Flames.
Flickering softly, leaving no ashes.
Beautiful, pure flames.
Since that day, this flame had always been there, lingering in her dreams, within her very soul.
If something were thrown into it, it would burn to nothing.
If sin were cast into it, it would be seared away to pristine white.
If memories were tossed in, they would dissolve into void.
"Cursed energy is born from human negativity. It's a form of negative energy, symbolized by a '-' sign."
Those were my sister's words, long ago. I remember everything she's ever said, as if each word were engraved on my heart.
"Though this negative energy can strengthen the body, it can't heal. Reverse Cursed Technique works by converting this negative energy into a positive energy that can heal, like multiplying two negative numbers to yield a positive."
"When you master Reverse Cursed Technique, you can theoretically perform Technique Reversal as well."
"A sorcerer's body has two cores: a cursed energy core in the abdomen, and a technique core in the brain. The innate technique of a jujutsu sorcerer is triggered when cursed energy from the abdominal core activates the brain's technique core. So, if you use the positive energy from Reverse Cursed Technique to stimulate the technique core, you can trigger a second, inverted version of your technique."
Jasmine had already mastered Reverse Cursed Technique, meaning she could convert negative energy into positive energy at will.
But using this positive energy to activate her technique core and perform Technique Reversal? She had never once succeeded.
Yet now, with her cursed energy almost depleted, after using Black Flash, the energy coursing through Jasmine felt as natural as breathing, flowing seamlessly with her intent.
First, she drew the last of her cursed energy from her abdominal core…
Next, she imagined multiplying two negatives to produce a positive, transforming her cursed energy…
Finally, she channeled that positive energy to her brain…
"!!!"
The creature that had survived a thousand years suddenly recalled the terror of death.
And the source of that deathly chill was…
"That little girl?!"
Its nearly solidified cursed energy sphere was ready to strike, while the girl it held in its crushing grip appeared unconscious, her head hanging low.
The white curse wasn't truly conscious—it had indeed blacked out from Jasmine's last Black Flash. It was merely reacting on instinct, a primal, destructive urge, driven by its creator as nothing more than a failed prototype. This creature couldn't contain that "ultimate" consciousness, nor control the full power its creator sought.
Reduced to a vessel of pure destruction, the creature couldn't sense the overwhelming aura of death emanating from the girl it held.
The orange-yellow sphere finally burst forth, its blinding white light poised to consume everything around it.
Just before the scorching brilliance engulfed Jasmine, she lifted her head.
Her gray bangs blew back, revealing her usually bright golden eyes now dull, unfocused, with a tiny black flame flickering at their center.
Raising her hand toward that blazing "sun," Jasmine conjured a delicate black lotus flame at her fingertip, as though it would be snuffed out in the next breeze.
In the white blaze, that small black flame was like a lone star against the night sky.
Two opposing forces hurtled toward each other, only to be intercepted by a flash of red.
"That's far enough."
The crushing grip on Jasmine's bones suddenly disappeared, and she felt her body lighten, as though she were falling into a field of roses.
The fragrance of flowers, a gentle whisper in her ears—everything was so soft and peaceful, her tense nerves unwinding all at once.
The white blast roared forward, overwhelming and unstoppable, yet a slender hand rose before it, pale and flawless like carved jade.
The hand seemed minuscule against the blazing attack, but as it made contact, the cursed energy sphere stopped cold, as though it had struck an immovable mountain.
Then, with a faint crackling, the hand clenched slowly, the fingers curling.
The searing sphere seemed to gain mass, and with a loud "pop," it exploded, crushed in that single grip.
"Gah…?"
The mouth on the curse's abdomen emitted a bewildered sound, the events unfolding before it surpassing its understanding.
In the next instant, five savage cuts tore through the ground behind it, extending back dozens of meters from the curse's body.
Five dark lines appeared across its form, dividing it into six parts, black flames of malice burning within each slice.
The Special Grade curse that had fought Jasmine for so long, cornering her multiple times, didn't last even a moment against Baobhan Sith.
"Baobhan Sith… sister…"
Jasmine stirred in Baobhan Sith's arms, her golden eyes hazy with lingering confusion.
"Yes, I'm here. Sorry to keep you waiting, Jasmine. You did wonderfully."
Baobhan Sith's voice was soft, her embrace warm, easing the pain in Jasmine's aching body.
"Did I… make you proud, sister?"
"Of course—you're my pride and joy."
Jasmine's face broke into a gentle, contented smile.
It was a smile of pure happiness, brimming with satisfaction.
Caught in Jasmine's warmth, Baobhan Sith's expression softened, warmth brightening her gaze.
Yet, even in such a serene moment, someone always had to intrude.
"Prison Realm… open."
The instant that voice echoed, Baobhan Sith's face paled with horror.
She whipped her head toward the curse's corpse and found herself staring into a massive, bleeding eye.
A chill ran down her spine, stabbing through to her very core. She clutched Jasmine tighter, ready to flee from this sinister object.
She knew exactly what it was—and precisely because she understood its powers, her dread was overwhelming.
Yet, the owner of that voice, having taken the trouble to bring it forth, wouldn't let her escape easily.
"Oh dear, I hadn't wanted to use this. Among all the treasures I've gathered over the centuries, this one is truly irreplaceable."
Baobhan Sith didn't see the speaker's face; as soon as the voice reached her ears, a wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision turning blinding white.
And in that blinding whiteness, a figure stood before Baobhan Sith, causing her eyes to widen in disbelief.
She was severe as the winter, majestic as the frost, and beautiful in her ice-cold perfection.
Snow-white hair, flawless and bound at the back of her head, crowned with a regal tiara. Her eyes, a piercing ice blue, were filled with a frigid wrath tempered by years of twisted desire—eyes that had withstood two millennia of storms, smoldering in eternal winter.
"Mother…?"
"Baobhan Sith, why is it always this way with you?"
The goddess of winter, embodiment of dominion, regarded Baobhan Sith with a gaze that was both disappointed and disdainful.
"You never fail to let me down."
"!!!"
The words were like blades, piercing Baobhan Sith's heart, stripping away her defenses and leaving raw wounds.
"Ahh—!!!"
---
T/N: MORGAN?? NAH
Sundays are off days now! 🥳
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
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