THE CULLING GAME
CHAPTER ONE
Within the Sendai Colony, the battle between two powerful sorcerers raged on, turning the cityscape into a wasteland. Special grade sorcerer Yuta Okkotsu, Ryu Ishigori were locked in a chaotic struggle, each determined to claim the others' points for themselves, as dictated by the Culling Game's rules.
However, watching them from a distance, perched atop a ruined building, was a third player—Domen Shigemori. His wild mane of brown hair framed his face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His tattered leather jacket and torn jeans hung loosely on his frame as he observed the battle below with detached amusement.
Yuta deflected one of Ryu's devastating granite blasts with his bare hands. From his vantage point, Shigemori could see Ishigori's momentary shock, though the man quickly returned to his usual nonchalance, continuing the fight. It was clear to anyone watching that Yuta was holding his own against these two titans.
Shigemori's gaze sharpened. Okkotsu was intriguing—his cursed energy, that boundless shikigami, his use of cursed speech. But it wasn't cursed speech that defined him. No, this kid's technique was something more complex. Something far more dangerous.
Shigemori's grin widened. "This era's got some real gems," he muttered to himself.
As the clash reached its peak, the tension in the air grew suffocating. The three sorcerers faced each other in a standoff, their cursed energy swirling violently.
"A domain expansion, huh?" Shigemori's eyes gleamed as the blackened spheres began to form around the combatants. His grin became feral. "A three-way one at that."
Shigemori stood up, stretching lazily. "Not bad… but I'm not gonna let them have all the fun."
Twin jets of cursed energy flared from his palms, the roar of his cursed technique filling the air as he launched himself into the sky. He propelled himself toward the domain barrier, aiming to crash through it—his laughter echoing across the desolate city.
But before he could make contact, the barrier shattered on its own.
"Tch!" Shigemori clicked his tongue in irritation, halting his flight and landing on the rubble below. He found himself between the building and Yuta, with Ishigori glaring at him from across the battlefield.
"Who the hell..." Ishigori grumbled.
Shigemori's smile never faltered. "Failed domain clash, huh? Should've guessed." He laughed, his tone mocking. "What's the matter? No room for a fourth player?"
Yuta's expression remained serious. "I wasn't expecting any more guests, no."
Shigemori snorted. "Lighten up, creep show. You look like someone just ran over your dog." His eyes flicked toward Ryu. "And you, unicorn-hair. Didn't you want dessert? Well, here I am."
Ishigori's lips curled into a sneer. "You? You couldn't satisfy my hunger if you tried."
Without hesitation, Ishigori's cursed energy surged, a brilliant star forming at the tip of his hair. Shigemori barely had time to sidestep, dodging the blast as it tore through the ground. He pivoted toward Yuta, grinning like a madman.
Yuta's fist came at him fast, but Shigemori twisted his body at the last second. His palm lit up with cursed energy, the air around him crackling with explosive heat.
"Explosive Flare!"
The burst of energy exploded from his hand, engulfing Yuta in a fiery blast. But as the smoke cleared, Shigemori's grin faltered. Yuta's shikigami had taken the brunt of the damage, its skin scorched but intact.
"Damn spirit…" Before he could finish the thought, Yuta's fist connected with his jaw, sending Shigemori crashing into a nearby building.
Shigemori landed with a thud, his body skidding across the ground. "That's a cheap trick, kid!" he spat, wiping blood from his mouth. Without wasting a second, he shot back into the fray.
But this time, it was Ishigori who greeted him. The sorcerer's granite blast grazed Shigemori's shoulder, knocking him off balance. Ryu wasted no time, launching a haymaker at him.
Shigemori blocked with his elbow and retaliated with a sharp jab to Ishigori's face. "Domen Shigemori, pleasure!"
Ishigori wiped his mouth, chuckling. "Flashy, but predictable."
Shigemori's eyes glinted with challenge. "Is that so?" He raised his palm, the cursed energy igniting with a brilliant glow. "Obliteration Blade!"
His fist collided with Ishigori's abShigemori, a shockwave of explosive force rippling out from the impact. Ishigori grunted, flying across the battlefield and slamming into a wall.
But even as the dust settled, Ryu's laughter echoed. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that."
Shigemori's grin only widened. "Is that a challenge?"
Before he could respond, Ishigori's cursed energy flared again. "Granite Blast!" The laser-like beam roared toward Shigemori, stronger than before. Shigemori barely managed to blast himself upward to avoid the attack.
"You're not the only one with firepower, old man!" Shigemori cackled as he curled his fingers into a hand sign. With a swift motion, he unleashed a chain of miniature explosions that lit up across Ryu's chest, sending the man flying backward.
Ryu coughed, clearly caught off guard. "You've got some tricks up your sleeve, huh?"
Shigemori smirked. "I never play my full hand."
Their banter was interrupted by Yuta, who stepped forward, his shikigami looming behind him. "You're a player. Reincarnated, aren't you?" Okkotsu asked, his voice calm but probing.
Shigemori's eyebrow twitched. "What if I am, kid?"
"I need your points," Yuta said, bluntly.
Shigemori laughed. "Straight to the point. I like it. But I don't lose—ever."
Yuta's eyes narrowed as he prepared for the fight. "Then I'll just have to beat you."
Shigemori's laughter echoed through the battlefield as his cursed energy surged once more. "We'll see, boy! Let's see if this new era can handle the likes of me!" He launched himself at Yuta, ready for the next round of battle.
As the fight escalated, Shigemori's mind briefly wandered to the past—the deal he'd made with that wretched sorcerer Kenjaku centuries ago. His clan, obliterated by his own hand, his body broken from the battle. But Kenjaku had promised him something: a second chance. A chance to return, stronger and more vicious than ever. And now, here he was, alive again—living, fighting, and reveling in the chaos of this new world.
But Shigemori had no intention of honoring any debts. He lived for one thing and one thing only—victory. This battle would be no different.
"Let's burn this city to the ground!" Shigemori roared as his cursed technique flared to life once more.
The air was thick with tension, the rubble-strewn battlefield a testament to the devastating clash that had just taken place. Shigemori coughed as he pulled himself from beneath a shattered slab of concrete. His entire body ached from the punishment he had taken, but he was alive—a small victory in itself. He glanced down at his mangled left hand, where his pinky and ring fingers were missing, severed cleanly during the collapse of the apartment building.
His eyes narrowed in thought. That damn Okkotsu… Copy, huh? He should've seen that coming.
A bitter laugh escaped him as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. He hated losing. The memories from his previous life, however faint and fractured, made that much clear. Victory was the only thing that mattered, the only thing he sought.
Suddenly, the sound of shifting rubble caught his attention. He sat up, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his ribs. His eyes scanned the wreckage, and there—just a few feet away—was a familiar figure.
Yuta Okkotsu stood atop a pile of debris, his expression as calm as ever. Rika hovered beside him like a shadow, her monstrous form brimming with cursed energy. Yuta's left arm was still regrowing, muscles and bones knitting together with a sickening squelch as his reverse cursed technique worked its magic.
"He's still standing," Shigemori muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. He felt an odd mixture of respect and annoyance. "That damn emo just doesn't quit."
Yuta's gaze drifted toward him. There was no malice in his eyes, only a quiet determination.
"You're tough," Yuta said, his voice low. "But I need your points."
Shigemori wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, a grin forming despite the pain. "I'd be insulted if you didn't."
But before either of them could make a move, a booming laugh echoed across the battlefield, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
"Looks like I'm not the only one left!" The voice was unmistakable. Shigemori and Yuta both turned toward the sound, just in time to see a figure emerge from the dust and debris.
Ryu Ishigori, his body battered but far from broken, stood a short distance away. His hair was still glowing faintly with cursed energy, and a wild grin stretched across his face.
"Can't let you two hog all the fun, now can I?" Ishigori said, his tone mocking but his eyes deadly serious. "I've still got room for dessert, after all."
Yuta's expression tightened. Shigemori stood, his legs wobbling slightly as he balanced himself.
"Great," Shigemori muttered. "Just what we needed. A third wheel."
Ishigori's laughter grew louder as he strode toward them, his cursed energy surging around him like a tidal wave. His presence was overwhelming, the sheer weight of his power making the air hum with tension. It was clear that despite the injuries he had sustained, Ishigori wasn't even close to backing down.
"Let's make this interesting," Ishigori said, his grin widening. "Three-way, just like before."
Yuta tightened his grip on his katana, his eyes flicking between Shigemori and Ishigori. He couldn't afford to take on both of them at once. He had to be smart—had to find a way to neutralize one before the other overwhelmed him.
"Rika!" he commanded.
The shikigami moved with terrifying speed, lunging at Ishigori with a monstrous roar. Her massive hand shot forward, aiming to crush the extravagant man into the ground.
But Ishigori was ready. "Granite Blast!"
A brilliant beam of cursed energy exploded from his outstretched hand, meeting Rika's attack head-on. The force of the collision sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, obliterating the remaining debris and kicking up a storm of dust. Rika staggered back, the sheer intensity of Ishigori's attack forcing her to retreat momentarily.
"Still hungry, are you?" Shigemori growled, eyes narrowing as he moved toward Ishigori. "I'll take care of you, then."
His cursed technique flared to life once more, twin jets of flame igniting in his palms as he launched himself at Ishigori. His body twisted midair, preparing to unleash Explosive Flare directly at the man's face.
But Ishigori's reflexes were sharp. He sidestepped the attack with a burst of speed, letting the flames singe the ground where he had stood just moments before.
"You're all flash, no substance," Ishigori taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "But I like a little heat in my dessert."
Shigemori gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. He knew Ishigori was dangerous, but his overwhelming cursed energy output made him almost impossible to outmaneuver.
Before Shigemori could retaliate, Yuta re-entered the fray, his katana swinging in a wide arc aimed at Ishigori's exposed side. Ishigori deflected the blow with his forearm, the steel of Yuta's blade sparking against his cursed energy-infused skin.
For a brief moment, all three fighters clashed at once. Yuta, Shigemori, and Ishigori exchanged a flurry of blows, fists, and cursed techniques colliding in a deadly dance of power and precision. The air crackled with energy, each attack sending shockwaves through the crumbling cityscape.
Ishigori's laughter echoed as he fired off another Granite Blast, the beam slicing through the air toward Shigemori. The man barely had time to react, propelling himself skyward with a burst of flame from his hands.
"You're in my way!" Shigemori snarled, weaving through the air to avoid Yuta's katana swipe. "I'll take you both down!"
The battle raged on with no clear advantage. Yuta's cursed energy seemed boundless, his reverse cursed technique allowing him to heal rapidly. Ishigori's attacks were devastating, each Granite Blast leaving massive craters in the ground. And Shigemori, with his deadly explosions, danced between them like a flame that refused to be snuffed out.
But Yuta was patient, methodical.
He bided his time, waiting for an opening.
And then it came.
As Shigemori launched another explosive attack toward Ishigori, Yuta darted in from behind, his eyes glowing with cursed energy.
"Rika!" he called.
The shikigami surged forward once more, her massive fist crashing down onto Shigemori's back. The impact sent him careening into Ishigori, the two men colliding with bone-shattering force.
"Domain Expansion!" Yuta shouted, his cursed energy swelling.
Shigemori's eyes widened in shock as Yuta's barrier snapped into place around them. The oppressive weight of the domain was suffocating, a vast expanse of energy that left no room for escape.
"This again?!" Shigemori cursed, his mind racing.
Within the domain, Yuta's technique was absolute. He had copied Uro's Thin Ice Breaker technique earlier, and now he used it to devastating effect. The invisible slicing force tore through the air, targeting both Ishigori and Shigemori simultaneously.
Ishigori, to his credit, managed to block most of the incoming attacks, his cursed energy shielding him from the worst of it. But Shigemori wasn't as lucky.
A beam of invisible energy slammed into his stomach, cracking his ribs and driving the air from his lungs. He staggered, barely able to stay on his feet.
"This… can't be how it ends," he wheezed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
But Yuta didn't stop. He pushed forward, his katana gleaming as he closed the distance between them.
In a final act of desperation, Shigemori raised his hand, his cursed energy flaring to life one last time. "Cursed technique reversal… Implosion!"
The building collapsed around them, rubble crashing down as the domain shattered. Dust filled the air, obscuring everything.
The night of the assassination was cloaked in a haunting stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of wind through the tall pines surrounding the Shigemori estate. Domen Shigemori sat in the grand hall, his back to the sliding doors, a sake cup delicately balanced between his fingers. His senses had been on edge for days, his paranoia sharp as a blade. His instincts screamed of betrayal, but the silence of the night whispered false comforts. Perhaps, just this once, he had been wrong.
But then he heard it—a faint shuffle, the soft clink of metal, and the unmistakable hum of cursed energy gathering beyond the door. The corners of his mouth curled into a twisted grin. So, it was tonight. The traitors finally revealed themselves.
The doors slid open, and a dozen of his clan's finest warriors poured into the hall, their faces hidden behind cold masks of duty and betrayal. His cousins, his uncles—those who had once sworn to stand by his side—stood ready to strike him down like a rabid dog. At the head of the group stood his father, cold and resolute, his voice like iron when he finally spoke.
"Domen Shigemori," he began, eyes as hard as stone, "for the good of the clan, you must die."
A laugh escaped Shigemori's lips, low at first, but it grew—wild, unhinged, echoing through the vast hall. "For the good of the clan?" he mocked, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you can kill me?" His hands trembled with the excitement of what was to come, cursed energy crackling through his veins like a fuse about to ignite. "You dare to betray me?"
The warriors lunged, but they were too late. In a blinding instant, Shigemori thrust his hand forward, and the air around him crackled and roared. Explosive Flare. A brilliant burst of cursed energy erupted from his outstretched palm, detonating like a fiery blossom. The front line of attackers was consumed in the flash, their bodies reduced to ash before they could even scream. The hall filled with fire and smoke, the smell of burning wood and flesh overwhelming.
But Shigemori wasn't finished. He spun toward the others, his face twisted into a mask of rage and exhilaration. "I'll show you what happens to those who betray me!" he roared, his voice cracking with manic glee. Explosions erupted from every direction, as if the entire world had become his personal battlefield. His family screamed as the ground beneath them shattered, their bodies torn apart by blasts that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Blood sprayed across the walls as the once-mighty Shigemori clan crumbled, annihilated by their own prodigy. Shigemori's laughter echoed through the burning halls, mingling with the cries of his dying kin. But as the fires raged, he felt it—the sharp, cold bite of steel slicing through his side. His father's cursed blade had found its mark in the chaos, plunging deep into his flesh.
Shigemori staggered, blood pouring from his wound. For a moment, the world tilted, his vision blurring as pain threatened to drag him into darkness. His father stood before him, the last of the Shigemori, eyes wide with fury and regret.
"Monster," his father spat, but Shigemori only grinned through the blood in his teeth.
Summoning the last of his strength, Shigemori unleashed a final explosion, sending his father's body flying across the hall, shattering against the walls like a broken doll. Shigemori, his body gravely wounded and his strength ebbing, stumbled from the burning wreckage of the estate, the flames behind him painting the sky in a hellish glow.
He collapsed into the forest beyond, clutching his bleeding side. His vision swam as he dragged himself through the dirt, each breath a ragged gasp. His mind raced—how could they? How dare they? He had given them everything, and in return, they had tried to take his life.
But as darkness closed in around him, a figure appeared before him in the gloom. A line of stitches ran across their aged forehead—Kenjaku.
When the dust settled, Yuta stood atop the wreckage, his body battered but healing rapidly thanks to his reverse cursed technique. He gazed down at the rubble below, his expression unreadable.
"Sixty-five points," Yuta murmured. "He's still alive."
And so was Ishigori.
The extravagant sorcerer emerged from the wreckage, battered but still grinning. "That was a hell of a fight," he said, wiping blood from his mouth. "Guess I'm full now."