[Final Act of the IF-Route Nightmare]
Yagami Sora had lost count of how many times the nightmare had repeated.
Scenes shattered.
Reformed.
Then shattered again.
Like a corrupted film reel stuttering endlessly across a broken projector.
The title of the film was simple.
Despair.
Shibuya's underground station had become a graveyard saturated with cursed energy.
Fragments of shattered barriers littered the platforms.
The residue of countless exorcisms and deaths clung to the air like poison.
In Shinjuku, entire streets had been split open by invisible slashes.
Buildings collapsed in perfect diagonal cuts.
Steel beams and concrete slabs protruded like exposed bones.
At Tokyo Jujutsu High, the ancient sacred cherry tree had been reduced to a charred trunk.
Black flames still licked at its bark.
The once beautiful shrine now resembled a gravestone.
Yagami Sora watched silently.
Powerless.
He saw Yuji Itadori kneeling in the rubble.
Black markings spread across his body like creeping vines.
His eyes slowly changed.
From human clarity—
To the crimson malice of Ryomen Sukuna.
A laugh erupted.
Cruel.
Ancient.
Completely foreign to Yuji's soul.
Yuji had been consumed.
Completely.
Elsewhere—
Megumi Fushiguro stood beneath a collapsing sky.
Blood ran down his face.
Behind him appeared the immense shadow of
Mahoraga.
The Eight-Handled Sword Divine General spun its adaptation wheel violently.
The ritual spiraled out of control.
The overwhelming cursed energy tore the battlefield apart.
The great Dharma wheel cracked.
Then shattered mid-air.
Megumi's body collapsed into the rubble.
Reduced to nothing more than blood and shattered bone.
Near the fractured Tengen Barrier system—
Another figure knelt.
Yuta Okkotsu.
His katana lay broken beside him.
Snapped cleanly in two.
Fragments of Rika Orimoto's cursed form flickered around him like dying fireflies.
Yuta clutched the fading remnants of her manifestation.
Tears mixed with blood as they dripped onto the cracked earth.
No words.
Only silent grief.
A few kilometers away—
A motorcycle lay overturned on the roadside.
Smoke drifted slowly from its shattered engine.
The helmet nearby reflected the burning sky.
Its owner—
Yuki Tsukumo—
Was nowhere to be found.
Only a strand of golden hair fluttered in the wind.
The last trace of a Special Grade sorcerer.
And at the center of it all—
Stood Ryomen Sukuna.
A mountain of corpses surrounded him.
Sorcerers.
Curses.
Civilians.
All reduced to meaningless debris.
His four arms hung lazily at his sides.
Two faces stared across the devastated city.
His expression held only boredom.
"Boring."
His voice echoed across the empty skyline.
"This era…"
"…is even more tedious than the Heian period."
"There are no opponents worth fighting."
"No techniques that threaten me."
"No despair that excites me."
Sukuna sighed.
Almost disappointed.
"Every scream sounds the same."
"Every death feels identical."
He casually waved his hand.
A single slash tore through the distance.
Tokyo Tower collapsed instantly.
The steel structure fell like a toy kicked aside by a child.
Sukuna didn't even look at it.
"Even that arrogant brat…"
He muttered.
Trying to recall something.
"What was his name?"
"…Yagami Sora?"
His lips curled slightly.
"He doesn't even exist."
"How dull."
Behind him—
Yagami Sora floated silently.
Like a wandering spirit.
He reached out.
Trying to grasp Sukuna's shoulder.
Trying to rip out that arrogant heart.
But his hand passed through empty air.
He was nothing here.
Only a spectator.
If he had existed in this timeline…
Would things have been different?
If he had crossed into this world from the beginning—
Would he have stopped Sukuna?
Would he have changed Shibuya's fate?
Would Gojo have avoided being sealed?
Would Nanami have survived?
Would the world still stand?
Or—
Before absolute power—
Were all variables meaningless?
Would he simply lie among the corpses like the rest?
Another forgotten sorcerer.
Another footnote in Sukuna's endless legend.
No.
It wasn't just that.
If he had been here—
Some things might have changed.
But this world…
This lonely, empty world—
Was worse than death.
Because a world without companions…
Was more terrifying than hell.
A cold mechanical voice interrupted his thoughts.
[System Notification]
Nightmare simulation approaching completion.
Returning to the main world.
Countdown initiated.
3…
2…
1…
Yagami Sora slowly closed his eyes.
Taking a deep breath.
He forced himself to remember this feeling.
The taste of despair.
Burning it into his memory.
He hated this world.
But witnessing hell had taught him something.
The value of protecting heaven.
And the cost of failure.
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