Threads of Infinity chapter 20: The Flicker of Rebirth
erm can't upload chapters as fast as i messed up the story in 4 chapters from now!
Tsukasa had just turned his back to Gojo's body, his mind already calculating the next step, the next target in his relentless pursuit of power. But then, something halted him. A faint ripple of cursed energy.
It was almost imperceptible at first—like the smallest tremor beneath the surface of the earth, unnoticed by all but the most attuned. Tsukasa's sharp eyes snapped back toward Gojo's body, his senses expanding, reaching out to grasp at the faintest trace of energy.
Gojo's body had been completely still, lifeless even, and Tsukasa had been certain that the sorcerer was beyond recovery. But now, the cursed energy that had once been a perfect, unyielding barrier seemed to flicker back to life. It was weak, barely a whisper in the stillness of the battlefield, but it was there—an undeniable sign of life, of resistance.
Tsukasa's eyes narrowed as his cursed energy flared instinctively, his senses sharpening. He watched closely, the air around him thickening as the presence of Gojo's energy pulsed once again.
Then, another flicker—a surge of power that rippled outwards in a wave. It was like watching the rebirth of a star, the faint spark of life rekindling in the ashes of the fallen. Tsukasa's brow furrowed slightly. It wasn't just cursed energy—it was something else, something deeper.
Reverse Cursed Technique.
A technique known only to a few—one capable of healing, restoring, reversing damage. Tsukasa's gaze lingered on the mangled body of Gojo. The Inverted Spear of Heaven had done its work, stabbing through infinity, disabling his domain and his power. And yet... there it was again, a faint but undeniable flicker of life. The strongest sorcerer wasn't done yet.
"Impossible," Tsukasa murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with something close to disbelief. A rare feeling—one that quickly faded as he regained his composure. "You're not finished yet, Gojo."
The moment was fleeting, and the energy began to stabilize, growing in strength as Gojo's body began to heal. Tsukasa felt the vibrations in the air, the subtle shift as Gojo's reverse technique started to work. The wounds, previously severe and fatal, began to close. Slowly, the blood that had once pooled beneath him began to fade as the torn flesh mended, each inch of Gojo's body stitching itself together.
Tsukasa could feel the weight of Gojo's cursed energy building, but he wasn't afraid. If anything, the sensation intrigued him. A part of him had always wondered if Gojo could come back from something like this. Now he had his answer.
He stood in silence, watching with a detached gaze as the sorcerer began to regain some semblance of strength. Tsukasa's heart beat steadily in his chest, his mind calculating the moment when Gojo would be fully revived. It was only a matter of time before Gojo would be up again—stronger, yes, but not invincible. Not anymore.
This wasn't a resurrection, Tsukasa thought coldly. It was merely a temporary fix. Gojo's time was still running out, and Tsukasa's power would surpass him soon enough.
With one last glance at Gojo's healing form, Tsukasa turned and vanished into the shadows once more, the promise of a new, darker future lingering in the air.
The air felt thick with tension as Tsukasa stepped away from the site of Gojo's revival, the faint flickers of his cursed energy still resonating in his mind. He could sense the sorcerer's gradual return to consciousness, his presence swelling like a rising tide, but Tsukasa felt no need to stay. The moment Gojo revived would be the same as before—weakness masked by overwhelming strength. Tsukasa had no intention of being caught up in that cycle again.
He needed to push forward. He needed to continue his ascent.
As he walked through the desolate landscape, the faint hum of energy from Gojo's recovery faded behind him, becoming just another forgotten noise in the distance. The presence of other sorcerers—of humans—meant nothing to him now. He had already tasted the power that came from forsaking them all. The only thing that mattered now was that raw, untamed energy that surged within him.
The world around him felt like a blur, moving too slowly for him to care. Sorcerers, cursed spirits—none of it concerned him anymore. His mind was consumed with one singular thought: to surpass the one being who had always been above him, to be the strongest, to wield power with no limits. He could almost taste it—the cold, sharp flavor of his future.
As he walked, a curse—one he hadn't noticed before—pushed against his senses. It was faint, like a whisper in the wind, but it was there. Tsukasa didn't flinch. He had no use for the lesser curses anymore; they were nothing but distractions. He was about to move past it when something stopped him.
A sharp, sickly presence rippled through the air. A curse unlike any he had sensed before.
Tsukasa's steps slowed as he turned his head toward the source of the disturbance. From the shadows ahead, a tall, monstrous figure emerged—a cursed spirit with an aura of malice that seemed to warp the very air around it. Its size was monstrous, towering over the landscape like a dark pillar of cursed energy, its form a shifting mass of dread and power. The curse's eyes glowed with an eerie, malevolent light as it turned to face him.
Tsukasa's lips curled slightly, not with fear but with quiet amusement. He could feel the twisted power of the curse pressing in on him, trying to overwhelm him with its sheer force, but Tsukasa barely flinched. Instead, his expression grew colder. The world seemed to slow around him, his cursed energy coiling around him like a serpent.
The cursed spirit lunged toward him, its movements like a blur, too fast for most to react. But Tsukasa didn't need to react—he only needed to act. His hand moved, almost lazily, and with a flick of his fingers, he summoned Blue.
The air distorted around him, a violent surge of energy warping space itself. The curse screamed as the power of Blue tore at its form, dragging it into the vacuum of space Tsukasa created. It struggled, thrashing against the pull, but the more it struggled, the stronger the force became. It was helpless against the destructive force Tsukasa wielded.
With a final flick, the curse was torn apart, its form crushed and scattered by the overwhelming power of Tsukasa's technique. The remnants of its body fell to the ground like dust, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.
Tsukasa stood alone, his expression impassive, his aura still swirling around him, unyielding. He didn't even look at the destruction he had caused. He was already moving again, the taste of power lingering in the air around him. This was the future he was creating—the one without limits, without weakness.
The only thing that mattered now was the destruction of everything that stood in his way, and Tsukasa knew exactly what was next.
He had no room for hesitation. Only one thing awaited him: to leave behind those who clung to their weak and fragile lives. To leave behind Gojo. To leave behind everything that could tie him to humanity.
Tsukasa wasn't sure what awaited him beyond this point, but that didn't matter. He would burn through it all, and in the ashes, only one thing would remain: his own rise to absolute power.
Tsukasa pressed forward, his steps unwavering, the remnants of cursed energy dissipating behind him like forgotten echoes. The faint hum of Gojo's presence still lingered on the edges of his perception—a persistent reminder of their shared confrontation. The revival had sparked something deep within him, a turmoil he refused to acknowledge. Yet, it drove him, spurring each step as if Gojo's shadow loomed over him still.
The barren landscape stretched endlessly before him, each step crunching against lifeless soil. The silence was absolute save for the whisper of the wind, and yet his mind churned with thoughts that drowned it out. Gojo's recovery was nothing short of remarkable—a testament to his mastery of cursed techniques and his indomitable will.
But to Tsukasa, it wasn't awe that filled his chest. It was disdain. That unyielding defiance, that refusal to fall even when stripped of his strength—it wasn't noble. It was arrogance. The kind that reminded Tsukasa of everything he sought to crush.
"Always clinging to life," Tsukasa muttered under his breath. His voice was low, bitter. "As if there's honor in staying tethered to this broken world."
He stopped, his gaze lifting to the horizon where the faint silhouette of ruins painted the distant skyline. The battlefield he left behind was nothing compared to the one he envisioned for the future. Gojo's revival didn't signify victory; it was merely a postponement of the inevitable. The strongest sorcerer would fall—it was only a matter of time.
Tsukasa's cursed energy began to ripple, swirling faintly around him like a coiled storm. His anger wasn't loud or explosive; it was a quiet, simmering thing, a constant pressure that pushed him forward. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a sliver of Blue, the distortion warping the air in his palm as he stared at it with a calculating gaze.
"This isn't enough," he murmured, his tone measured, detached. His grip tightened, and the energy pulsed brighter before fading into nothingness. "Not yet."
His thoughts spiraled deeper into a singular focus: surpassing Gojo. But it wasn't just about defeating him in combat. It was about dismantling everything Gojo represented. His ideals, his unwavering belief in protecting the weak—it all disgusted Tsukasa. Power wasn't meant for preservation. It was meant for control, for shaping the world into something stronger, something unbreakable.
The faint crackle of cursed energy in the distance pulled him from his thoughts. Tsukasa turned, his sharp eyes narrowing as he sensed another presence—not a curse, but a sorcerer. He could feel their energy trembling, unrefined, raw. It wasn't Gojo, of course. This presence was weaker, less defined.
Tsukasa exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching with anticipation. He had no need for interruptions. The path ahead was his alone, and anyone who crossed it was merely another obstacle to be obliterated.
Without a word, he began moving again, his pace unhurried but purposeful. The air around him thickened as his cursed energy flared in response to the approaching figure. Whether they came to challenge him or sought something else entirely didn't matter.
The outcome would be the same.