Veilhem and Makima walked side by side with their arms linked, their steps slow as they passed through the outskirts of the town.
The air smelled of fresh bread and damp earth, carrying none of the acrid stench of blood or decay he had grown used to.
Yet, for all its simplicity, something felt… slightly off.
The first thing Veilhem noticed as they wandered into the city was its sheer unnaturalness.
Strange, metal vehicles rushed past at speeds no horse could match, their engines humming like caged beasts.
Towering buildings of glass and steel stretched toward the sky, their windows reflecting the sun in a way that made them seem almost like shimmering monoliths.
He turned to Makima, who was walking beside him, hoping to find an explanation.
"I was expecting something different, but this works too." She mused, her gaze flicking over the street signs, the blinking traffic lights, the people dressed in clothes that lacked any resemblance to medieval garb.
Veilhem, on the other hand, was still confused. He tugged slightly at the heavy cloak draped over his shoulders, realizing that it drew far too much attention.
A passing group of teenagers whispered among themselves, one of them pulling out their phones and aiming them in his direction.
"Dude, that's some crazy good cosplay." One of them muttered.
Another grinned. "Yeah, bro looks like he stepped straight out of a game."
Veilhem's eye twitched. He wasn't sure what was more insulting. The way they dismissed him as some kind of costumed performer, or the casual tone they used as if none of this was strange to them.
Makima, of course, found it entertaining to see him flustered.
"It seems they think you're playing dress-up." She noted, her lips curving into a smile.
Veilhem hit his palm with his fist, coming to a realization. "Great. That explains the stares."
A child tugged on his mother's sleeve as they passed. "Mommy, is he from a movie?"
The mother barely glanced at him before smiling at her son. "Maybe, sweetie. Don't stare."
Veilhem already felt his head aching from overhearing that conversation and shot Makima a look.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely." The worst part was that she didn't bother to deny it.
He grumbled under his breath, adjusting his cloak to feel slightly less ridiculous. "Fine. So we're in a world that doesn't even recognize someone like me as real. That still doesn't explain where we are."
Makima glanced around, then gestured toward a brightly lit storefront with the word [Café] written above the entrance. The scent of coffee and something sweet drifted through the air.
"We are in Japan, that is for sure, but perhaps we should gather information." She suggested smoothly and turned her gaze back at him. "And, you might want to consider blending in a little better."
"I refuse." Veilhem's response was flat. He didn't know if there was some monstrosity lurking in this place, but it didn't hurt to be a little cautious.
Makima merely smiled at his rejection and pushed open the door. "It'd look good on you."
"You just want to see me making a fool of myself, don't you?" Veilhem deadpanned and followed her toward the café, already dreading whatever absurdity this world had in store for him.
______
The café's bell jingled softly as Veilhem stepped inside, the warm aroma of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries instantly hitting his senses.
"A caramel macchiato, please." Makima said to the barista.
Veilhem looked at her with confusion. "You know what that is?"
"Of course." She replied smoothly. "You should try something, too."
Veilhem stood in front of the glowing menu board, arms crossed, staring at the words like they were some ancient incantation meant to summon the dead.
Latte. Macchiato. Cappuccino. Americano.
None of it made sense to him.
"What the fuck is a 'flat white'?" He muttered under his breath.
Makima, perhaps already far too amused by his struggle to blend into this modern society, leaned toward him and slipped in an explanation. "It's coffee with steamed milk."
His frown deepened. "Then why not just say that?"
She chuckled, offering no further explanation as the barista patiently waited for his order.
Veilhem exhaled sharply and gestured vaguely at the board. "Just give me whatever you suggest."
The barista gave a polite nod. "One espresso, then."
He wasn't sure what that meant, but at this point, he didn't care enough and just hoped this would be over quickly.
Makima, as effortlessly composed as ever, ordered her caramel macchiato before leading them toward a window seat overlooking the city.
The drinks arrived moments later.
Veilhem eyed the tiny cup placed in front of him with immediate skepticism. "That's it?"
Makima stirred her own drink leisurely. "That's it."
He lifted the helm just enough to take a sip. The bitterness hit first, sharp and intense, but not unbearable.
Makima chuckled. "You're taking it better than I expected."
"It's not like this would kill me." He set the cup down, eyes drifting toward the sprawling cityscape beyond the glass.
It was different from the desperation that infected the lands along with the First Flame. Everything was so alive, thriving in its own chaotic way.
It was… strange.
No war. No smoldering ruins. Just people moving through their lives, completely unaware of the struggle their world had gone through.
The streets outside bustled with life—people walking, cars passing, and LED signs flickering filled his vision. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome in any way.
Makima, across from him, cradled her caramel macchiato gracefully. She lifted her cup to her lips in an unhurried motion, her gestures were fluid and composed.
The customers couldn't help but steal glances at Makima, wholly captivated by her elegance. In their eyes, she appeared like a distant beauty yet impossible to approach.
She let the faint aroma of caramel and espresso linger near her nostrils for a moment before taking a sip. Though her eyes seemingly remained fixated on Veilhem as if everything else had lost its meaning.
_____
But then, something brushed past his gaze.
At first, it was just a flicker. Then, a distortion at the edge of his vision. But as his eyes focused on the thing, a creature caught his attention.
Towering, grotesque figures loomed in the streets. Twisted limbs, gaping mouths, bodies stitched together like nightmares brought to life. They slithered through the crowd, brushing past pedestrians, their clawed hands dragging across unaware shoulders.
And yet, no one reacted.
It was as if no one saw them.
Creatures that were very much like those who lived in the Abyss.
Veilhem's grip tightened around the handle of his cup. His warrior's instinct flared, demanding he rip those abominations apart. But he sensed something was off and turned to look at Makima.
"You see them too, don't you?" She asked casually, swirling the last of her drink. She wasn't even interested in glancing at them.
He raised an eyebrow and pointed outside the window. "You saw that too?"
She tilted her head slightly, as if amused by his reaction. "I was waiting to see how long it would take you to notice."
Veilhem turned back to the window as he watched one of the creatures lean down toward a young woman standing by a crosswalk. Its massive, disjointed fingers hovered just above her head.
It was so close he expected her to shudder. But she didn't.
She just scrolled through her phone, oblivious to the monster looming over her head.
"What the hell is going on in this world?" He muttered.
Makima placed her empty cup down with a quiet clink. "Shall we find out?"
Veilhem exhaled slowly before rising from his seat, already feeling dreadful at having to move around.
______
After an hour of collecting whatever they could find, they stopped near a vending machine at the corner of the street.
The glow of its screen illuminated Makima's face as she tilted her head slightly.
"I have two theories for this spectacular phenomenon." She pressed the button on the vending machine to select.
"Either these creatures are invisible to normal people… or the people themselves are conditioned not to see them."
Veilhem frowned. "Conditioned?"
Makima's eyes gleamed with interest. "Yes. The way they behave, it appears they don't even sense the danger right beside them… My theory is that something is stopping them from perceiving the truth."
She paused slightly before continuing. "In other words, cognitive deception."
Veilhem frowned. "Speak in the language that I understand."
The sound of the can dropping echoed as Makima crouched down to pick it up with grace.
"Humans rely on their perception to define reality. They believe only in what their senses allow them to see, hear, or feel. What if their minds were conditioned to filter out anything that didn't fit their understanding of the world?"
Makima continued, her voice smooth and composed. "It's a controlled blindness. A distortion of reality that forces them to see nothing. Very unique and effective."
Veilhem's frown deepened. "On a scale like this?"
Makima tilted her head slightly. "Perhaps. Or maybe it's something more fundamental. A law ingrained into the very fabric of this world, ensuring balance remains intact. If the weak were aware of the monsters hunting them, how long do you think this fragile order would last?"
His gaze shifted to the street. A teenage girl laughed into her phone, unaware of the grotesque curse looming behind her. Its gnarled fingers hovered inches from her throat, yet she continued walking, blissfully untouched by fear.
Makima did not say anything after that, only smiling at him.
"This place is more twisted than I thought." Veilhem wasn't the smartest person out there, but even he realized the depth of this situation.
"That just makes it all the more fun to figure out." She nudged him with a small smile, enjoying the scene of him being annoyed by her antics.
A curse, its long, jagged limbs dragging against the pavement, turned its eyeless face toward them. Something acknowledged them for the first time since they arrived in this world.
It took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Veilhem sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I have to deal with it."
Makima chuckled, stepping slightly behind him. "By all means, then. Shall I reward you with a hug if you do it cleanly?"
"Are you this clingy normally?"
"So you want it or not?" Makima's teasing smirk widened.
"...I do not." Though his reply wasn't convincing at the slightest.
As soon as he said that, the Curse lunged first. A blur of jagged limbs and rotting flesh, its gaping maw stretched wide, ready to sink into Veilhem's throat.
He didn't dodge, but instead, he stepped into it.
His arm shot up, shoving his forearm into the curse's jaw, forcing its grotesque head back as its teeth snapped shut just inches from his neck. The impact sent a sickening crunch through the air.
Before it could react, Veilhem twisted his body and drove his knee straight into its ribs.
A wet, meaty crack echoed off the pavement. The Curse let out a garbled snarl, stumbling back, but he didn't give it any time to breathe.
Veilhem dashed forward, closing the gap in an instant. His fist drove into its side like a hammer, sending it sprawling onto the asphalt.
It writhed in pain, limbs flailing as it tried to push itself up—
But it was too late.
Before it could scramble up, Veilhem reached for the greatsword strapped to his back, the blade hissing free from its sheath. With one powerful thrust, he drove it straight through the Curse's chest, pinning it to the ground.
The creature screeched, its elongated limbs swinging around uncontrollably, jagged claws scraping uselessly against his armor.
He barely flinched at its desperate struggle because it was all meaningless.
In the next instant, his fingers wrapped around its throat.
And with just one hand, he squeezed.
"Maa…ma."
The Curse's gurgling grew into a whimper, an eerie imitation like that of a crying child. Its voice cracked, pleading, mimicking the desperation that it could never truly feel.
Veilhem didn't stop.
His grip only tightened like a steel vice, unyielding. He had witnessed so many deaths that this much didn't even bother him. The thing's flesh squelched under his fingers, its throat caving inward.
It choked, a wet, suffocated gasp rattling from its twisted mouth.
Blackened ichor dribbled from its lips, its claws weakening as its body spasmed beneath him.
Then, with one final crack, the Curse's body went limp.
Veilhem barely spared it a glance before letting go. Its lifeless husk crumpled to the ground like discarded trash.
From the darkness of the alley, shadows twisted along the pavement, writhing as grotesque figures slithered from alley and rooftops. One by one, they emerged, their distorted limbs snapping into place, gnarled jaws stretching open in silent hunger driven by instinct.
Veilhem wiped the blood from his knuckles, his gaze flicking to the other Curses lurking in the distance.
A few dozen of them.
Veilhem rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly.
Then they lunged all at once.
The first came from the left, claws flashing toward his ribs. Veilhem shifted, sidestepping smoothly before backhanding it in the skull.
Crunch.
The impact was brutal. Undoubtedly, its skull was shattered, and the creature fell limply like a ragdoll.
Another tried to pounce from behind. Without even looking, he pivoted and slammed his boot into its chest, sending it skidding across the pavement.
A third, a mass of writhing limbs, screeched as it leapt at him. Veilhem caught it midair. His grip locked around its twisted spine and he ripped it in half.
The creature let out a warbling shriek before its body split apart, black ichor spraying onto the asphalt.
One of them tackled him from behind, claws scraping against his pauldron. Snarling, he rolled with the momentum, hitting the ground hard before flipping the creature over. It landed on its back, disoriented.
Veilhem pounced, straddling its chest, and began pummeling. Fists drove into its face over and over, knuckles splitting from the impact. The Curse writhed, screeching, but he didn't stop. He didn't let it.
By the second punch, its skull caved in.
The warm, wet feeling of blood soaked his hands, but there was no time to think. He pushed himself off, turning his gaze to the remaining Curses.
The rest hesitated.
"This feels dull. Just come in all at once." A sharp crack echoed through the alley as Veilhem rolled his shoulders, stretching his body with ease.
The hesitation lasted only a second before the swarm howled in unison, rushing him from all directions.
Veilhem moved.
The Zweihänder flashed in a downward arc, carving through flesh and bone as if they were paper. A single swing split three of them apart, their bodies collapsing in heaps of twitching limbs.
A clawed hand swiped at his face.
[Unearthed]
He stabbed his sword into the ground, anchoring himself just as the Curse lunged at him.
Their collision created a burst of sparks. He pushed the Curse away before kicking the flat of his blade with all of his might. The sudden force sent the greatsword rocketing upward despite its huge size.
–Splash!!
A sickening sound of flesh being torn apart resounded through the alley as the sword cleaved straight through its torso, splitting it open from gut to skull.
Blood erupted in a violent spray, drenching the pavement. The creature let out a gurgling shriek before collapsing, twitching for only a moment before going still.
Another tried to sink its fangs into his shoulder in an ambush, but Veilhem turned around and caught it by the throat. His grip clenched tighter until a bone-chilling crack echoed through the air—the creature's neck snapped in half like a dried twig. He tossed the corpse aside like trash.
Veilhem backstepped smoothly just in time to dodge the claw aiming at him from the side, then kicked its shin, forcing it to kneel. Without a pause, he brought the hilt into its skull and flung it to the wall, shattering its head.
"Next." Veilhem turned his eyes toward the remaining Curses.
One by one, the horde faced the same fate in the face of the black knight.
The dark alley became a perfect slaughterhouse, the air thick with the putrid scent of blood.
Just like that, the fight was over in under 5 minutes. Though it was hard to call this a fight, and more of a one-sided massacre.
The last Curse twitched at his feet, its mangled form barely holding together. It let out a wet, gurgling noise, scraping against the pavement as it tried to crawl away.
Veilhem stepped forward, raising a single finger and pointing it directly at its head—
Shhk.
His fist shot forward.
The sheer force detonated the Curse's head on impact, purple blood splattering across the ground in a grotesque burst. Its body convulsed once before going completely limp, whatever lingering wretchedness it possessed snuffed out in an instant.
Makima, still watching from her place by the vending machine, tilted her head slightly. Not a drop of sweat touched her skin. Her gaze flicked between him and the massacre he had just done, her expression unreadable.
"Efficient." She whistled before sipping her drink leisurely. "No mercy even."
"Do I need to show mercy to these beasts that acted on instinct? Debatable."
Suddenly, Veilhem heard a faint, ragged breath coming from the corner. His head snapped toward the sound.
Tucked between a dumpster and the brick wall of a rundown building, half-hidden in the shadows, was a man. His breathing was uneven, labored. Blood soaked through his torn and stained uniform, bearing symbols Veilhem didn't recognize.
A Sorcerer.
The man flinched when their eyes met, his fingers twitching toward a weapon that wasn't there. He was in no condition to fight.
Veilhem took a stride forward, towering over him. "You gonna bleed out quietly, or do I have to put you down myself?"
The sorcerer swallowed hard, his gaze darting toward the dissolving corpses littering the alley. "You…"
He rasped, voice reeking with palpable fear. "You're not normal."
Veilhem tilted his head. "So I have to stand there and let those guys jump me to be normal? No shit."
The man coughed heavily in anger at Veilhem's retort. He tried to shift, but the pain stopped him from doing so. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his wound while eyeing Veilhem.
The soft click of heels echoed on the pavement from behind the knight as arms wrapped around his torso in a hug.
Makima peeked her head out from his back, her expression calm as ever. Her gaze flickered to the sorcerer, then back to Veilhem.
"Oh?" She mused. "It seems we have a guest."
Veilhem replied as he unwrapped her arms. "Found him crawling around back here. Not dead yet, but close."
Makima crouched down beside the injured man, watching him curiously. "You were hiding, weren't you?"
The sorcerer said nothing, but the tension in his body betrayed him.
Makima smiled. "Good. That means you know something."
Her hand reached out, deceptively gentle until her fingers curled around his jaw, forcing him to look at her.
"Now." She said, voice light and sweet. "Why don't you tell us exactly how things operate in this world?"
The sorcerer's breathing was ragged, his body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. His instincts screamed at him to run, to escape from this woman.
But Makima's fingers were still ghosting along his throat, a silent reminder of how easy it would be for her to do something bad to him.
He tried to turn his head away. She didn't let him.
"I asked you a question." Makima murmured, her voice as soft as silk. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Veilhem leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He didn't have anything against her way of interrogating and turned a blind eye. After all, they needed information, and he wasn't a good guy, per se.
The sorcerer gulped hard, sweat beading on his temple as he stared at those cold and calculated eyes. "I… I don't know what you—"
Makima sighed, her other hand reaching up to brush nonexistent dust off his shoulder. "You don't seem to understand your position."
Her words were light, but the weight carried behind them was enough to send a chill down his spine.
She didn't need to raise her voice, nor did she have to resort to violence in a barbaric way. The pressure of her presence alone did most of the work.
"I don't like lies, you see." She whispered, tilting her head. "And I really, really don't like wasting time."
Makima let out a soft sigh, then reached into the sorcerer's pocket. He barely had time to react before she pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper.
Identification, mission details, the kind of information a cautious man would have destroyed long before now.
She unfolded it with deliberate care, smoothing out the creases with the tips of her fingers.
"Let's see…" she murmured, her eyes trailing over the text.
The sorcerer's breath hitched.
"Ah." Makima's lips curled slightly.
"So this is your name. Ryusei Narimasa." She read it aloud, slow and deliberate, as if savoring each syllable.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
She continued reading, her voice calm, unhurried. "35 this year, Grade 2 Sorcerer, phone contact, assigned duties… how diligent of you to carry this around. Ah, and here, family contacts."
She tapped a particular line with a gloved finger. "How thoughtful."
His blood ran cold.
Makima finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "Mr.Narimasa here must be very confident in your ability to survive. Or he is very, very careless."
She tilted her head, considering. "I wonder… If I happened to do something with them, would anyone be there to save them? After all, you can't even save yourself."
The sorcerer gasped, his entire body trembling now. His hands gripped the ground as if he could anchor himself against whatever force was pressing down on him. His instincts told him she would follow through on her words.
Makima smiled at his shift in expression.
"So let's try it again." She threw away the paper and propped up her chin while smiling at him.
"Tell me everything you know."
The sorcerer sucked in a shallow breath. His mind accelerated to find something interesting enough to catch her attention. "T–There was a talk among Sorcerers circling these days. T—the Higher-Ups… they know something's wrong. There are too many Curses suddenly. Stronger and comes with much more quantity than before."
Makima hummed, her fingers trailing down his throat in a slow, thoughtful motion. "And?"
"The—" His breath hitched when her touch lingered over his pulse. "Some say it's the balance breaking. Others think it's something worse."
Makima's eyes gleamed with interest. "Go on."
The sorcerer hesitated. Then, lower, like he was afraid to say it too loudly.
"Something is coming and it's something big."
The air around them felt heavier now, as if the world itself had tensed at those words.
Makima's smile didn't waver, but something in it shifted. Something eerie and unhinged.
"Big, you say?" She muttered, asking him to elaborate more of this matter.
The sorcerer nodded quickly, desperate to keep her entertained, to keep her from touching his family. "I don't… I don't know what it is! But they're afraid! Even the Three Big Clans and the Higher Ups are scared!"
Makima chuckled, a soft, amused sound. But it didn't reach her eyes.
She murmured, almost delighted. "Oh, that does sound interesting."
"T—the Higher-Ups… They've been hiding things most of the time." The sorcerer gasped out.
"The Jujutsu Society, the elders, the clans. They know something's coming, but they won't tell us what."
Makima hummed. "How typical."
The sorcerer coughed violently, forcing the words out before she decided he was useless. "T—There's tension between the Higher-Ups. Some of them want to act. Others… they'd rather let things fall apart than lose control."
He swallowed. "Even Gojo Satoru—"
The sorcerer hesitated again, but the weight of her gaze stripped him of whatever defiance he had left.
"He's—he's rumored to be the strongest sorcerer in modern times." He muttered. "But even he's being watched. Restricted. They fear him just as much as they rely on him."
Makima's smile widened ever so slightly, but there was nothing warm about it. "How disappointing. The tops of this world are already crumbling on their own. But I guess that could make things work in our favour."
The sorcerer flinched.
"Tell us more about this so-called Jujutsu Society." She said, clearly pleased with how cooperative he was being.
The Sorcerer blinked. "What? You… didn't know?"
To him, the knight moved with the power and precision of a Grade 1 Sorcerer. Strength like that didn't just come from nowhere. And yet here they were, asking questions like complete outsiders. Was this some twisted joke?
After a moment to collect his calm, the Sorcerer faithfully answered without hiding anything. From the basic to the clans, Higher-Ups, Jujutsu High, noticeable Sorcerers, etc...
Makima kept probing, her questions deceptively casual, peeling back layers of a world he never imagined outsiders could touch.
Then, just as abruptly, she stood and brushed her hands together like she was wiping off dust. As if she hadn't just spent the last few minutes unraveling his entire worldview.
"That's enough for now. Thank you for your cooperation." She said, turning away, like none of it mattered.
The sorcerer slumped forward, coughing violently. His entire body shuddered like he'd just escaped a death sentence.
Veilhem commented. "You really do have a sadistic side, don't you?"
Makima tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I like the term 'efficient' more."
"Alright, that's my little menace." Veilhem raised both his hands in surrender.
Instead, he glanced back toward the city, where the Curses still roamed, invisible to the blind masses. "So… what now?"
Makima's smile never wavered.
"Now?" She echoed, turning to walk ahead. "We should figure out where to stay next."
Veilhem sighed, rolling his shoulders. "So the clans that guy said earlier? Which one should we go to first?"
Makima didn't answer immediately. She simply walked, her stride purposeful, as if the answer had already been decided long before he even asked.
Without another word, they left the crumpled sorcerer behind, swallowed by the shadows of the alleyway. Ahead of them stretched a world teetering on the edge, its people blissfully unaware that the cracks beneath their feet had already begun to spread.
The third party had arrived, and they were gonna wreak havoc.
____________
(A/N: My glorious ass has decided to grace you with yet another chapter.)