That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B! Chapter 485: Boiling Oceans and Shattered Skulls (Patreon)

"Are you holding together, Hanami?"

Kenjaku spat a mouthful of blood as they fled out of Shibuya. Seeing Suzuki swallowed by Dagon's domain had offered a chance to run away, but Kenjaku knew Hanami was in critical condition.

As a cursed spirit—the literal manifestation of the forest's disasters—Hanami wouldn't die as easily as a human. It didn't have to worry about blood loss or organ failure. Normally, as long as it could bury its roots into the earth and absorb nutrients from the soil, it could regenerate any wound.

The problem was that they were in the middle of Tokyo. The ground beneath them was thick with concrete and asphalt. There was no soil to drink from, making it completely impossible for the Hanami to absorb the nutrients it desperately needed.

"Yeah. Don't worry. I can hold out for now," Hanami replied, its voice a hollow and weak.

Half of its wooden torso had been sheared off completely. Violet cursed blood and thick, glowing sap leaked steadily onto the pavement. While it was naturally resilient and operated differently from human biology, the trauma of the strike meant it needed time and earth to recover.

"Let's focus on putting as much distance between us and that monster as possible," Kenjaku muttered, pressing a hand to his fractured skull.

Wisps of cursed energy danced across his forehead as his Reverse Cursed Technique rapidly knitted his shattered bones and bruised brain tissue back together. But healing his body couldn't erase the terror gripping his mind. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could not defeat Suzuki.

The man was fast, so fast that it was cheating! 

And worse—where the hell was he pulling those weapons from?!

Even as they fled, Kenjaku's mind flashed back to the gleam of the monstrous polearm Maki had pulled from thin air. A heavily restricted superhuman wielding a cursed tool of that caliber was a walking natural disaster.

Was this the true power of money

A man who could literally buy, forge, and hoard the greatest weapons on earth? For the first time in his thousand-year existence, Kenjaku felt a twinge of jealousy toward Suzuki.

"What should we do now?" Hanami asked, frantically weaving thick vines and branches together to temporarily plug the massive chasm in its side.

"We run."

It was the only logical answer. To Kenjaku, his own survival trumped everything else.

"What about Jogo and Dagon?" Hanami asked, its tone laced with genuine concern.

If it had been any other jujutsu sorcerer trapped in the domain, the plant curse wouldn't have worried. But after experiencing Suzuki firsthand, Hanami knew the man was walking disaster. Before, Hanami had looked down on Suzuki. He was just a rich human.

What use was money in the face of true disasters?

Yet, facing the sheer, overwhelming velocity of Mach 5, Hanami realized that money, ideals, and elemental power meant absolutely nothing. When your opponent moved faster than your neurons could fire, there was no time to defend. Suzuki hadn't just broken their defenses; he hadn't even given them the privilege of raising them.

"They should be fine for a while," Kenjaku rationalized as Hanami scooped him up, carrying him through the dark alleys.

Being carried put Kenjaku slightly at ease. Hanami's innate ability to erase their cursed energy signatures was unparalleled. Even if Jogo and Dagon fell, Kenjaku and Hanami would live to fight another day.

Could Jogo and Dagon actually defeat Suzuki within the domain? The possibility existed. They were immensely powerful. But Kenjaku's sheer cowardice and calculating nature meant he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Huh? Are you sure?" Hanami asked, sensing Kenjaku's underlying doubt.

"Haven't you felt it?" Kenjaku sighed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed back toward the blast zone. "That young man is playing with us. He doesn't view us as a threat. He looks at us the way a bored house cat looks at a cornered rat. He'll let us squirm, let us think we have a chance, and then slowly tear us apart just to watch the despair set in."

Kenjaku spoke analytically, burying the pathetic reality of his own shattered ego beneath cold observation.

"...We have to kill him," Hanami murmured, an uncharacteristic shudder of pure terror vibrating through its wooden frame. The curse knew that if Suzuki wasn't erased, they would be in doom.

"Agreed," Kenjaku nodded, his dark eyes turning cold. "But the question is how."

For now, Kenjaku needed to bide his time, rebuild his team, and wait for the perfect opportunity to make Suzuki's life a living hell. But a question haunted the back of his mind: what if Jogo and Dagon didn't make it out?

Back at the center of the crater, Maki experienced a split second of panic.

She had blinked, and Suzuki was simply gone—swallowed whole by the sudden expansion of Dagon's Domain Expansion.

But the panic vanished just as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by trust. Why should she worry? Suzuki was the man who had faced Satoru Gojo—the undisputed strongest sorcerer alive—and walked away with a draw. Compared to the limitless void of Gojo's power, a couple of disaster curses were nothing.

Standing amidst the molten asphalt, Maki exhaled slowly. The violent winds whipped her green ponytail around her face. She gripped Baryuu tightly, the massive weapon resting effortlessly against her shoulder. The heat of the burning city made her skin glisten, highlighting her fierce, untouchable allure. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she scanned the perimeter, ready to butcher anything that dared step out of the shadows while she waited for her man to return.

Inside the domain, the chaotic, burning hellscape of Shibuya had been completely replaced by a serene, endless tropical beach. The sky was a vibrant, cloudless blue, and a gentle breeze ruffled the crystal-clear ocean.

"You don't seem panicked."

Jogo's raspy voice broke the tranquility. The one-eyed, volcano-headed curse stared intensely at Suzuki.

Suzuki wasn't standing on the white sand. He was standing casually on the surface of the rolling ocean. He channeled a precise layer of cursed energy to the soles of his shoes—a trick he had adapted from the chakra-control techniques of Suzuki Naruto. To Suzuki, walking on water was elementary. To the curses, it was an unnatural, terrifying display of absolute absolute control.

"That should be my line," Suzuki replied, his tone dripping with genuine amusement. He looked at Jogo and Dagon as if they were a particularly strange exhibit at a zoo. "You just saw what I did to your friends out there. Yet you still think the two of you are enough to win?"

"You are too arrogant, human," Jogo snarled.

He tried to keep his voice steady, but his sheer rage caused the ambient temperature of the domain to skyrocket. The ocean beneath them began to hiss, thick plumes of white steam rolling off the surface as the water physically began to boil around him. Jogo was the living incarnation of the earth's fiery wrath, and he was undeniably the most destructive of Kenjaku's pets.

Yet, facing the literal boiling ocean and the heat, Suzuki didn't even flinch. He simply folded his arms across his chest, the heavy battle axe resting lazily in his grip, showing absolutely no intention of taking a combat stance.

"You know what?" Suzuki sighed, looking bored. "It's going to be dull if you lose instantly. So go ahead. Make the first move. I won't even dodge."

"..."

Dagon remained completely silent, floating nervously near the water's edge. The squid-like curse knew it was a miracle that Jogo hadn't immediately attacked, but Suzuki's taunt was the final straw.

The fire disaster erupted.

"DON'T GET COCKY, YOU SHITTY HUMAN!" Jogo roared, a volcanic eruption tearing from his throat. He unleashed his innate technique without hesitation.

"Volcanic Vents!"

The ocean around Suzuki instantly exploded. Massive, glowing craters of magma tore through the water's surface, erupting into towering geysers of white-hot fire and molten rock. The blasts chained together, completely engulfing the spot where Suzuki stood. The thermal destruction threatened to tear the sky itself apart, but Dagon's domain held firm, absorbing the heat.

BOOOOOM! BOOOOOOM! BOOOOOM!

Thick, blinding steam and black ash completely obscured the ocean.

"Hmph." Jogo snorted, a cruel, satisfied smirk crossing his single eye. The human was all talk until he was reduced to ash—

"I see."

A calm whisper brushed directly against the back of Jogo's neck.

SQUELCH!

Before Jogo's brain could even process the sound of the voice, a sickening, wet crunch echoed across the boiling ocean.

Suzuki was no longer standing in the blast zone. He was standing directly behind Jogo. His arm was fully extended, driven through the back of the Jogo's volcanic head. His hand had easily shattered the skull, punching straight through the brain matter and bursting out of Jogo's forehead in a shower of purple blood and brain tissue.

Suzuki stood there amidst the steam, perfectly unharmed, as the strongest disaster curse went entirely limp on his arm.