Toji's expression darkened as he twisted his body, sending Goo crashing into the wall with a sickening crack. Dust rose as pieces of plaster crumbled around him, and a faint echo reverberated through the room. Despite the destruction, Toji's voice remained steady, almost chillingly calm.
"That's not enough to kill me," he murmured, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. His voice cut through the silence, a terrifying contrast to the chaos surrounding them. Cracks snaked across the walls, and blood spattered the floor in dark, glistening pools. Small injuries marked Toji's body—scrapes and bruises—but he appeared unfazed. If anything, he seemed stronger, as though each blow merely fueled his monstrous resilience, transforming pain into power.
But then, Goo felt a shift deep within him, an awakening of power that surged through his veins. The aura around him transformed, radiating a brilliant white light that illuminated the darkened room. Sweat vaporized off his skin, creating a mist that added to the intensity of the moment. He focused, taking the katana that had previously hung on the wall, its blade gleaming in the dim light.
"I am the heir of the sword," he intoned, his voice carrying a newfound confidence.
Before Toji could react, Goo swung the katana with all his might. The blade sliced through the air with deadly precision. Toji felt the rush of wind as Goo's strike connected, cutting deep into his chest and leaving a gash that barely missed his bones. Warm blood trickled down Toji's chest, a stark reminder that Goo was no ordinary opponent.
Goo declared, his eyes burning with fierce determination. "I'm more than brute strength. I'm finesse, precision—a true master of combat!" His voice rang with defiant confidence as he leveled the katana, pointing its gleaming tip toward Toji's face.
Then, suddenly, Goo's expression changed. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he lowered the katana slightly. "This is so cringy!" he said feeling nauseous, his usual arrogance returning, wiping away the brief seriousness, because holding a weapon usually means the fight is already decided how can a highschooler like Toji defeat a weapon master like him, one who hasn't killed someone. The brilliance of his power was overshadowed by the playful mockery. This was the real Goo a genius both feared and hated for his arrogance.
But the atmosphere shifted. A chill crept into the room as Toji slowly turned to face Goo, his eyes dark and cold. "You… think you're talented, right?" Toji asked, his voice low, almost calm. Goo said nothing, his confidence unshaken as he swung his sword again. But to Toji, it seemed slow—too slow.
"Talent…" Toji muttered, his hands clenching. He didn't know why, but that word disgusted him. It struck something deep inside—a raw, primal hatred. He didn't just want to fight. He wanted to crush him, to destroy the very concept of talent that had cursed him since birth.
What Goo never knew was that inside this high schooler lay a chained beast, one that had once ripped its targets or people in half, killed thousands without pity, and viewed people as mere objects for his bloodlust. Now, those chains were cracking, little by little.
"Hahahahaha—!" Toji's laughter erupted like a madman's, his voice echoing through the room. His eyes gleamed with a manic thrill as his wounds, deep and bloody just moments before, began to close at an unnaturally rapid pace. Smoke curled off his body, rising in dark tendrils, the heat of his regenerating flesh sending mist into the air.
There was a saying about the Sorcerer Killer in the Jujutsu world: All would bear witness to the one who was truly free, the one who had left everything behind.
Abandoned, ridiculed, cursed by the gods themselves, Toji had thrived in the violence, in the bloodshed. What gave him the ultimate rush was crushing those who thought they were on top—the ones bound by their so-called "talent." He was free of all that, a man with nothing but his raw, untamed power.
A dreadful purple aura began to rise around Toji, thickening the air with menace. Goo sensed the danger and swung the sword again, but Toji caught the blade effortlessly with his bare hands. With a sharp yank, Toji kicked him, sending Goo crashing into the wall. Gripping the katana by its hilt, Toji hurled it back with terrifying force, the blade grazing past Goo and severing a few strands of his hair.
Goo quickly deflected the attack with a piece of iron, wielding the makeshift weapon with surprising finesse. His usual cocky smirk had vanished, replaced by a cold, deadly focus.
Toji stood before him, veins popping out of his hands and neck, his eyes dark and intense—black irises with sinister red dots glowing menacingly at their center. It was clear that Toji, too, was undergoing an awakening.
How does he have it? Goo thought as sweat began to form on his forehead.
Toji looked at him, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "If there's anything left of you when I'm done," he sneered, pointing at Goo with arrogance, "it's free to go."
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"Who the hell is this guy...?" Jinyoung muttered, his throat tightening with an unfamiliar mix of fear and awe. The idea of someone willingly taking on Toji—a feat most wouldn't even dream of—was both insane and terrifying. Whoever it was, they either had a death wish or were as monstrous as Toji himself.
Everything had to go wrong like this when Kevin and Jacob, the No. 1 and No. 2, were not here.
His thoughts raced, trying to piece together what this could mean for Division. Did Toji-hyung actually get defeated? The possibility gnawed at him, and he clenched his fists, the weight of the situation bearing down. "Shit…" he whispered.
As Jinyoung reached the terrace, he slowed, the adrenaline in his veins pulling him forward. It felt as if he were crossing an invisible line into something surreal, something that didn't belong in the real world. His footsteps faltered as his eyes locked onto a peculiar scene.
"Eh?"
At the edge of the infinity pool, two figures sat side by side. On the left was Toji Park, his legs submerged in the water, visibly fatigued but exuding a calm, almost serene energy. His hair clung to his face, soaked with sweat and blood, and his breathing was steady, as if he had just finished a grueling workout.
Beside him sat Goo Kim, his face bruised and bloodied, clothes torn, and wild hair framing his features. He looked like he'd been run over by a train, yet he sat upright, gazing at the moon as if it were an everyday occurrence.
It was the kind of moment Jinyoung had only seen in movies—two warriors sharing a moment of silence after a fierce battle, basking in the aftermath as though it were some twisted ritual.
Without looking up, Toji broke the silence. "That's really fucked up," he said, almost to himself, exhaling smoke.
Goo glanced at him, then took a long drag from a cigarette he had somehow acquired. "Care to join in?" he asked, his voice light, carrying a strange mix of exhaustion and excitement.
Toji shook his head, not breaking his gaze from the distant moon. "Nope. Too much work," he replied nonchalantly, as though the fight that had torn apart the top floor was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Goo sat beside him, his shoulders slumped as he took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling into the night air. "Yeah, you're right. It's a pain," he replied, his voice low and tired, tinged with satisfaction. Despite the carnage, a strange tranquility lingered in the air—a peace only warriors understood after a hard-fought battle.
Toji flicked his cigarette into the infinity pool, the embers sizzling as they made contact with the water. He looked back at Goo, a devilish grin spreading across his face, sharp and lethal. "But I take contracts," he said, his tone carrying a sinister weight. "If there are more like that, just send the money and the name." His grin widened, a dark gleam in his eyes. "It'll be a little costly, though."
Goo glanced over, matching Toji's grin with a knowing smirk. The shared silence between them stretched on, heavy with understanding. They were two sides of the same coin, bound by the same lust for battle and thirst for money.
"Have you killed people before?" Goo asked, sensing the earlier bloodlust that hinted at someone who had tasted death.
Toji didn't reply; he never killed someone in this life, but back then…
Jinyoung finally stepped forward, swallowing his hesitation, but the words caught in his throat, unable to breach the bizarre tranquility of the moment.
The blond-haired figure was none other than Goo Kim, a legend of the pre-generation era and one of the most formidable fighters in all of South Korea. His reputation was well-deserved, standing toe-to-toe with another legend, Gun Park—the Shiro Oni—a testament to his incredible might. While Goo's full capabilities remained a mystery to Jinyoung, his mastery over improvised weaponry set him apart. Known for his impressive strength and stamina, Goo's unique ability to turn any object into a deadly weapon made him unpredictable and lethal.
Jinyoung knew all this; after all, lacking strength himself, he compensated with knowledge.
Goo turned to look at him, his dark eyes sharp and assessing, as if he'd been waiting for Jinyoung to speak. Before Jinyoung could gather himself, Goo's grin returned, more chilling this time.
"You're Jinyoung, right? A lot of people are impressed by your little brain," Goo said, his tone casual yet dripping with dark humor. "Take care of it so no one decides to smash it in."
Jinyoung understood the unspoken message clearly—someone, or perhaps an entire group, had their sights set on Division. But he didn't let it show; his expression remained neutral. He had anticipated this; it was only a matter of time.
Goo's casual cruelty spoke volumes. He exhibited a lack of concern that bordered on sociopathic, moving with an almost relaxed air despite the bruises and cuts on his body. His stance was unwavering, an aura of readiness lingering as though he'd welcome another fight without hesitation.
Without a further glance, Goo turned and strolled toward the elevator. He paused just before the doors closed, casting one last look over his shoulder at Jinyoung. "Good luck keeping up with that guy," he said, a sly wink adding to the taunt.
The doors slid shut, and Jinyoung let out a measured exhale. The weight of reality settled over him like a thick fog. It was clearer than ever: someone out there had declared war on Division.
Toji got up, tossing the cigarette aside and stepping on it with a determined grind of his heel. He turned to Jinyoung, who stood there, an odd mixture of fear and resolve flickering in his eyes. The younger man nodded, his determination radiating like a beacon. "I understand, hyung," he said, his voice steady, carrying an unexpected weight.
But Toji stood there, dumbfounded, watching Jinyoung run away. What the fuck did he understand? Toji thought, annoyance bubbling within him.
He scanned the scene around him. Most of the guys lay unconscious, while a few of them were conscious but averted their gazes, shame creeping into their expressions as they confronted the reality of their weakness. They felt small, insignificant in the wake of such power, and it showed in the way they avoided Toji's gaze.
Yet, amidst the sea of defeated faces, one figure stood out—a redhead with heterochromatic eyes that gleamed with an unusual intensity. Fire burned within him, a fierce determination that set him apart from the rest. Unlike the others, this guy didn't flinch from the truth of his weakness; he accepted it, he was ready to improve.
Toji felt an urge rising within him. He had to do it now, even though he didn't particularly like it. "Hey, No. 4!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. "Get me a shirt!"
That's a lot of numbers to remember, he thought, irritation flashing through him again.
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