“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve encountered someone worth playing with. You almost killed my scenario character. So, let’s make this interesting, shall we?”
“—!”
Even after becoming a curse, it couldn’t erase the ingrained habits.
Enemy. Danger. Threat.
Today, for the first time, it takes a truly serious combat stance.
Lowering its posture, it holds the sword in a low guard.
In life, it was considered a genius among groups of swordsmen.
Of all the stances mastered in its style, this one is the swiftest and hardest to evade.
With the stance of god-like speed, it swings its sword at the boy.
The blade’s flash, slicing through an upward arc just above the ground, aiming to cut from the boy’s collarbone to his neck.
“Keh!”
“What!?”
It widened its eyes.
It saw that the boy’s eyes, glowing like red and black flames, with pupils resembling a strange family crest, were tracking the sword’s movement perfectly.
“Not bad.”
“!!??”
Thud!!
Impossible.
The sword was blocked.
The boy had only used two fingers, gently touching the blade, yet he completely stopped its attack.
“However, your curse isn’t strong enough. With that, you cannot cut me.”
Thud!!
It felt a massive impact in its abdomen, understanding only the fact that it was sent flying backward before it could grasp what had happened—
“There, get back into position quickly. Brace yourself, you can do it, right?”
“!!??”
Impossible, impossible, impossible.
The boy caught up with it, even as it was still flying parallel to the ground.
He had the audacity to talk to it with a half-smile.
“Ha, foolish!! You old geezer!!”
“Oops. Keh! Yes, yes, that’s good, you’re doing well.”
Impossible.
It thrust its sword into the ground, using the rebound to spin and launch a kick, but the boy dodged it as if he had been expecting it.
“Gah!?”
No, even more than that—
“But that was a poor move. It’s unwise to kick so recklessly.”
Rip.
It noticed a strange sensation in its right leg, the one it used for the kick.
It was gone.
From the right knee down, the leg that should have been encased in divine armor was missing.
“Oh, sorry, sorry. I reflexively ripped it off. It’s important to you, isn’t it? Here, I’ll give it back.”
The boy casually tossed the lower part of the right leg.
“…Ah, guh.”
Thud. Thump.
The lower part of the right leg hit the ground at the same time as it collapsed to its knees.
It was confused.
Unprecedented. A sense of isolation it had never felt before.
“Hmm, it seems that you and I are called G-ranked Gifteds in this world, meaning we are equals.”
In life, in this world, and even in the curse-infested prison of slaughter, it had always fought to the death.
“That means you can do better. Come on, heal your leg, stand up quickly, take up your sword. You haven’t shown me your best yet.”
But it had never encountered anyone like this before.
A strength so overwhelming, unmatched by any other—
“Gah, aaaaahhh, aaaaaaaaaah!!”
It forcibly reattached its severed right knee, black ichor splattering as it reconnected.
It could stand, it was trying to stand.
“Keh! Oops, I forgot to mention something.”
“Ahh!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!??”
Drip, drip.
Both arms fall off.
It had encountered something it never had before—not in life, not after reincarnation, nor after falling into a curse.
“I see I also tore off your arms. Sorry for the incomplete job—didn’t think they’d fall off now.”
A truly overwhelming, supreme evil—unmatched.
“Now, let’s continue, swordsman—let’s compare curses.”
“—”
It was strange.
It couldn’t understand its own feelings.
Even after falling into a curse, its heart now felt inexplicably hot.
The sensation of a racing heartbeat, a chilling clarity in its mind, the tightening fear of death.
Exhilaration.
It remembered a night long forgotten.
The day it stood alongside its comrades, swords drawn, those burning days when being called a fool or a country bumpkin didn’t matter at all.
Now, before it stood the greatest and strongest enemy of its life.
An opponent so far above it that even the ground beneath its feet seemed unreachable.
It wanted to test itself—to see how far the culmination of its training and polished talent could reach this boy standing before it.
“It is time for an inspection.”
“Oh, I like that. So, you’re finally getting serious?”
Juwwww.
Instead of reattaching its torn arms, it regenerates and heals them.
It had once reached such heights in life. The peak.
Legends told of a warrior who could deliver three strikes in a single step.
“Show me, show me your best.”
The boy faced it directly.
Even in the presence of its overwhelming aura, its killing intent, so intense that it distorted the air itself.
With his repaired arms, the swordsman takes up a stance, holding his sword.
Standing upright, arms loosely at his sides, the boy locked his gaze on the swordsman.
The swordsman thought that never before had he felt such tension—not in any raid or ambush.
And at the same time, he felt deep gratitude toward the boy.
Despite their vast difference in strength, the boy was deliberately matching his pace to the swordsman’s own.
He felt a sense of respect from the boy toward himself.
If that was the case, then he had to introduce himself.
Even if he had fallen into a curse, even if he was tainted by it—he was once a warrior striving toward his ideals.
“Captain of the First Unit of the Shinsengumi—Okita Souji.”
“Curse Brotherhood Leader, Curse.”
The match was over in an instant.
It unleashed a strike that contained everything.
Power granted by the curse.
Innate talent.
Stepping forward, transforming into a wind of godlike speed.
Three piercing thrusts launched at once—strikes that no curse in this prison could possibly block.
The sword pierces the boy’s body—
“Well done, swordsman.”
“Haha.”
It couldn’t help but laugh.
Forgetting all about curses, forgetting even its wrath against the gods, the euphoria of the curse, the thirst for blood—all of it.
“Spell formation activated: Sanguine Blood Basin Sutra.”
The three strikes, aimed at the heart, throat, and kidneys, landed on the boy.
However, however—there was nothing to do but laugh.
It was growing—growing right there.
From the three vital points where the swords struck, red blades of blood suddenly sprouted from the boy’s body, blocking all three of Okita Souji’s strikes simultaneously.
“I lost.”
“Yes, you lost.”
The swordsman dropped his sword.
The boy clenched his fist.
“Thank you for fighting with me.”
“Rejoice—I am the final destination of your curse.”
THUD! GROOOOAAANNNN!!
The boy’s fist shattered the swordsman’s face, smashing through his mask.
“Give it to me, your curse—Gift Activation: ‘Spell Creation’—Correction—”
The boy stretched his hand forward.
Curses are a power that binds and distorts people.
Thus, they are heavy and thick.
Like gravity, drawn to a stronger force.
“‘Omnicurse’.”
Ssssss…
From the swordsman’s body, a black sludge-like substance peeled away, converging into the boy’s hand.
It quickly condensed into a black sphere.
“Spell containment.”
Now, the swordsman felt a freshness he had never known before.
His body, immobilized by a single blow, filled with a strange sense of satisfaction despite the damage.
“Ahaha, ahahahaha, Kondou-san, Kondou-san, Kondou-san, so you were here, in a place like this! I, I’ve always wanted to be with you, with you all—ahahahahaha.”
Ssssss…
As the black, swamp-like substance consumed him, he reached out to the boy, speaking in the tone he had used in life.
“I don’t know you. That’s not who I am.”
“Kondou-san, Kondou-san, I found you! I’ll come to see you again, I remembered! I remembered what I wanted to do when I came to this world! The things I couldn’t do—together, with you—hey, do you think we’ll meet again? Hey!”
“Curses will bind us together.”
“!! Yes, yes, I understand, I understand! I’ll keep cutting, more and more! I’ll keep slicing and slicing, until I can entertain you again, so—again—ahahahaha, why, I wonder, why am I crying?”
“Yes, we will meet again when I kill a god.”
“!!!! Yes! Yes! A raid, then! Got it! Is it the Sonnō Jōi faction this time? Tosa? Satsuma? Chōshū? Call me whenever—I’ll be there when I see your darkness again—”
Sploosh…
Melting away, it vanished back into the prison.
Leaving only the victor.
With a fearless smile.
This was a duel of otherworldly martial arts and curses.
G-ranked Gifted “Man-Slayer” versus G-ranked Gifted “Omnicurse.”
The winner—
“Well, I don’t know what just happened, but I think I look like the villain here! Alright!”
The King of Curses—Curse.
