(A/N: My GOAT Fujimoto, what did you just cooked in csm 196?)
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The air between them tensed with unspoken pressure.
Golden flames wreathed Veilhem, moving not with the wild chaos of ordinary fire, but with thorough precision, coiling around him like it possessed sentience. His sword hung at his side, its edge shimmering with a heat that didn't belong to this world.
Gojo exhaled slowly.
The battlefield had quieted, leaving place for the faint crackle of Veilhem's flames, and the distant hum of residual energy remained. It was the stillness before a storm, a tension Gojo knew all too well. He had seen Veilhem like this before.
"You've been watching this whole time, haven't you?"
Gojo's voice was light, almost amused, but his stance remained sharp, ready for a fight at any moment.
Veilhem didn't bother denying it. "I was waiting."
From a distance, Makima observed. Her expression was unreadable. She made no move to interfere, nor did she seem particularly invested in the outcome… at least, not in any obvious way. Instead, she settled herself comfortably amidst the ruins as if she had all the time in the world.
With a slow, deliberate clap of her hands, a brainwashed servant approached, silently offering a bucket of popcorn and a soda. She accepted with effortless grace, her gaze never straying from the brewing confrontation.
Two former allies now stood on opposite sides. This moment belonged to them. And she knew better than to interrupt. Some things were best enjoyed from the sidelines.
___________
Gojo rolled his shoulder, feeling exhaustion settle in like a dull weight. His body ached, his mind strained from the prolonged battle, but his trademark grin never wavered.
Instead, he let out a slow breath, as if the fatigue from earlier fights was nothing more than an afterthought.
"You always did like dramatic entrances, old man."
Veilhem's dull eyes remained steady, his presence alone pressing down on the battlefield with an unsettling weight. He stepped forward, lifting his sword before his face like a reversed crucifix, his boot crunching against the debris.
"Well, it certainly looks cool." Veilhem replied, voice calm, measured. "But I prefer the term memorable."
Gojo let out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "Right, memorable."
He cooed the word, flexing his fingers as if brushing off invisible dust. His body screamed with exhaustion, fatigue creeping into his bones and every fiber of his muscles, but he wouldn't show it. Not now. Not in front of this particular knight.
Veilhem remained still, his sword held in that solemn stance, like a monarch descending from his throne onto the battlefield. The golden flames flared, wreathing him in an esteemed aura, welcoming its master in this wretched land.
The battlefield itself seemed to shrink around them, as if the sheer weight of his presence alone demanded the world's attention.
Makima, still perched comfortably amid the ruins, reached for another piece of popcorn. She watched as the unspoken tension between them stretched tight, a wire on the verge of snapping.
Then, a shift in that fragile balance occurred.
A single step forward.
A flicker of movement.
It was oddly graceful, carrying the inevitable. The stride of a knight who carried the weight of centuries behind his back. And yet the air itself seemed to compress and bend itself according to his will.
Gojo reacted instantly, shifting his weight, but then he realized something was wrong.
The golden flames around Veilhem did not lash out wildly. Instead, they folded inward, coiling around his sword with eerie precision, twisting like sentient embers obeying an unspoken command.
For a moment, the battlefield was caught in an illusion where light shifted, betraying one's senses. It was as if fireflies had been caught in an ancient dance between light and dark, their flickering trails leaving afterimages that weaved through the space between them.
An Unsung Song for the Fallens.
Gojo's Six Eyes flickered, trying to adjust to the phenomenon, but something was wrong. The patterns weren't aligning. The distortion was subtle, but it was definitely there.
For a moment, it was like watching ripples in a reflection, warping the truth just enough to make certainty elusive.
A ripple passed through space, warping reality for the briefest moment. And before Gojo could fully process it—
The sword was already falling in a graceful arc above his head.
It was fast enough to create a blur, but it was still in a realm where Gojo could manage it, and yet somehow, he couldn't move. As if unseen chains had wrapped around his limbs, shackling him in place.
He was fully aware of what was happening. He could see everything, every flicker of Veilhem's fire, every shift in pressure.
And yet, his body refused to respond as the scent of death loomed over his entire being.
____
"Makima-sama, the battle is getting intense. Should we leave?" The servant inquired, his voice steady despite the sheer chaos unfolding before them. His eyes strained to follow the fight, but the combatants moved beyond human perception.
Makima, however, remained unbothered. She didn't so much as glance at him, her gaze fixed on the spectacle before her. Slowly, she lifted her soda to her lips, taking a leisurely sip. The ice clinked softly against the cup.
Then, without a shred of urgency, she replied. "No talking in the theater."
Her eyes never left the scene.
_____
Gojo twisted his torso, shifting his weight as his instincts screamed at him to move.
Through sheer will, he sidestepped, the very fabric of space bending around him as his Limitless kicked in. The sword passed cleanly through where his torso had been a fraction of a second ago, but something was off.
Gojo's eyes flickered.
A delay.
The cut had already happened.
Then, a thin line of crimson split across his side, the wound tracing the exact path the sword had never physically touched. A beat later, blood oozed from the cut, seeping into the fabric of his torn uniform, slow at first, then faster.
His mind raced.
How?
Gojo landed a few meters away, hand resting lightly on his exposed skin, where a faint line of warmth remained.
He used the Reverse Cursed Technique to heal, but nothing happened. It was like pouring water into a shattered vase. No matter how much energy he channeled into the wound, it simply vanished, dissipating into nothing. The flow was there, but the healing never came.
Across from him, Veilhem stood motionless, his golden flames flickering, undisturbed.
"Strange, isn't it? Why has Reversed Cursed Energy not healed yet?" Veilhem finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost reflective, as if discussing a passing thought rather than locking in an intense fight.
"That is soul damage. How can your body heal when your soul perceives it as healthy?"
Gojo's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something sharp in his gaze.
"Soul, huh?" He let out a short, breathy chuckle, but there was no amusement behind it.
He exhaled slowly, forcing a smirk on his face. "Then I guess it's just me taking you down fast enough before I burn down."
A gust of wind swept through the battlefield, kicking up ash and dust, swirling between them like unseen whispers.
Gojo vanished from sight.
One moment, he stood still. Next, he was already behind Veilhem.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he blurred forward, space twisting around him in an instant. His Cursed Energy surged, blue sparks crackling at his fists as he drove a devastating punch toward Veilhem's throat—
And it missed.
The moment Gojo's fist should have connected, Veilhem rolled. The action was fluid and effortless. But then, Gojo's attack passed through him as if striking nothing but air.
Gojo's eyes widened.
After images?!
A hand clamped around his throat.
Veilhem twisted out of his roll in one seamless motion, seizing Gojo's neck in an iron grip. Before Gojo could react, Veilhem slammed him down in a brutal strike.
The world blurred.
The concrete beneath them shattered like glass, fissures spider webbing outward from the impact. A shockwave rippled through the air as Gojo's body cratered into the ground, the force momentarily drowning out every other sound.
The knight loomed over him, grip unyielding. His eyes, dull yet unrelenting, met Gojo's directly.
"Not fast enough, apparently." Veilhem murmured. His voice wasn't mocking. It was merely stating a fact.
But the knight wasn't done just yet.
Gojo barely had time before Veilhem lifted him and threw him straight through the air. The world blurred past him in a rush of ruined structures and burning sky, the force of Veilhem's throw sending him hurtling toward the remains of a collapsed building.
With a flick of his wrist, Cursed Energy flared at his command.
[Blue.]
The space collapsed.
An unseen force yanked him out of his trajectory, distorting gravity itself as Gojo ripped himself sideways, narrowly avoiding crashing into the jagged concrete. Instead, he flipped midair, landing in a crouch atop a fractured ledge, one knee pressing into the debris beneath him.
A thin trail of blood dripped from his nose, tracing a crimson path down his lips, but his smirk was already back in place. He rolled his neck, the sharp crack of tension breaking the eerie silence between clashes.
The Flames weren't just simple fire. They carried echoes of the Damned. Souls of the Undead and the Unkindled alike, writhing within the golden flame burning through eons. Their grief, their torment, their endless wails of suffering coiled through the heat, a silent scream meant to drive any living soul to madness with just a touch.
Had it been anyone else, they would have clawed at their own eyes, driven to insanity by the sheer weight of countless lost souls pressing against their mind.
But Gojo's Six Eyes filtered most of it out, sifting through the malice and sorrow like a sieve catching impurities. It was overwhelming, oppressive even, but not enough to break him.
At least not yet…
"Alright, I'll admit it. That was impressive." He exhaled, straightening his posture.
Veilhem stood where he had thrown Gojo, not bothering to follow up. His sword rested at his side, golden flames flickering in the stagnant air.
"Figure that wouldn't be enough. Guess I'm too old for this shit anyway." Veilhem observed, his voice steady. He wasn't surprised by Gojo's creative way of using his Blue to break fall and his cheating Six Eyes.
Gojo wiped the blood from his lip with his thumb. "Yeah, well. Hate to break it to you, but it takes a little more than that to put me down."
Veilhem tilted his head slightly. "Does it?"
The knight took a step forward.
Golden flames surged, engulfing the knight before dispersing. The knight's towering frame had disappeared from sight.
A second later, Veilhem reappeared right in front of him.
A hand surged forward, piercing through Gojo's defenses, fingers wrapping around his face in a crushing grip.
BOOM!
The world exploded.
Veilhem drove Gojo's head straight through the ruins behind him, stone and metal detonating outward from the sheer force. The impact rattled through Gojo's skull, ringing in his ears like a distant explosion, his body carving through the wreckage as if it were nothing but brittle paper.
Dust and debris filled the air.
The earth trembled beneath the weight of the strike.
Gojo twisted midair, one foot finding solid ground as he flashed forward. His fingers curled into a fist, charged with sheer force. His Cursed Energy crackled in the air, his instincts sharpening to a level he hadn't reached in years.
Gojo felt it.
That perfect moment. That instant when his mind, body, and Cursed Energy aligned into a singular existence.
A razor-thin window in 0.000001 seconds.
A crackling thunder sound split the battlefield.
His fist, wreathed in pure Cursed Energy, crashed into Veilhem's side—
[Black Flash.]
The explosion of power distorted reality, time stretching and collapsing in an instant. The golden flames around Veilhem shuddered, flickering wildly as his body was hurled backward.
The black flash landed clean.
A shockwave erupted across the battlefield, the sheer force tearing through the air like a thunderclap. Veilhem was sent skidding backward, his boots carving deep furrows into the fractured concrete as he fought to maintain his footing.
For the first time in this battle, his relentless advance had been slowed.
This fight was no longer one-sided.
Gojo didn't let up.
His senses ignited. His Cursed Energy surged higher and sharper. Something inside him snapped into place.
He moved faster than before, faster than Veilhem had accounted for. The moment his feet touched the ground, he launched forward again, space bending in his wake. His hands flicked through the air, Red igniting at his palm.
A point-blank explosion tore through the battlefield.
The blast swallowed Veilhem whole, an eruption of Cursed Energy reducing everything in its path to rubble.
Gojo barely gave it a second thought. He leapt through the smoke, his foot swinging in a brutal roundhouse kick toward Veilhem's head—
Clang!
It was blocked.
Veilhem's arm snapped up, sword raised, intercepting the strike with unnatural precision. The golden flames flared once more, heat rippling through the air as their eyes met in the chaos.
Veilhem barely exerted any effort as he shoved Gojo aside, his movements smooth and deliberate. Without missing a beat, he shifted his weight, swinging his other elbow toward Gojo in a brutal follow-up.
Gojo twisted away just in time, flipping back with practiced ease, his coat flaring in the wake of his motion. The air itself seemed to ripple around him as he landed, feet skidding against the cracked ground.
But the moment his balance settled, Veilhem was already there.
No wasted movement. No hesitation.
The knight surged forward, bringing the pommel of his sword down in a vicious strike aimed straight for his skull.
Gojo barely managed to evade. The blunt edge of the sword whistled past his cheek, missing by the width of a breath. The sheer force of the strike sent a sharp gust rippling through the air, and a single lock of white hair drifted free, severed by the closeness of the blow.
For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow—the distance between survival and devastation measured in the space of a hair's breadth.
But there was no time to dwell.
Then came another exchange.
Blows were traded in a blur, faster than the eye could follow.
Gojo's attacks were a storm of relentless speed and unpredictable angles. His fists struck out with pinpoint precision, infused with crackling Cursed Energy that twisted the very air around them.
Space buckled under the force of his assaults. Blue, Red, raw, untamed power hammered against the knight's form.
He was performing at 120% of his power.
But Veilhem was undeterred.
His counters were precise, measured, flawless. His sword carved through the battlefield like a brush painting a masterpiece of destruction. Golden flames coiled around each movement, flaring up with each of his strikes.
Every time Gojo's blows landed, the armor absorbed the impact, reducing the force behind the strikes.
It was a clash of two opposing forces. Raw talent and limitless potential against unshakable experience and absolute control.
The battlefield trembled beneath their clash. Sparks of Cursed Energy and Fire collided, sending ripples through the shattered ruins. The ground cracked under their feet, unable to withstand the sheer force of their fight.
Dust and embers swirled around them, caught in the gravity of two monsters locked in a deadly rhythm that no one else could hope to follow.
A fight on the edge of possibility.
A battle between monsters.
Every clash had torn through the landscape, leaving nothing but shattered ground and swirling embers. The very air trembled with residual energy, warped by the sheer force of their battle. And yet, neither had faltered.
Gojo's strike crashed into Veilhem's side, his Cursed Energy detonating on contact. The knight staggered, his armor fracturing under the force, cracks glowing white-hot.
At the same time, Veilhem's sword carved a thin line across Gojo's torso, flames searing deep, unraveling Cursed Energy before it could even attempt to heal him.
They separated, both standing in the wake of destruction.
Gojo exhaled slowly, running a hand over his fresh wound. He grinned, despite the sharp sting. "Damn… I really felt that one."
Veilhem remained silent. His sword, still wreathed in embers, rested at his side, but he made no move to advance.
Gojo tilted his head, eyes flickering with amusement. "What? Done already?"
"It was so pointless and I have no interest in entertaining you." Veilhem's gaze then shifted past him and toward the ruins, toward the single spectator who had yet to move.
Makima.
She sat perched on a crumbling slab of stone, legs crossed. She had watched the entire battle unfold with quiet amusement, never lifting a finger to intervene.
She was utterly unbothered by the battle as if it was nothing more than a passing scene in a play she had already seen before. Though, she had, however, been thoroughly entertained.
A bucket of popcorn rested in her lap, a half-empty soda in her other hand. She plucked another piece of popcorn between her fingers and popped it into her mouth.
Now, as Veilhem turned his attention to her, she simply met his gaze and smiled.
Veilhem stopped in front of her, staring.
She tilted her head slightly. "Finished already?"
Without a word, he reached down and unceremoniously hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Her popcorn wobbled dangerously, but her expression remained perfectly neutral, as if this were the most mundane thing to ever happen to her. "How barbaric of you to handle a lady like this."
Veilhem adjusted his grip, making sure she was secure. "Since when are you a lady? You're more of a brat."
"This is outright slander! I demand a formal case immediately!!" Makima gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. Her tone was dramatic, her expression perfectly affronted, but they both knew better.
"Uh-huh. Good luck with that." Without missing a beat, he casually plucked a handful of popcorn from her bucket.
Makima, still upside down, blinked. "...But that's my popcorn."
Veilhem lifted his helm slightly and tossed a few pieces into his mouth, chewing with zero remorse. "Not anymore."
She huffed. "You didn't even ask."
"I just fought for in your stead." He grabbed another handful. "So I earned this."
The battlefield was quiet now, the echoes of their clash fading into the night. The air still crackled with remnants of Cursed Energy and golden embers, flickering softly like dying stars.
Gojo's gaze shifted to Makima, still draped over Veilhem's shoulder as if she were nothing more than a piece of luggage. She remained completely at ease, munching on yet another piece of popcorn.
Gojo arched his brow. "Are you really going to let him carry you around like that?"
Makima simply blinked. "Why not?"
Veilhem ignored the exchange, taking a step forward. The golden flames at his feet flared, distorting the space around him.
Then, without another word, Veilhem turned away. The golden flames surged, swallowing both him and Makima in a blazing maelstrom. And by the time it calmed down, they were gone.
Gojo stood there for a few seconds, staring at the empty space where they had been. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he shook his head and turned away.
"Tch. Dramatic bastard. But that was fun."
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Veilhem let out a slow breath, slumping back against the cold stone wall. His golden flames had all faded, leaving behind only the dull glow of embers flickering at the edges of his armor. His once-gleaming gauntlets were scratched and dented, proof of the battle he had endured.
He was exhausted mentally.
And Makima, as always, looked completely untouched.
She stood over him, peering down with that same amused detachment she always carried. Not a single speck of dust on her coat, not a hair out of place. She adjusted her gloves with a delicate tug, as if she had merely been out for a pleasant walk instead of orchestrating a war.
Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she spoke.
"You look awful."
Veilhem let out a breathy chuckle, cracking one eye open. "You always did have a way with words."
Makima crouched beside him, resting her chin lightly on her hand, her eyes dancing with barely concealed amusement. "I thought knights were supposed to be unwavering. Standing tall. Radiating nobility."
Veilhem huffed, tilting his head back against the wall. "And I thought Devils were supposed to be terrifying nightmares, not smug little brats."
Makima gasped, a hand pressing to her chest in exaggerated offense. "How rude."
Veilhem deadpanned, rolling his eyes.
She pretended like she didn't see that eye rolling. Instead, she reached out and lightly flicked one of the deeper dents in his armor. "You know, you used to be a lot more composed compared to a decade ago."
Veilhem scoffed. "I used to have a lady who didn't throw everything shit they received at me without any warning. We all change."
Makima gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, come on, it's not like that would be enough to kill you. And here I thought you'd be proud of how much I've grown."
She wiped away her nonexistent tears, looking deeply wounded.
He deadpanned at her shamelessness. "Proud of what? Watching you turn into a megalomaniac? Truly, it's what I have always dreamed of."
Makima chuckled softly, resting her elbow on her knee as she propped her chin on her palm. "If it makes you feel better, I still think you're useful."
Veilhem rolled his eyes. "Should I frame that and hang it in our home? Truly a moment to celebrate."
Makima hummed thoughtfully. "You should. It's not every day you get such high praise from me."
Veilhem shook his head, closing his eyes briefly before cracking a grin. "You really do enjoy getting under people's skin, don't you?"
She tapped a finger against her lips, pretending to think. "Only when they make it too easy." She then proceeded to poke at him.
Veilhem blinked, momentarily too tired to react. "...What are you doing?"
"Just checking if you're still alive." Makima said matter-of-factly, poking him again with the same infuriating ease.
Veilhem groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "That's it. I'm leaving."
Makima caught a stray ember still clinging to his shoulder and flicked it away. "No, you're not."
Veilhem gave her a flat look. "Watch me."
Makima crossed her arms, watching his struggle with mild amusement. "You will give in at the end, so stop pretending."
She mused, lips curving upward.
Veilhem shot her a blank glare but, after a moment, simply let out a long sigh of defeat. He let his body crash against the wall with a dull thud, eyes closing. "…It's infuriating that you're goddamn right."
Makima beamed, utterly pleased with herself as she reached out to steady him. "I know."
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They arrived at a bar they encountered on the way back to their apartment.
The place wasn't exactly high-class, nor was it a seedy dive. It was the kind of place tucked away in the corners of the world, where the air smelled like aged wood, old whiskey, and the quiet hum of conversations that never left the room.
Veilhem pushed open the door first, the soft chime of the bell announcing their entrance. His armor made a soft clunking sound as he sat down at the counter.
Makima followed a step behind, her outfit was replaced by the usual civil servant clothing. Her hands were casually tucked into the pockets of her coat.
She looked utterly unbothered, as if she hadn't just caused a scene a few hours ago.
The bartender barely glanced up. He wasn't the type of guy to meddle in his customer's affairs. As long as they came to drink, he would serve them without any question.
"Pick your poison."
Veilhem let out a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "A whiskey, please."
Makima slid onto the barstool beside him, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Same for me."
The bartender turned away to pour their drinks. Shortly after, their drinks arrived. The amber liquid glistened under the dim bar lights.
Veilhem lifted his glass, swirling it slightly before taking a slow sip.
"You always pick the most hidden places." She mused, tapping her nail lightly against the rim of her glass.
Veilhem smirked, taking another sip. "Would you prefer somewhere loud and flashy? With cheap music and overpriced cocktails?"
Makima hummed, considering. "No, I like quiet places. But I suppose it has its own charm."
She leaned slightly against the counter, glancing at him. "Though, I must ask. Why bring me here to this particular place?"
"Because last time I let you choose, we ended up in some high-class restaurant with suspiciously good steak." Veilhem replied to her question and took a sip.
"I don't recall you complaining about the steak though." She rubbed her chin and raised an eyebrow, visibly confused.
Veilhem exhaled through his nose, swirling the drink in his hand. "Because it was good food. But the stares? It's pretty annoying."
"Oh please, you couldn't care less about that." She scoffed, leaning slightly toward him.
Veilhem tilted his head, smirking. "Maybe. But if everyone's watching, it wouldn't feel special, would it?"
Makima paused, considering that. Then, with a small, amused hum, she lifted her glass in a lazy toast. "Fair."
A slow creak of the door cut through the low hum of conversation. The scent of alcohol, smoke, and charred wood briefly mixed with something sharp like steel and blood.
Veilhem didn't bother turning, but Makima's gaze flickered toward the entrance just as a figure stepped in, moving with the lazy confidence of someone who never needed to check their surroundings because nothing in the room could possibly be a threat to him.
Toji Fushiguro.
He was dressed in his usual, slightly disheveled way, his coat slung over his shoulder, exuding that air of effortless menace. He didn't look around and walked straight to their table and plopped into the seat next to Makima, stretching out like he owned the place.
"You sure know how to pick your drinking buddies." He drawled, eyeing Veilhem briefly before turning his attention to Makima.
"So? What's the job?"
Veilhem raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely taking another sip of his drink.
Makima, ever composed, tilted her head, a small smile curling at the edges of her lips. She slid a neatly folded piece of paper across the table.
"Kenjaku." She said simply.
Toji glanced at the name and the files, then huffed a quiet laugh. "Big fish, huh?"
Makima took a sip of her drink, unfazed. "Think of it as an opportunity."
Toji smirked, tucking the paper into his pocket. "Yeah, yeah. You just love making people dance at your hand."
Veilhem let out a low chuckle, finally speaking. "Knowing that, and you still taking the job."
Toji snorted. "Hey, good money's good money."
Makima leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. "Then let's hope you're still worth the price."
Toji just grinned, tipping his head back as he flagged down the bartender. "Better order a drink for me, then."
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(A/N: And here it is, the last chap of this arc, whohoo. I made this chap longer than usual about 4.5k words.
I shall dip now, farewell my unlucky readers, your tears are my greatest motivation.
Give ps and reviews so I can rewrite things faster. Questions are fine too, I will answer it if I can.)