The curse had been relentless—something far beyond the usual. By the time it finally dissolved into nothing, the battlefield was silent… except for your uneven breathing.
Your body screamed in protest. Cuts, burns, and deep bruises—each step felt like it might be your last. Still, you stood. You won.
A soft chime echoed beside you.
“Kogane,” the small floating shikigami announced, its voice neutral, almost indifferent.
“Player has earned 5 points.”
Five points. Not nearly enough to make this worth it.
You staggered forward anyway, scanning the ruined surroundings for somewhere—anywhere—you could patch yourself up before another player found you in this state.
Then—
CRACK.
Thunder split the sky without warning.
You barely had time to react before something—no, someone—landed in front of you.
Electricity still danced in the air around him, sharp and suffocating.
He was tall, imposing. His presence alone made your instincts scream danger. Yet… his expression didn’t match it.
He was looking at you.
Not with hunger. Not with excitement.
With concern.
“…You’re still standing after that?” he muttered, almost to himself.
Your vision blurred. Your legs threatened to give out.
He stepped closer.
“A player like you…” he said, voice lower now, more certain,
“…should be with us.”
You tried to respond—ask who “us” even was—but the words never came.
The world tilted.
Darkness swallowed everything.
⸻
When you woke up, the air was different.
Cleaner.
Safer.
The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, but intact—no destruction, no lingering curse energy.
Voices echoed faintly somewhere beyond the room.
And as your senses returned, one thought settled in:
You were no longer in the game’s battlefield.
You were at Jujutsu High.
And somewhere nearby… that man was still here.