Chapter 35 (Patreon)

Early the next morning.

Ragnar Kagenou went to the front desk to check out and was told to wait a moment.

“Sir, please accept this small gift from our hotel.”

The receptionist handed him a light snack and a bottle of water.

Not bad. The service here was actually pretty solid.

A little while later—

“Sir, your check-out has been completed. We hope you enjoy the rest of your journey.”

Ragnar gave a faint nod.

“Mm. Your service really is thoughtful. Someone even brought me food right around mealtime.”

He paused, then added casually,

“By the way, that male employee in particular was seriously dedicated and responsible.”

After saying that, Ragnar left them a small tip and turned to leave.

The moment he was gone, the two receptionists looked at each other.

“Wh-Who was the male employee he mentioned? Do we even have anyone delivering food?”

“I don’t know... Wait, no, that’s wrong. We don’t have any male employees here...”

The more they talked, the paler they became.

An uneasy silence spread between them.

“Do you think... maybe he has some kind of psychological problem...?”

“Let’s just stop talking about it. This is way too creepy.”

At that moment, a freezing chill brushed past them.

Whoosh.

A violent gust suddenly swept through the previously quiet hotel lobby.

The two women screamed on instinct, but in the end... nothing happened.

Even so, that Cursed Spirit had already fixed its eyes on Ragnar Kagenou.

For four whole years, Ragnar Kagenou had pursued Kenjaku’s Cursed Energy across Europe without stopping.

After passing through Romania from Moldova, he finally arrived in Serbia.

Serbia. Belgrade.

“You really are persistent, Ragnar Kagenou.”

Kenjaku had once again taken over the body of another jujutsu sorcerer. As for Uraume, who had always been at his side, she was nowhere to be seen.

Most likely, because of Ragnar’s relentless pursuit, that first-grade curse user had already withdrawn ahead of time.

Ragnar smiled faintly.

“Then why keep running? Let me kill you, and I promise I won’t chase you anymore.”

The two of them stood in the middle of a broad street, less than a hundred meters apart.

Kenjaku gave a thin smile.

“You do have a sense of humor. In these thousand years, not a single jujutsu sorcerer has ever managed to kill me.”

Ragnar’s lips curved upward.

“Can’t kill you? Come here, then. Stick that head of yours out and let’s see whether your brain is harder than my Noble Phantasm.”

Kenjaku’s gaze sharpened.

“Who exactly are you?”

“A sorcerer from my era? Someone with an immortality-type Cursed Technique?”

From Ragnar’s words alone, Kenjaku could already tell one thing clearly—

This man knew far too much about him.

“Stop guessing,” Ragnar said flatly. “I’m not like you. I’m not some fossil from a dead age clinging to the present.”

Among those who had truly survived from ancient times until now, aside from Tengen, there was only Ryomen Sukuna.

And since Sukuna had formed a Binding Vow with Kenjaku—and stood on Kenjaku’s side—there was no way he would aid humanity.

That left only one possibility.

Tengen.

As a special grade sorcerer affiliated with Jujutsu High, Ragnar learning the truth through Tengen was not impossible.

After all, the current Tengen no longer cared about reason or humanity. What remained of that being was only an obsession with the endpoint of evolution.

Kenjaku narrowed his eyes.

“Then... there is only one answer. You’ve cooperated with Tengen.”

Since Kenjaku had already decided that for himself, there was no point in denying it.

Sizzle—

A figure in pitch-black clothing suddenly emerged beside Kenjaku, as if she had seeped out from the darkness itself.

From head to toe, she was wrapped in black, making it hard to see her clearly.

But the moment one’s eyes landed on her face, a cold shiver instinctively crawled up the spine.

That face was twisted beyond anything human.

It was as if an invisible hand had grabbed her features and kneaded them into something grotesque. Her eyes hung unevenly across her face, and her mouth stretched open far too wide, exposing a row of jagged teeth that gleamed with a cold, wet light.

And then there was the way she moved.

Her body bent and swayed like something boneless, twisting into angles no normal human being could ever reach. Every motion was stiff, unnatural, and deeply wrong, like a puppet forcing itself to dance after death.

No ordinary body could distort itself to that extent.

That alone proved what she was.

Kenjaku raised a hand and said calmly,

“Ragnar Kagenou, the time has come. In a battle to the death between jujutsu sorcerers, how could anyone afford to leave their opponent even a moment to breathe?”

His smile deepened.

“This is a gift I prepared especially for you. A special grade imaginary cursed spirit—Serbian Dancer.”

The moment his voice fell, Kenjaku’s body gradually began to turn transparent, as if he were melting into the air around him.

At the same time, the Serbian Dancer flashed toward Ragnar like a phantom.

Golden ripples bloomed behind him.

Rule Breaker shot out in an instant.

“Ahhhh—!!”

With a shrill scream, the Serbian Dancer burst apart into a puddle of black water.

Step. Step.

Footsteps echoed from behind him.

Ragnar turned.

The Serbian Dancer was standing there again.

The black water in front of him proved that the one from before had unquestionably been destroyed.

And yet the one behind him was identical.

Ragnar’s expression hardened slightly as he scanned the street.

“A duplicate? No... multiple cursed spirits?”

Sure enough, more Serbian Dancers began appearing across the dark street.

In an instant, the empty road became crowded.

People were everywhere—

No. Not people.

Cursed Spirits.

“What a pain.”

Ragnar reached into the Gate of Babylon and drew out a black-and-gold bow.

The Bow of the Sky.

He lifted it without hesitation.

“Offer this calamity.”

A blue arrow gathered in his right hand.

He nocked it against the bowstring and aimed toward the heavens.

“Complaint Arrow.”

The moment the blue arrow shot into the sky, the darkness above was torn apart.

What illuminated the night was not mere light—

It was the beginning of a divine bombardment.

Countless arrows of light descended from above like heavenly judgment, falling in a merciless storm.

Far in the distance, Kenjaku looked up at the sky now awash in radiance and muttered under his breath,

“What kind of technique is that...?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Not once. Not even in the ancient era.”

His expression darkened.

“Ragnar Kagenou... your existence is an even greater threat than the Six Eyes user.”

Even while thinking that, Kenjaku did not slow down for a second.

He fled at full speed.

Ragnar had no intention of wasting time exterminating every Serbian Dancer in the area.

He only needed to pin them down long enough to keep them from interfering.

His true target had always been Kenjaku.

As long as those troublesome cursed spirits stayed out of his way, that was enough.

Under the continuing rain of light, Ragnar kicked off the ground and sped out of the area, once more chasing after Kenjaku’s trail.

From that point on, Kenjaku became even more cautious than before.

He suppressed his presence to the extreme, to the point that even traces of his Cursed Energy were nearly impossible to detect.

“I can’t use Cursed Energy anymore,” Kenjaku thought grimly. “Not in this body. If I face him directly, I have no chance.”

Because of that, he completely abandoned the idea of direct confrontation and focused only on evading Ragnar’s pursuit.

If not for the observation-type Noble Phantasms in Ragnar’s possession, even finding the faintest trace of Kenjaku would have been a maddening task.

And yet Ragnar still kept chasing him.

From Serbia to Croatia.

From Croatia to Austria.

From Austria to Switzerland.

Then through France—

And at last, to the United Kingdom.

Noble Phantasm: Complaint Arrow

Rank: B

Type: Anti-Army Noble Phantasm

True Name: Phoebus Catastrophe Complaint Arrow

Description:

A Noble Phantasm associated with the huntress of Greek myth, Atalanta.

By drawing the divine bow granted by Artemis, she looses a prayer-filled arrow that calls upon the protection of Apollo and Artemis.

In response, destructive divine power descends as a calamity upon the enemy.

What follows is a torrent of light-arrows falling from the sky in overwhelming numbers, carrying out a wide-area annihilation attack.