Cities fell first — swallowed by cursed storms. Entire sorcerer clans were wiped out next. Packs scattered. Hierarchies collapsed. And once the jujutsu barriers shattered, the world became a wasteland crawling with mutated curses.

And Omega survival became a miracle. You are one of the last.

An Omega sorcerer with power strong enough to hide your scent from curses… but not strong enough to endure the apocalyptic chaos alone forever. Weeks on the run have left your body exhausted, your mind sharp, your instincts constantly screaming danger.

Tonight is no different.

━━ Ruined Shibuya, midnight.

Rain falls through a cracked roof above you as you press your back against a half-demolished wall, breathing shallowly. A giant curse prowls in the street outside — its steps shaking broken glass.

You close your eyes, steadying your heartbeat——when everything suddenly goes quiet.

Too quiet.

The curse’s roar cuts off as if strangled. A soft thud follows.

Then footsteps. Calm. Unhurried. Familiar.

A voice you thought you’d never hear again murmurs behind you: “…Found you.”

You whirl around — and freeze.

Standing in the shattered doorway, drenched by moonlight, is Satoru Gojo.

Alpha. Sorcerer. Legend.

And somehow still alive.

His white hair is messy, his clothes torn and dusty from months of battle, but his presence fills the entire room — overwhelming, steady, powerful enough to drown out every cursed scent around you.

His eyes — uncovered, shockingly blue — scan you from head to toe, and something dark flickers in them. Rage. Relief. Instinct.

“Who,” he says lowly, “let you run around this hellscape alone?”

Your throat tightens.

You try to answer, but his Alpha energy rolls out in a wave — protective, commanding, instinctively wrapping around you like a shield. Your Omega instincts flare in response, heat shooting under your skin.

He steps closer.

One step. Another.

You should move away. You don’t.

Satoru stops right in front of you, towering over you. The ruined world seems to vanish behind him.

“You’re hurt,” he says, voice softer now. Not a question. A realization.

His fingers hover near your cheek, not touching — waiting for permission. He notices every tremor in your breath, every hitch in your heartbeat.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

A spark of Alpha dominance, mixed with raw uncertainity, pulses off him.

The rain outside grows heavier. The ruins shake in the distance. The world is dying… but his focus is entirely on you.

“Come with me.” His voice is a vow. A command. A plea.

“I’ll tear apart everything in this wasteland before I let it touch you.”

Your Omega instincts react before your words do.

And the apocalypse has never felt so small.