Now... Don't You Dare Cross Me (1)

The moment the precept that had surfaced in my mind winked out, the cursed energy that had surged through me settled as if it had never been there at all. A crimson light rose from the Last Words Collector's corpse, drifted toward me, and vanished like a dying ember.

Tszzzzz.

The karma he had stacked through blood and slaughter was being settled, right then and there.

Hwang Seonpung's severed head went tumbling across the floor, bumped against the tip of my foot, and my mind snapped sharp. At this point in time, the Last Words Collector belonged to the most brutal of all rogue outfits: the Bad Friends Alliance.

True to the name, the Alliance lived by a twisted notion of friendship, and died by it. If they found out I'd killed one of their own, those revenge-crazed villains weren't about to challenge me to a fair one-on-one. They'd jump me as a pack.

The Jujutsu Bureau — the state agency overseeing the entire jujutsu world — and the Twelve Great Clans were problems too. Having lived through the dictatorship of the strongest sorcerer in history, they were wary of any irregular that appeared.

The deathbound technique: Beomseong Iltu.

In a one-on-one fight where lives were on the line, I would always win. I wouldn't take a single hit, and every strike of mine would land as a guaranteed kill. There was no way they'd accept an ability that could become the seed of another dictatorship. They wouldn't go as far as executing me... but they'd strip me of my Innate Cursed Technique.

"I'm fucked."

I muttered it under my breath, sliding the nodachi back into the scabbard at my hip. Now what?

"Kid, why aren't you coming back? I'm going in."

The superintendent who'd handed me the key shoved open the door to Hwang Seonpung's hideout, irritation thick in his voice.

"...Ugh!? D-did you do this, sir?"

The old man recoiled at the sight of the room strewn with chunks of flesh. The apartment superintendent's attitude turned abruptly polite.

"No. It was like this when I got here. Looks like the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠culprit already ran."

Ah, whatever. I let the best answer I had spill from my mouth.

In the middle of cleaning up a terror scene, he received an urgent report and arrived on site.

"The world really is fleeting. To think Hwang Seonpung would be found butchered like this."

Park Hyeong-woo of the Jujutsu Bureau's Investigation Division, Squad 1, muttered around the cigarette in his mouth. The bastard who'd mercilessly carved up dozens of people had himself been carved up. Hwang. Seon. Pung. The irony was inescapable.

"Looks like Hwang Seonpung isn't the only one who kicked it."

"The Demon Slayer was likely in the middle of activating some technique using civilian corpses as a medium when he was killed."

A subordinate already on scene explained ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why the room was soaked in blood. So that was why. Good thing it had been stopped before the technique could spread. Hyeong-woo's brow furrowed slightly as he asked his subordinate,

"Who found the scene first?"

"A first-year from Seonggwan Academy. He stopped by to check on a practical assignment. Uh..."

"Hey. Don't trail off. Say it straight."

"He's supposedly a disciple of the Namgung clan, but actually he might've been the one who cut him down. ...Ow! Why'd you hit me?"

Hyeong-woo smacked him on the back of the head, and the subordinate rubbed his skull with a look of wounded injustice. Hyeong-woo snorted a laugh, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"The Namgung clan's been finished as a sword house for ten years. Ten years. And if it's a disciple, that wouldn't happen to be Kim Beom, would it?"

"Ah, yes sir. He hurried back to the academy."

"I know the kid. He's a non-sorcerer. Diligent young man, handles a sword decently enough, but that's all. He wouldn't last a single exchange with Hwang Seonpung. You know how many swordsmen that bastard's wrecked?"

Even renowned swordmasters tended to get sliced in half by that invisible blade. As if a green student swordsman could possibly have killed him.

"How'd a non-sorcerer get into Seonggwan Academy?"

The subordinate blinked, and Hyeong-woo gave a bitter smile.

"He's got the talent, just hasn't blossomed yet, that's all. Kim Beom's word is trustworthy enough. Some great evil came through here and vanished like smoke. Didn't even show up on the CCTV."

"Great evil. Like, a major villain?"

"Means there's some lunatic newcomer out there crazy enough to declare war on the Bad Friends Alliance."

He played it cool in front of his subordinate, but Hyeong-woo was extremely tense. The Last Words Collector — the Demon Slayer — had been slaughtered clean. Just imagining what kind of terrifying monster could do that sent a chill down his spine.

"Can we call in the Bloody Memory?"

A sorcerer who viewed a victim's memories by licking their blood: the Bloody Memory. She was still a student, but she was attached to the Investigation Division. Maybe she could identify this great evil. Hyeong-woo shook his head at his subordinate's suggestion.

"Unfortunately she's sweeping the Seven Deadly Sins Cult terror sites, so that's a no-go. Plus the blood here's all mixed together."

"What a mess. The Bad Friends Alliance, the Seven Deadly Sins Cult, and now some mystery great evil—"

"Tell me about it. A bloodstorm's about to sweep through the City."

Hyeong-woo sighed and started photographing the carnage of the scene...

I made it back just before the recognition deadline, reported in to AI Hesed, and received my one credit.

"I filled it!!"

All that suffering, for a single credit. I'd cut down Nephilim after Nephilim, sucked up to my party members, caused trouble for Sister Ran — and this time I'd even run into a villain like Hwang Seonpung. At least I'd awakened an Innate Cursed Technique out of it, so it wasn't a total loss.

Still. I've got a long way to go.

My goal was to stop the Grand Cursed Technique Reaching the Forbidden, the cataclysm that would trigger at the end of Seonggwan Academy's third year. In the original story, the world had already been destroyed by it. As a transmigrator, I needed to start thinking about how to actually use this deathbound technique.

I was walking the corridor, lost in that tangle of thoughts, when a honeyed voice brushed my ear and made me flinch around.

"Congrats on dodging the flunk."

"...And who exactly were you hoping would say that?"

"Ahahaha."

The girl laughed, somehow brightly, as if the whole thing delighted her. Her long, vivid crimson hair caught the backlight and flared like fire. The story went that an ancestor had been doused in the blood of a dragon he'd slain and cursed for it, so every descendant was born with red hair. In exchange, the King of Jujutsu had granted them a ducal title. She was the young lady of Yongso, one corner of the Twelve Great Clans.

"Lady Yongso."

"Hmm—. I don't like that. Since when have you ever called me 'my lady'?"

Yongso Yulha, the clan's noble daughter. Among the four lineages of Innate Cursed Techniques, the Summoning Type called shikigami or spiritual beasts into the material world — and wielding mythical-beast shikigami like dragons or phoenixes was exceedingly rare. But the Yongso lady's Nine Dragons Nine Forms followed the legend that a dragon has nine children, and could summon fully nine dragon shikigami. Each of the nine dragons possessed a different ability, which made it tantamount to wielding nine cursed techniques at once. In the main story of Jujutsu Return, she grew into a named character.

So she really did get in my way on purpose.

Yesterday, her shikigami had snatched the Nephilim I'd marked as my prey right out from under me. I'd come within a hair of flunking. This particular lady didn't like me much, and there was a sad reason for that.

From childhood, my friend had carried herself like the sole supreme being under heaven, and she'd beaten the children of the great clans without the slightest hesitation. The Yongso lady had gotten it especially bad — the reason being that lizards were creepy. I'd treated her kindly, hoping to get on a named character's good side, and that had been the problem. Getting wrecked by an overwhelming powerhouse was one thing. Being comforted by a powerless nobody who couldn't even use jujutsu had felt like a deeper humiliation. Ever since we'd reunited at Seonggwan Academy, she'd come at me with greetings that were really just provocations. If that friend of mine had still been around, Yulha wouldn't have dared — but she'd long since graduated from the student ranks and been recruited to the highest offices of the Jujutsu Bureau.

"Well, I have to say, getting in my way on purpose doesn't really suit a lady of your standing."

"Calling it interference ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is so unfair. The Third's had a thing for you forever — she just went to see you, that's all."

The lady's amber eyes slit vertically like a reptile's. She winked.

"She's just shy, you know."

I gave her a look that said I was already tired of this and turned to go.

"That so. If you've got nothing else, I'll be heading out."

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keep telling you not to rush off. You haven't seen it yet, have you."

Unhurried, she drew a crystal tablet from her robes and projected a three-dimensional image of oracle-bone script. Oracle-bone characters — wasn't that about three thousand years late? Then again, divination was a representative form of jujutsu, and the Great Clan Council often decided matters by turtle-shell scrying.

Shining characters rose thick and bright across the turtle's carapace. Come to think of it, Sister Ran had attended the Great Clan Council today. Don't tell me...

"This year's exhibition duel is Namgung versus Yongso. That's you and me."

Once a year, students of the Twelve Great Clans were chosen to clash with jujutsu in front of the entire student body. It had begun as a humiliating ritual for the King of Jujutsu's amusement, but these days it was a fierce contest to establish each clan's prestige. I hadn't expected my opponent to be her.

"I'm not a direct descendant — I'm a disciple. What about Sister Ran?"

"Hmm? But she's the current clan head. She can hardly step in herself — it wouldn't be proper."

She was still smiling that bright little smile, but a current of exhilaration had slipped into her voice. The corners of her mouth curved into a crescent moon.

This girl.

She was planning to grind me into the floor in front of every student in the academy. And in front of an audience, Beomseong Iltu would not activate. Even if I somehow succeeded in blocking everyone's view, she had nine dragon shikigami.

Between a rock and a hard place. No other phrase fit quite so well.