The trickle of Cursed Energy he received from those who believed in him wasalmost non-existent, at best, so tiny that he wouldn't have noticed it without Six-Eyes. But it was there; that part couldn't be denied. Was this the way forward? Was this the path to achieving True Limitless? After all, having a limited amount of CE was kind of a hard limit, wasn't it? If he could get enough of these Aeldari to worship him, then it was possible for him – in theory – to basically never run out of CE, even if he threw out Hollow Technique: Purple by the dozens.

That was... certainly something to think about.

Still, he wasn't thrilled by that idea. It'd be a backup option, assuming he couldn't find a way to constantly access the Cursed Realm and absorb some of its ambient Cursed Energies for himself. Well, he still wasn't anywhere close to achieving the first step, which was to gain access in the first place, but Satoru was nothing if not patient. Truth be told, he hadn't even tried it yet; so, there's that.

Anyway, back to the present

Satoru turned to the nearest Eldar. "Excuse me, but what exactly is this Britheim you guys keep talking about?"

The Eldar, a white-haired woman, bowed her head. "Lord Gojo. The Britheim is the prophesied savior, the one who will bring salvation and redemption to the Aeldari. It is an old prophecy, my lord, from even before the Fall. It is said that the Britheim will mend a schism and unite all of our people for one purpose - salvation. But the Britheim is also said to be an outsider, a voice that is not of the Eldar, but of a different race – the Outer Voice, the one who brings salvation, the one who will bring us to paradise."

Ah shit. That did not sound good, but it did sound really fun. Being a messianic figure to an alien race – totally an accident on his part – hadn't been his intention at all. But, hey, the best things in life were usually unexpected, like an extra fry in your bucket or a finger-eating kid summoning the King of Curses.

The best things.

"It is an old prophecy, my lord." The Eldar woman continued. "So old that no one knows who the prophet was. There was a time when no one believed in it, a time when the Britheim was seen as nothing more than the ravings of a madman."

"Ah, I see." Satoru smiled and wondered if this was gonna be his life from now on. Because there definitely was a misunderstanding at work here. Not that he planned on correcting them, of course, because this was definitely very funny. But, the idea of getting saddled by a destiny that wasn't made by him irked Satoru, especially if it was from a prophecy from a gajillion years ago or something. In fact, the very notion of anyone, save for himself, having any control over his destiny, brought forth unwanted feelings. Still, this should be a fun ride until he nabbed their little Avatar of Khaine. Would they still see him as a messiah, then? Eh, doesn't matter. "Thank you for telling me. But, do you believe that I am the Britheim?"

"I do not know, Lord Gojo," The woman answered. "A part of me is desperate for a savior, desperate for someone or something to pull my people from the slow death that is killing us. And that part of me wants to believe that you are the Britheim, the one who is meant to save us. But, another part of me has seen the death of hope. And that part of me is hesitant to believe anything."

"Honestly?" Satoru grins. "I'm probably not your messiah, but I think I'm just gonna do my best to save as many of you guys as I can."

The process of finding and erasing the mark on their souls wasn't terribly difficult, but performing it, one by one, for an entire race of people, who may number in the trillions, was just stupid. There had to be a way to perform it on a larger scale. Luckily, Satoru was well-versed in Ritual Jujutsu and he was pretty sure the Aeldari would be more than willing to aid him in formulating one. They wanted to save themselves, after all.

"I will test the prophecy myself!"

Oh boy, that can't be good. But it sure sounded fun.

"Sure!" Satoru stepped forward, the crowds parting around him, bowing their heads, much to the disgust of their fellow Eldar – not all of them, though; there were many who seemed confused and even afraid. Satoru walked forward until he stood beside Caoimhe, who maintained a face of utter confusion and frustration. She turned to him and Satoru gave her a soft smile, before he turned to the Eldar guy who called him out, the other Farseer. "What do you want, dude?"

"What is your name, Abomination?" The male Farseer asked, seething. Oh, he was fucking mad. But Satoru wasn't entirely sure as to why that was. Maybe it's because his perceived authority was suddenly shattered when the folks started calling him Britheim? But, again, Satoru had no idea. These aliens were weird.

"Still calling me that, huh?" Satoru shrugged. But, he made sure to stay in Caoimhe's shield. There was really no telling just how many of them wanted him dead and how many of them would try the moment he stepped out. It would be a massacre. And so, to avoid that, Satoru stayed back. The other option definitely sounded like a lot of fun, though; he wasn't about to lie about that one. The idea of taking on a whole world's worth of sorcerers sounded like heaven. "The name's Gojo Satoru, the most handsome sorcerer you're ever going to meet in your entire life! And you, what's your name, dude?"

"I am Ailill, a follower of the Path of the Seer, Abomination." He sneered again. And, as before, the Farseer, now known as Ailill, referred to him as an Abomination. Satoru wondered, briefly, as to how they gave him that nickname. Surely, he really hasn't done anything to deserve it? But, this guy being a seer, some future-seeing jackass, maybe he was simply persecuting him for a crime he'd not yet committed? That'd be pretty funny.

"Sure." Satoru shrugged. "Nice to meet you, dude. Now, stop wasting everyone's time and test me."

The Farseer, Ailill, removed his helmet, revealing a rather youthful face, even among Aeldari. His eyes, Satoru noted, burned with fury. This seemed personal. Was he attacked by humans before? Did someone he care about get shanked by humans? Asking seemed like a good way of pouring gasoline into a fire. Satoru merely raised a brow, which only seemed to incense the Farseer further. He then raised his hands and turned to address the crowd behind him. "The prophecy of the Britheim spoke of a mighty warrior, one with unrivaled physical abilities and incredible psychic potency. His soul is incorruptible and the Britheim alone is capable of staring down the Four Great Parasites of the Immaterium, issuing forth his challenge to their rule, to their power."

And then, the Farseer turned back and pointed a finger at Satoru. "Take a look at this charlatan! Does he look like he possesses any of the qualities of the Britheim? He is nothing more than a filthy Monkeigh Sorcerer! And he has poisoned the minds of our brothers and sisters!"

The crowd responded, but with far less fervor than before. Many of them held doubts. Many of them hesitated. Satoru chuckled. Yeah, this wasn't going anywhere. They needed tangible proof of his power, a showcase of what he could offer them. "Ah, what the hell. I'm getting annoyed."

Before anyone could even notice or react, Satoru surged forward and grabbed the Farseer, and pulled him into Caoimhe's shield, where he then held down the struggling Eldar with a choke hold. The crowd surged forward, but Caoimhe increased the output of her shield and held all of the back. The Farseer struggled, punching and kicking, panicking in Satoru's grasp. Briefly, he wondered what the alien seer must've been thinking in that moment, before shaking his head. It didn't matter. He'd become an example to those outside. Before Ailill could muster his power, Satoru reached into the Farseer's soul, found the mark, and then burned it right off.

Odd, Satoru noted, burning off marks came a lot easier now than before. It was smoother too, needing very little concentration on his part, unlike the first dozen times he'd done it. Interesting. It seemed that repeatedly performing and refining it was causing it to evolve into its own Cursed Technique, some form of Curse Removal. Very fascinating. Because that definitely wasn't how Cursed Techniques were supposed to work, unless... unless being worshiped changed the rules a little.

Tsk, he was gonna have to deal with this later.

As the Farseer mustered an offensive response, Satoru kicked him right out of the shield, his soul now cleared of the mark. "See for yourself dickhead!"

As Ailill stood, his eyes lit up and cackled with silver bolts of lightning, chest heaving with rage. The Eldar Farseer raised his hand and aimed it at Satoru, arcs of electricity dancing between his fingers.

Satoru locked eyes with the Aeldari Sorcerer, crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned.

And then, suddenly, the Farseer paused, eyes going wide, his posture slackening as his face twisted and contorted from confusion, frustration, fear, anger, more confusion again, and then, suddenly, there was relief. The Farseer fell to the floor, on his knees, eyes on the ground, and clutched at his chest. The Eldar's Cursed Energy Output increased immediately, Satoru noted, just like Caoimhe, whose powers increased drastically at the mark's disappearance.

And then, the others noticed it. The presence of an Eldar with the mark was profoundly different when compared to the ones that did not have it. And outside of Caoimhe's shield, the difference must've been immediately felt. One by one, their eyes widened. And, one by one, the Aeldari fell to their knees, tears streaming from the lids of their eyes. Were they weeping out of joy, perhaps? Satoru didn't know and, frankly, he didn't care. The more pressing concern was the fact that felt, every single one of them, joining the same collective as those who worshiped him, feeding him with a steady trickle of Cursed Energy – not a lot, but definitely a lot more than before.

"Britheim!" One of them chanted. And, soon enough, the others followed.

This was getting out of hand.

Caoimhe gasped as she lowered her shield and deactivated all the wards that she'd kept active from earlier. The threat was gone. This group of Aeldari were no longer hostile. Sweet.

Satoru was the first to step out, walking forward until he reached Ailill's kneeling form. And, he grinned. This, right here, was a truly vanquished foe. Satoru didn't even have to fight – much. Clean and bloodless. One step closer to having sex with Caoimhe, because that was pretty much the only reason he was doing any of this. And also – maybe – because he kind of felt bad about the overall situation of the Eldar – but only maybe. "Is that proof enough for you?"

Ailill looked up at him, tears streaming from his eyes. The Farseer muttered something, but Satoru merely turned and walked past him. He was no longer interested in listening to the dick head He then raised his arms and addressed the crowd, and then pointed at a spot in front of him. "Alright, people. Line up if you want me to burn out that mark from you soul! No cutting or shoving. Make it orderly! I'm getting bored and annoyed and I don't have all day! So, if you wanna be free, do as I say!"

And then, just like that, hundreds of Aeldari formed a line in front of him.

Satoru raised a brow. "What?"

"He is truly the Britheim!" Someone yelled.

"I'm probably not!" Satoru replied, raising his voice. "Also, how are you guys so sure about that? It's not like you even knew about it twenty minutes ago."

"Only the truly divine would deny their divinity!" Some other Eldar said, yelling back. This was getting out of hand.

Satoru's eyes narrowed briefly, before he shrugged. "Oh, then, in that case, I am the Britheim."

"He is! He is the Britheim!"

Satoru sighed.