A player in Jujutsu Kaisen

The powerup [109]

As Mahito's transfigured hands lunged, Kenjaku's curse manipulation propelled him through the air with effortless grace. But a projectile materialized beside him, aimed not at him, but at the very essence of his domain. With his anti-gravity still cooling down, Kenjaku conjured a lesser curse as a shield, deflecting the attack. He landed with a slight stumble, his usual composure momentarily shaken.

"Missed?" he rasped, his gaze following the projectile's trajectory. It hadn't struck him or his barrier, but rather the domain itself, leaving a faint, ominous crack. While barrierless, his domain wasn't invincible.

Outside, Kenzo observed with keen eyes. The relentless assault on Mahito's barrier had indeed weakened it, a small crack now visible. Though very much applicable to Gojo's impregnable domain, this knowledge held potential for other situations.

Understanding the danger, Kenjaku unleashed a barrage of potent techniques, aiming to shatter Mahito's domain before the weakness could be exploited further. The air crackled with cursed energy, shaking the warehouse.

Emboldened, Mahito retaliated with renewed vigor. He manipulated the domain itself, transforming it into a weapon, sharp tendrils lashing out at Kenjaku. The domain became a battleground, reflecting their inner conflict.

But Kenjaku, centuries of experience honed into tactical brilliance, wouldn't be easily outmaneuvered. He adapted, his manipulations weaving through the shifting landscape. He knew another hit like the first could be fatal, even for a barrierless domain.

The battle raged, the outcome hanging precariously. Would Kenjaku's relentless assault prevail, leaving Mahito crushed? Or would Mahito capitalize on the crack, turning the tables on the ancient sorcerer in a surprising display of cunning?

The tension within the domain grew suffocating, the air thick with anticipation. Each clash carried the weight of their ambitions, ideologies, and lives. The domain, a reflection of their struggles, stood on the precipice of shattering, and with it, the fate of both combatants.

Kenzo's words echoed within the fractured domain, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a shard of ice. The battle had indeed dragged on, each parry and thrust a testament to the combatants' unwavering resolve. But impatience was a luxury neither Kenjaku nor Mahito could afford.

Suddenly, a shift. Mahito's eyes lit up, a surge of power coursing through his veins. Kenzo's intervention, though subtle, had tipped the scales. Mahito felt his Idle Transfiguration amplified, his control over the domain reaching a new peak. With a predatory grin, he touched the floor, and in an instant, twenty monstrous transfigured creatures materialized, each snarling and ready for the fray.

His limitations were gone. Anything within his reach could be twisted into his weapon, his domain now a twisted menagerie of his warped imagination. He unleashed his creations, a wave of teeth, claws, and grotesque forms crashing towards Kenjaku.

But the ancient sorcerer didn't flinch. Instead, a curious smile played on his lips. He saw in this display not desperation, but desperation's twisted cousin: audacity. Mahito, cornered and amplified, was throwing everything he had at the wall, hoping something would stick.

Kenjaku, ever the observer, raised a hand, his grin widening. "Fascinating," he murmured. "A desperate gamble, but one fueled by a power you barely understand. Let's see how long you can sustain it."

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed his own cursed technique. The grotesque faces within his domain contorted, their expressions shifting from pain to amusement. They spewed forth torrents of cursed energy, not to break the domain, but to disrupt it, to sow chaos within the very fabric of Mahito's control.

The battleground trembled. Mahito's transfigured creations stumbled, their forms flickering inconsistently as Kenjaku's attack clashed with their essence. The domain itself pulsed erratically, reflecting the internal struggle for dominance.

Mahito, his eyes blazing with manic intensity, roared in defiance. He poured every ounce of his newfound power into maintaining control, his hands constantly moving, transfiguring the very ground beneath him to reinforce his creations, to counter Kenjaku's assault.

The air crackled with raw power, the domain a battleground of conflicting energies. Would Mahito's amplified power, fueled by desperation and Kenzo's intervention, be enough to break Kenjaku's domain? Or would the ancient sorcerer's experience and cunning prevail, crushing Mahito's gamble under the weight of his superior control?

The outcome hung in the balance, the fate of the battle teetering on the edge of a knife. The air grew thick with anticipation, the silence broken only by the clash of cursed energies and the guttural roars of transfigured creature.

The abrupt collapse of Kenjaku's domain left a stunned silence in its wake. The only sound was the ragged breaths of both combatants, momentarily suspended in disbelief. Mahito, his porcelain mask cracking further with his manic grin, savored the unexpected victory. This was his chance, his twisted vindication against the ancient sorcerer who had played him for so long.

His sure-hit cursed techniques surged back into effect, and with a predatory glint in his eyes, he unleashed a barrage of attacks at the exposed Kenjaku. The air crackled with cursed energy as Kenjaku, caught off guard, scrambled to defend himself.

Meanwhile, outside the shattered domain, Kenzo watched with a contemplative frown. In his hand, the Prison Realm pulsed with a dark energy, a powerful artifact capable of holding even the most formidable cursed spirits. His gaze lingered on the swirling energy, then shifted towards the broken domain.

....
He will have to actually release his sensei now,there was no point in stalling now.