[Character: Satoru Gojo (Nah, I’d win)]
[Abilities: Six Eyes, Limitless, Blue, Red, Hollow Purple, Reverse Cursed Technique, Domain Expansion: Unlimited Void]
[Character Mission: Defeat an opponent capable of using a Space Slash]
[Note: This character is particularly susceptible to Space Slash special attacks]
Frez stared at the glowing blue text hovering in his vision.
“Why don’t you just tell me to fight Ryomen Sukuna and be done with it?”
As the dry complaint left his lips, his perception of the world violently expanded.
His vision warped, stretching outward until he could see a flawless 360 degrees around himself.
The mundane brown of his pupils dissolved into a thick white mist, which then clarified into a brilliant, crystalline sky blue.
He picked up a small mirror from his desk and studied his reflection.
The eyes staring back at him were striking, glowing with an almost ethereal depth.
The Six Eyes.
It was the ultimate genetic anomaly of the Gojo clan, manifesting only once every few centuries.
The user gained a spherical field of vision spanning a massive radius, completely unhindered by physical obstructions.
It allowed him to instantly decipher a sorcerer’s cursed technique, read the microscopic flow of Cursed Energy, and predict movements before they even happened.
In practical terms, it was the ultimate fusion of the Sharingan and Byakugan.
More, it granted the host the atomic-level precision required to manipulate Cursed Energy and pilot the Limitless.
Without the Six Eyes, the Limitless was an unusable paperweight, even if inherited.
The two were two halves of a divine whole.
However, absolute perception came with a heavy toll.
The Six Eyes passively absorbed every single photon, atom, and trace of visual data in the environment, forcing the brain into a state of extreme calculation.
Without a blindfold or specialized pitch-black sunglasses to filter out the noise, the resulting sensory overload would lead to crippling brain fatigue and information anxiety.
To counteract this, Frez felt the automated hum of the Reverse Cursed Technique running on a continuous loop inside his skull.
It was constantly destroying and regenerating his brain tissue, keeping his mind fresh and highly active.
If he didn’t cover his eyes, he would burn through his stamina far too quickly.
“This field of vision is a bit overwhelming,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Just because he possessed the complete template of Satoru Gojo didn’t mean his mind was instantly accustomed to the burden.
The original Gojo had lived with this sensory input since childhood; Frez had acquired it five minutes ago.
He severed the flow of the Reverse Cursed Technique and let his eyelids fall shut.
A wave of cool, blissful relief washed over his overworked synapses.
The original Satoru Gojo kept the Limitless active twenty-four hours a day, using an automated filtering system to repel any threat while relying on the Reverse Cursed Technique to prevent brain death.
It was a brutal survival mechanism born from a very specific lesson taught by Toji Fushiguro.
A fall in the pit, a gain in wit.
After nearly being gutted and left for dead, Gojo had learned to never let his guard down again.
But Frez didn’t need that level of paranoia—at least, not in his own bedroom.
Terra had no Cursed Energy.
While curses were born from the negative emotions of humanity, right now, Frez was the sole source of Cursed Energy on the entire planet.
There were no invisible Cursed Spirits lurking in the shadows waiting to ambush him.
“Still, now that I have the keys to the Ferrari, I should take it for a spin.”
He stepped out of his room and vaulted lightly onto the roof of his building.
The night wind of Lungmen tugged at his clothes.
He locked his gaze onto a distant high-rise tower piercing the skyline.
“Cursed Technique: Blue.”
Space warped.
The physical distance between his starting point and his destination forcibly compressed to zero.
In the blink of an eye, the wind ceased, and his boots touched the concrete of the distant rooftop.
He had effortlessly crossed thousands of meters in a fraction of a second.
Blue operated by forcing the world to correct a spatial anomaly, creating an effect identical to teleportation.
It could be applied to himself or others.
However, when used for high-speed movement, the kinetic impact was devastating—like a heavy freight train slamming into a normal person.
It required a perfectly clear trajectory; clipping an obstacle mid-warp would result in catastrophic injury, if not instant death.
[GAMBAR: WeAreAllLivingHard.jpg]
“Handy,” he noted, looking back at where he had just been.
“A month is plenty of time for me to get the hang of this.
But where on Terra am I supposed to find an opponent who can use a Space Slash?”
He crossed his arms, falling into deep thought.
Was there anyone on this entire Originium-infected planet capable of cutting through the fabric of space?
He couldn’t exactly book a flight to Shinjuku to brawl with Sukuna.
There were no Jujutsu sorcerers in the multiversal chat group, either.
Wait.
Inside the group…
wasn’t Kiana the Herrscher of the Void?
Frez blinked.
He had subconsciously written Kiana off as the group’s resident comic relief, a loudmouthed mascot.
But technically speaking, she was a variant of the fearsome Queen of the Void.
From their previous chat logs, Frez had pieced together the bizarre lore of Kiana’s specific universe.
Her world was disgustingly peaceful, completely untouched by the apocalyptic horrors of the Honkai.
The greatest existential crisis humanity faced was the daily antics of the Schicksal Overseer, Otto Apocalypse, who insisted on live-streaming his bath time to the public.
The broadcasts caused widespread grief, but they never lasted more than ten seconds before his secretary, Amber, violently pulled the plug with an iron fist.
It had essentially become a beloved daily sitcom.
There were no world-ending threats.
Honkai Beasts and humans coexisted in harmony, even participating in televised ‘Honkaimon’ tournaments.
While Herrschers possessed unique abilities, they were treated more like eccentric celebrities than harbingers of doom.
This particular Kiana was a naturally born Herrscher of the Void.
She had been scooped up by Theresa and dragged to St.
Freya Academy, where she moved in with Himeko.
Thanks to Theresa’s aggressive networking, Kiana had debuted as an idol—though she was currently washed-up—and now spent her days slacking off and eating junk food at the academy.
It was a pure, utopian event timeline.
Frez dropped back down into his apartment.
His brain was still buzzing with residual cursed energy, making sleep an absolute impossibility.
“Might as well be productive.”
He dug out a pair of pitch-black sunglasses, sliding them over his glowing blue eyes to dampen the sensory feed.
Stepping out into the Lungmen night, he spent the next few hours clearing out two notorious local street gangs, leaving a trail of bruised thugs and shattered concrete, before paying a polite but terrifying visit to a corrupt Government Department office.
By the time dawn broke, he was walking back to his apartment with a fresh, steaming bag of breakfast.
He snapped a photo of the food and dropped it into the chat interface.
[Dump Truck Hater: Everyone, try some breakfast made by the best chef in Yan.]
Master Yixuan’s culinary skills truly lived up to the hype.
[Quantum Beheading Barbarian: Delicious.]
[Wiš’adel: Really delicious.]
[Furina: Don’t you guys sleep in the morning?
So noisy.
Wait, there’s good food?]
[Kiana: Where is the good food?]
A few virtual moments passed as the group sampled the digital offering.
Kiana, naturally, devoured her portion instantly.
[Kiana: You have done very well, commoner.
From now on, you must offer sacrifices to me every day.
Consider it your greatest honor.]
[Furina: To borrow a Liyue expression, you’re getting a bargain and then acting spoiled.
When someone treats you to a meal, the least you can do is say thank you!
No, I absolutely must add this to the Fontaine Code of Law: expressing gratitude for a free meal is the sacred duty of every citizen.
In exchange, Frez, I formally invite you to join me for afternoon tea.
This is a reward from the Hydro Archon herself.
Everyone except Kiana is invited!]
Frez chuckled, leaning back against his kitchen counter.
Guess who just got left off the guest list?
[Kiana: Why can’t I come?!
Why?!
I am Her Majesty the Queen!]
[Furina: And I am the Hydro Archon.
Did I stutter?]
Frez watched the meltdown unfold with a growing smirk.
What an unexpected harvest.
This saved him the trouble of coming up with a convoluted excuse to pick a fight.
[Dump Truck Hater has sent an Arena invitation to Kiana]
[Kiana:?]
[Quantum Beheading Barbarian: Oh…
so that’s what he meant by caring about power levels?]