There were no more clear skies.The cursed altar had cracked.The air pulsed like lungs trying to hold a scream.
The Monk's disciples had stopped fighting.
They knelt.
One by one, they bowed to the cracking shrine beneath the battlefield — heads touching ash, mouths chanting an older language, a guttural gospel older than jujutsu itself.
Even Gojo, watching from a distance, tilted his head."That's new."
Father Asher grit his teeth and muttered something under his breath that tasted like blood and regret.
"They're waking it."
Junpei felt it before he saw it.The ground was humming. No, breathing.
A cursed entity sealed beneath the altar — forgotten, restrained by a lattice of sutras and bone. It pulsed like an infected wound… and now it was awake.
"HEY!" Spillglass screamed, flinging a half-lit flask at a glowing disciple."You bring a sleep-deprived eldritch abomination to a school event?! WE DIDN'T EVEN PACK LUNCH!"
He got blasted across three trees and landed in a bush full of regret and cursed thorns. Flint pulled him out by the collar, cursed flame circling his fingers.
They weren't winning anymore.They were stalling for survival.
Juno grabbed Thorne by the wrist mid-dodge."You see that thing breathing under us?"
"Yeah."
"That was sealed for a reason."
"No shit."
"I'm going to use my vision."
"Juno—"
"I know the cost. Shut up."
She blinked. Her pupils cracked. The air around her stilled.
Three seconds.
Six seconds.
Nine.
Her body convulsed. Blood spurted from her nose. Her hands twitched.
Then she inhaled.
"The Monk's about to unlock a second stage. He's not channeling that cursed god. He's merging with it."
Thorne felt bile rise.
"And we're standing on its fucking face."
Below the field, ancient sutras peeled away.
A single eye opened — miles wide, shaped like a spinning rosary made of bones and scripture.
It blinked once.
Everyone heard it — not with ears, but with the part of their soul they don't talk about.
Flint screamed and unleashed his flames — this time a spiral of sacred fire in the shape of a crucifix.
He wasn't even aiming.
He was begging it to go away.
Father Asher slammed his palm into the ground, muttering a forgotten hymn.
The field split open, and barriers bloomed across the perimeter — not to trap the enemy, but to force the Communion back.
"Get them out of here!" he barked at nobody in particular.
Spillglass, still dizzy, grunted, "Hey, uh, do we listen to him now?"
"Run first," Thorne said, grabbing him. "Process trauma later."
As the Communion scrambled, the Monk descended into the altar, arms spread wide.
His voice rose.
"Let the Word become flesh. Let the God of Doctrine consume this heretical soil. Let them see the face of obedience."
A second eye opened beneath the altar.
Father Asher didn't smile this time.
He just pulled a rosary from inside his coat, kissed it once, and whispered:
"Marrow. If you're still listening… now would be the time."
The Communion fled — dragged, carried, half-conscious.Junpei's jellyfish defended their rear. Flint's flames curved protectively around the group. Juno's vision was fading fast. Thorne dropped his weapon to carry her.
The ground split behind them.
The God of Doctrine opened its mouth.
Asher stood alone before it.
And smiled.