The System’s rewards extended far beyond raw capacity.
The most critical upgrade wasn’t the moderate bump in Cursed Energy—it was the second entry on the log.
Basic Cursed Energy Control.
As the residual shock of his previous death settled, Julian felt a new instinct take root in his body, as natural and automatic as breathing.
He raised his right palm.
A pale, flickering blue aura enveloped his hand at a thought.
“Now we’re talking.”
A cold, steady confidence settled over him.
While Cursed Energy fundamentally stemmed from negative emotions, a sorcerer couldn’t live in a state of constant terror or rage.
True application required pulling energy from ordinary, everyday friction.
During his fight in the bay, he had ignited his energy out of pure survival instinct, but the second he reached the pier, the connection had snapped.
He hadn’t been able to maintain the flow, leaving him completely exposed to the sniper at the harbor docks.
Julian focused his mind, guiding the pale blue energy outward from his core.
It flowed down his chest, branching into his arms and legs until it wrapped his entire frame in a tight, protective layer.
Cursed Energy didn’t just fuel techniques—it vastly amplified physical output.
With the energy fully deployed, Julian bent his knees and leaped straight up.
His body shot three meters into the air, his boots clearing the phantom boundary of the void before gravity pulled him back down.
“Holy hell!”
Julian landed on his feet, grinning as he checked his status window.
He was moving fast.
Ten attempts had already pushed him from a helpless civilian to a certified Grade 4 sorcerer.
At this pace, another forty or fifty runs might actually put Special Grade within reach.
The only missing piece was an innate Cursed Technique.
He pointed at the floating window.
“System.
How do I unlock an actual technique?”
“Rewards are calculated based on battle performance,” the mechanical voice echoed.
“Defeating an enemy sorcerer who possesses an innate technique creates a probability of acquiring a variant of that technique.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“What kind of probability?
Is it guaranteed if I win?”
“The probability scales directly with the difficulty of the encounter.
Higher-tier opponents yield significantly higher acquisition rates.”
Julian nodded.
That made sense.
High risk, high reward.
“Is there a cap on how many techniques I can carry?”
“No cap exists.
Defeating different sorcerers allows for the acquisition and stacking of multiple techniques.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat.
“Wait…
so if I somehow defeat Satoru Gojo down the line, I could potentially roll the Six Eyes or Limitless?”
“The reward parameters would align with the defeated target.
Specific outcomes depend on combat evaluation.”
Julian clenched his fists.
“And I can use them all simultaneously?
No brain overload?”
“All acquired capabilities are fully integrated and usable at the Host’s discretion.”
“System, you beauty.”
Any remaining hesitation vanished.
Julian straightened his posture, his eyes sharp.
“Send me back in.”
He needed to stack techniques, build his arsenal, and get strong enough to tear Sukuna apart.
White light flashed, then dissolved.
Julian adjusted his posture instantly.
His past freefalls had desensitized him to the sheer terror of open air, allowing his mind to stay cold and analytical even at terminal velocity.
He scanned the ground below.
No ocean this time.
He was dropping straight toward the glass dome of the multi-story shopping mall—the exact spot from his third attempt.
Before, he would have accepted his fate and waited for the reset.
But he wasn’t a fragile civilian anymore.
He was a Grade 4 sorcerer with active Cursed Energy reinforcement.
Julian curled his body into a tight ball, shielding his head with his arms while pumping every drop of energy into his outer frame.
Impact.
He smashed through the glass ceiling in a rain of sharp fragments, plunging through the open atrium of the five-story structure.
The concrete floor of the main plaza rushed up to meet him.
Right before contact, Julian loosened his frame, slapped the floor with his forearm, and executed a heavy shoulder roll to disperse the kinetic force.
He skidded across the tile, slamming hard against a structural pillar before coming to a complete stop.
Julian lay flat on his back, breathing heavily as he clutched his ribs.
Pain throbbed through his torso, but nothing was broken.
He looked up through the shattered glass dome high above, letting out a ragged laugh.
“Grade 4 still isn’t quite enough to make five-story drops comfortable…
but I survived.”
Pop.
A familiar puff of white vapor appeared beside his face.
“Yo!
I’m Kogane!
Congrats on entering the barrier and joining the Culling Game!”
Julian glanced at the floating shikigami.
Its greeting was identical to the one at the harbor.
Each new entry was a clean slate; no one in the barrier retained memories of his previous runs.
“Yeah, yeah.
Go back,” Julian muttered, pushing himself up off the tile.
Kogane vanished into thin air.
Julian ignored the ache in his side and ducked behind a decorative concrete barrier, sweeping his eyes across the mall’s interior.
The place was massive.
Five levels of dark storefronts encircled a wide central atrium.
The main power grid was dead, leaving the interior shrouded in heavy shadows.
He waited in silence for ten full minutes, watching the upper walkways and stairwells.
Nothing moved.
“Nobody’s camping this drop?” he murmured.
Once the pain in his ribs faded to a dull ache, Julian stood up and dusted off his clothes.
“Whatever.
Sitting around won’t level me up.”
He headed toward the main glass exits, his boots crunching on stray glass shards.
The path out of the mall was eerie and quiet.
He encountered neither terrified civilians nor roaming cursed spirits.
He pushed through the heavy revolving doors and turned the corner onto the main street.
Julian stopped dead in his tracks.
Ten meters ahead, sitting directly in the center of the asphalt, was a freshly severed human head.