Chapter 17

Page (1/3)

Troublesome.
Truly troublesome.
Half an hour later, Takizawa Sei crouched low behind an abandoned, dilapidated shack, gasping for breath.
In the next moment, a shikigami descended from the sky. He quickly leapt aside; had he been a second slower, his head might have exploded.
“He dodged it,” a man’s voice said regretfully. “Is he really special grade? Why does he feel so clumsy? And he looks far too human—disgusting, really.”
“Don’t speak so lightly. Without me, would you be holding the upper hand right now?” a woman’s voice chimed in, dripping cold water, her tone unstable from exertion. “The technique I cast on him only slowed his movement to this extent, and even so, you still can’t hit him.”
After several rounds of skirmish, Takizawa realized something—the attackers were not curse users targeting him.
They were sorcerers dispatched by higher-ups or those on a bounty mission.
“The cursed energy wave detected by the window must belong to him. Honestly, the moment I sensed him was terrifying—I thought I’d be killed instantly,” another voice joined the conversation, the speaker glancing coldly at the man and woman, laced with disdain and disgust, though he refrained from speaking rudely. “But his presence is intermittent; only upon contact did we realize it’s impossible to judge his true rank.”
Takizawa, looking somewhat disheveled, was driven back to an open space. His arrows were spent, but fortunately, the bow itself doubled as a weapon and could be broken into three sections for surprise attacks.
He didn’t know how many buffs were stacked on him; the information his hearing could catch indicated no fewer than ten people accounted for.
How did it come to this?
The situation grew increasingly dire. Takizawa seized a moment to raise his hands, trying to show he meant no harm.
“Wait! I’m telling you, you’ve got it wrong. I’m just an amateur sorcerer with more cursed energy than an ordinary person!”
“Sorcerer?”
The man who spoke the most twisted his expression for a moment, as if choking on Takizawa’s excuse was amusing beyond belief. “What part of you looks human?”
Takizawa was shocked. “I look human everywhere!”
Dodging the man’s pursuit, he shouted, “Have you ever seen a cursed spirit this handsome? And my intelligence is that—high.”
“So you’re special grade... maybe just a cursed fetus for now?”
This was bad.
Takizawa seized the opportunity and knocked him out with a single punch.
Without hesitation, he then knocked out the stunned woman with a blunt strike.
At the moment she lost consciousness, a sudden lightness fell over her body—the debuff she cast was wiped away.
“You...!” The arrogant man’s eyes widened.
Takizawa casually asked in a normal tone, “Which clan are you from?”
“...Huh?”
“Based on your style... Kamo? Your technique is terrible,” Takizawa stated flatly.
Kamo’s brow furrowed solemnly. “I admit you’re skilled in combat, but you seem to be an empty shell without cursed techniques?”
Takizawa clicked his tongue. “No cursed technique means empty shell? Can’t you see my body reinforced with cursed energy? Besides, not showing your cursed technique doesn’t mean you don’t have one.”
The man immediately assumed a highly defensive stance. Takizawa flipped out of the sudden vortex forming beneath his feet and continued, “Listen, no matter how dangerous I appear to you, I won’t attack you first. As for why—”

Page (2/3)

He shouted the name with power and conviction, “Because I belong to Satoru Gojo!”
“...”
The sorcerers seemed taken aback for a moment.
Then a cold sneer, “Your illusions won’t fool me!”
A slash of black lightning came crashing down. Unable to dodge in time, Takizawa’s arm and ribs were severed; the impact sent him tumbling violently across the ground. As he struggled to rise, he began dry heaving uncontrollably.
Takizawa said calmly, “But if you threaten me, I won’t hold back either.”
The battered man coughed intermittently, eyes fierce and hoarse voice saying, “Whatever you are, you shouldn’t exist in this world!”
Takizawa snapped his leg bone.
The hoarse scream made him frown. He muttered an apology under his breath, carefully moved the man to a safe spot, and then knocked him out in the same way.
The competing sorcerers had all been dealt with. Those lurking in the shadows, attempting sneak attacks, also revealed themselves.
Takizawa’s stamina only allowed him to draw them a little farther away. Unfortunately, he excelled at one-on-one combat but found himself overwhelmed by varied group assaults.
Because he lacked any crowd-control or mass-destruction techniques.
Even during the attacks, Takizawa never stopped trying to dissuade them verbally, but this group was determined to claim his head.
“Someone offered thirty million to kill you.”
Takizawa replied, “I’ve always kept to myself.”
“Doesn’t matter. Our mission is to exorcise cursed spirits.”
Cursed spirit.
That was the label pinned on Takizawa’s head.
He knew there were factions of sorcerers outside of the technical school, and he had once secretly explored the dark web to learn about them. Wealthy patrons paid high prices for rituals, seeking protection from unknown forces through fear and superstition, or cursing others out of vendetta or greed. Some were gifted with cursed energy but could never reach even the rank of auxiliary supervisor, yet their heightened perception made them restless and sleepless when evil things approached.
Takizawa wasn’t sure which type had issued the bounty, but he knew he definitely didn’t appear normal.
A sharp pain began to stab at his head.
Takizawa could sense something was wrong with his body. How could he not?
Near-death injuries from a car accident, a miraculous second heartbeat in the ambulance, subsequent abnormal regenerative ability, and the strange reaction low-level curses had when they saw him.
It was as if something was transforming, hatching, until a completed form beyond comprehension took shape.
And today, the ambushing sorcerers seemed to carry a signboard that plainly declared: you are an anomaly.
“But that’s no reason for others to want me dead,” Takizawa said, his face pale. “That’s what I hate the most.”
Scenes flashed rapidly before his eyes. Dodging and counterattacking left him no time to think, yet strangely, he felt a chilling familiarity in this nerve-wracking moment.
Déjà vu.
Disgusting.
“Bang!”

Page (3/3)

Takizawa hit the ground hard.
His arm bled from a slash, and a sharp blade had cut his forehead, blood streaming down steadily.
Someone had collected his blood—what kind of curse would they cast with it?
Disgust.
Anger born from disgust.
And a cold, piercing instinct sensing the threat of death.
Takizawa’s eyes turned blood red as he stared at the person drawing talismans with his blood. His aura surged turbulently; a needle-like pain pierced his brain, yet amid dizziness, an acute clarity arose. At that moment, his breath grew so light it seemed to stop; negative emotions finally piled up to suffocation.
An impulse, an instinct—Takizawa brought his hands together in a seal before him.
“—Domain Expansion: Dark Gilded Shackles.”
***
What followed was inevitable.
Chains of molten gold materialized from thin air, enveloping every person within the radius of his cursed energy. They tightened around necks, waists, and limbs, binding and compressing until gruesome bloodstains appeared.
“Ugh...”
Amidst the pain, Takizawa ceased the cursed energy output.
The moment the domain withdrew, the attackers’ bodies collapsed like rotting mud. Their physical weapons had vanished, leaving only shocking wounds.
Takizawa swallowed the coppery taste rising in his throat, his head pounding fiercely.
He broke camp and noticed the sky had already darkened. Moving several bodies together, he suddenly sensed something descending behind him.
His frayed nerves triggered a defensive stance. Turning sharply with cold eyes, he was stunned to see the newcomer.
“Gojo?”
Calling the name, Takizawa nearly cursed aloud. “You damn well came too late! Do you know how exhausting it was fighting alone?!”
Gojo Satoru was probably busy dealing with Yuta Okkotsu’s matters—Takizawa wasn’t sure exactly, but it didn’t matter. Seeing the white-haired youth’s stern expression, he burst out laughing. “Look at you, all tense. Teleported here, huh?”
Takizawa casually tossed the people he had carried and strode toward Gojo.
“Got any tissues? Mind if I borrow some clothes? I’ve got another appointment...”
His foot suddenly sank, and he spat a large mouthful of blood. His vision darkened abruptly.
In the dimming world, he saw Gojo’s face contorted with alarm, rushing to catch him with outstretched arms.
Ah... this scene, too, felt strangely familiar.
As consciousness slipped away, he fell into a secure embrace. The phone he had just retrieved slipped from his pocket, its screen lighting up with a red alert indicating a failed message send.