The dust still hung thick in the air, a bitter cloud of cursed energy that filled the scorched ruins of the battlefield. In the aftermath of the battle, silence reigned—except for the occasional groan of twisted metal and cracked earth shifting beneath the weight of the sorcerers.
Gojo Satoru stood tall, a familiar grin plastered across his face, though it was tinged with something like exhaustion. His Limitless technique had pushed him to his limits, but even now, his blue eyes glinted with untamed energy. Across from him, barely standing but still alive, was the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, his expression one of bored satisfaction, his body covered in deep, healing wounds.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick, charged not just with the remnants of their battle, but with the weight of something more—something neither of them could quite name.
"Well," Gojo finally said, breaking the silence with his usual playful tone, "that was a lot of fun. You really know how to put up a fight, Sukuna. For a curse, you're not so bad."
Sukuna's lip curled into a slight smirk, a glint of both admiration and disdain in his amber eyes. "And you… for a human… are not as disappointing as I had hoped."
Gojo's grin widened at the remark, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, I've been hearing that a lot lately. I think I'm starting to like it."
There was a brief pause, a stillness that seemed to stretch forever, until Sukuna slowly lowered his guard, letting the remnants of his battle stance drop. Despite his usual arrogance, his tone carried something that could almost be mistaken for respect.
"You're a formidable opponent, Gojo Satoru," Sukuna said, his voice low and dangerous but somehow carrying a faint sense of appreciation.
Gojo tilted his head, his grin never faltering, but the playful gleam in his eyes dulled just slightly. "You're not so bad either. For someone who's been around so long and still hasn't figured out how to stay alive properly."
Sukuna's amber eyes narrowed at the jab, but there was no aggression in his response. Instead, he gave a small chuckle, his prideful nature not so easily shaken. "One day, you'll learn. But not today. Not by my hand."
Gojo's expression shifted slightly, the usual mockery replaced with something more contemplative. "I'd hate to be the one to disappoint you, but I think that day might be a long way off."
For a long moment, they stood there—two titans of power, standing in the wreckage of their clash, each silently acknowledging the other's strength. It wasn't friendship. It wasn't camaraderie. But it was a rare, fleeting moment of mutual recognition between two forces that were, in their own ways, unstoppable.
Then, from the shadows, a voice hissed, filled with bitter distaste.
"Disgusting."
Kenjaku's figure emerged from the mist of cursed energy, his cold eyes locked onto the two sorcerers with clear contempt. His mask of composure was slipping as he watched Sukuna and Gojo stand there, side by side, in what could only be described as an unholy truce.
"You two are revolting. To think that I brought you here to fight, not to… fraternize."
Sukuna's lips curled into a grin, his gaze flicking toward Kenjaku. "If you're so disgusted, Kenjaku, maybe you should leave. This doesn't concern you."
Gojo chuckled. "Not like we need you anyway. What, are you upset that we're having a moment?"
Kenjaku's eyes narrowed, his fury barely contained. "You think I care about your petty little moment of respect? I didn't come here to entertain your games."
With a snap of his fingers, the air around Kenjaku warped—cursed energy swirling violently as the ground beneath them cracked open. From the rift, a monstrous form began to emerge, an abomination forged from the cursed energy of the battle and the residual power of Tengen, the immortal sorcerer.
The creature's body was a grotesque mass of limbs and twisted, swirling energy—part human, part curse, part Tengen himself. The essence of the ancient sorcerer's immortality pulsed through its veins, mingling with the twisted, violent power of the curse that consumed it.
As the creature rose, towering over the battlefield, Kenjaku's form began to vanish, his presence absorbed into the monstrosity.
Gojo and Sukuna's eyes locked as the creature let out a deafening roar, its cursed energy surging into the atmosphere.
"Dammit," Gojo muttered, his grin faltering. "So this is what he was planning all along…"
Sukuna's expression darkened, his aura flaring with malicious intent. "So, Kenjaku truly is as foolish as he looks."
With a snap of his fingers, Gojo activated his technique, his body flashing with limitless speed. "Alright, I guess we have no choice but to team up. For now."
Sukuna let out a low, almost menacing laugh. "I'll tolerate your presence, Gojo, but don't think for a second I'm doing this because I want to."
Gojo's grin returned, full force. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. But this thing's a real pain in the ass, and I'd rather not let it ruin the rest of my day."
The two sorcerers—united by necessity, driven by their own desires for supremacy—rushed toward the abomination that had once been Kenjaku. The air thickened with cursed energy as the battle that would decide the fate of the Culling Games began anew.
And this time, they weren't enemies.
For now.
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