Tokyo, Arakawa.
Massive amounts of cursed energy were gathering here endlessly, forming a spectacular cursed energy storm.
It was enough to warp the local weather; a massive, swirling vortex of clouds churned relentlessly overhead.
Crimson lightning arced through the maelstrom, blanketing the area in an apocalyptic atmosphere.
Yet, even in this doomsday scenario, someone was taking a casual stroll.
Satoru Gojo, holding a freshly bought cup of coffee, turned to his good student, Megumi Fushiguro, and asked, “How long has this been going on?”
“Five days.”
“Five days, huh?
What a racket!”
“But it looks like it’s finally about to be born.”
“With a commotion this big, who knows what kind of monster is going to pop out.”
A sudden, massive convergence of cursed energy usually meant only one thing: a cursed spirit was being born.
And with a spectacle this grand, it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was a Special Grade.
Even among Special Grades, it would likely be an absolute monster.
It was a good thing they had found it early.
Had they discovered it a few days later, the Special Grade would have likely already bolted.
As Gojo and Megumi waited, an entity was being forged in the very epicenter of that swirling cursed energy.
Who am I?
I am…
I am the Cursed Spirit of Death, born from humanity’s collective fear of death.
I govern the death of all things!
Holy crap, isn’t that just the Ruler of Death?
…
Recalling the image of the Ruler of Death—cute face, massive assets…
hehe, don’t mind if I do.
And then, that was that.
Influenced by her own self-awareness, the newborn cursed spirit’s physical form rapidly shifted to match the Ruler of Death.
The end result?
When the newly born cursed spirit opened her eyes and looked down at her body, the first thing that greeted her was a pair of massive assets wrapped in sheer black fabric, along with a highly recognizable outfit.
She froze for a moment, then raised a hand to pinch her own cheek.
Hmm, soft, bouncy, and smooth.
Excellent texture.
But this isn’t my face at all!
The Cursed Spirit of Death wanted to cry but had no tears.
If she had known this would happen, she wouldn’t have let her mind wander.
Great.
Now she had played herself.
But thinking it over carefully, it wasn’t exactly unacceptable.
Sure, her gender had flipped, but she was gorgeous!
Sure, her species had changed, but she was incredibly powerful!
She was a cursed spirit born from humanity’s fear of death, wielding the authority and power over the death of all things.
As long as she grew just a little bit, she’d easily reach the upper echelons of Special Grade.
By then, even if she couldn’t do whatever she wanted, she could at least guarantee a life free from worries about food and shelter.
Looking at it from that angle, this was an absolute win!
Just as the newborn Cursed Spirit of Death was fantasizing about her beautiful future, a curious voice floated over from behind her.
“Are you the newly born Special Grade cursed spirit?
You actually look…
pretty cute!”
She whipped her head around to look at the speaker.
In that instant, a cold sweat broke out across her body.
Satoru Gojo?
Why is Satoru Gojo here?
How did he get here?
Is this allowed?!
For a cursed spirit, running into Satoru Gojo was no different than a jujutsu sorcerer running into Ryomen Sukuna.
And what was worse?
Here she was, the majestic Cursed Spirit of Death, an entity destined to stand at the pinnacle of the world…
freshly spawned, hadn’t even stepped out of the fountain yet…
only to get spawn-camped by the ultimate final boss.
So, I’m supposed to fight Satoru Gojo right out of the box?
Can I even win?
After a brief moment of deliberation, the newly born Cursed Spirit of Death, Ronawa, decisively abandoned the idea of a frontal assault.
She obediently raised a white flag.
“Um, if I said I wasn’t a cursed spirit, would you guys believe me?” Ronawa asked meekly, looking between Satoru Gojo and Megumi Fushiguro.
She definitely couldn’t win in a fight; her only shot was trying to act cute and bluff her way out.
Unfortunately, Gojo wasn’t buying it.
“You don’t actually think I’m blind just because I wear a blindfold, do you?
Miss Cursed Spirit, the aura of curses on you is so thick it’s practically leaking out.”
“Furthermore, I can sense an intense threat from you.
I have a feeling that once you grow up, you’ll be an entity capable of killing me.
So tell me, shouldn’t I just nip you in the bud right here and now?”
Gojo’s reasoning was sound, logical, and entirely convincing.
Putting herself in his shoes, if Ronawa were Satoru Gojo, she wouldn’t let herself go either.
GG.
No matter how you slice it, I’m doomed.
“Well, if that’s how it is, bring it on.
It’s not guaranteed I’ll lose, anyway!”
Ronawa decided to just say screw it.
She’d fight to the death, if only to die with a little more dignity.
However, the outcome completely defied Ronawa’s expectations.
Gojo ultimately decided against attacking her.
It was hard to say what kind of mindset drove him to make this decision.
But in all likelihood, his true nature was acting up again—he just wanted to mess around.
“What kind of cursed spirit were you again?” Gojo asked Ronawa.
They were now standing on the rooftop of a tall building.
He was genuinely curious about her.
To make him feel threatened the moment she was born—this cursed spirit had a serious background.
Ronawa thought about it and decided not to hide anything.
“I was born from humanity’s fear of death.
You could call me the Cursed Spirit of Death.”
Hearing this explanation, Gojo’s mouth twitched.
The Cursed Spirit of Death?
A concept that abstract could actually give birth to a cursed spirit?
But upon closer thought, it made perfect sense.
After all, the fear of death was the ultimate fear, passed down through countless years of human history, unequivocally ranking as humanity’s number one terror.
If it wasn’t, there wouldn’t be so many people obsessively seeking immortality.
Such intensely powerful negative emotion easily met the criteria to spawn a cursed spirit.
He just hadn’t expected the Cursed Spirit of Death to look like this.
Shaking his head, Gojo asked the core, critical question.
“So, Miss Cursed Spirit of Death, answer me honestly.
What do you plan to do now?
Bring mass death to humanity?
Or personally step in to manufacture death?”
This was the pivotal issue.
It directly determined whether Gojo was going to snuff Ronawa out early.
If she showed even a hint of wanting to go on a killing spree, Gojo was going to introduce her face to his fist.
Unfortunately for him, Gojo’s probing only earned him a look from Ronawa that clearly said, Are you an idiot?
A bit taken aback by her stare, Gojo couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with that look?
Was there a problem with my question?”
“Of course there’s a problem.
Why in the world would I need to get my own hands dirty manufacturing death?” she retorted.
“Do I really need to tell you how many humans die every single day?
Besides, if I had to go bear witness to every single death, I’d be exhausted!”
Saying this, Ronawa’s expression turned serious.
She looked Gojo straight in the eye.
“You have to understand, there’s a natural balance between life and death.
I have no intention of breaking that balance.
In fact, I’m going to maintain it.”
“For example, those who recklessly cause massive amounts of death, or those who stubbornly refuse to die when their time is up—those are my real enemies!”
As a cursed spirit born from the conceptual manifestation of death, Ronawa’s requirement for growth was witnessing death.
However, that was just the conventional way to grow, and it was far too slow.
If she really wanted to level up quickly, she needed to hunt down the entities disrupting the balance of life and death.
Guys who caused massive casualties on a whim, and guys who flat-out refused to die.
Only by hunting them could she rapidly become stronger.