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"Then, what does that signify?!"
Confronting the duo of scarlet eyes that seemed akin to a living Curse, Miroku found himself engulfed by an encompassing darkness.
Within the profound obscurity, only the gaze of those eyes, akin to the expanse of the heavens, fixated upon him.
In this silent abyss, he seemed minuscule, dwarfed even beyond the stature of an ant.
Thwack!
A solitary bead of chilly sweat descended from Miroku's plump visage, splashing onto the ground. Instinctively, he retreated two paces away from Madara, yearning for a physical separation.
"These are undoubtedly the eyes... or rather, should I say, this individual..." Darko's voice faltered.
"Is he really human, no! is he even human?" His words trembled in tandem with his cold sweat.
Subconsciously, the pace of his palms rubbing together hastened – an involuntary manifestation of his habitual response to mental strain.
"Alright... this is utterly terrifying!"
The astonishment stemming from Madara's transformation wasn't exclusive to Miroku and Darko, both being Curse Users.
Even Misato quivered beneath the weight of those blood-red eyes radiating an ominous significance.
Initially, due to Madara's absence of hostility towards Riko, a glimmer of excitement had ignited within her. She harbored the belief that Madara might have come to rescue Riko.
Yet now, her heart trembled in the presence of those eyes, the optimism she'd held cautiously flickering in the face of this unsettling spectacle.
"Mere grains of sand are but fleeting under the sway of the whimsical wind."
Madara casually slid his hands into his trouser pockets, his demeanor brimming with unapologetic haughtiness.
Positioned behind Madara, Riko's eyes shimmered, a blend of aspiration and admiration coursing through them.
Unfazed by the ominous aura emanating from Madara's crimson gaze, she remained undeterred.
"You insolent child, how dare you belittle us!"
A potent blend of mortification surged within Miroku, the once menacing grin now eradicated from his countenance.
Blue veins protruded from his visage, his mouth agape to reveal a set of yellowed teeth. His appearance was a ghastly amalgamation of hideousness and dread.
In days past, he'd been the sole proprietor of disdain for others. Yet today, he found himself on the receiving end of such dismissive treatment by an underage youth.
It was as if he and Dakko were devoid of any resistance, transformed into mere puppets to be manipulated and toyed with.
"I'll end you! I must put an end to you!"
Despite having witnessed Madara's swift agility and the enigmatic hue of the Sharingan, Miroku couldn't bear the humiliation and rage that surged within him.
His gaze bore into Madara with unyielding intensity, akin to a bloodthirsty creature yearning to rend him apart.
Cursed Energy surged chaotically across his form, precipitating the emergence of razor-edged blades that sprang forth from his attire.
Guided by a mystic Technique, these myriad blades hovered suspended in the air, arrayed on either side of Miroku.
"Meet your demise!"
In a fervent motion, Miroku flung his arms towards Madara, prompting all the blades to converge upon him.
Empowered by the Enchantment of Cursed Energy, these projectiles propelled forward at velocities even surpassing that of bullets.
Yet beneath Madara's gaze, the trajectory carved through the air remained glaringly visible.
"Far too sluggish."
Without the need to even shift his body, Madara merely tilted his head fractionally, deftly evading the onslaught of Jujutsu blades.
"To think you've perfected the art of circus juggling. Perhaps my estimation of you has been overly generous."
"Ah, well..."
In response to Madara's taunting, Miroku's expression no longer seethed with anger. Instead, a sly grin emerged, reminiscent of a cunning plan successfully hatched.
"My Technique isn't so easily thwarted, you arrogant brat. Underestimating me will kill you, you bastard!"
From Miroku's outstretched arms emerged a veil of murky Cursed Energy, descending from above with imposing force.
The very blades Madara had effortlessly eluded halted abruptly in midair.
Then, in an artful arc, the blades executed a deft reversal, hurtling back at Madara's form with even greater velocity than before.
"Stubborn—"
Madara's gaze dipped slightly, the screech of the blades behind him falling on unheeding ears.
"Still clutching to bravado, hm... What's this?"
Eyes that had been brimming with unswerving determination now contracted abruptly, shrinking to an extent almost imperceptible.
The blades Miroku had dispatched appeared to collide with an unseen barrier, defying the naked eye's perception as they veered around Madara in an uncanny trajectory.
Then, inexplicably, they veered back towards him!
Miroku's portly frame executed a swift roll on the ground, narrowly evading his own Jujutsu blades. Rising to his feet, he bore a look of chagrin, a trickle of blood tracing a path down his swollen visage.
"Damn it, what in the world is happening?"
Miroku's expression twisted with frustration.
He couldn't fathom why the assault he had initiated had circled back to target him instead.
In this moment, Darko moved to Miroku's side, offering solace to the disgruntled Curse User.
He shifted his gaze to Madara.
"I sense no residual traces of Cursed Energy upon your person. In essence, the occurrences earlier weren't prompted by a magical Technique."
"In that case, it's conceivable that a specific Cursed Tool on your person disrupted Miroku's Technique."
Within an astonishingly brief span, Darko reached a conclusion about the recent confrontation through his astute analysis.
"Oh?"
Madara's eyebrows arched, a glint of intrigue adorning his handsome visage.
Yet upon closer inspection, one could discern that the item it carried was as amusing as a clown's performance.
"Then what?"
"Nevertheless, the scope of the Cursed Tool's influence is inherently limited."
"Had it been otherwise, you could have employed your Cursed Tool anew to redirect Bassi's assault against me."
"The Cursed Tool, which possesses the capacity to disrupt Techniques, appears to be capable of interfering with a solitary Technique attack at best."
"Your schemes are transparent to me!"
Darko's voice brimmed with unwavering resolve and a certain smugness, his gaze shifting towards Miroku.
"Let us strike together."
"Agreed!"
Upon hearing Darko's seemingly flawless analysis, Miroku concealed a sigh of relief.
If this tactic had the potential to counteract the interference Technique, it could be employed consecutively.
In doing so, they'd merely be battling against themselves, while the insufferable youngster remained unscathed.
Ultimately, it would only lead to their own defeat.
With Darko's insights into Madara's method, Miroku found his confidence restored.