Point of View: Ritsuka Fujimaru
The echo of the heavy wooden door closing behind us sounded like a judge's gavel pronouncing a sentence. However, unlike a courtroom, the sound brought not condemnation, but a relief so profound that my knees nearly gave way right then and there.
The interior of the Fuyuki Church was immersed in a comforting gloom, lit only by the faint moonlight filtering through the tall stained-glass windows, casting specters of muted colors on the cold stone floor. The smell of old incense, polished wood, and melted wax flooded my nostrils, an ancient scent that contrasted brutally with the stench of ozone, blood, and corruption we had left behind in Chaldea, and with the frozen, salty air of the Antarctic archipelago.
I adjusted my grip on Gudako. My sister was still unconscious in my arms, her breathing rhythmic and calm, a painful contrast to the gasps and obscene murmurs that had escaped her lips hours before, under the influence of that thing... of the HAZE. I sighed, feeling that the weight of her body was, paradoxically, the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.
By my side, Mash remained tense, her shield dematerialized but her posture rigid, like a coiled spring. Her amethyst eyes, although now free from the direct control of the corruption, scrutinized the church's shadows with a distrust born of recent trauma. And a couple of steps ahead, wrapped in a calm that bordered on the most absolute arrogance, stood Sukuna. The King of Curses, in the body of a teenager, but radiating a presence so overwhelming it made the air around him seem to vibrate with invisible static.
Caren Ortensia, the silver-haired, golden-eyed exorcist, watched us in silence from the central aisle. Her gaze was clinical, dispassionate, like a surgeon assessing the viability of a critical patient. She wore the black habit of the Church, and although her posture was relaxed, I didn't miss how her body subtly blocked access to the deeper areas of the compound.
"A dramatic entrance for a story that, I suppose, will be even more so," Caren murmured, breaking the thick silence. Her voice was soft, but it had a sharp edge. "However, carrying an unconscious young woman in your arms while being on the verge of physical collapse is not the best way to start a productive conversation. Follow me."
She turned without waiting for our response and began walking down the right side aisle. Her steps were barely audible. I exchanged a glance with Mash, who nodded weakly. We started to follow the exorcist, with Sukuna bringing up the rear, his steps deliberately heavy and resonant, as if he wanted to make clear to whom this space truly belonged.
As we advanced through the dimly lit hallways, I couldn't help but think of the history of this place. The Fuyuki Church. The ancient domain of Kirei Kotomine. The place where countless betrayals had been woven during the Fifth Holy Grail War. It was ironic, I thought bitterly, that we were seeking refuge in the lair of one of the greatest monsters in the history of magecraft, guided by a being who, in his own world, was considered a walking calamity.
Caren stopped in front a solid wooden door, took an old key from her pocket, and opened it. The interior was an austere guest room: a simple bed with immaculate white sheets, a small nightstand with a crucifix, and a narrow window.
"You can leave her here," Caren indicated, stepping aside.
I advanced carefully and placed Gudako on the mattress. I sighed as I released the weight, my arms and back protesting with a dull, stabbing pain. Mash immediately approached, arranging my sister's head on the pillow and covering her with a heavy wool blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. Seeing the care with which Mash treated her, such a human and warm gesture, caused a lump to form in my throat. The real Mash was still there, fighting against the darkness in her soul.
"She's stable," Sukuna said from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, observing the scene with disdain. "Her physical body won't suffer any short-term damage. We'll let her rest. We have more urgent matters to attend to than playing nurses."
Caren observed Sukuna for a second before fixing her golden eyes on me.
"The demon is right about one thing: explanations can no longer wait. My hospitality has limits, and harboring fugitives from the largest organization for the preservation of humanity requires, at the very least, a good story. Accompany me to my office."
We left Gudako resting in the room, making sure to close the door securely. Mash walked very close to me, seeking warmth and security. Caren led us to an office at the back of the church, a room paneled in dark wood, with bookshelves full of theological texts, grimoires, and Church records. Behind a sturdy mahogany desk, Caren sat down, interlacing her gloved hands on the table. She gestured with her head towards two chairs facing her. Sukuna, ignoring the implicit invitation to sit, remained standing in a corner, half-hidden in the shadows, but with his presence filling every corner of the room.
I let myself fall into the chair. The exhaustion was almost unbearable, but adrenaline kept me awake. I took a breath, organizing my chaotic thoughts. How to begin explaining the inferno?
"Chaldea has fallen," I said, and hearing the words out loud made them terrifyingly real. "But it wasn't an external attack. It wasn't a Singularity, nor a Lostbelt, nor a Beast of Calamity that broke into the base. It was... something from within. A silent poison."
Caren raised an eyebrow, her expression inscrutable. "A poison. I take it you're using a metaphor. I suppose you mean there has been some kind of corruption?"
"We call it the HAZE," I continued, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "It's a conceptual corruption. It doesn't attack the body first; it attacks perception, the mind, and... the soul itself. It modifies people's desires, impulses, and moral compass. The infected don't think they're being controlled; they believe they have been 'enlightened' or 'blessed.' They rationalize acts of depravity, betrayal, and cruelty as if they were acts of love or justice."
I recounted what I had seen. My voice trembled at first, but I forced myself to keep it steady. I told her about Mash, about my own sister Gudako, about Astolfo and the other Servants. I told her about the orgies, the humiliation, how everything was done under the twisted excuse that "it was for my own good." I held nothing back, not even the disgust and pain I felt.
"And the worst part of all..." I clenched my fists on my knees, feeling my nails dig into my palms, "Is that no one knows how it started. We don't know who caused it, nor how long it's been there. It's as if Chaldea had been breathing this poisonous gas for months, maybe years, and I was the only one blind or stupid enough not to realize it until it was too late. The enemy is in the shadows, pulling the strings, and has almost all the heroic Servants in the history of humanity as their personal puppets."
The silence in the office was dense and oppressive. Mash looked down, her shoulders trembling slightly as her own distorted memories clashed with the reality I was exposing.
Caren leaned back in her chair, her golden eyes fixed on me. Her expression reflected no terror, not even sympathy, but the cold machinery of an intellect processing data.
"Fascinating," Caren murmured, and her tone was so clinical it gave me chills. "A corruption at the soul level that rewrites the moral framework without destroying the ego. It's a very refined attack. Much more elegant than the Mage Association's crude brainwashing methods, and theologically... almost demonic in its approach to temptation."
Caren sighed and shot me a look dripping with subtle sarcasm.
"I must admit, Fujimaru Ritsuka, Chaldea's incompetence never ceases to amaze me. They have the technology to observe the past, present, and future, they can materialize the greatest heroes in history... and they let an invisible parasite turn their sacred base of operations into a heretical mind-control brothel without anyone in security raising an alarm? It's truly a level of negligence worthy of study."
I felt my face burn with shame and indignation, but before I could retort, Caren continued, her tone becoming slightly more biting.
"And you, the 'Great Master' who has saved humanity repeatedly. How is it possible that something like this happened right under your nose? Were you too busy believing that the power of friendship and your inexhaustible charisma were an invincible shield? Sometimes, the naivety of modern heroes borders on criminal stupidity. You thought you were safe because you had defeated gods, forgetting that the devil always enters through the back door when you leave it unlatched."
"We didn't know!" Mash intervened, her voice sharp and defensive, though it trembled. "No one felt it, no one..."
"Of course you didn't feel it. That's precisely the point of a well-executed corruption, young lady," Caren cut her off gently, but with the force of a whip. "But ignorance is not an excuse when you hold the fate of humanity in your hands. It's a crime."
I was about to respond, to tell her that Sukuna had found my memories had been altered, that my brain had been manipulated not to see the clues, but a deep, dark laugh resonated in the room, cutting through the tense air.
We all turned towards the corner. Sukuna was laughing. It wasn't his manic, bloodthirsty laugh I'd heard during the massacre in Chaldea, but a laugh of genuine, perverse amusement.
"Jajajaja... Oh, I like this woman," Sukuna said, stepping away from the shadows and taking a step towards the lamplight on the desk. His crimson gaze fixed on Caren, gleaming with interest. "She has a sharp tongue and isn't afraid to speak the uncomfortable truths this naive brat needs to hear. It's a refreshing change compared to the brainless cheerleaders that make up the rest of his team."
Caren didn't recoil from the overwhelming magical pressure Sukuna exuded with each step. Instead, she crossed one leg over the other and observed him with meticulous intrigue.
"And you must be the famous Ryōmen Sukuna," Caren said, her voice taking on a lilting tone. "A heroic spirit... or rather, a Curse from the Heian era. The legends in Japan speak of the Two-Faced, Four-Armed Demon. A tyrant who massacred both enemies and innocents, but paradoxically, in some regional tales, was venerated as a savior who protected the weak. A fascinating duality. Tell me, which of the two faces am I seeing right now? The bloodthirsty monster, or the peculiar Samaritan who decides to rescue some poor children from a corrupt base?"
Sukuna's smile widened, showing those sharp teeth that gave him a bestial aspect.
"Don't be mistaken, little exorcist. I am no savior. I saved these brats because they are useful to me for my own ends. Chaldea became boring and disgustingly pathetic. But don't think my stay here is an act of charity."
Sukuna stopped in front of Caren's desk, placing both hands on the wood, invading her personal space.
"Staying here crying over Ritsuka's stupidity isn't the only thing we need," Sukuna declared, his voice dropping to a dangerous and dominant timbre. "Chaldea will soon realize the connection was cut. They'll send hounds. They'll send those corrupted Servants. If we think hiding in this crappy church will be enough, we'll be dead before dawn. We need an army. We need to summon more Servants to face the coming war."
Caren didn't blink.
"Summoning Servants requires mana. And an anchor to the Earth. From what I can see, Master Fujimaru is on the verge of collapsing his magic circuits, and the young woman sleeping in the next room is in no condition to provide anything. And you... are operating without external supply, consuming your own reserves, aren't you? An engine running without fuel eventually shuts down."
"Exactly. How perceptive of you," Sukuna straightened up, glancing at me with disdain. "Due to the damage done by the HAZE to this idiot and his sister's magic circuits, and the subsequent trauma of my purification, their bodies need time to heal. Forcing them to give me mana now would permanently destroy them. And I have no intention of disappearing from this world just yet. I need to replenish my mana reserves, and I need a functional and capable Master to anchor my summons and my existence optimally."
"And you expect the Church to provide you with one?" Caren smiled ironically. "You're mistaken about the establishment. We exorcise demons, we don't provide contracts to desperate Servants."
"I don't need you to provide just anyone," Sukuna retorted, his smile turning predatory. "I've been investigating. Scouring the timelines, the history of this city, and the pathetic events of the Holy Grail Wars. I was looking for a master's candidate. Someone who was supposed to be an official participant in the Fifth War, but was betrayed before she could even start. Someone betrayed..." Sukuna raised a finger, pointing directly at Caren's face, "by your own father, Kirei Kotomine."
The atmosphere in the room changed drastically. The air seemed to drop several degrees. I saw how Caren's body tensed for a fraction of a second, the mask of indifference cracking imperceptibly before welding itself shut again. Mash beside me let out a small gasp of surprise. I was stunned too; Sukuna had mentioned we would go to find Bazett, but the way he was cornering Caren was aggressive.
"According to my research and deductions," Sukuna continued, enjoying the effect of his words, "she should be hiding here. Under the Church's care, and under your specific protection. Bazett Fraga McRemitz. The Mage Association's Enforcer. Hand her over to me."
Caren held Sukuna's crimson gaze for a long, tense minute. The woman wasn't easily intimidated, but even she seemed to be weighing the absolute power emanating from the King of Curses against her options.
Finally, Caren exhaled softly and leaned back again, interlacing her fingers.
"Your level of information is... dangerously precise, Sukuna. You're right. I understand the seriousness of your situation, and as much as I find it amusing to see Chaldea crumble from its own arrogance, a corruption on a global scale like the one you describe is a threat to the human world. My duty as a member of the Church is to prevent such crises. So, I am willing to help."
Caren paused, and her gaze turned somber.
"However, there is an insurmountable obstacle in your plan. You're right, Bazett Fraga McRemitz is here, in the lower levels of this church. But she will be of no use to you as a Master."
"Oh, no?" Sukuna tilted his head, amused.
"No. Her condition is... critical," Caren explained, her voice losing some of its usual sarcasm to adopt a medical and funereal tone. "When my father betrayed her, he amputated her left arm to steal her Command Spells and left her to bleed out. Although I managed to keep her alive, her mind became trapped in a temporal anomaly, an infinite loop caused by the Holy Grail's corruption and the Servant Avenger, Angra Mainyu. When that loop broke recently, the shock of the temporal and spiritual discrepancy was too much for her body and soul. Bazett is in a deep coma. Clinically alive, but spiritually shattered. She won't wake up, much less be able to provide mana for a monster like you that needs to devour magical energy."
For anyone else, this news would have been worrying, even alarming, but with the healing abilities Sukuna possesses, Ritsuka didn't know how strong the healing ability was and what its limits were, but from the information he had gathered, it seemed Sukuna could heal any physical injury; he wasn't sure about the soul, but he wouldn't be surprised if he was also adept at soul healing.
"How trivial," Sukuna said, waving a hand in the air as if shooing a fly. "That's not a problem. In fact, it saves me from having to convince her with words. Take me to her. I can heal her."
Caren frowned, her skepticism evident.
"I'll repeat it: it's not a simple physical wound. She's missing an arm, her circuits are inactive, and her mind is fragmented by temporal trauma. The Church's healing magic and the Association's best elixirs can barely maintain her vital signs. You are a Caster, yes, but healing something on that level borders on the realm of Miracles."
"Caren, he's right," I quickly interjected, standing up and placing my hands on the desk. The exorcist looked at me, surprised by my outburst. "Sukuna... his healing power is terrifyingly impressive. I saw it. I saw how he healed himself from mortal wounds in seconds. I saw how he reconstructed my sister's and Mash's bodies from the inside out. I wouldn't be surprised if he could eliminate any physical damage without even flinching. If there's anyone in this world capable of healing Bazett in her current state, it's him."
Mash nodded vigorously by my side. "It's true. Sukuna-san's healing technique... doesn't follow the normal rules of thaumaturgy or sorcery. Restoring an arm, healing an injury, or an organ wouldn't be a problem for Sukuna-san," she commented, remembering how Sukuna restored the arm cut off by Saber. Then she looked at her own arm and then at Sukuna with a conflicted expression.
That made me raise an eyebrow, but I figured it wasn't a big deal. With that, I looked intently at Caren, showing her how sincere I was.
Caren observed the three of us, evaluating my desperate words, Mash's affirmation, and Sukuna's unshakeable confidence. Curiosity shone in her golden eyes, an academic and religious fascination mixed in equal parts.
"A demon performing miracles..." Caren murmured to herself, with a half-smile. "I suppose God works in mysterious ways, or maybe He just has a twisted sense of humor. Very well. I'm intrigued. Follow me to the catacombs. Let's see if your arrogance has foundations, Mr. Ryomen."
Caren got up and led us out of the office, guiding us towards a hidden passage behind the main altar of the church. We descended a spiral stone staircase, going underground. The air became denser, laden with the smell of dampness and magical antiseptics. The Church's catacombs were not just a burial place; they were an underground medical fortress.
We reached a room sealed with thick metal doors and multiple runic seals and engraved crosses. Caren dispelled the barriers with a wave of her hand and opened the door.
The interior was a strange mix between a monastic cell and a high-tech magical intensive care unit. In the center of the room, on a stone bed covered with white sheets and surrounded by monitors measuring spiritual pulse, lay an adult woman with short, burgundy hair. Her face, although beautiful, was pale as marble, lined with the tension of invisible pain. She wore a patient's gown, and the left side of her torso... ended abruptly in a stump carefully bandaged at the shoulder.
Bazett Fraga McRemitz's presence was weak, like a candle about to go out in a storm.
"There she is," Caren said, crossing her arms. "Six months in this state. I've kept her soul anchored to the body, but the loss of her limb and the collapse of her circuits due to temporal trauma have her trapped in limbo. The stage is yours, Sukuna."
Sukuna didn't respond. He walked towards the bed with slow, measured steps. His four crimson eyes scanned the Enforcer's body from head to toe. I stayed with Mash and Caren, holding my breath. Even knowing what Sukuna was capable of, there was a tension in the air that cut through the breath.
He stopped beside Bazett's stump. There was no preparation. He didn't take out a grimoire, he didn't draw any magic circle on the floor, he didn't even close his eyes to concentrate. Sukuna simply raised his right hand and placed it gently on the bandage covering the amputated shoulder.
What I witnessed next was, for lack of a better word, both gruesome and divine at the same time.
A soft, pulsating light, of a whitish hue, began to emanate from Sukuna's palm. It wasn't a magical explosion, but a concentrated manifestation of positive energy. The bandages around Bazett's shoulder simply disintegrated into dust. And then, the flesh began to move.
Reddish muscles sprouted from the stump, twisting and intertwining like snakes creating new tissue. The pale bone extended rapidly from the collarbone, forming the humerus, the elbow, the ulna, and the radius in milliseconds. Blood vessels and tendons wove around the bone structure, growing at a dizzying speed. Finally, new, perfect skin covered the entire limb down to the fingertips, sealing Bazett's left arm as if it had never been torn from her body.
Mash stifled a cry, covering her mouth with her hands. I took a step back, amazed by the absolute ease and raw brutality of the regeneration. It was disgusting to watch, visceral and bloody, but the result was an impeccable human arm, healthy and full of vitality.
But Sukuna wasn't finished. He kept his hand on the woman's shoulder. The whitish light spread throughout Bazett's entire body. I could see how the deathly pallor of her face disappeared, replaced by the flush of optimal blood circulation. Her breathing, previously shallow and erratic, became deep and rhythmic. The frown from chronic pain relaxed. He was healing her at a cerebral and spiritual level, repairing the circuits burned by the temporal paradox and returning her to the perfect state of her existence.
In less than thirty seconds, Sukuna withdrew his hand and took a step back, with an expression of absolute boredom, as if he had just tied his shoes.
But despite that, he had a pensive look on his face, as if he were weighing something; his red eyes conveyed an expression I couldn't quite make out or interpret.
Caren Ortensia was petrified. Her golden eyes were wide open, her lips slightly parted in a rare expression of pure disbelief. She slowly advanced towards the bed, looking at Bazett's regenerated arm, and even dared to touch the warm skin of the new limb.
"This... this is an absolute miracle," Caren murmured, her voice devoid of her usual sarcasm, replaced by a theological fascination. "He has recreated flesh, bone, restored the magic circuits in her arm... and now her magic circuits are beginning to heal rapidly. I can even see that you have healed the brain damage. And the most terrifying thing... he did it without a single chant. Without asking permission from Gaia, without connecting to the Akashic Records, without praying to any God. It's truly monstrous... and incredible."
"Don't confuse my Reverse Cursed Technique with the cheap tricks of your supposed gods, exorcist," Sukuna said, putting his hands in the pockets of his kimono. "I'm not even going to bother explaining how I did it, because trying to replicate what I did is completely useless for you."
Before anyone could say anything more, a hoarse groan broke the silence of the room.
On the stone bed, Bazett Fraga McRemitz's eyelids began to tremble. Slowly, as if her eyes weighed tons, she opened them. Her gaze was unfocused, blinking several times against the room's light. She took a deep breath, a sudden gasp like someone surfacing after nearly drowning.
She brought a hand—her right hand—to her forehead. And then, by instinct or muscle memory, she tried to support herself with her left. When her left hand, the hand she had lost months ago, touched the cold stone of the bed and supported her weight without issue, Bazett froze.
She lowered her gaze to her left arm. She flexed her fingers. One by one. She made a fist. She opened it again. The disbelief on her face was absolute.
"My... arm..." Bazett whispered, her voice raspy from disuse. "I... Kotomine... the Command Spell..."
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty," Caren said, quickly recovering her composure and approaching the head of the bed. Her mocking tone returned in full force, although her eyes showed genuine relief. "I must admit, the decor of this tomb was getting a bit monotonous with you sleeping here for half a year. I was afraid you were getting used to getting free room and board."
Bazett looked up sharply, her combat instincts activating upon recognizing the woman before her.
"You... you're Kirei Kotomine's daughter. Caren. Where...? What happened?"
"Easy there, Association guard dog," Caren taunted, placing a hand on her hip. "You're not in the belly of the beast, but in the Fuyuki Church. My father is dead. He's been dead since the end of the Fifth War. Tell me, Enforcer, before I explain why you're whole again, what's the last thing you remember?"
Bazett blinked, the mental effort evident on her features as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory. She sat up slowly on the bed, still flexing her new left arm as if afraid it was an illusion.
"I... the loop. Four days repeating," Bazett murmured, her gaze lost in the void. "We were patrolling... Avenger and I. Trying to find the truth of the False Holy Grail War in Fuyuki. In the end... he told me. He told me it was all an illusion created by him to keep me alive. That I was in a coma in the real world. We broke the time loop... Angra Mainyu said goodbye. He returned me to reality and... the world went black. That's all."
Bazett looked around, noticing our presence for the first time. Her professional eyes scanned Ritsuka and Mash, then finally stopped on Sukuna. Even fresh out of a coma, the instinctive threat perception of an elite Enforcer worked perfectly; her body tensed instantly upon feeling the monstrous energy emanating from the King of Curses.
"Who are they?" Bazett asked, her tone becoming authoritative, prepared for a possible fight. "And how is it possible that my arm is here? Ordinary healing magic can't restore a limb amputated from the root like this, and much less my magic circuits in my arm."
"Thank your lucky stars, or in this case, the most arrogant individual in the room," Caren said, gesturing slightly with her head towards Sukuna. "This being, summoned under the Caster class, performed the miracle of remaking your body and mind. And yes, it's an astonishing process that has just made all the medical knowledge of the Mage Association and the Holy Church look like child's play."
Caren looked at Sukuna, and for the first time, there was a hint of sincere gratitude in her tone, even if she masked it with sarcasm.
"I must admit it, Caster. I'm glad I can trust someone like you to fix my father's broken toys. A pagan half-demon surpassing the saints of the Church in the art of healing. It's a joke of spectacular black humor. Thank you."
Sukuna gave Caren a look that mixed contempt and impatience, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, brushing off the thanks like trash.
"Keep your false praises to yourself, girl. I don't heal the weak out of kindness," Sukuna crossed his arms, his attention focusing on Bazett. "I healed her because I need something from her. And now that she's awake and functional, time is of the essence."
Sukuna pointed at Caren. "You. Exorcist. Take her aside and bring this Enforcer up to speed on the current situation. Explain to her what the HAZE is, the fall of Chaldea, and our need to form an alliance. And make her understand that, by having returned her arm, her life, and her circuits, she now belongs to me, and that becoming my Master is the minimum payment I will accept for my services."
Bazett opened her mouth to protest at the word "belongs," her eyebrows furrowed with indignation, but Caren raised a hand to stop her.
"I accept the task, Sukuna," Caren said with a pragmatic smile. "Although I doubt Bazett is the type of woman to submit easily. Come on, Enforcer. Get up. We need to have a girl talk about the end of the world and how a four-eyed monster has just become desperate for help."
Sukuna frowned at that, but snorted before flashing a menacing smile. He looked at Caren with a piercing, mocking gaze, as if only he could see the joke in it all. Sukuna looked at Bazett with eyes gleaming with emotions that couldn't possibly be positive, and he could only hope that Bazett wouldn't reject our proposal—because who knows what Sukuna would have in store as a Plan B.
Although Ritsuka was quite certain that whatever the plan was, it wasn't going to be anything good.
Caren helped Bazett to her feet. The burgundy-haired woman swayed slightly, but her strength quickly returned. Bazett gave me and Mash one last confused look before letting Caren guide her into a small antechamber adjacent to the medical room, closing the door behind them.
Silence fell again over the cold catacomb room. I was left alone with Sukuna and Mash. I felt a paralyzing exhaustion hit me again, now that the tension of Bazett's healing had passed. I rubbed my eyes, trying to ward off sleep and the headache threatening to split my skull.
Mash moved a little closer to me, looking at Sukuna with evident nervousness. Her fingers tapped against her leg, where her shield would normally rest.
Sukuna watched us both for a long moment. His crimson gaze reflected no empathy, but the cold evaluation of tools.
"You two, go rest," Sukuna ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "Go back to the room where you left the sister and sleep. You need your fragile human brains and your magic circuits to settle after the cleaning I gave you. If you collapse from exhaustion now, getting you out of Chaldea will have been for nothing."
I nodded, too tired to argue. "Okay. We'll rest."
Sukuna turned, walking towards the exit of the underground room.
"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse in the stone echo. I didn't want him to leave us alone, despite the fear he provoked in me. After all, he was our only real defense.
Sukuna stopped without turning around and looked over his shoulder.
"I'm going outside," he replied coldly. "I'm going to establish a perimeter around this pathetic church. I need to investigate the Fuyuki area, sense the residual energy currents, and make sure none of Chaldea's search team has tracked our magical trail here. Caren has barriers, yes, but I don't trust Christian sorcery to stop the hounds of that corrupt AI."
"Will you be back soon?" Mash asked, her voice sharp with anxiety.
"I won't be long," Sukuna stated. "I'll just make sure our throats aren't cut while we sleep. And listen carefully..." Sukuna turned his head a little more, his red gaze fixing on us with paralyzing intensity. "When I return, I expect that Enforcer to have already understood her position. Rest quickly. Because when I come back, and with my mana supply secured by a new Master, you two must already be mentally and magically prepared."
I swallowed hard. "Prepared for what?"
Sukuna's smile widened in the shadows, revealing the edge of his teeth and the pure bloodlust that lay latent beneath his cold logic.
"Prepared to use the Corrupted Grails and Mash's shield as catalysts, Fujimaru Ritsuka. We are going to summon more Servants. If Chaldea wants a war using corrupted heroes as their lapdogs, then we will form our own army to slaughter them. Sleep. The true war is just beginning."
Sukuna disappeared into the hallway, his footsteps fading into the darkness of the catacombs.
I stood staring at the empty threshold, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the basement's cold. The enormity of what we were about to do settled on my shoulders. We were going to summon Servants using Mash's shield as a secure source and, as an extra, the Grails altered by the HAZE, under the orders of the King of Curses, to face my former friends.
I looked at Mash. She returned my gaze, her amethyst eyes reflecting the same terror and the same resolve I felt inside.
"Come on, Mash," I said softly, offering her my hand. "Let's do what he says. We need to sleep, to regain our strength for everything that awaits us tomorrow."
Hand in hand, we walked back towards the room where Gudako rested, silently preparing for the dawn of a new, and terrifying, battlefield.
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AN: The souls in the Nasuverse—at least in this story—don't follow the same rules as those in Jujutsu Kaisen, so sometimes you can exploit these differences to create loopholes. This is especially true for a Foreign Servant.
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