Makoto Shiroyama did not know just how powerful the Gojo clan’s Limitless and Six Eyes truly were, and he understood even less what it meant to be the strongest of the modern era.
He still knew far too little about the hidden side of this world.
He only had a vague, almost fated sense that he and Satoru Gojo would collide someday.
It was a strange feeling, and it pushed him forward.
Makoto closed the book, rose to his feet again, and threw himself back into training.
Toji Fushiguro did not need to say a word.
Makoto had already increased his own training workload.
He marked several targets at fixed points in the mountains.
As he sprinted past them, he hurled the concealed weapons he had obtained the night before like flashes of lightning.
At first, his accuracy was poor.
He had no martial arts background, and he knew next to nothing about handling weapons.
But his talent was truly monstrous.
In barely half a month, he could hit stationary targets with perfect accuracy while charging at full speed.
“So you were already practicing.
Here I came all the way back to remind you.” Toji Fushiguro had come again.
With nothing else to do today, he had gone looking for Makoto, intending to open the next stage of his training.
He had not expected Makoto to start training his weapon control before Toji even opened his mouth.
Toji came carrying a bundle.
It looked extremely heavy.
“What’s that?” “This?
Take a look yourself.” Toji tossed the bundle down casually.
It hit the ground with a dull thud.
Makoto walked over and opened it.
Inside were weapons, all forged from metal.
Blades, spears, staffs, clubs, and everything in between.
Toji said, “People like us will never master a cursed technique in our lives.
For us, these things are our ‘techniques.'” As if afraid Makoto would not understand, he spat out that cursed spirit from his mouth and then pulled a chain from the cursed spirit’s mouth.
The Chain of a Thousand Miles.
A cursed tool of unknown grade.
Its effect was simple: as long as the base of the chain was not observed, the Chain of a Thousand Miles could extend without limit.
Makoto watched with his own eyes as Toji wrapped the entire mountain twice with the chain, and it still had not reached its end.
He was stunned.
A weapon like this was practically a cultivation-world magic treasure.
It opened his eyes.
“You get it now, right?
Cursed tools don’t just let people without cursed energy exorcise cursed spirits.
Every cursed tool has its own unique ability.
Those concealed weapons of yours, for example, have more than ten times the piercing power of ordinary ones.” Hearing that, Makoto pulled out the kunai tied at his waist and toyed with it.
He had already realized these kunai were extraordinary.
They could easily punch through thousand-pound boulders, and their sharpness was absurd.
Combined with his Stand, they could raise his combat power by at least fifty percent.
An ordinary body of flesh and blood could not withstand that kind of penetration.
Seeing that Makoto was interested, Toji continued, “Making a cursed tool is simple.
You apply a curse to a weapon prepared in advance, and that’s it.” “Of course, don’t ask me how to apply a curse to a weapon.
I don’t know anything that complicated.” Then why call it simple?
Makoto rarely rolled his eyes, but he did then.
He composed himself and asked, “Where can I buy cursed tools?” “Most of them are in the hands of people from the Jujutsu world.
Only a tiny number make it outside.
If you want one, you’ll have to trade for it.” “With whom?” “People from the Three Great Families.” Toji yawned.
“As it happens, I’m meeting someone from the Zenin clan tomorrow.
Come with me then.” “Fine.
Since you’re here, then…” Makoto nodded.
The next instant, the concealed weapon in his hand tore through the air toward Toji.
“Kid, stop attacking without so much as a greeting.” Toji tilted his head to dodge, only to be met by King Crimson’s storm of blows.
“Do you greet your targets?” Makoto flicked up another weapon and threw them one after another.
“Depends.
Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.” Toji silently operated the Chain of a Thousand Miles, winding it around King Crimson’s arm and smashing it aside.
Then he slipped past the flying weapons and grinned.
“Depends on my mood that day.” “What a coincidence.
I go by my mood too.” Makoto had already closed in on Toji.
He raised an iron fist and drove it forward, blasting Toji dozens of meters away with a single strike.
Cursed tools really did boost his fighting strength.
They made up for King Crimson’s lack of range.
King Crimson’s range was only E-rank.
It could not leave Makoto’s side for long, and its limit was less than ten meters.
Cursed tools gave him long-range options, and their destructive power was even greater than his fists.
Toji being knocked away was the best proof.
“You’ve gotten capable, brat.” Toji charged out of the dust like a cannonball.
“The third stage of training starts now.” “Hmph.” Makoto snorted, picked up a Japanese longsword from the bundle, and rushed straight at Toji without giving an inch.
The two fought in a broad, brutal style worthy of Heavenly-Restricted Tyrants.
Every clash of their weapons rang out with a deafening metallic clang, driving every living creature in the mountain farther and farther away from that area.
During the fight, Toji constantly changed weapons.
They were not cursed tools, only ordinary weapons.
Teaching someone how to use a weapon?
He could not do that.
If Makoto wanted to learn, he could feel it with his own body.
Heavenly-Restricted Tyrants were born for battle, especially beings like them with absolute zero cursed energy.
They could even break the chains of the world’s cause and effect.
“At this rate, it won’t be long before this brat surpasses me,” Toji thought half an hour later, looking down at Makoto as he lay on the ground gasping for breath.
Makoto had the same terrifying physique as him.
He possessed the Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant body granted after heaven stripped away all cursed energy, and he also had a Stand ability that was almost like a cursed technique.
“In a sense, you’re the same as that brat from the Gojo family.” Destined to become a monster among monsters.
“No.
You may even become stronger than that Gojo brat.
Unbound by the world’s morality, you’re freer than anyone.” Toji Fushiguro had another powerful quality that made him unbearably troublesome.
He was not bound by anything.
Morality, ethics, law; none of it could become a stumbling block for him.
Not even family could become his weakness.
If someone threatened him with his family, he would probably kill even more cleanly and decisively.
In Toji’s eyes, Makoto, who had nothing, was clearly the same kind of monster without a weakness.