During the standoff, the surrounding jujutsu sorcerers closed in.
Looking at the sorcerers encircling her, Ronawa casually untied her hair ribbon, letting her long white hair cascade down.
Then, she addressed the crowd.
“I know it’s highly unlikely, but I still have to say this.”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to make an enemy out of me?”
“If you all leave right now, I guarantee no one gets hurt.
But if you choose to stay, don’t blame me for showing no mercy!”
She wasn’t actually saying this for the benefit of the sorcerers.
She knew perfectly well that they would never just let her go.
This was, in reality, a liability disclaimer.
She was stating her predicament upfront.
That way, even if she went on an absolute massacre in a few minutes, Satoru Gojo couldn’t blame her.
She had given fair warning.
Just as Ronawa expected, absolutely no one heeded her warning.
Almost the instant the words left her mouth, the sorcerers couldn’t hold back anymore and launched their assault.
Naturally, since this was the jujutsu world, their preferred method of sorcery was simply rushing in to throw hands.
One sorcerer closest to her charged straight into melee range, raising his fists to show off his taijutsu.
Ronawa just sneered.
She effortlessly sidestepped his roundhouse kick, and with blinding speed, her hand shot out, wrapping tightly around the unlucky bastard’s throat.
She hoisted him straight into the air.
Despite having an incredibly cute face, Ronawa was actually over 175 centimeters tall.
She had more than enough leverage to choke-lift a grown man with one hand and dangle him entirely off the ground.
Ignoring his frantic struggles, Ronawa tilted her head and shot him a sideways glance.
Then, that delicate, artistic hand squeezed ever so slightly—and decisively snapped his neck.
As the Cursed Spirit of Death, ruthless lethality was just her baseline standard operating procedure.
Her brutal execution enraged the surrounding sorcerers, prompting them to swarm her en masse.
Her expression completely indifferent, Ronawa raised a hand and snapped her fingers.
In an instant, massive torrents of blood-red cursed energy condensed around her.
In the blink of an eye, she completed her transformation.
Her ordinary casual clothes were replaced by an extravagant, pitch-black outfit.
Behind her back, a pair of blood-red wings—studded with staring eyeballs—unfurled.
Simultaneously, two eye-shaped ornaments materialized in her hair.
This was Ronawa’s true form.
The form in which she could output her maximum strength.
Traces of involuntary fear bled into everyone’s eyes.
It was the primal, instinctual terror that all living things held toward death.
But they were highly trained jujutsu sorcerers after all, and they quickly suppressed that instinct.
They launched a fierce bombardment.
Countless innate techniques were unleashed, all converging on a single target: Ronawa.
Watching the dense, suffocating wave of cursed techniques rushing toward her face, Ronawa simply raised her right hand and, once again, snapped her fingers.
The next second, every single technique was sentenced to “death”!
Before they could even reach her, the myriad attacks disintegrated and vanished into thin air.
This absurd scene made Yuki Tsukumo’s pupils shrink violently.
She could only sigh internally—she really lived up to the title of Cursed Spirit of Death.
Even though she had only recently been born and hadn’t fully matured, her power was still staggeringly incomprehensible.
But Yuki quickly reeled her wandering thoughts back in, focusing entirely on Ronawa.
As a Special Grade sorcerer, she couldn’t afford to just stand there and watch anymore.
She had to suppress this curse!
With a furious roar, Yuki closed the distance, instantly appearing right in front of Ronawa.
She fearlessly threw a punch straight at the indifferent curse’s face.
Yes, just a punch.
But it was no simple basic attack—it carried a terrifying amount of force.
Before the fist even connected, Ronawa could feel a horrifying air pressure crashing down on her.
It felt like standing directly in front of a speeding freight train.
This was Yuki Tsukumo’s innate technique: Star Rage!
Its underlying mechanic was the ability to infinitely compound her own virtual mass.
Theoretically, if she stacked it infinitely, Yuki could even turn herself into a human black hole and devour all of existence.
Of course, that was just theory.
If they were just talking theory, Ronawa could extinguish the universe and kill the stars with a flick of her wrist.
Theoretical limits rarely matched actual feats.
Even so, Yuki’s punch was horrifying enough.
Augmented by Star Rage, the mass behind her fist had reached a monstrous level.
At this moment, ten semi-trucks combined wouldn’t weigh as much as her punch.
If a strike carrying that much weight and momentum connected…
even Ronawa would probably be squashed into a two-dimensional pancake.
However, all heavy-hitting, brute-force brawlers generally shared a common flaw: they were too slow.
Ronawa wasn’t stupid enough to just stand there and tank Yuki’s punch.
Instead, she flashed out of existence, instantly reappearing in an empty space nearby.
Killing distance was, at its core, limitless instantaneous teleportation!
Furthermore, Ronawa didn’t need to teleport a long distance to escape.
This was the sheer value of Death of All Things.
A truly broken innate technique was just full of pleasant surprises!
The devastatingly heavy punch missed its mark, but the sheer shockwave from the displaced air completely blew up half the street.
Yuki, however, was in no mood to admire her own destruction.
Her face turned ugly as she rapidly whipped her head around, locking eyes with Ronawa, who had reappeared off to the side.
“Spatial teleportation…
damn it, how did those geezers gather their intel?!”
Yuki was absolutely dumbfounded.
She was the textbook definition of a heavy, close-range bruiser.
Yet they sent her to fight a cursed spirit capable of instantaneous teleportation?
Did they think she was just wasting air by being alive?
Did they want her to die that badly?
But she quickly discarded those stray thoughts.
Her mind raced, analyzing exactly how Ronawa had pulled it off.
She was the Cursed Spirit of Death; her abilities had to be inherently tied to the concept of death.
So how did a teleportation ability suddenly pop up?
Unless…
“You killed the distance!” Yuki looked at Ronawa in shock, her voice laced with absolute certainty.
Ronawa was honestly speechless.
Were all Special Grade sorcerers this ridiculous?
Every single one of them managed to guess her mechanics instantly.
Was everyone just a master analyst?
It just went to show that you couldn’t reach Special Grade by being an idiot.
However, even though Yuki knew the underlying principle behind Ronawa’s teleportation, she still didn’t have a good counter for it.
A sufficiently overpowered innate technique was inherently unsolvable by nature.
Take Satoru Gojo’s Limitless, for example—its mechanics were practically public knowledge across the entire jujutsu world.
Yet still, no one could defeat it.
It was completely unanswerable.
Just knowing the intel didn’t mean you could actually counter it.
Ronawa’s ability fell into the exact same category.
Knowing the intel didn’t mean you could restrict her.
At best, it just meant you’d understand exactly how you died.
Stone the fic