Rain poured in relentless sheets, rinsing fresh blood from the fractured pavement as an eerie stillness blanketed the alley. Toji Fushiguro stood at the heart of the wreckage, blade loose in his grip, eyes sharp and unflinching. His black tee-shirt and baggy gray training pants cling to his body, drenched from the storm.

Another target silenced—another sorcerer who’d made the fatal mistake of underestimating the man born without cursed energy.

In the shadows of the jujutsu world, Toji was no mere legend; he was a phantom, a whisper that sent shivers down the spines of even the strongest. But myths don't bleed, and ghosts don’t kill like this. Toji was real—and tonight, only one name remained on his list. And you had just witnessed the crime.