‘The plan is going smoothly.
Everything is moving toward the most perfect script.’ Looking at Geto Suguru’s deep, calculating gaze as he frantically ran through possibilities, the little angel inside Makoto’s heart was laughing so damn hard it was about to pass out from a lack of oxygen.
‘As long as you don’t just grab that three-section staff and rush over to make up all the PE classes I skipped, forcing me to perform ‘Sensei, I’m a Jujutsu High Student’ on the spot, then everything is still negotiable.’ After all, once someone personally witnessed a guy bouncing back a Maximum Technique on the level of Uzumaki as if it were a ping-pong ball, no one would dare use another big move to send themselves to the grave before figuring out the “reflection mechanism”—unless they were the kind of muscle-brained Maki-chan, scratch that, Special Grade gorilla whose brain was made entirely of fucking biceps!
Geto Suguru did not unleash another world-destroying Uzumaki, nor did he grab Playful Cloud and charge straight into close combat.
Instead, he slowly raised his hand, palm facing the ground.
“—Cursed Spirit Manipulation: Multiple Parallel Deployment.” In that instant, the shadows behind him no longer poured out into a mindless sea of small fry.
Instead, they precisely separated into more than a hundred cursed spirits of different shapes—Grade 1, semi-Grade 1, and Grade 2.
They didn’t roar brainlessly like before.
Instead, like special forces programmed with tactical commands, they split into more than a dozen squads and completely locked down that bastard brat from above, below, left, right, and even from every single blind spot in space.
“If that truly is Infinity, then how many directions and how many types of attacks can you process at the same time?” Geto Suguru stood elegantly with his hands behind his back, tilting his head slightly, his gaze cold and appraising.
In that moment, he looked less like a curse user locked in a battle to the death and more like a teacher standing at the front of a Jujutsu High classroom, giving a troublesome student an impromptu quiz!
“Think of this as an extra ‘final assignment’ from me, Makoto-kun.” “Satoru’s Limitless is, at its core, nothing more than absolute control over distance and space.” Geto stood there with refined composure, his eyes narrowing with a cruelty that seemed ready to peel Makoto apart layer by layer.
“So how far does this ‘Infinity’ of yours actually extend?
Can it block malice from all directions at once?
Or is your so-called Infinity only capable of protecting the tiny area your eyes can see?” He murmured softly, his gentle tone chilling enough to make the skin crawl, and lightly tapped one finger into the void.
“Don’t disappoint me, Makoto-kun.
If you can’t solve this problem, then as the price, you and your pitiful answer may both be buried in these shadows.” “After-school tutoring from a 2017 Jujutsu High student to a primitive gorilla starts now, Mr.
Topknot.” Makoto wiped away the nosebleed caused by his overheating brain, then casually smeared it across his jacket, drawing a bloody mocking smile.
He ripped off his uniform jacket and flung it into the sea of cursed spirits.
The instant the jacket left his body, Makoto’s bare arms and back came into direct contact with the surrounding space, and the effective range of Thin Ice Breaker expanded several times over in a single breath.
He took a deep breath, enduring the sharp pain stabbing from the depths of his overworked brain as the blue “special effect” at his fingertips suddenly burst open.
“—Blue.” Makoto let out a low shout.
One second before those hundred-plus Grade 1 and Grade 2 cursed spirits could tear him apart, his body shot forward like a distorted spatial afterimage inside that formation boiling with murderous pressure.
After removing the cumbersome Jujutsu High jacket, his bare arms, shoulders, and back had direct contact with the surrounding air coordinates.
Vmm—!
Thin Ice Breaker, which originally had only been able to manipulate the small area around his hands, instantly expanded its sensing range several times over.
It was like a damn loach covered head to toe in oil slipping into a black swamp made of cursed spirits.
Whoosh—!
The first wave of wind blades and poison came from a blind spot.
Makoto didn’t even turn his head.
The knockoff Blue flickering at his fingertips as a “special effect” instantly burst outward, visually forming a terrifying point of attraction.
Facing cursed spirits closing in from every three-dimensional angle, he didn’t dodge.
Instead, he met the claws powerful enough to shred a tank and threw a heavy punch wrapped in blue arcs of electricity.
In that ten-thousandth of a second, his fist seemed to create a miniature gravitational black hole.
A Grade 3 centipede cursed spirit’s fangs were only a fraction of a second away from touching Makoto’s skin when its entire body seemed to be caught by a supermagnet and was bizarrely “pulled” toward him.
Immediately afterward, Makoto flowed with its original momentum and performed a gorgeous shoulder throw, using its own charge to slam it violently into the group of cursed spirits attacking from behind.
Bang!!
The sound of bones shattering echoed across the field as two waves of cursed spirits smashed into each other and collapsed into a nasty mess of sludge.
However, the true mechanism behind it was a scam that would have pissed Geto Suguru off to death.
In reality, Makoto didn’t have the ability to create a gravitational black hole at all.
As a physically useless bastard who skipped countless PE classes, he also couldn’t fight cursed spirits with raw physical strength like the future Itadori Yuji or the current Maki.
All he did was gather an extremely tiny amount of Blue onto his fist, creating a very weak yet crucial “capture anchor.” That bit of Blue didn’t have enough force to pull anything in at all.
But when it attached itself to a cursed spirit’s body, it created a strange “adhesive” sensation, preventing the target from breaking contact with him for a fraction of a second.
And that brief instant was enough.
When the skin across the large areas of his body exposed to the air caught the enemy’s movement, Thin Ice Breaker would activate instantly.
He didn’t need to spend effort “grabbing” them.
He only needed to follow the direction of their force and gently “nudge” it, letting all their power slide along the curve of his body into empty space.
There was only one thing he had to do: the moment they touched his skin, forcibly slide their original forward vector backward along the lines of his muscles.
It was like placing a bar of soap covered in lard under the wheels of a race car speeding at full throttle.
In other words, Makoto first used a tiny magnet to precisely “locate” them within his attack range, then used his entire lard-slicked body to gently redirect all of their momentum and violent kinetic force straight into their own damn companions.
The visual effect of “gravitational attraction” was nothing more than an illusion created by their own overwhelming charge.
After being located by his tiny amount of Blue and having their spatial coordinates slid aside, they appeared to be “forcibly stuck” to him.
Using Thin Ice Breaker to slightly shift the spatial points of force was practically a bug-level passive ability of “100% rebound” and “everyone attacks each other” when dealing with a mob fight.
Any attack that failed to touch Makoto would ultimately smash perfectly into the face of one of its own allies.
And so, Makoto strolled casually through the center of the carnage as cursed spirits tore each other apart.
Amid the purple blood and severed limbs flying everywhere, his bare upper body remained clean enough to make anyone jealous.
He was like a ghost that didn’t exist in this dimension.
No matter how the hundred-plus cursed spirits squeezed in or roared, he continued to shift within that tiny space, his movements so graceful they seemed to be hosting a waltz called “bloody violence.” ‘Praise you!
Great Gorilla Cult Leader!
Yes, yes, exactly like that—keep sending out small-fry cursed spirits!’ Inside his heart, Makoto was singing mad praises to this “Gorilla Cult Leader.” As he calmly walked through the swarm of cursed spirits, he rapidly calculated the assets of the topknot cult leader.
‘There was one Special Grade in Kyoto during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.
I killed one during that Grade 2 promotion test.
There should still be that unused Special Grade Imaginary Vengeful Cursed Spirit: Tamamo-no-Mae…’ ‘As expected, Geto-sensei, you probably don’t have that many Special Grade cursed spirits in your hand after all!’ As a Special Grade sorcerer who was not quite that Special Grade, he would never waste his final capital during this probing phase.
As long as he insisted on using these Grade 1 and Grade 2 small fry to play this “pop quiz” with Makoto, then with the current cursed energy consumption, Makoto could easily last until that white-haired fool in Shinjuku elbowed Miguel into Neguel with this “spatial slide” and fake Blue gravitational interference.
“Former Special Grade-sensei, your ‘pop quiz’ seems a little too gentle.” Makoto abruptly twisted a Grade 1 cursed spirit covered in eyes into a pretzel and casually smashed away two small fry that tried to approach.
Wiping sweat from his face, he flashed an outrageously arrogant smile at Geto Suguru in the distance.
“If this is all you have, I suggest you fill out a blank retirement report as soon as possible.
After all, this kind of rough labor that merely ‘wears down stamina’ really doesn’t suit your so-called great cause.
If you’re truly bored, why not spend these twenty minutes quietly thinking about what posture you should use to apologize when sensei arrives later, so you don’t look too embarrassing?” [Current time: 08:20.
Target: hold for another 11 minutes and 40 seconds.] Geto Suguru stared hard at the ‘student’ not far away.
The killing intent in his eyes was gradually being replaced by a deep sense of absurdity.
He even began to wonder whether he really was outdated.
Could it be that his choice had truly been wrong, and Satoru’s way was the correct one?
Then what did that make the parents he had killed with his own hands?
And what did that make him, the man who had killed them?
“What’s wrong, Geto-san?
Cursed spirits of this level can’t even scratch the paint on my ‘Infinity.'” Makoto stood in the center of the encirclement formed by over a hundred cursed spirits, hands in his pockets, speaking so arrogantly that even he wanted to slap himself twice.
But he knew that the more punchable he acted, the more Geto Suguru would suspect that his ability was close to Gojo Satoru’s true “Infinity.” However, from an angle Geto couldn’t see, Makoto’s legs were actually shaking like crazy, and the cold sweat running down his back was almost enough to become piss.
‘Gojo-sensei!
Are you still not done playing around in Shinjuku?!’ Makoto let out a shrill roar from the depths of his soul.
‘Isn’t he just a Black dude with braids, rebelling against fates by playing with a whip?!
Aren’t you the strongest?
Is it really that hard to blast his ass into the Pacific with one Red?
I’m begging you, even if you just teleport over and give me one look, I’ll burn twenty thousand fewer brain cells!’