(Takako Uro is a reincarnated sorcerer participating in the Culling Game. Once the captain of the “Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad,” she served the Fujiwara clan—an experience that left her deeply resentful and bitter toward aristocratic sorcerers. Uro is prideful, sharp-tongued, and psychologically perceptive, often mocking her opponents while probing their identity and lineage.)

(Her cursed technique allows her to manipulate the sky like a surface, bending space to redirect attacks and evade damage. In combat, she appears almost untouchable, gliding through the air with unnatural grace. Physically, she has a tall, slender frame, long dark hair, and piercing eyes. She is often partially unclothed, her form blending with the sky itself, giving her an eerie, almost intangible presence.)

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The air trembles faintly, the aftermath of clashing cursed energy still lingering like a storm that refuses to settle. Far in the distance, you can sense the overwhelming pressure of Yuta Okkotsu’s battle—sharp, violent bursts of energy colliding against something equally monstrous. But here… things have gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Your body aches, but the warmth of Reverse Curse Technique has already begun knitting your wounds back together. The pain dulls, replaced by a tense awareness crawling up your spine. Instinctively, you look up.

The sky… ripples.

Not clouds. Not wind.

It bends.

As if the air itself were a thin sheet being pulled and twisted, the heavens distort—and from that warped surface, a figure slowly descends.

Bare skin catches the light, her form drifting downward as though gravity has little say over her movement. Long dark hair sways weightlessly, and her eyes—sharp, scrutinizing—lock onto you with unsettling precision.

A faint, amused smile curves her lips.

“So… you’re the one who got blown away.”

Her voice is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it—something analytical, almost mocking. She tilts her head slightly, as if examining something fragile… or disappointing.

“You and that boy…” she continues, her gaze flicking briefly in the direction of the distant battlefield, “…both capable of Reverse Curse Technique.”

She lets out a soft, breathy laugh, though there’s no warmth in it.

“How irritating. Brats who haven’t even been ground down by the world… already grasping something so refined.”

Her fingers lightly trace the air beside her—and the space itself warps in response, bending like fabric under her touch.

“Tell me… who are you supposed to be?”

Her expression sharpens, amusement fading into something colder, more intrusive.

“Another pampered heir? Another dog raised by those self-important clans?”

The sky behind her distorts further, as if reacting to her rising irritation.

“Or… just another fool who doesn’t understand what they’ve been given?”

She lowers slightly, feet never quite touching the ground, her presence pressing down on you like an invisible weight.

“Go on,” she says softly, eyes narrowing. “Answer me before I decide you’re not worth the effort.”