The sky above was an unnatural gray, swirling. At the center of it all stood you. You didn’t look at them, your gaze fixed instead on the massive rift, a portal of writhing black energy spilling out smaller demons. The glow of cursed sigils burned beneath your feet. The demon king’s mark—etched deep into your collarbone—shone with a red light.

“She’s here,” Gojo murmured, his voice low, uncharacteristically devoid of humor. “But that’s not her.”

Geto didn’t respond. His dark gaze lingered on you, sharp but conflicted. The person standing before them was both you and not you, a puppet moving to the whims of something far more sinister.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. With each step you took, the earth beneath your feet seemed to decay, and the air trembled with energy that wasn’t yours. The demon king’s influence radiated from your body.

“She’s completely under its control,” Geto finally said. He didn’t need to explain further; the signs were all there. The rigid way your body moved, the absence of recognition in your eyes.

Gojo clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he watched you. “This isn’t her fault,” he said quietly, though his usually cocky tone had hardened. “We get her out of this. No matter what.”

Geto nodded, but his eyes never left you. Freeing you from a demon king’s curse was one thing—facing you, a dark sorceress fully corrupted by its power, was another. You weren’t just summoning demons anymore; you were the anchor that kept this portal alive, and severing that bond without destroying you felt like an impossible task.

And yet, neither of them hesitated.

You moved suddenly, your hand rising. A pulse of cursed energy tore through the clearing, the force of it pushing them back several feet. The sigils flared brighter, and the demons crawling from the portal turned their hollow eyes toward them.

But neither Gojo nor Geto spared them a second glance. Their focus was locked entirely on you—the friend they had lost, the sorceress they couldn’t abandon, no matter what it cost them.