𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

MIKAZUKI PAUSED, FEELING THE CURSED ENERGY SHIFT ONCE MORE. The heat in the walls grew stronger, melting the metal and forcing the sorceress to fall back, her hand singed from the touch. She looked down at her hand, the red marks in her fingertips staring back at her. The heat radiated from this Curse was far stronger than anything she'd seen before, even Akari's Hellfire paled in comparison. Satoru noticed the change too, the material of his blindfold quickly turning sticky at the change in temperature.

They were the two most powerful sorcerers in the world, and they'd just stepped into a trap.

Mikazuki groaned loudly, punching the wall with as much strength as she could muster, the dent that appeared on the reinforced steel confirming her suspicions.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gojo asked, whirling around to face the woman as he watched her reach for the wall again, this time turning the dent into a large crack as her knuckle shattered from the blow.

The sorceress turned to look at him, her bun coming undone while her grey hair framed her face and stuck to her sweaty skin.

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather not get cooked to death." She turned around, motioning for the cramped room they'd just entered and noting the now clearly closed and bolted door. "Because, in case you hadn't noticed, we just walked into an actual industrial oven."

Gojo took the words in, quickly inspecting the round edges of the room and the reinforced steel of the walls. Still, instead of agreeing with Mikazuki or trying to find a way out like his already overheated body was requesting, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared. He was like a moody teenager, willing to do everything except facing the problem head on.

"So, what? Do you plan to punch through three layers of reinforced steel with your bare hands?" He motioned to her bloody knuckles. "You'll break your bones before you get through the first layer."

Mikazuki laughed, ignoring his comment and swinging again at the wall. The sorceress ignored the sound of her bones breaking at the impact, rejoicing when her fist finally pushed through the material, opening a small hole in the wall.

"I'd rather break my bones that be trapped in here with you."

Satoru stared, both surprised and somewhat confused as he approached the hole. Mikazuki smiled, passing her arm through the wall and unlocking the door from the outside while ignoring the singing pain as her skin rubbed the overheated metal.

Once the door opened, the two sorcerers scrambled outside. Satoru leaned against the furthest wall, welcoming the cool metal as he laid his head against it. Meanwhile, Mikazuki simply sat on the ground, she too enjoying the freezing sensation. The moment didn't last long, and soon the heat returned, but this time, Mikazuki was not willing to take it. The sorceress scrambled to her feet, dragging her left leg before facing the ceiling. She could tell the Curse was close, and judging from the melting walls, it was in that very same room, concealed in the shadows.

"The curse is here, can you see it?" She asked, turning to Satoru who had already shed his coat, a white t-shirt underneath which stuck to his sweaty skin.

He glared at her.

"Really? You'd rather break your bones than be next to me but you need my hel–?"

Before the question was out of his lips, a harsh lash of fire cut through the room. Satoru quickly dodged out of the way, hitting the wall to the farthest side. Instead of avoiding the attack, Mikazuki stepped into the middle of the room, grabbing the flaming chain with her bare hands and pulling on it, revealing the Curse on the other end of the room. While the flesh melted off of her hand, Mikazuki yanked harder, plunging one of her knifes into the Cursed Spirit's chest.

The Curse screeched, stammering towards the wall as it squirmed, the dagger embedded so deep only the hilt was visible. Mikazuki let go of the flaming chain, biting back the pain as she watched the skin falling from her fingers. No amount of sorcery would be able to heal an injury like that, not that the sorceress particularly cared at the specific moment.

The Curse hit the wall, its head cracking against the steel as it looked up, fear visible in its red fiery eyes. It was humanoid in nature, with a head and visible limbs, although everything was engulfed in bright red flames that sprouted from his body like a fire sprite. Still, unwilling to relent, the Curse lunged at Mikazuki once again.

Satoru quickly regained his composure, watching the whole situation from his mildly safe position. He'd been instructed not to intervene by The Magistrate, and for once, the sorcerer realized he probably wouldn't need to. Kinzoku Mikazuki could handle herself just fine, at least this newer version of her. As if on cue, the sorceress gripped the Curse's arm, fingers digging into the flames before securing her grip and launching the spirit across the room.

The Curse hit the wall once again, flamed dwindling as it tried to sit back up again, however, before it could regain any strength, Mikazuki walked over, clutching its arm and twisting until an awful snapping sound echoed in the room. The bone protruded from the wound, blood and ichor quickly mixing with Mikazuki's own golden blood, the skin from the fingers in her left hand nearly completely gone.

The Curse recoiled in into itself, legs drawn towards its chest as it wailed miserably.

"Please, have mercy." It squeaked out, the sound shallow and filled with fear. "I'll do anything, just please– anything, I'll do anything."

Mikazuki halted her movements, considering the Curse's words as she titled her head to the side. She didn't look human – at least not completely, with her grey hair framing her face, gold blood splattered all over her skin along with ichor and the strange glow of her unnatural eyes. She looked like something else, fury made gold, fury made human, maybe. Satoru watched, somehow intrigued by the Curse's plea. Although it was common knowledge that Cursed Spirits could feel pain (differently than other living things, but pain nonetheless), it wasn't often that Curses begged for forgiveness, let alone mercy.

Then again, if he was faced with Mikazuki's wrath, he too would beg.

The Curse's eyes flickered between the two sorcerers, its flames growing smaller each second that passed, ichor flowing out of its chest like a river. It wouldn't take long for the thing to die, yet Mikazuki didn't seem to be willing to let it go as she continued to stand over it, one foot over one of its arm while her hand still gripped its broken arm, the bone pocking out from it inches from her face.

"Please." It repeated again, the plea barely slipping past its burnt lips. "I'll tell you– I'll tell you anything. I'll tell you about the Night Parade of the Hundred Demons, I'll tell you about The Pattern, about Keisuke–"