The Dungeon thrummed with a low pulse, almost like a living heartbeat.
Each step down the spiral path felt warmer, heavier, the scent of damp stone mixing with faint traces of blood and steel.
Toji Fushiguro walked in silence, his pace unhurried, his senses alert.
The dim lighting of the lower floors barely touched his sharp eyes, he didn't need it.
He didn't need torches or guides or maps.
He never did.
The straps on his shoulders flexed under the weight of his cursed tools and new toys.
His casual, dark outfit hung loose over his frame, hiding the faint outlines of firearms, slim, elegant things stored within his cursed spirit companion: a creature that slithered unseen, coiled around his presence like a shadow within a shadow.
His fingers brushed the hilt of the Inverted Spear of Heaven strapped behind his waist, its cold presence familiar now, a weapon that felt like an echo from another life.
Today, he was going deeper than usual, straight to Floor 18. Most adventurers called it the safe zone, but he called it something else.
"A good place to breathe."
The Dungeon was where his instincts burned clean.
No politics, no gods whispering sweet poison, no shady guild reps breathing down his neck.
Just monsters, blood, and the quiet.
And now, something was shifting inside him.
He could feel it, the way the magic in this world tangled with his body, offering him something strange, something forgotten.
A flicker of cursed energy. The barest taste. It came and went like a ghost behind his eyes.
It wasn't normal. The Falna Hecate gave him never took, at least not properly.
He never leveled. Never gained magic. That had always been fine. But now, something was trying to change.
He grinned.
"Tch. Figures this world wouldn't let me rot in peace."
...
Floor 13.
The descent had been uneventful until now, but Toji paused, ears twitching.
Ahead, a group of adventurers in armor, marked by the familiar forge symbol of Hephaestus Familia, were busy in tense formation.
A few bruises and bloody bandages clung to their limbs. Some of them glanced his way, others didn't even notice he was there.
He stood at the edge of the corridor, watching them fumble with their gear. They looked up, noticing him belatedly.
"Hey! You! are you headed down?" one of them called. "There's been a lot of instability near Floor 17. We're part of a rescue effort. We can accompany—"
Toji was already walking past.
"Oi! I'm talking to you!"
The assassin raised a lazy hand, dismissive. "Don't need babysitters."
They bristled but said nothing else.
The black-haired man disappeared into the corridor like smoke through a crack, his steps making no sound.
Behind him, the squad muttered about his arrogance, but none of them followed.
Floor 17.
Here, the Dungeon shifted again.
The walls breathed damp cold, the shadows deeper, the monsters fewer but meaner.
Toji drew one of his guns from the cursed spirit curled around his body, it slithered up from under his sleeve, dropping a sleek black handgun into his palm.
Silenced, compact, deadly. He twirled it in his fingers once, like he used to in another life.
A blackscale basilisk lunged from the corner.
Crack!
The shot rang out. Muffled. Precise. One between the eyes. The monster twitched, hissed, collapsed.
Toji tilted his head.
Another one?
He sensed movement, then ducked low, spinning and drawing a second weapon, a thin, spring-loaded dagger crafted with Welf's talent.
It hummed softly as he activated the mechanism, the blade snapping out from his wrist with satisfying ease.
Two more basilisks. Moving fast. Flanking.
Toji didn't hesitate. He dove forward, low, gun aimed backward.
One shot through the torso, monster screeching and thrashing. His blade sang as he slid under the second beast, slicing deep into its underbelly.
When he rose again, both were dead.
Blood hissed on the stone, and Toji exhaled through his nose.
"Not bad," he muttered, glancing at the hidden blade. "Could've used something like this back in Kyoto."
As he cleaned his blade, something pulsed again inside him.
A ripple. Not magic, not quite. It felt like... cursed energy.
Thin and scattered. But it was there.
It came when he killed.
It came when magic died.
The spear behind his back, The Inverted Spear of Heaven, it had something to do with it.
It didn't just nullify magic.
In this world, with this rule set, it broke spells.
Broke enchantments. Like it was undoing the threads of magic around him.
And maybe, just maybe, when it did, that energy flowed into him instead.
"So, that's the trade now?" he muttered, brushing blood from his forearm. "Magic for cursed energy. Guess the vow adapted."
The Binding Vow that tied his body into the Heavenly Restriction wasn't gone, it had simply... translated.
This world didn't have cursed energy.
But it had magic. The exchange rate, apparently, was favorable.
He smirked again, teeth white in the dark.
"... so this is the thing that made my life like hell huh..."
Floor 18.
It was quiet when he stepped into the safe zone.
So quiet it felt like walking into a dream. Bioluminescent moss coated the ceilings and caverns.
A gentle breeze whispered through open canyons.
The sound of water echoed far away, waterfalls and rivers cradling the edge of stone lakes.
Artificial sunlight poured down from the Dungeon's impossible ceiling, golden and soft.
Toji adjusted his jacket.
He didn't smile. But his shoulders eased slightly.
Here, in this space, nothing hunted you.
No monsters spawned.
No gods interfered.
Adventurers called it a paradise, but he didn't see paradise.
He saw a stillness he didn't trust.
Too many places to hide.
Too much illusion.
Still, it wasn't unpleasant.
He wandered.
Found a flat stone ledge overlooking a wide, glittering lake, and sat.
Time passed.
He thought about the spear.
About the cursed energy.
About Gojo's face, that self-righteous smirk before everything ended in hollow.
He thought about Megumi.
His chest tightened. That always surprised him.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Around him, nothing stirred.
For now.
But it was coming.
Something in the air had shifted, faint echoes of magic clashing somewhere above.
Screams. The clatter of armor. Distant. Faint.
He opened his eyes again. Bell Cranel. That dumb, reckless kid.
Toji didn't plan to help.
He got his plate full already.
But the girl from that loki familiar found them anyway...
Not his problem.
...
The stars above Floor 18 didn't twinkle; they shimmered faintly like pale embers caught behind glass, filtered through the vast illusion of a sky created by the Dungeon itself.
An endless canvas of magic-born serenity. Peaceful, calm, gentle.
Toji Fushiguro sat cross-legged in a shallow depression of grass and moss just beyond a cluster of towering crystals that bathed the land in blue light.
Not so far from the main camps of the Loki Familia or Hestia's party that he couldn't hear the faint echoes of laughter and firecrackles in the wind, but far enough that no one would bother him.
He hated problems. Hated crowds more. Too many voices talking over each other, too many people looking to get involved in things that didn't concern them.
No, this patch of solitude suited him just fine.
His camp was rudimentary: just a rolled-up cloak serving as a cushion on stone, a tiny fire, a few skewers stabbed into the dirt roasting skewered meat he'd purchased earlier in town.
His weapons were arrayed before him like ritual offerings: the Inverted Spear of Heaven leaned against a rock, glinting faintly, its edge thirsting for something arcane to tear apart.
The new pistol, blackened metal and barely glowing with Welf's enchantments, rested near his hand.
The springbow-like single-shot projectile weapon sat beside it, fully loaded and humming faintly.
And last, perhaps most intriguing, the thin, vicious-looking hidden blade Welf had crafted.
Sleek, easily concealable.
The kind of thing Toji's hands remembered with almost wistful intimacy.
He stared at it, then flexed his wrist.
With a soft metallic shnk, the blade extended. He smirked slightly.
"Still got it."
His voice barely rose above the crackle of his fire, but it carried into the silence like a whisper to himself.
Then he fell still, hand drifting to the pistol.
After a moment of hesitation, he lifted his palm.
Slowly, carefully, almost reverently... he tried it again.
A soft shimmer, almost imperceptible, began to coat his hand, a faint outline of violet shadow, barely visible, rippling across his skin like heat waves on asphalt.
Cursed energy.
Toji narrowed his eyes at the phenomenon.
He hadn't felt this since before.
Not in the years of living in this strange new world.
Not with the Falna.
Not with any magic.
His body had always been a dead zone for such power.
A walking contradiction in a world of wonders.
But now...
It was faint, but there. No doubt about it. His body, this world, was changing something.
Or perhaps something inside him had always known it could.
He clenched his fist, forcing more of the cursed energy to flow.
Not that much, he was still limited. But it was his, raw and familiar.
Like an old scar warming under sunlight.
It didn't hurt. It shouldn't have worked. His Heavenly Restriction should've rejected it outright.
But...
"The Falna grants magic," he muttered, eyes sharp. "So if I reject magic... and this world is saturated in it..."
A grin ghosted across his lips.
"....Then I get cursed energy back."
A trade.
That was the rule of the Heavenly Restriction.
He'd known that for years.
Strength for sacrifice.
In the world of jujutsu, he had sacrificed cursed energy and gained monstrous physicality.
But here, where magic was the law of power?
His very nature turned that law inside out.
He didn't know what this would mean long-term.
Maybe nothing.
Maybe everything.
But now, for the first time in this world, he could try again.
He raised two fingers, channeling cursed energy outward.
The air shimmered.
Simple Domain.
A crude circle of energy rippled outward, about a meter in diameter.
Weak, temporary, and practically useless.
But it was enough.
He let it fade, letting out a long breath.
Still had work to do.
Still needed to refine control.
He couldn't summon Shikigami yet.
No Ten Shadows just yet.
But the signs were there.
He'd taken the first step.
And with that came the unease.
He stared into the flickering fire, face half-shadowed by crystal light.
His thoughts drifted, not to Gojo, not to the old clan, not even to Megumi, but to himself.
This second chance... this world.
Why was he being given so much?
He wasn't a hero. He'd never pretended to be. He was a killer. A mercenary. A monster. Not someone who deserved salvation.
And yet...
That kid, Bell, he reminded him of something.
Someone. A version of himself, maybe, long before the weight of blood had settled into his hands.
A rustle snapped him from his thoughts.
He turned his head, gaze sharpening, all presence vanishing like a ghost slipping into the dark.
In a breath, he'd sheathed the blade, cloaked the pistol, and melted into the shadow of his camp.
Footsteps approached. Light. Feminine. Someone was being cautious.
He stood slowly, silent as ever, one hand on his blade.
A figure emerged into the clearing.
Short hair. Light armor. Familiar emerald-blue eyes.
"...Ryuu," he said, a touch surprised.
The elf paused, her body tensing instinctively at the sight of him. But not in fear. Just caution. A warrior's instinct meeting another predator's.
"...You've made camp far from the others," she said coolly.
"I don't like noise," he replied simply.
Ryuu studied him, her expression unreadable.
"You're the one who stopped the Loki Familia from interfering with Bell's fight."
"Yeah," he said. "Kid asked me not to step in. Figured he earned the moment."
Ryuu stepped a bit closer, eyes narrowing.
"Why help him at all?"
Toji didn't answer right away. He glanced back toward the fire, then down at his weapons. Finally, he exhaled.
"...Because I know what it's like to be forced to grow up too fast. Sometimes, all it takes is one win to make the difference."
Ryuu was silent for a long moment. Then, softly:
"You're not what I expected."
Toji gave a short, dry laugh.
"No one ever thinks I'm what they expected. Usually ends with them bleeding."
She didn't smile. But something softened in her gaze.
"I saw your movements earlier. That was magic, wasn't it?"
He raised a brow. "Not exactly."
She tilted her head slightly.
"...I suppose even now, there are mysteries this Dungeon hasn't shown us."
"Plenty."
She looked around, as if searching for something else.
"You planning to stay alone out here?"
"Only way I sleep well."
Ryuu nodded, then turned to leave. But before she disappeared into the shadows again, she paused.
"Thank you. For what you did. For Bell."
Toji blinked.
"...i take you more of a waiter than this. And i didn't do it for him."
But she was already gone.
He looked back at his weapons again.
At the faint shimmer still clinging to his hand.
Liar.
With a sigh, Toji sat back down, leaning against the rock and letting his eyes fall shut.
The night on Floor 18 was peaceful. He could hear the faint laughter of campers, the crackle of shared fires.
But in his corner of the world, it was only the sound of embers and his own breathing.
He didn't know what was changing in him, only that it was. Slowly. Gradually.
He wasn't trying to be someone else.
He didn't mind becoming someone new.
Just a little.