Toji Zenin, or rather, Toji Fushiguro.
Ordinarily, he was a normal person.
At most, he had a stronger build than most, like a fitness trainer.
But in the jujutsu world, he was the infamous Sorcerer Killer.
Born into the Zenin clan, one of the Three Great Families of Japan’s jujutsu world, he had inherited none of the clan’s cursed techniques.
There was not even the slightest trace of cursed energy in his body.
From birth, he had been treated as a disgrace to the Zenin clan.
Born into one of the Three Great Families, one of Tokyo’s oldest, most prestigious, and longest-standing jujutsu families, yet possessing no cursed energy at all, how was that any different from being trash?
But heaven was fair.
It took away every condition Toji Fushiguro needed to become a jujutsu sorcerer, but gave him unparalleled physical talent in return.
The Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant!
That was the compensation heaven gave Toji Fushiguro for stealing away any possibility of becoming a sorcerer.
He obtained an unmatched body, unmatched athletic ability, and extraordinary five senses.
His senses were unimaginably powerful, strong enough that without any support tools, relying only on hearing, smell, and touch, he could fully perceive the presence of cursed spirits.
With the power of his Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant body and his own talent, Toji Fushiguro became an existence that made all jujutsu sorcerers tremble.
Once he set his eyes on someone, it was almost the same as death.
Yet this kind of person had a severe flaw in his personality.
Because of what he had suffered in the clan when he was young, he developed a serious antisocial disposition.
Only when his first wife appeared did things begin to change.
To Toji Fushiguro, his wife was the only light in his dark world.
But that light was immediately covered by clouds again.
His wife died, making Toji Fushiguro’s antisocial tendencies even worse.
Boring, childish, trash…
In his eyes, it seemed nothing had any need to exist.
Having just lost all his money at the racetrack, Toji Fushiguro walked down the street aimlessly, hands in his pockets and irritation written across his face.
Suddenly, a commotion not far away drew his attention.
Under normal circumstances, Toji Fushiguro would have no interest at all in such a scene.
But from the center of the incident, he sensed something unusual.
So he walked over.
Then he saw several social rejects punching and kicking a guy who had set up a street stall.
The person was dressed sloppily, almost like a beggar, but Toji Fushiguro could tell that he was a kid in his teens.
More importantly, while those pieces of trash were beating him, the kid had clenched his fist for a moment.
At that instant, a faint, nearly undetectable energy fluctuation emerged from his body.
It was not cursed energy.
It was something unknown.
But just as Toji wanted to keep observing, the kid quickly loosened his hand, and everything returned to calm.
Only those pieces of trash kept punching, and Makoto remained motionless.
“That physical toughness…
a Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant?” A wicked smile suddenly split Toji Fushiguro’s mouth.
He did not leave.
Instead, after the kid left, Toji followed him all the way into the red-light district.
He thought Makoto had gone there to buy services, only to discover that after Makoto entered an alley in the district, he did nothing at all.
He seemed to be waiting for something.
Toji Fushiguro did not leave.
He hid nearby and quietly waited with Makoto for more than an hour.
Only when the smell of fresh blood reached his nose did he see Makoto begin walking toward the source of it.
“Sure enough, he’s a Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant.” Toji Fushiguro was now completely certain.
The kid before him was like him, a bearer of the same Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant physique, or perhaps a person abandoned by the world.
He followed Makoto the whole way and personally saw him ignore those people as they died.
Appreciation appeared in Toji’s eyes.
“But without a cursed tool, how are you going to kill that cursed spirit?” Toji Fushiguro observed quietly.
The Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant physique had one major flaw.
Because there was no cursed energy in the body, its users could not kill cursed spirits with bare fists and feet.
They needed cursed tools that carried cursed energy in order to exorcise cursed spirits.
“King Crimson!” What?!
Toji Fushiguro’s expression suddenly changed.
That familiar feeling appeared again.
The instant Makoto spoke, the same energy fluctuation as before erupted from his body.
Then an existence resembling a cursed spirit shot out from within him.
After that, dull impacts kept exploding through the air.
Toji Fushiguro knew very well what that sound was.
When he punched people, similar sounds appeared too.
Bang bang bang bang bang.
How long had he fought?
How many punches had he thrown?
Not long.
Toji Fushiguro felt that only one or two seconds had passed, yet Makoto’s cursed-spirit-like thing had already thrown hundreds of punches, smashing that cursed spirit, whose grade was unknown but certainly no higher than Grade 2, into powder.
“Who’s there?” Makoto finally noticed someone behind him the instant Toji Fushiguro’s breathing became uneven.
“King Crimson.
The Crimson King, huh?” “Kid, you’re something special.” Toji Fushiguro simply walked out.
Makoto also saw the newcomer clearly.
He had short black hair, and there was a scar at the right corner of his mouth that added a touch of wildness to him.
Those were good eyes.
Makoto’s gaze was full of aggression.
Toji Fushiguro could tell that he wanted to kill him.
Instead of getting angry, Toji laughed.
“You’re clearly a Heavenly-Restricted Tyrant with no cursed energy in your body, yet you somehow have something similar to a sorcerer’s technique.
Is it spiritual energy?” “Your Heavenly Restriction didn’t strengthen your five senses.
Instead, it gave you monstrous spiritual power, and that’s what created that thing, right?” Toji Fushiguro reached out and pointed at King Crimson, the Stand hovering before Makoto like his most loyal guard.
Although Toji could not see it, he could sense that the thing was staring at him just like Makoto was, as if looking at a dead man.
He guessed that this was probably the compensation Makoto’s Heavenly Restriction had given him for possessing absolute zero cursed energy.
It had strengthened his spirit to an unimaginable degree.
In the end, that spiritual power had taken form, becoming something like a cursed spirit.
“Young people these days really aren’t easy to get along with.” Toji Fushiguro laughed once.
Then his entire body vanished from Makoto’s sight.
Behind me?
When did he move?
So fast!
Makoto was startled.
This was the first time since awakening his Stand that he had encountered a human like this.
That terrifying movement speed was so great that Makoto could not even see how he had moved.
“Die, trash!” Makoto spun around fiercely.
Almost at the same time, his Stand, King Crimson, also turned.
Its fists swung without hesitation.
“An attack rate that fast.
No wonder even cursed spirits get blasted into scraps.” Toji Fushiguro’s smile did not fade as he said, “Now I wonder how much power is behind it.” Bang.
Bang.
Four fists collided, shaking the air itself.
Makoto’s pupils contracted.
For the first time, he had met a human that his Stand could not kill in one punch.
But he was not afraid.
Coldly, he said, “Want to know?
Feel it with your life!” The moment his words fell, he controlled King Crimson and launched a furious assault.
Its fists poured down like torrential rain, striking at Toji without the slightest restraint.
“Come and try, kid.” Toji Fushiguro gave no ground, swinging both fists to meet the attacks.
In an instant, their airtight barrages crashed together.
The alley was not large to begin with, and the shock of their head-on clash immediately cracked it apart.
Huge fissures appeared in the ground.
“Ah!
What’s happening?” “Is…
is it an earthquake?” “Run!” “Wait, you haven’t paid yet!”