The three agreed and went their separate ways.
Sōjun Minamoto didn't return to the dorms. Instead, he headed straight for the white bone tree and stepped through the passage into the Shrine Domain.
He didn't like to put things off—if something could be done ahead of time, he preferred to get it done early. So he planned to start crafting the capture-type Cursed Tools right away.
He had a deadline for delivery by tomorrow afternoon. He needed to move quickly. Besides, he was genuinely interested in what he was about to make.
His pace quickened as he crossed the golden carpet and approached the throne. But he didn't spare it a glance. His eyes drifted instead toward the surrounding thorned flowers and broken swords, his thoughts drifting deep.
These weren't decorations or ornaments. The thorns and the broken swords were one and the same—and they had a purpose.
The broken swords could temporarily brand a technique... an expansion.
It might not sound impressive. It wasn't a full imprint of a technique, and it was only temporary.
But the thorned flowers held a more significant function—at least, in Sōjun Minamoto's view. They could store Cursed Energy—large quantities of it.
This trait was extremely rare in the jujutsu world. They functioned like containers for curses.
It wasn't that items with storage functions were rare, but ones that could store and retain energy for long periods without it dissipating—those were almost nonexistent. Sōjun had hardly ever seen one.
Curses were unstable. The moment they lost their binding, they would immediately disperse and vanish—no one knew where. It was as if something out there was always scavenging for these unclaimed remnants.
Cursed Spirits, once exorcised, quickly dissipated.
Even the Cursed Energy Sōjun produced from his own emotions during his first attempts at refinement—if he didn't quickly convert it into his own energy, it would disappear. So relying on external sources was even more unreliable.
But the thorns and broken swords were different. They could store curses for extended periods, whether they were bound or unbound.
That was the inspiration for his method of curse containment.
Aragami had once used them to extract the villagers' faith and store it temporarily. Sōjun didn't know exactly how, but he preserved the items afterward.
Still, he didn't intend to use the actual thorns and broken swords—not only were there too few, they weren't sufficient in scale.
His plan was to craft entirely new Cursed Tools based on their properties—tools that could imprint assimilation techniques like the broken swords and store curses like the thorned flowers.
After fully assimilating Aragami's structure, he'd long since gained perfect understanding of it.
With a clear plan in mind, Sōjun was calm.
He activated a technique, converting Cursed Energy into flesh and blood at a 1:7 ratio. A white bone forearm began to grow. As soon as it formed, it naturally detached. He caught it midair, then rubbed it between his palms until it transformed into a glowing white short sword.
A new eyeball emerged from his fingertip. He pressed it into the joint between the blade and the hilt. One eye welcomed the other. The eyeball eagerly sank in, half embedded and half exposed. It remained wide open—cold, hollow, emotionless.
Sōjun nodded with satisfaction. The Cursed Tool was complete.
He studied it for a moment.
It was a single-bladed design, with a slightly raised guard and a long, straight, slender body. The craftsmanship was ornate, even beautiful—but the blade was broken near the tip, giving it a subtle sense of imperfection.
It strongly resembled the broken swords clustered around the throne, and thorn flower motifs were carved into it.
It looked good—but functionality was key.
Sōjun picked up the sword again. It felt like grasping his own hand. A link formed immediately. When he let go, the sword floated in midair, responding to his will. It darted about, then executed a practiced sword form.
Wind roared through the domain—it had real presence.
He'd gotten a proper taste of swordsmanship.
The broken sword returned to his hand, and he set it aside.
The containment-type Cursed Tool he had mentioned to Suguru Geto referred to this very kind of thorned broken sword—crafted purely from flesh and bone.
It wasn't forged by fire or tempered in steel.
It was called a Cursed Tool simply because Sōjun's bones were incredibly hard, and its Cursed Energy conduction was excellent—enough to rival a Grade 2 Cursed Tool in power.
But really, it was more like a Cursed Object.
The thorned broken sword was strong—but not overwhelmingly so. It wasn't made for direct combat.
To use it for curse containment, you had to subdue the Cursed Spirit first. Then, give it the final strike with the thorned blade.
The assimilation technique branded on the blade would convert the curse into Cursed Energy sigils.
These sigils wrapped around the sword until they dyed the white glow completely black. Once that happened, the assimilation process halted, and the sword couldn't be used again.
No one else could extract the sigils—only Sōjun Minamoto.
Not because he was being cautious or distrustful.
It was to prevent the curse from regenerating and escaping.
Besides, the sigils were temporary. If too many curses were embedded, they'd begin to clash and interfere with each other.
After all, the Cursed Spirits weren't dead—they were simply sealed temporarily in the form of sigils. With so many crammed together, it was inevitable they'd clash or interfere with one another.
When the sigils covered the full length of the blade, that marked the storage limit. It also served as a subtle reminder from Sōjun Minamoto to the user: it was time to extract the Cursed Spirits.
The first sword took the longest to craft, but once that was done, the rest came quickly.
By mid-afternoon, thousands of luminous white broken swords filled the shrine.
The process got faster as he went, and Sōjun even upgraded the design—enhancing capacity so each blade could store more Cursed Spirits. Some blades were slightly longer than the rest to accommodate the added storage.
He kept count the entire time. Once the forging was done, the total number matched exactly what he'd planned. The pile now sat stacked in one corner of the shrine, occupying only about seven or eight tsubo of space.
It would be just enough to fit inside Suguru Geto's storage-type Cursed Spirit.
As for Sōjun Minamoto himself, he looked completely unfazed—like the process hadn't cost him anything at all.
And that was true.
With enough Cursed Energy, there was no shortage of flesh and blood. With his current reserves, crafting a few thousand forearm-length bone weapons was effortless.
Once everything was done, he left the white bone tree and returned to his dorm.
...
The following afternoon, he messaged Suguru Geto and told him to meet at the white bone tree.
He had already moved all the thorned broken swords into the corridor—just waiting for Suguru to come pick them up.
Before long, Suguru Geto appeared in the distance and approached. He came to stand beside Sōjun, the two of them staring at the pale, gleaming pile of swords.
"These all of them?"
Suguru picked one up.
The eyeball embedded in it made him pause for a moment—then he quickly composed himself.
Everyone at Jujutsu High—aside from maybe Sōjun himself—probably knew about his fixation with eyeballs. Maybe even the entire jujutsu world by now.
The warmth in his hand gave Suguru a good idea of what the sword was made of. He wasn't surprised.
He flicked the blade with a finger—a deep, dull sound rang out. Then he casually gave it a test swing. It felt smooth and well-balanced, with excellent Cursed Energy conductivity.
As he channeled his energy into it, the sword began to darken. Suguru kept infusing, watching as the blade turned halfway black.
He did a quick mental calculation. The amount it held was about equal to three Grade 1 curses.
"It can store seven standard Grade 1 Cursed Spirits."
Sōjun Minamoto, observing his actions, confirmed his estimate.
That was the benchmark used by Jujutsu High to measure power levels—a baseline average for sorcerers of that rank.
Suguru Geto, well-versed in class metrics, naturally understood the reference.
He glanced at the rest of the pile. There were still so many more to go.
Even with over 4,000 Cursed Spirits at his disposal, the workload suddenly felt enormous.
He had a creeping sense he might die from overwork.
Did I just make a terrible decision...?
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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