Threads of Infinity chapter 12: The Hollow Path
The city sprawled out before Tsukasa, a maze of towering structures and bustling crowds, each person moving with a mechanical precision that struck him as almost alien. He stood at the edge of the city, his dark eyes scanning the sea of humanity that wandered obliviously through their mundane lives. The scent of pollution and the cacophony of noise filled the air, but Tsukasa felt strangely detached from it all. He was beyond the noise, beyond the chaos. He was something more, something greater.
He had left the Gojo Clan behind, casting off the last remnants of his childhood in favor of power. The people around him, these insignificant humans, were nothing to him. Weak, fragile creatures that only existed to be trampled over. Their faces were blurred in his vision, not even worth the effort to focus on. But today was different. Today, Tsukasa had begun to see them for what they truly were—tools. Pawns.
A human woman brushed past him, her perfume a fleeting scent in the air. Her eyes flickered toward him, and for a split second, she seemed to recognize something in him—a predator, a force that could crush her existence without a second thought. Tsukasa caught her gaze for a moment, his eyes empty, devoid of emotion. She quickly looked away, her pulse quickening as she hurried to put distance between them.
Tsukasa smirked, feeling no connection to her fear.
He continued walking, his pace slow, deliberate. As he moved through the streets, his mind detached, he couldn't help but study the humans around him—how they laughed, how they argued, how they existed in a constant state of fragility. Their lives were nothing more than fleeting moments, a collection of meaningless acts. There was no purpose behind their existence. They were ants, scrambling through the dirt, clinging to an illusion of importance.
A man stumbled in front of him, tripping over his own feet as he fumbled for a wallet in his pocket. Tsukasa watched him, unblinking. The man glanced up at him, his face twisted in embarrassment. Tsukasa didn't respond. There was nothing to say. The man's gaze lingered for a moment, but Tsukasa's presence was too overwhelming for him to do anything more than quickly glance away and move on.
"Pathetic," Tsukasa muttered under his breath. His voice, cold and distant, barely registered over the noise of the city.
As he moved deeper into the heart of the urban sprawl, his thoughts grew darker. These humans, these fragile creatures—they didn't deserve his attention. They were beneath him, their lives no more significant than the curses he once hunted. But even then, the curses were more interesting, more complex. They had power, they had purpose. These humans, however, were nothing more than distractions, weak links in the grand design of Tsukasa's inevitable ascension.
He stopped in the middle of the street, watching the crowds part around him. They didn't even notice him. They couldn't. They were too busy with their lives, too caught up in their own insignificance to care about the force of nature standing among them. Tsukasa closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. There was nothing here for him. No allies, no friends, no purpose. Only the pursuit of power.
It was in that moment that he realized the truth of his existence. He was no longer a part of this world. He was a predator. And the rest of them—humans, sorcerers, curses—they were all just tools, pawns for him to manipulate as he moved toward his goal.
Without a word, he turned and walked away, the crowd parting once again as if he were some invisible force.
Tsukasa's footsteps rang out against the cobblestones, the oppressive silence that followed him marking him as an anomaly in the crowded city. People moved out of his way instinctively, the aura around him so palpable that it seemed to choke the air itself. There was something chilling about his presence, something that made the average person shrink back as though they were standing too close to a storm waiting to break.
A group of sorcerers, dressed in the typical attire of their kind, were gathered near a street corner. They had been talking, perhaps discussing their latest missions or cursed objects, but as Tsukasa approached, their words died away. They sensed the disturbance in the air—the unnatural, heavy weight of his cursed energy, even if they couldn't place the source of it. They hadn't seen him before, but they could feel something wrong.
One of the sorcerers, a man with sharp features and a nervous smile, took a few hesitant steps toward Tsukasa. His eyes flickered with uncertainty but also curiosity. "Hey," he called out, his voice trying to sound confident but trembling slightly, "You—what's your deal? You're not from around here, are you?"
Tsukasa stopped, turning his cold, unblinking gaze onto the man. His eyes were like an empty void—no emotion, no empathy. The sorcerer's smile faltered under Tsukasa's stare, but he held his ground, oblivious to the overwhelming aura that radiated from him.
"I'm not interested in you," Tsukasa said flatly, his voice colder than the wind that stirred the streets. His gaze swept across the group of sorcerers, his expression almost bored. "And I certainly don't care about anything you're doing here. You're just tools, pawns for whatever cause you think is worth your time."
The man's confidence crumbled in an instant. He opened his mouth to respond, but Tsukasa raised a hand, cutting him off with a sharp motion. "It's pathetic," Tsukasa continued, his tone dripping with disdain. "You live your lives thinking you're making a difference, when in reality, you're nothing more than instruments in a game you'll never understand."
The sorcerers exchanged uncomfortable glances, the weight of Tsukasa's words settling heavily in the air. There was no threat in his voice, no sign of anger—just a chilling indifference, as if their existence was so beneath his notice that it barely registered.
"Don't waste my time," Tsukasa added, his words final. Without another glance at them, he turned on his heel and walked away, his presence still lingering like a dark cloud in the background.
As the group of sorcerers stood frozen, a thick silence fell over them. The young man who had tried to engage Tsukasa stood there, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't expected that—no one could have. The sheer apathy, the overwhelming presence Tsukasa exuded, left them with a single, undeniable truth: they were nothing, not even worth his time.