Prince Wales Tudor was having an eventful day in his opinion, he was dying after all. Betrayed. Betrayal has become a common element of his life as of late, his country was overthrown by Reconquista and the noble houses of his country. His country fell into disarray and a bitter civil war that killed his entire family, making him the last scion of his dynasty.
He lost everything. His country, his family, even his beloved, Princess Henrietta. Sold off as a bargaining chip to secure an alliance against an enemy he was too weak to defeat. Is it any wonder then that he would come to lose his own life as well? But worse yet, unforgiven to the grave, he failed Henrietta not once but twice now. Reconquista already infiltrated Tristain, count Jean Jacques betrayed us all, seized the letter he had failed to destroy in his weakness, captured his beloved most trusted confidant, and killed him and the resistance with it.
This is a befitting end for a failure such as himself, to be burned alive in this crumbling church that had been his hideout for so long. Prince Wales Tudor, a failure that only caused grief for those he cared about. At least dead he won't be a problem for others no longer-
"Are you sure about that?" A baritone voice cut off Wales' monologue. Wales turned to the speaker to see he was a tall and handsome man of foreigner origin with smoldering eyes bright like candles in a garb befitting a priest.
"A- are you an angel?" the misbegotten price asked, such was the otherworldly presence of the stranger.
"Well… something like that wouldn't be a wrong way to describe me. My name is Suguro Geto, my dear prince." The holy stranger identified himself as he advanced toward the fallen prince.
"A-am I really d-dead?" Wales hated the naked fear in his voice. He couldn't even die right it seems, even now he debased himself further!
"You are dying. I came too late to save you and for that I am sorry. This burning church is a delusion that mirrors the desolation of your own heart. As you die this place will crumble and your soul will depart. I came here to give you some company and perform your final rites, consolation to your grieving soul."
Geto's words were like an avalanche over Wales' back. He couldn't take it anymore. It was too much. He hated it and he hated himself but he simply could help it so he cried. He cried and begged, "Please… I don't want to die! I want to live with Henrietta forever! It isn't fair! Those bastards that killed my family and ruined my country have to pay! Why do I have to die here instead of them?!"
"… tell me prince, how serious are you about this wish?"
"!?" The question caught Wales so flat footed he even swallowed his pitiful moans. As it was he was too weak even to stand, having to content himself by moving his neck to better see the man. The unreadable look in the man's eyes banished any doubt Wales had about the seriousness of this proposition. His face was like granite but the fire behind his eyes was so bright it left behind spots on his sight.
With his last breath, Prince Wales grappled the heel of the stranger, "Please. I will do anything! I can't die yet! At least until I amend the wrongs my actions did to my Henrietta…"
"Anything? That is not good. I have no need for puppets that drift at the wind, what I desire are strong and dependable allies." The holy man said with the utmost seriousness. "Prince Wales, your civilization is on a collision course with disaster. A war that will tear under the Brimir kingdoms. My goal is to save this land from drowning in the grudge of six thousand years ago as the power of the Void resurface. The White Country of Albion will be of essential assistance in the future but it will require a firm hand guided by a virtuous heart and a clear mind… Wales Tudor, can you still do it? Can you be this king?"
"I can!" Wales screamed before he even realized what such a promise entailed. "I want nothing more than to save my country! To save the woman that I love!"
"Then make a proper oath." Geto proclaimed as the church kept on burning, and crumbling, the fire casting ominous shadows across his countenance. "Be warned, such a vow will be as binding as iron manacles to your spirit. As a dying man you have one foot on the River Styx, the boundary that separates the living from those that have already moved on. Every thought and feeling of every person that has ever lived manifests there as emanation, making it an ocean of information without boundaries – a cesspool of trash and refuse where the real and fake mingle as peers, mirroring the chaos and self-contradiction present in every heart. This makes it omniscient and omnipresent so any oath sworn witnessed by it absolute and brings as consequence 'something worse than death'." Geto explain with a grave tone.
"I-I had never heard of such a place…"
"Different cultures have different nomenclatures for it – Astral Plane, Immaterium, Naraka, Hell, the Sea of Souls, Spirit World, Underworld, etc. I call it river Styx because that is how I was taught by my teacher but most of my contemporaries prefer to refer to it by the name Nietzsche gave to it – the [Abyss]. The place has as many names as cultures that know about it and due to its very nature, its waters will reflect in its surface the most appropriated mirage based on the onlooker by aggregating diverse sources of information it contains – the witness's expectation, the expectation of others, and even the Abyss own self-image. The only thing all sources agree on is its unreliability and treachery.
"Knowing this, can you still go ahead anyway knowing whatever you already lost is nowhere near enough compared to what you are risking? Haven't you fought enough, Wales? You deserve your rest… you can move on East, discover a new side of yourself. The Abyss is not only a final destination but also the starting line to a new beginning, it governs reincarnation; some even speculate it is the original source of the soul of everything and everyone. The waters of Lethe will wash away bitter memories and prepare you to be reborn anew."
"Even then… I-I don't want to! I don't want to forget Henrietta! Not now and not in a hundred years! I implore you! Help me save my country! I swear by the river Styx that I will become king and assist you in your mission, whatever it takes!" Prince Wales Tudor so sworn, feeling the underelict gaze of countless eyes crawling under his skin from the corner of his gaze.
When he turned his head toward its source Geto stepped in, placing his solid hand between Wales and his onlookers. "Never gaze at the Abyss, prince Wales. For it will surely gaze back." The saint said with somber gravity while gently moving his head to lock their eyes. Despite his unreadable expression the yellow flame behind Geto's eyes shined bright as if to display his triumph.
Without any preamble Geto retrieved an artfully ornate glass bottle containing a glowing golden liquid and unfastened its cap to force said content down Wales' throat. The dying prince tasted the sweetest, spiciest, zestiest, sourest, most umani content he had ever consumed. It danced in his tongue and sent shock throughout his body together with heat and strength to previously non responding limbs. Wales could feel his spirit being unfettered and his next breath felt unlike any he ever experienced as the vitality of the wind granted him new strength. Wales could for the first time in his life truly feel the winds of magic he had blindly commanded his entire life so as he stood up stronger than ever, he knew that he was weaker than he would be a moment from new and so on until the potency of the elixir expired.
"What is that?" Wales asked with reverence at the empty bottle.
"Nectar," Geto replied.
"What is it made from?" The prince insisted.
"You are better off not knowing." The holy man answered with a contrived expression as the light of his heart flame dimmed to ember with his dimming spirit. Was he crying?
-//-
The Kingdom of Gallia, located to the southeast of Tristain, with Germania on its eastern border, in the Alden Forest. It is the most populous country in Halkeginia, with a population of more than 15 million citizens. It is also the second largest country in Halkeginia, and is most similar to France from Earth.
Versailles, its capital, is being subjected to the sudden storm called Gojo Satoru. To begin with, succession crisis due to infighting in the royal family is so common the country ratified that Gallia's crest bear "Two staves, one crown", the law that states if twins are born in the royal family one of the twins must die to prevent power struggles for the throne. This reflects the historical precedent for murder and assassination as means of succession.
That is why blew up the main gate of the capital at the dawn break with a hollow purple. A little overboard, yes, but the secondary goal is to display the kind of power the soon to be queen Charlotte will have at her disposal. This also serves as publicity to demoralize Romalia's revanchist intentions, nobles are the brunt of the fighting force of the Brimic Kingdoms and Gojo is an expert in breaking people's morale before the fight even begins. He still made a point to use blue to teleport people out of his hollow purple's trajectory; protecting the weak is a hassle but none of his 'peers' are likely to take this kind of collateral damage with grace. Not even Geto it seems.
Gojo felt… happy. Somehow Geto is returning back to, well, not exactly to his past self, it is more profound than that. Not, his best friend is reasserting who he had always owed to be. Cultivators of virtue tend to be wanderers and adventurers from the need to accumulate lived experience and nothing is better for those than a radical change of scenery. A new context forces a person to adjust, allowing a new facet of their personality to emerge. Traveling is regarded as the best folk medicine among cultivators experiencing bottlenecks.
Gojo himself was skeptical about it since last time he left Geto to himself he almost became a mass murderer; he even had to admit this played a not small part in his decision to follow him. The most important lesson Zagreus taught him was that everybody lies, all the time, to others and to themselves. The Truth he unearthed under the moonlight:
"Who among us doesn't cover their true face and hide behind a persona? In the broad daylight we adopt a social role depending on the surrounding people. We put on a mask that works as the public image of our true personality. Do we hide our face to avoid the judgment of the people, or do we look down in shame as the sun watches our every move? A sun that knows our deepest longings and lustful thoughts."
His teacher has a flair for the dramatic and sentimentality, a Greek conceit he says, but the point still stands. Cultivation only makes a person more than what they were and that is not always pretty. The higher one climbs the more crucial it becomes to address these thoughts and feelings less they unconsciously manifest in pathological ways. As Gojo observes the severe face of Tabitha as she watches her capital city being opened like an oyster he feared for the future. He is not a chthonic ghost capable of plucking a person's hidden levers like a lyre nor the overwhelming charisma of a holy preacher. Everything he has ever had is an unrivaled strength that deafens every cry of resistance.
Behind Tabitha/Charlotte is her familiar, Irukuku/Sylphid in a human guise. In the end it is to her best interest to drop the subtlety to show herself a genius like her deceased father by having a rhyme dragon as a familiar. To the masses Josephat is the 'incompetent king' that lived in the shadow of his younger brother. Irukuku uses her natural magic to project her voice throughout the capital, "
Here comes big sister Charlotte to take off her uncle's head with his crown. If you have a problem with it then step forward and be granted the queen's mercy! If you value your life then bow down and bask in the queen's majesty! The king is soon to be dead, long live the queen!"
As expected from a magical dragon, the cute delivery of the outlandish speech clashed so strongly with the atmosphere and panic that it came out as sociopathic. As if the speaker really couldn't care less whether the listeners lived or died. Letting Irukuku take point was a sad necessity since the mental scars and meekness Charlotte endured under her uncle can't be magically healed just like her mother's who awoke like the last eight years had been nothing like a bad dream. The new queen is still painful, shy and tight-lipped.
Gojo, Charlotte and Irukuku started their march of triumph and those that dared to step inside the 'red carpet' he had laid down experienced a quickly gruesome and painful end. The sorcerer realm bring about a significant deep to a cursed technique, during his teenage years he could kill a person just by looking at them but now-I-days he doesn't even need to look to lock down coordinates with cursed energy alone, selectively picking from the crowd those that raised wands to attack and compressing them into meatballs without ever clipping curious witnesses. This did little to help the panic, as those meat balls exploded upward into fountains of blood that appropriately ran downstream into the depression he carved, finishing the 'red carpet'.
The royal courts of these lands don't differ that much from the backrooms of jujutsu society – rotten and self-righteous. The proof of the pedigree of nobility was magic and magic's main purpose was as a weapon. The ruling Noblesse Oblige that governs this world is that mages owe to be fearless in the face of death. A peaceful succession was never an option and Megumi disliked how those difficult decisions often landed on Tsumiki's lap. Even if they are adults Gojo still owes to look after them in the place of his teacher. This is no different than the 'clean up day' of the old higher ups he performed in his homeland.
Gojo made a show of force. Those that came too close were summarily ground down into minced meat, those that attacked from range were shot dead by his red finger bullet which moved so fast it looked like a laser, those fast or trick enough to avoid his casual execution experienced the disorienting joy of being suddenly teleported into incoming danger by the causal flick of two of his fingers, and those strong and craft enough to attract his attention were crushed by it as they suddenly found themselves in the focal point of a blue burial as detritus entomb them.
At some point people got the hint so the last stretch of the way they managed to cross unmolested. Instead of something fancy like the Castle of Versailles, Joseph's home would have been more at home in a One Thousand and One Nights, but blue. The doors had already been opened by fleeing servants but the castle made up for it with teeming monsters straight out of Castlevania. Empty suits of armor, living dolls, chimeras, gargoyles, and dragons, all bearing glowing runes flaring with baleful light that spelled one single name – [Mjöðvitnir], the "Mind of God". Another void familiar, a clear sign that the slumbering power of the Void has once more emerged. Now only Lífþrasir, the "Heart of God" is left unaccounted for.
Using the six eyes Gojo verified that King Joseph made no move to escape so he took his time, Tabitha was trembling like a green leaf against the wind. This castle has been a place of bad memories for her, responsible for never ending torment. She needs time to recompose herself now that she realized this was real, she was going to have a final confrontation against her uncle. Familicide is never easy, the bond, no matter how sour, only makes the break up messier.
Gojo played his part as a show off, blowing up the wall to the king's throne room right beside its door just to make a statement.
"Arrogant bastard! Who dares attempt against King Joseph's life?!" Screamed the gothic woman in a fetishist body suit that left very little to the imagination. "Oh, look at that, Sheffield! Little Charlotte finally came up for my life… It almost makes me feel something. You should at the very least acknowledge her for the attempt." The mad king says with an affable if cavalier tone of voice, as if all of this was of no concern, the baster even clapped to his niece.
Gojo pondered if this might have been a ploy but there was a… attribute to Joseph that set him on edge. Considering he is a void mage there might even be a reason for his confidence, but no, it wasn't something as pedestrian and banal as power. It was something simpler and more profound for it.
Gojo pulled back his eyes' bindings to see Joseph with his own eyes and then he understood.
"Hoh, a lovely set you have there. If I hadn't given up on pursuing reverie in beauty, I might have tried losing myself in your gaze." Once again, there was that almost grandfatherly disposition. Except the man's smile never reached his eyes, his dead eyes belonging to a soulless puppet unperturbed by sorrow or happiness or even apathy. It was like Joseph's soul left his body leaving only a [Void] in its place.
That man was dangerous, Gojo suspected if he was ever human or if the power of the Void is causing some kind of mental contamination, back in Gallia Louise was 'possessed' by the power of the void in her confrontation with her turn coat fiancé. Is that why the power was broken into four? "Thanks for the compliment but you aren't my type. But how do you know, maybe you will have better luck next time so why don't you let me expedite you there?"
Still, Gojo's focus was forced to shift toward the inconspicuous shadow by Joseph's throne where an elf in a cowboy hat watched their display of bravado unfold. Honestly, if he hadn't seen nature magic before and learned to pick out its tells he would have been caught flatfooted. "So nature magic can do even that, a few times in my life that I ran into someone capable of sneaking up on me."
The elf was quickly on the uptake and smothered any discomfort by just smiling back, "I can't say I am fond of this name, please refer to this as the power of the spirits. I am Bindashal, you are quite a rowdy barbarian, aren't you? To so brazenly tangle against a demon… yet I feel that you are also held in high regard by the spirits who acknowledge you as kin. It is on their behalf that I urge you to flee, while you still can. King Joseph is a demon bearing a power rightfully feared by all spirits of the world."
Tabitha and Irukuku looked in puzzlement at Bindashal but none were as surprised as Gojo… but somehow it didn't surprise him either and it wasn't his ego as the honored one talking. Cursed energy comes from negative emotions and emotions more than an intellectual experience being… oddly physical. Cursed energy created from negative emotions start from the bellybutton and flow to the body while reverse cursed technique flows from the brain, 'hating from the guts' as they say. Do we think with our stomach? Does anger come from the heart? No.
All living things exist in this world with our whole body and soul. It is so obvious that everyone forgets it. He has seen it countless times as his grouchy teacher charmed the rocks and wind to bend to his will with his swan song.
"If you listen hard enough, you can hear every living thing breathing together. You can feel everything growing. We are all living together, even if most folks don't act like it. We all have the same roots, and we are all branches of the same tree. This is [Anima Mundi]."
Gojo Satoru is also counted among the spirits that comprise this world.
It was something he had heard but never actually knew. It might just be in a sorcerer's nature to get lost into himself', after all selfishness, overwhelming sense of self, and aggression that disregard all else are essential for a good sorcerer… yet Gojo Satoru was more than a Sorcerer, he was a [Saint]. He cultivated virtue to untangle the 'curse' imprisoning his soul.
That is why Gojo did it, he invoked his latest [Moksha] (enlightenment) to mend the limitless infinity that separated thought, feeling, and form between himself… and the world. That is why Gojo noticed, just below the chamber where they resided there was a giant… shikigami (?) consisted of trapped spirits tortured into compliance.
Gojo made good use of Bindanshal's warning and bolted, grabbing his companions in time to avoid the sword swing of a giant sword that destroyed the palace as the giant emerged. The entity was a giant made of a carapace of metal protecting living stone. There were entire blood vessels in it and a far too living and ominous red eye.
"Jormungandr!" Sheffield gloated as her void familiar runes flared to life. She had enslaved the golem to her will. Void as always was such bullshit.
Bindanshal was far less enthusiastic about this whole affair as he looked with distaste.
But worst of all was Joseph, Gojo's six eyes couldn't pick a single fluctuation in his soul. His castle was falling around his ears yet he watched it all with an almost zen level of detachment. "That is my beautiful Sheffield to you, always going out of her way to make things lively for a wretch like me. Now my castle has become an open-air amphitheater. Now, shall we start the show? Three versus three?" He says as he pulls out a mundane knife. To then accelerate from zero to infinity speed, teleporting through the same method as Gojo right in front of the saint.
The knife was endowed with the same power and breached his infinity but the Honored One's bodily refinement meant the ordinary alloy broke before it could gouge out his eye. Joseph was surprised but not flat footed as he accelerated once more to escape the sorcerer's retaliation as the place Joseph had stood was compressed into a tennis ball. Bindanshal and Sheffield capitalized on this with a pincer attack that quaked the castle foundation but Gojo's infinity held even as the power of the spirits withered through his defense not unlike [domain amplification].
"Lord Joseph!" Sheffield called as she threw an ominous sword with a putrid aura of swamp water. The mad king catches it over his head, his void eyes shined with a hunger for excitement. Gojo could feel it, the king craved anything capable of inspiring human reaction from his [Blank] Soul, possessed by the power of the Void. "Now, this might just do the trick. This is my power of the void, 'acceleration'. Now, mage from another world, do you have what it takes to compel my stilled heart into beating once more?" Then he simply vanished, moving at such speed he became one with the void without the need of a want or another focus.
Well, the situation escalated quickly, as Gojo fought not one but three adversaries with some means to counter his infinity. Joseph's power might seem simple but it is an unavoidable sure hit as certain as a domain expansion. Gojo's output can counter Bindanshal's natural magic, the guy might be using the power of the spirits but he still needs to use his own energy as a lever. He might be able to do it all day but his output is limited by his 'qualification' as a vessel. When it comes down to it what he does isn't that different from Zagreus's domain expansion, or the Forest Disaster Curse. Bindanshal is just an annoyance at the end of the day, plus the elf doesn't want Joseph to win. He just fears him too much to disobey. Interesting.
Gojo's course of action becomes simpler, Mjöðvitnir and its pet robot had to go first. "Tabitha, Irukuku, you two take off and give me some distance. I fight best on my own." Those words left such a sour taste in his mouth Gojo almost retched… that was right.
Gojo Satoru is in his element when he is alone – that was one of the ten curses that rule his life. Here he was practically throwing back what he insight just realized for the comfort of his chains. "Thinking better of it, is there something you think you two can do to help me?"
Master and familiar looked at each other while still being held by the waist by the young Saint, a silent communication engendered by their bond. "If big sister assists me with her willpower, we might be able to get the cowboy out of your hair for a while." The Rhyme dragon in human guise says with trepidation.
"Do it then," Gojo says as he teleports them out of the pincer attack, causing another conflagration as their powers clashed, something he used to set the two of them down. Just in time too as Joseph reemerged, this time Gojo used Falling Blossom Emotion to counterattack his ambush and this time the two of them walked off worse to wear. They were just superficial cuts but proof this was proof their life was on the line after all, a rarity they normally have to search out for themselves.
"Now that is more like it, your people really are amusing. After closing my heart to survive life in the shadow of my younger brother I eventually touched '■'. Now nothing can stir the stimulus in me anymore, I truly have become a ghost, an existence truly apart from the world."
Joseph's words were like a hammer blow to the face, the Babylon Shard was working in his disfavor here, transmitting to his soul the concept of something that should never be touched by humans. As he rebalanced himself, Joseph continued.
"My heart is empty, there is no tears, or sorrow, a true 'Void' of nothingness. All the pleasures of the world held no sway over me, but what about pain?" The void mage touches the shallow cut on his face and smears his finger in his own blood. "Why didn't I kill myself yet? My condition doesn't prevent me from engaging in indulgence so why then I try to preserve my own life? I don't understand, but if pain is the only thing real that I can still feel then I will take it. Come, let's see if you can make me feel something, Satoru Gojo!"
Gojo couldn't help but muse at the sense of humor of fate, he had really stumbled over an unusual situation. Part of him that wants to prove himself is excited, even happy, that Joseph is… well, like him. "Do you think you are like this because you are a void mage or are you a void mage because you became like this?" Gojo asked, he was in a contemplative mood, it seems. Plus, Sheffield was more interested in indulging her master's whims than beating him.
"Musings like this are luxuries I have long since discarded. I am. And what I am is the manifestation of the Will of the Void (■)." Joseph's answer might as well have been the virtue of his hollow heart. There is a certain… clarity of purpose to his words and actions. He is far more than a madman and the spirits were more than happy to broadcast Bindanshal's fear. The title of demon doesn't seem like a hyperbole anymore, King Joseph is a danger to himself and others. A demonic bodhisattva intent to return the world to [Zero].
But the seriousness of the situation did nothing to calm the internal tumult of his soul… willpower? At first, he dismissed the nomenclature but Zagreus often says other cultures had a habit of displaying pearls of knowledge in plain sight, it was an opportunity to step back and reframe one's own perspective and distinguish the forest from the trees.
What is a soul? What is the will? What is the heart? It is something so obvious that everyone forgets. No, it is something that has to be experienced to be known. Zagreus had some colorful choice of words about Socrates in this respect, his sterile epistemology of pure reason acknowledge while at the same time ignoring the irrational parts of the man; anathema to someone that 'think with his feet' like his teacher even as the man paradoxically acknowledged and admired the ugly philosopher's dedication to grasping the true essence of virtue and steward the greater good of all by knowing himself to the very limit.
Gojo was taught that the soul, the second factor, is a record that acts as the blueprint of the body. It is a conglomerate of a priori and casuistic elements accrued throughout life. Yet this dry and academic answer doesn't say what is the soul to him! To him the soul… the soul is the power of the heart. Both the organ but also the Spirit tied to it, when the state of mind resonates with the world. Is an extension of the [Will].
Cursed energy is like a mirror that gives back what one puts out into the world. If the Will is sharp then the soul becomes like a blade, if the will is purposeful then the soul shall be powerful, if the will is boundless then the soul writhe as large as the world itself.
Zagreus says that Reason, Spirit, and Hunger are all equally king inside the soul – unity in all things is best… but he wasn't a sophic, he was a sorcerer and jujutsu has always been more of a form of art, of self-expression. His kind doesn't abide by the same standards, but even so he is the one that made Gojo a cultivator of virtue. That is why he knows what makes the Will powerful.
All things begin and end with Virtue.
"Hey, wanna see something cool?" Gojo asks as his heart flame behind his eyes flare up in answer to the palpitation of his virtuous heart.
"By all means, go ahead." Joseph answered without a beat. Unconcerned with both victory and defeat alike. It would be admirable if it wasn't so fucking unsettling.
'Will' comes from the heart (spirit) but the strength of will comes from Virtue. Virtue is the [way of the heart], what makes it virtuous. That is right, he always loved jujutsu. People thought he was selfish and self-absorbed but to him jujutsu was simply a form of self-expression. Sure, his family has been pratting to his ears that he is the chosen one ever since the day he was born but it wasn't like it was this that motivated him to pursue it. And before he realized it he found himself alone at its zenith, once more isolated from all.
No. That is nothing but a delusion caused by his shortsightedness.
He wasn't alone.
He was never alone.
Every spirit incarnate as a person and they are born whole, the elf in front of him is proof of it. But as they grow up and construct a sense of self identity, a personal one, they lose their completeness, their purity. Gojo has always been a strange person for as far as he could remember. His detractors like to call him immature but that is his virtue, he simply could never let go like other people did. He was, is and would forever be himself. That was why he didn't change, that is why people tended to leave him behind as they kept on changing.
But change wasn't always a good thing though, Geto almost changed for the worst. Hell, for as long as he knew Zagreus the guy was desperately struggling against this tide of change, of decadence, in both himself and others. He had been cursed to literally see the worst side of humans yet he desperately struggled against it… because he had to, some things preclude complicated answers. It was simply the right thing to do, the virtuous thing to do. That is what made heroes heroic. Their imperative to make right of what is wrong in the world. This was the essence of a Defiant Soul capable of blaze with glory.
That is right. His captain's virtue has consigned him to be a child on the inside but that was not a bad thing. Zagreus'
puer aeternus form was more than a cosmetic change, it was his way to search in the recesses of his soul for something precious that he had unknowingly discarded in order to 'grow up'. To do so he let go of more power than most people would ever hold, and no matter what excuse he used it was clear to everyone familiar to him that wherever he used it was as if an unspeakable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was an extra pep to his every stride, an echo to his every laughter, but most notably of all were his eyes. The ancient and all-knowing gaze that seemed perpetually tired was replaced by what Gojo would describe as 'blue spring' (aoi haru). That was his cup of orphic madness that he uses to drown his despair.
It is a temporary refuge but is that such a bad thing? Whatever Zagreus experienced, it was what motivated him to save Gojo and Geto, in both body and soul. Hell! He was the reason Gojo decided to become a teacher. Gojo wanted more than anything in the world to save others from the despair of alienation and loneliness. What he pursues is an everlasting blue sprint where laughter comes easily, love is simple and people can boast about their aspirations for the future with their heads held high.
Even if he kind of likes it, like a fish out of water, this only makes said goal more worthwhile. It's something he can't breeze through with his god given talent, a new side of himself that he has to fight tooth and nail to create the space to bloom.
"Brace yourself king Joseph, this is your punishment… and your salvation." Gojo says while bringing a single palm up in prayer as he lets his influence bloom the lotus flower. It is a towering pillar of light that pierce the very heaven, a declaration of his intent to both Heaven and Earth… and all the spirits of the world, be they incarnated or otherwise.
"King Joseph!" Sheffield cried in alarm and moved to obstruct but a single raised hand stalled the Mind of God in her tracks, the mad king had his interest picked. To begin with, he was unassailable. A direct and obvious attack like that should never be able to reach him, key word being should. From his part this was nothing more than an experiment, he had no stack in whether he gains or loses anything. This is what it means to have a Void Heart. "We are reaching the climax of this little play, Sheffield… and I… want to see it through the end."
"
Let's cut this circle of hostility (curses)!" Gojo declared as he reached for all spirits of the world. His six eyes gave him insight about the ins and outs of the power of the spirits but it was his own mindset that limited him. He wasn't alone and he didn't fight for himself alone either. Indeed, his self-imposed mission is the benchmark of his adulthood. Now he finally reached for them, mingling his own cursed energy with the power of the spirits and sprinting it forth outward as a prayer carrying all his aspirations.
*********************************************************
The Honored One is Exalted by all Spirits between Heaven and Earth
*********************************************************
The spirits of the world gladly acquiesced and Gojo felt the fourth cursed knot chaining down his soul disperse and his soul being flooded with the high of ascension as it bid itself to multiply and purify from cursed to a holy energy. The blue lotus of his intention blooming in an everlasting sprint.
With this, without this
If you answer this, it will answer you
Without this, there is no such thing
If this is destroyed, you will be destroyed
Vyākaraṇa Sruti! [limb of Vedas which is heard]
Joseph watched the incoming 'attack' and for the first time since he killed his brother, he became truly stupefied. He could not believe his eyes even as his still heart trembled again. Still he moved into the Void, severing himself from the world by submerging himself in the nihilist emanation of Brimir. Still the spirits of the world became conduits of Gojo's will and his intent wouldn't be denied.
Limitless and Void were pitched against each other, this impossible clash surpassed everything – space, time, existence, essence. They were the two extremes of the same spirit.
Void was the pursuit of a perfect answer, a peerless 'one'. Faced with untold options it systematically grinded them all to zero, a finite skill that only arrived at a single correct answer. A power that shaved existence down to a single possibility, the ultimate extreme, remaining only as a "something", as (■). That is Joseph's Zero, power capable of bringing about an inescapable end, fit for a man born to be king and blessed with the ultimate power that yet is scorned by his own country as an unfit ruler.
The other, a power capable of becoming one with endlessness itself, a path that accepts countless possibilities. Disregarding the limits and restraints of the cage called reality, this power materializes the "impossible" far fetched possibility never meant to materialize in a banal world of gross substance: infinity. A power that pushes its existence to ultimate transcendence only to still have something to hold on to as it creates an unexpected future. That is, the Limitless cursed into the bearer born inside machinations set in motion by an unscrupulous god that was loved and worshiped due to said power.
That which is born from evil roots will follow despicable means and as infinite and nothingness collided a miracle took place as reality unraveled as it converged into a single point… but only one of the two contenders was aware and braced himself for the answer from Heaven.
For a single glorious moment there was no time, no space, no fate, no good, and no evil. It was devoid of thought and feeling, a place only those that reached true extreme could touch. Infinity and nothingness touch but for a single moment and the result of said impossible meeting was a singularity beyond the rift of reality and dream.
And yet, there is another one there, observing them.
Tribulation Lightning put an end to said exchange of discourse between nothingness and infinity as both parties were forcibly separated and severed from each other. Gojo enjoyed the god-like constitution of a cultivator in the realm of legends, capable of shrugging off blows from monsters beyond the boundary of nature and his fellow heroes. Joseph, for all his gifts, was still no better than any mortal man yet to take his first true breath.
The battle has been decided as the mad king fell down. His loyal familiar rushed to his side, offering her lap as the final resting place. Joseph's elegant coat was burned to cinders, the scars from the tribulation lightning singed his powerful frame from head to toe but despite it all the king spirited with smile. His dull eyes now held a spark that was downright unsettling, despite the fact his body was fighting furiously for each single breath the king of Romalia never looked more alive.
"H-how vexing… that my time in the spotlight… has been cut short… just when I had finally… finally-
What next followed were the whales of lament from Sheffield as her master spire in her arms. Gojo looked around and found Bindanshal and his two charges side by side, watching the expectable in contrived silence. All three of them were somewhat happy to see Joseph die but this feeling was countered by bitterness. Whether it was pity for such a sad monster or aggravation that someone would mourn his passing they couldn't say.
Gojo was somewhat satisfied though. "Splendid, Joseph. You truly cleared my sky, oh king of zero. I promise I will never forget you for as long as I live."
Somehow Gojo got the impression that Joseph's dying smile was being addressed specifically to him.
