(A/N: I was busy... I swear it's not because I fucking hate writing about Gojo who is literally one-side character with no depth whatsoever. Trust me bro.)
___________
Gojo's mind raced through contingencies.
The Gun Devil's presence warped the very fabric of space, as if the air itself recoiled in horror. Even with only a fraction of its true form manifested, its weight on reality was suffocating than any Curse he had faced. It was fascinating for him to challenge such monstrosity.
The murky water of Makima's Domain rippled beneath it, yet the surface never broke, as if rejecting even the Gun Devil's touch. It was a being not meant for this world, a thing beyond devils and humans alike, so it could only exist within this Domain.
But even then, Gojo, with all his mastery over sorcery, could feel the oppressive weight that seemed to claw at his very existence.
Then, the silence shattered.
A deafening, mechanical howl erupted from the monstrosity's faceless maw. Its gaping ribcage pulsed, the thousands of screaming human faces inside convulsing, their silent wails suddenly drowned out by a sound that was both a cacophony.
The unmistakable thunder of gunfire.
But this was no ordinary gunfire. The bullets carried the essence of the Gun Devil's malice, a force that transcended conventional destruction. Each projectile bore the weight of every massacre, every war, every nameless tragedy lost to guns in itself.
A barrage of indiscriminate slaughter.
The sky was instantly erased.
Thousands upon thousands of bullets surged forth, each an incarnation of destruction.
They bent not only physical space but the concept itself, striking not where Gojo was, but where he would be. Each shot was a fate woven into existence, bullets that defied evasion, that denied survival itself.
There was no escape, no path untouched by this parade of death.
Yet, in that hellstorm, Gojo moved.
A single step. A single thought.
"Limitless." (A/N: This guy has too much ass pull I swear.)
The void between the bullets and his form stretched infinitely. No matter how many rounds were fired, no matter how certain their path, they would never reach him. The world around him trembled, energy crackling as Gojo's Infinity twisted, denying the inevitability of the Gun Devil's bullets.
The rounds stopped inches from his form, halted in an unseen grasp, the kinetic energy dissipating into nothingness. It was as if the universe itself refused to allow Gojo to be harmed.
But Makima's smile never wavered.
With a mere glance, the space around them was distorted. She raised her hand and spoke a command that defied the natural order.
"Usage: Flame of Madness."
And suddenly, Gojo's Infinity cracked. The bullets passed through, hitting Gojo on various parts, tearing his flesh.
Gojo barely had time to register the sudden change and jumped away before pain surged through his body. The bullets had not bypassed his Infinity, they had ignored it just like Veilhem did.
Blood splattered onto the murky water below, swallowed instantly by the endless darkness of Makima's Domain. Gojo staggered, feeling a sensation he had almost forgotten—pain. His limbs screamed in protest, his body fighting to hold itself together as if struggling against an unseen force determined to erase him entirely.
And for the first time in years, Gojo Satoru had been forced to acknowledge it.
He was in danger.
But strangely enough, a smile slowly stretched across his face as the Reverse Cursed technique kicked in.
It was the same fire of Veilhem, channeled through Makima's contract, now applied onto the Gun Devil and the very laws of reality. The twisted, eldritch fire did not burn flesh but corroded reason itself. Time itself unraveled in its presence, concepts unraveling as the eldritch flame devoured the natural order.
Cause and effect lost meaning.
How troublesome that both of them synergized with each other to this extent.
Gojo let out a slow exhale, feeling the familiar warmth of his Reverse Cursed Technique knitting his torn flesh back together. The searing agony faded into nothingness, replaced by a surge of clarity. And that was enough.
His smirk widened.
"You really don't play fair, do you?" he mused, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of an inconvenience rather than an attack that should have erased him. His eyes flickered towards the Gun Devil, now fully engulfed in the eldritch blaze of Veilhem's fire.
The colossus of iron and flesh writhed, its form unraveling and reassembling with each passing moment, trapped in an endless cycle of self-destruction and rebirth. It was being rewritten, again and again, never able to stabilize.
The Gun Devil, already an entity of incomprehensible destruction, was now infused with something beyond its own. The writhing metal and flesh of its form convulsed as if reshaped by unseen hands, its very presence growing more erratic. More unpredictable. More flame.
It did not burn, it had become a scorching fire. Its form was undone and reborn within the same moment, forced into an endless cycle of destruction and reformation.
The flames did not care for what it was before, they redefined it with every flicker.
A walking catastrophe was now something even worse, its mere presence eating away at the stability of the Domain itself.
Through the roaring flames, the Gun Devil moved.
His Six Eyes flickered, processing infinite possibilities, yet this attack had no origin, no trajectory to follow, no force to counter. A concept sharpened into a bullet—it did not aim for his body but his very soul.
The bullets did not move through space. They existed in a state of uncertainty, like Schrödinger's cat. It was impossible to know until the moment they were fired, their impact already woven into the fabric of this Domain's laws.
Gojo's Six Eyes caught it all—the way the Gun Devil's energy condensed, how the flames of Veilhem distorted its form yet failed to erase its purpose. His body reacted before his mind could. His hands moved in a blur, twisting reality itself.
The Domain trembled.
Makima's eyes flickered with the slightest trace of amusement as Gojo did the impossible. With sheer force of will, he bent his own Domain, folding its layers against her authority. The laws that governed this space twisted, rewritten in real time.
The bullet that had already struck him ceased to exist.
A paradox. A contradiction.
The Gun Devil howled in recognition, sensing something it had never encountered before.
Makima's smile faltered for the first time.
Gojo stood tall, unscathed, his very presence warping the air around him. The weight of his power was suffocating, his Six Eyes glowing with unshakable confidence.
He rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly.
"It's my turn now."
The instant the words left his lips, Gojo vanished.
A sonic boom erupted, space itself warping from the sheer force of his movement. The Gun Devil's massive form loomed over as it tried to track him.
But it was too slow, given its massive body. Far too slow.
Gojo reappeared above its grotesque rib cage, where thousands of tormented human faces wailed in silent agony. He twisted mid-air, bringing his leg down in a devastating axe kick.
The Gun Devil's body folded inward from the infinite force condensed into that single strike, its monstrous torso bending unnaturally, flesh and steel warping under the sheer impact. The beast howled, its mechanical scream reverberating across Makima's Domain, but Gojo had already moved again.
He danced through the battlefield as an unstoppable force. Each motion was effortless, his attacks devastating.
A palm strike to its spine.
A heel drop to its knee joint.
An open-hand thrust to its neck.
Every impact distorted space itself, compressing infinity into every blow.
The Gun Devil convulsed, its movements growing erratic, unstable. The Flames of Madness still clung to their form, devouring logic and time, yet Gojo weaved through them as if they were nothing but embers in the wind.
Floating midair, his hands rose in perfect synchronization, forming the familiar signs of a technique that defied reason itself. His voice rang out, steady, absolute.
"Nine Ropes. Polarized Light. Crow and Declaration. Between Front and Back."
The Gun Devil's howling ceased. The space around Gojo fractured, reality buckling under the pressure of what was to come.
He extended his arm, two opposing forces manifesting at his fingertips.
Blue and Red.
Repulsion. Attraction.
As they merged, the very air ignited, space collapsing inward, forming an orb of absolute annihilation.
Due to the fact that he didn't skip any step in his chant and hand signs, he was able to reach 150% effectiveness of his technique.
"Hollow Purple."
A blinding wave of energy erupted, an unstoppable tide of destruction. The Gun Devil's massive form was caught within the beam's radius, its entire existence unraveling, devoured by the sheer concept of erasure.
Metal and flesh disintegrated at once. No regeneration, no resistance. Only oblivion.
The shockwave tore through the Domain. Even Makima, standing at a distance, narrowed her eyes as the force of the blast threatened to breach even her carefully crafted world.
As the light faded, a deep silence followed. The Gun Dev was gone.
Gojo lowered his hand, exhaling slowly.
He rolled his neck, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Now then…" He turned his piercing gaze to Makima. "Shall we continue?"
"Of course." Makima let out an unamused reply as she snapped her finger and from the murky water of her Domain, the Gun Devil was summoned once again.
The murky waters beneath them churned. The remnants of the Gun Devil, which was obliterated by Hollow Purple mere moments ago, stirred once more. A sickening, metallic groan echoed through the void as something emerged.
A shadow darker than the abyss itself.
The Gun Devil.
It returned, whole and unscathed, its monstrous form rising like a specter that had never been slain. The twisted amalgamation of steel and suffering loomed once again, its featureless face showing no emotion, but its sheer presence alone screamed of endless slaughter.
There was no trace of regeneration. No signs of rebirth. This wasn't the same Gun Devil as before.
It was simply summoned again.
Like a piece on a chessboard that could be reset at will.
Makima tilted her head slightly, her cold, indifferent gaze meeting Gojo's. "You seem surprised."
Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, the amusement never leaving his face. "Not really. Just making sure I'm not hallucinating."
His stance didn't shift, but his mind was already racing through possibilities. If she could infinitely resummon the Gun Devil, then erasing it meant nothing. His overwhelming firepower wouldn't end the fight.
He needed something else.
The Gun Devil's countless weapons turned to aim at Gojo.
But before the battle could resume, something shifted.
Makima's gaze suddenly flickered toward the distance, her focus momentarily elsewhere.
Gojo, ever perceptive, narrowed his eyes. "Getting distracted already?"
Makima didn't answer. Instead, a knight cladded in battle-worn blackened steel, his form wrapped in dying embers. His tattered cape swayed without wind, and when he lifted his head, his eyes met Gojo's without hesitation.
A moment stretched between them. Then, the knight spoke.
"…Satoru."
Gojo stopped smiling.
He had been watching from the sideline the entire time.
Gojo exhaled, his voice lower now. "…I should've known."
Makima remained silent, watching.
"You were there, weren't you? Every time something big happens." Gojo's voice was oddly calm.
"I was." Veilhem nodded at his words.
"And you didn't stop her?"
Veilhem's golden flames flared, the space around him distorting under the sheer intensity. "Because it is not my place to interfere."
Gojo's hands curled into fists. "Bullshit."
Veilhem did not argue. He simply took a step forward.
________
In the meanwhile, Makima's gaze turned toward the distant place seemingly insignificant amid the scale of their clash.
Because she knew someone was watching.
Kenjaku.
He perched atop the ruins of a shattered building, his expression unreadable. The battle had escalated beyond anything he had anticipated.
Gojo was faltering.
Makima's Domain was absolute.
And the Gun Devil had returned.
He let out a quiet chuckle, crossing his arms.
"Well, this is certainly interesting."
Then, Makima's gaze shifted.
Kenjaku's body tensed as her eyes met his.
Makima's gaze locked onto him, and in that frozen moment, Kenjaku understood the fundamental truth of this battle.
He was no longer a spectator but a target.
The sorcerer who had orchestrated centuries of schemes, the mastermind who had set countless tragedies into motion, was standing at the edge of this carefully crafted parade, observing with a detached curiosity.
His presence was a stain upon the scene, a reminder that this battle was merely another thread in a greater web.
And that displeased her.
She raised her hand.
The Gun Devil's colossal form twisted, its massive, abominable head aligning with its new target. The barrels of its arms glowed red-hot, ammunition belts rattling as they fed into something unstoppable.
Her command was as soft as it was absolute.
"Bang."
The air ignited.
A storm of gunfire erupted from the Gun Devil's cannons, splitting apart the very atmosphere as millions of bullets tore through the sky, shredding everything in their path.
The cityscape between them ceased to exist.
Entire blocks vanished, reduced to molten debris and scattered dust. Shockwaves rippled outward, shaking the ground for kilometers. The air itself felt like it was being torn apart, the sheer force of the barrage distorting space.
Kenjaku moved.
Or at least, he tried.
The moment the Gun Devil had locked on, there was no escape.
"Tch—!"
He threw up layers upon layers of defenses, barriers woven from Cursed Energy, reinforced with the wisdom of centuries.
It didn't matter.
The bullets shattered through them like glass.
He felt the first few rounds graze his flesh and then tear through it. His stolen body twisted violently as blood sprayed into the air.
But Kenjaku was nothing if not a survivor.
Even as his body was being ripped apart, even as pain threatened to consume his mind, a twisted grin formed on his lips.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Makima?"
Blood poured from the gaping wounds torn across his torso, his limbs barely responding as what remained of his flesh struggled to hold together. His stolen body was nearing its limit.
Yet, even as his ribcage was shattered open, even as his insides were pulverized beyond recognition, that grin never faded.
Makima observed him through the cold, unblinking gaze of a crow perched high above, its presence seamlessly woven into her consciousness.
A roach that refused to die even after a thousand years since the Heian era.
They clung to life by switching between stolen bodies.
Annoying creature.
Her fingertips twitched, an imperceptible signal relayed to the Gun Devil.
The gunfire that had already turned city blocks into nothingness intensified, filling the air with the scent of molten steel and burning flesh.
Makima was thorough. She had no intention of letting him slip away this time.
Then suddenly, a crack.
Not in Kenjaku.
In the Domain itself.
Makima's eyes flickered.
The murky water beneath them shuddered, ripples expanding outward as the walls of her Domain wavered. The sheer scale of the battle, from the strain of Veilhem's flames to the Gun Devil's summoned form, and even Gojo's relentless pressure, was pushing the Domain past its limit.
The space around them trembled, fractures forming in the very foundation of her control.
Kenjaku felt it, too.
And he laughed.
Even as his body was being torn apart, even as death loomed over him like an inevitable conclusion. He saw his chance.
"Looks like our little game ends here."
Makima's expression didn't change.
But she knew.
She couldn't hold the Domain much longer.
The moment her Domain shattered, Kenjaku's soul vanished, just like a cockroach scurrying into the darkness, finding yet another vessel to inhabit.
With his departure, the Gun Devil unraveled, its massive form dissipating into wisps of smoke, fading as though it had never been.
Makima let out a breath, not of exhaustion, but of mild discontent.
She had underestimated how much energy this battle required.
Kenjaku had fled.
Her eyes turned back to Gojo and Veilhem, who were still fighting each other.
_______________
(A/N: Rejoice my non-exist readers, here is your next chap. Oh, and I start rewriting earlier chapters, so when this arc ends, you won't be seeing me for a couple of months.
I can only say it's sweet af that I have diabete writing it.)