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ᅠ ᅠ ᅠ꧁༺ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒓 .ᐟ ༻꧂ ᅠ ᅠ

At its center, Akuma stood alone, beads swaying gently against his chest. The kanji faded slowly from his back, embers drifting upward like dying stars. His gaze lowered to where Sukuna's body laid at. Cold. Unimpressed. “Even demons can be broken.”

Reality snapped back with a cataclysmic explosion that erased everything within a city block. A crater bloomed where they stood, carved deep into the earth as if the world itself had been struck by divine punishment. Smoke rolled outward.

....but through him. The strike pierced beyond flesh, beyond technique, beyond curse. It detonated at the center of Sukuna’s essence. The void shattered.

Sukuna’s presence under the assault, as though the very concept of the “King of Curses” was being beaten apart. A final pause. Akuma appeared directly before him eyes glowing like twin furnaces. “You are no king.” His fist drove forward one last time not into Sukuna’s body..

Perfected symphony of murder honed through lifetimes of battle. With every impact, fragments of cursed energy were ripped away, shredded, devoured by Akuma’s overwhelming will.

Not physical alone, but spiritual. The Satsui no Hado did not just assault muscle and bone. It clawed at the soul. Within the void, the barrage became merciless. Blows rained from every direction palms, fists, knees, elbows.

The first strike was unseen. A rib shattered inward. The second a crushing blow to the spine. The third tore through Sukuna’s guard and buried into his abdomen, not merely bruising flesh but striking at the core of his being. Each impact resounded like a temple bell of death.

Sukuna’s senses, so sharp, so divine in their cruelty, suddenly felt dulled… because something older than curses had seized control of the space between heartbeats. “Shun… Goku… Satsu.”

The kanji for destruction ignited behind him as he descended like a falling star of wrath not a curse. A warrior. And one that would not be mocked. Time fractured. The world fell into absolute black. Only two figures remained within that void predator and prey.

“…what true killing intent feels like.” He hurled Sukuna downward, diving after him. As they plummeted, dark energy gathered into his palm spiraling, compressing, screaming to be unleashed. “Messatsu.”

Each blow reinforced not by cursed energy, but by something far older. Far purer. The murderous will of a man who had conquered death through sheer strength. Akuma seized him by the collar mid-air. “Let me show you…” His forehead slammed forward with brutal precision.

A fist drove forward not wild, not reckless but perfected through decades of slaughter and discipline. It crashed into Sukuna’s guard with a concussive detonation that split the clouds above. Before Sukuna could counter A second strike. A third.

His foot slid back. The ground beneath him shattered. In an instant he was gone the shockwave alone collapsing what remained of the structure Sukuna had crashed into. He appeared through the falling debris.

His eyes glowed like embers pulled from the depths of hell itself. The Satsui no Hado did not flicker. It roared. “You hide behind invisible blades,” he said, voice low, carrying effortlessly through the ruins. “And call yourself king.” His foot slid back.

The smoke peeled back violently, blown away by something far darker than wind. Akuma stood at the center. His body bore the marks torn flesh, scorched skin, blood tracing along his arms yet his posture remained rooted. Unbent. Unbroken.

For a moment Nothing. Smoke drifted. Electricity crackled across broken stone. And then A heartbeat. Heavy. Deliberate. From within the crater, a pulse of killing intent erupted outward so dense it distorted the air itself.

From the heavens, a blinding bolt crashed downward, swallowing him in white-hot judgment. The impact erased what remained of the street beneath his feet. Flame, debris, cursed energy all of it surged upward in a violent pillar that clawed at the sky.

The very air screamed as Dismantle shredded everything in its path, converging on a single target. Akuma did not evade. The slashes tore across his gi. Blood misted into the night. Flesh split. Lightning followed.

The first slash came without warning. Then another. And another. Invisible blades carved through the battlefield concrete cleaving apart in clean, merciless lines. Steel split. Towers collapsed in silence before the thunder caught up.