been a reset button, a jolt to break the spiral of despair. The stinging pain on his face was a grounding, real sensation amidst the overwhelming fatigue.
He felt as if his soul was about to leave his body. Exhaustion controlled all his internal organs.
Every cell felt heavy, waterlogged with lead. His lungs burned. His heart felt like it was beating through mud.
The use of cursed energy had reached its maximum limit, and he couldn't use the Sharingan technique again.
Trying to activate the Sharingan now felt like trying to start a car with a dead battery and a cracked engine block. There was nothing there to spark.
His mind was now in a state of severe headache, and it was impossible for him to gather any concentration to be able to use his cursed technique again.
The migraine was a living thing, a spike-covered creature gnawing at the inside of his skull. Focusing on anything beyond basic motor functions was agony.
"Perhaps this is not the end."
Kasumi's voice was soft, but it cut through the gloom. She had slid down to sit beside Mai, but her back was straight, her good hand resting on her knee.
Kasumi leaned against the wall. She felt the cursed energy that was in the main room increasing; this meant the curse was about to enter the stage where it would become Grade One.
Even through the barrier, they could feel the distant, building pressure—a psychic earthquake gathering strength. The air inside the barrier grew thicker, hotter.
In addition to that, the danger was increasing. However, when she said that, the other two were surprised.
Obito and Mai both looked at her. In their state, 'not the end' sounded like a cruel joke.
They wanted to know where her confidence came from. She took a breath and said what was in her head.
She took a slow, deliberate breath, ignoring the pain in her ribs. "We cannot escape anymore. The barrier they are strengthening ensures nothing exits. That includes cursed energy within our bodies. The barrier now perceives us as cursed entities. Therefore, it will not allow us to leave."
Obito agreed with this conclusion.
He nodded weakly. It made terrible, logical sense. They were covered in curse residue, bleeding cursed energy from their wounds, their own reserves fluctuating wildly. To a barrier designed to filter out malice, they probably looked like three walking, talking curses.
—But what does that mean?—
But his questioning about how this could benefit them to get out of this place was met with a flicker of a plan in Kasumi's eyes.
"Kasumi-senpai... how can... this benefit us?"
Her breaths were staggered, but Mai still wanted to live, so she asked while trying to stay conscious as her head was about to explode from the pressure.
"We have to use this barrier in a different way."
A faint, determined light returned to Kasumi's eyes. It was the look of a strategist finding a loophole.
Her plan, if executed, would have her and the others gather their cursed energy using a spoken talisman, which is a type of talisman that benefits from cursed energy using restoration.
She was talking about a collaborative technique—a joint-domain expansion on a micro-scale, using the barrier's own power as a foundation.
"I know how to do this. All you have to do is focus on my voice and repeat my words so we can use the cursed energy in the barrier that the support team increased in strength."
Her voice gained a thread of authority, the teacher re-emerging through the pain.
By using the strength of the barrier that prevents them from leaving, Kasumi will try to draw some strength from it and make herself and the others hidden using a technique.
It was a audacious, borderline insane plan. To hijack the very energy meant to trap them and turn it into a cloak.
—New Shadow Style: Simple Domain—Complete.
It wouldn't be a full domain. It would be a personal, refined bubble of the Simple Domain technique, amplified and stabilized by siphoning power from the larger barrier.
This domain will allow them to hide from the curse for a certain period extending until this barrier stops.
It would mask their presence, their cursed energy signatures, making them 'invisible' to the curse's senses as long as the domain held.
And if she was correct using her knowledge, that barrier wouldn't last long before disappearing.
The support team couldn't maintain a barrier strong enough to block a Grade One curse indefinitely. It was burning through talismans and their own energy. It would collapse, either from the curse's attack from inside or from simple exhaustion outside. Their hiding domain just needed to outlast the main barrier's final moments.
"Then let's do that."
The other two agreed without hesitation. Each of them had their reasons for wanting to live. Neither of them wanted to die in this place.
Each of them had their reasons for wanting to live. Neither of them wanted to die in this place.
Obito: Because dying here meant future-Maki would hunt him down in the afterlife. Mai: Because she refused to let her story end in a rusty factory as a footnote to her sister's tragedy. Kasumi: Because she had a duty to report the mission failure and ensure it didn't happen again.
Neither of them had the desire to ask what would happen after that barrier ended because, even for them, they were trying to find hope in anything at this time.
The question of 'what next' was a bridge too far. First, survive the next ten minutes. Then, worry about the monster. One impossible task at a time.
And they didn't want their minds to go to the negative side.
Hope was a fragile, stupid thing. But in the absence of any other option, it was the only fuel left.
Thus, the thinking of Mai in addition to Obito, as they held Kasumi's shoulder.
Mai, with a groan, pushed herself up. Obito staggered to his feet. They moved to either side of Kasumi, placing their hands on her uninjured shoulder, forming a small, battered huddle against the golden wall.
Kasumi, who placed her hand on the cursed energy of the barrier, began to recite the talisman, which continued until the cursed energy in the barrier rose and wrapped around them directly.
She placed her palm flat against the humming barrier. It was like touching a live wire; energy buzzed up her arm. She closed her eyes, her lips moving silently at first, then forming words in an ancient, rhythmic language. "By the void, within the stillness, I claim a space of my own will..."
The formation of that barrier directly to be like a shell.
The golden light of the main barrier seemed to peel away in a small, localized area, flowing towards Kasumi's hand like liquid metal. It wrapped around their trio, forming a second, smaller, denser dome of shimmering silver light around them, about three meters in diameter.
Kasumi opened her eye that she had closed for moments before saying:
She opened her eyes. They glowed with a faint, silver light, reflecting the energy she was manipulating.
"—New Shadow Style: Simple Domain—Complete."
The incantation finished. The silver dome around them solidified with a soft hum that was distinct from the barrier's roar. Inside, the oppressive pressure of the factory lessened. The sounds from outside became muffled. The air felt clean, still, and safe.
It was a tiny, perfect bubble of order in the heart of chaos.
A hiding place.
A desperate, last-ditch sanctuary built from the walls of their own prison.
Now, they just had to wait, and hope the prison walls fell before the warden found them.
──────────────────────
End of Chapter.
──────────────────────