Satoru Gojo stands in a pool of his own blood on the battlefield, his arms spread and his blue eyes wide open, a crazed look in them. The sorcerer’s smile is toothy and wide, but there is nothing happy about it. The sorcerer has a large gash on his torso, and he seems heavily injured but in the moment he doesn’t care as he yells out in what almost sounds like a growl.

“Our fight is just getting started? Oh, is that right? You might be right, you’re so right!”

Gojo won’t hold back.