JJK: Red Priest Pathway

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The longer these bastards stayed silent, the wider my grin became. Their nervous silence spoke volumes — far more than any words could. They didn't know how to react to my statements, unsure just how radical I might be compared to Satoru. Despite being masters of intrigue, even the most skilled manipulators sometimes face a force that lies beyond their understanding and control. And they knew that all too well — better than anyone else.

Finally, one of the elders, seemingly more decisive than the rest, spoke up. His voice was subdued and cautious, as though every word that left his lips had been carefully weighed:

"You're overstepping, boy. Every one of our actions, whether you like it or not, has been taken solely for the safety and order of the jujutsu world, and therefore…"

"Where were you when Satoru Gojo wasn't sealed yet?" I had no intention of wasting time on this hypocritical stream of justifications, so I cut him off mid-sentence.

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by another elder's voice from behind the screen at the opposite end of the hall:

"Satoru Gojo, for all his efforts, was the one who disrupted the balance. Yes, he tried to keep both sorcerers and curses in check, but what did it lead to?"

"Wasn't it you and Satoru who came up with the plan to flush out that group of curses by letting them attack Shibuya?" another voice chimed in mockingly from the right. "And after that, you dare accuse us of cruelty?"

Another heavy, oppressive silence followed. No one dared break it, but the tension was unbearable. The weak, raspy voice that first spoke to me pierced the silence once again, with a barely concealed sense of malice:

"Satoru Gojo was his own judge, and fate punished him for his arrogance. He disregarded the rules created to protect our world, and because of that, he had no right to call himself a true member of our society."

"Your methods are very similar to those of your mentor," another elder continued, his voice harsh. "They're unacceptable. They sow chaos among your own, Sukehiro Yami. They tear down the foundations that have been built for centuries. They lead us to a war no one can win."

Then, as if to further solidify their stance, one of the elders added:

"You don't like the decisions we've made? But what right do you have to barge in here and demand answers when you yourself have yet to face judgment for your own sins?"

Silence fell once more, heavy and suffocating, like leaden clouds before a storm. In the darkness, only the faint crackling of candles placed along the walls and the uneven breathing of the eight elders hidden behind their screens could be heard. Their silence stretched on far longer than before, as if each of them was carefully weighing their words, selecting them with the precision of someone preparing for a dangerous ritual. But I knew this time it was my turn to speak, and I had no intention of playing by their rules.

I could sense their mood, almost tangible in the air. These old schemers were preparing for a battle, but not one fought with weapons. No, this was a battle of words — where every sentence was a strike, every phrase a hidden trap. As a "Provocateur," I understood exactly the methods they were using: pressing on sore spots, tarnishing reputations with lies mixed with truth, and, most of all, subtle manipulations meant to play on my pride. These piles of old bones thought that with Satoru Gojo out of the picture, I'd let my ambitions burn and aim to take his place.

I took a step back, and my shadow stretched out even further across the floor, like a dark abyss ready to swallow everything around it.

"Rules?" My voice was quiet, but in the silence of the hall, it rang out like a clap of thunder. "Your rules are nothing but a way to cling to your power. You're not protecting the world, you're protecting yourselves."

I paused for a moment, letting my words sink in, and then, barely holding back a smirk, I continued:

"A war?" A bitter laugh slipped from my lips, but I quickly stifled it. "Sitting here in your 'grand' basement, distanced from the ordinary sorcerers, you've missed one simple truth — the real war has already begun. And it's not some battle against a vague, common enemy. It's with someone who's ready to burn your jujutsu world to the ground, along with your so-called traditions and rules. As for me, I'd call it 'cleaning up.' Clearing out the rot that's seeped into every corner of our world… your world."

"War is when two sides fight each other. And here, that's not the case. There are only the condemned and those who will carry out their sentence. I'm sure you're more than familiar with that concept," I said, my words slicing through the silence like a whip. The elders remained quiet, paralyzed by fear. I could feel their nerves stretching to the breaking point, like fragile threads ready to snap.

"So I'll ask you again: where were you all this time, before Satoru Gojo was sealed?" My voice was as hard as steel. "If your actions are supposed to bring order, why didn't you do anything until now?"

I spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out each word, as if trying to pull the truth from them — the truth they'd been hiding for so long. Deep down, I wanted these old cowards to admit that they were terrified of Satoru, that when he went against their so-called 'good intentions,' they just shoved their tongues up their asses and quietly watched, too afraid to defy their 'daddy.' Too bad reality is far more boring.

"Yuta Okkotsu will be here soon," one of the elders dared to speak, trying to intimidate me. "I don't think you're in a position to threaten us."

I just shook my head with a smirk.

"Why don't you think it over and figure out how I managed to crash this little secret gathering?"

My words caused a slight stir behind one of the screens, as if one of the elders had tried to conceal a sudden wave of anxiety.

"No one will stand by your side," another elder said, his voice strained, desperately trying to keep his composure.

"Maybe," I replied calmly, "but I'm not doing this for myself. And they'll only judge me after we deal with the current situation. Until then, I'll be doing them a big favor."

The hall was swallowed by silence again, so thick it felt like the air had turned sticky and heavy. In that silence, even the crackling of the candles seemed deafening, like a warning of what was to come.

"The fact that you're here today proves that we were right," a voice suddenly cut through the oppressive quiet.

I slowly shook my head, my eyes flashing with cold fire.

"The fact that I'm here today proves that from the very beginning, you were gravely mistaken."

In the next instant, without leaving any room for what they called a "civilized" way of resolving problems, I flung my arms wide.

"Third Spell: Wall of Fire!"

Sparks of flame erupted beneath my feet, swirling into a frenzied whirlwind. The embers, glowing crimson, morphed into two blazing serpents that raced along the walls without a moment's hesitation, leaving behind a fiery veil. At the far end of the hall, the serpents intertwined, forming a circular barrier of fire, sealing the space in a burning cocoon with no way out. Well, there was an exit, but it required setting one's soul ablaze, which for any of them would be the worst nightmare imaginable.

In the next moment, the hall was flooded with bright flashes of light — twenty-four fireballs ignited at once and, splitting into three groups of eight, hurtled toward each screen. The explosions merged into one deafening roar, and fire raged, devouring everything in its path. The desperate screams of the elders tore through the air.

I remained still, watching calmly as the destruction, like a wild force of nature, consumed what was once the unshakable center of power. The flames danced around me, their reflections flickering in my eyes like scarlet sparks of madness.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement — one of the elders bolted along the fiery wall, trying to escape. But before he could take another step, a crimson fire spear pierced his chest, pinning him to the wall. The brutal impact shattered bone, flesh, and organs with a sickening crack, leaving him no chance of survival.

Immediately after, I heard a piercing scream cut through the roar of the fire. Another elder burst out of the flames before me, wild determination blazing in his eyes as he lunged at me.

"First big technique: Palm Strike."

My hand, glowing red-hot like a blade, sliced effortlessly through the elder's flesh. With a single strike, the edge of my palm cleaved his body in two as easily as a knife through butter. His body split apart, collapsing to either side of me before he could even register his death.

Whether by misfortune or fate, the elders had been caught off guard, like rats in a trap; only two of them had managed to make any move before their demise. The fear I had sensed from them earlier now fed my flames like gasoline, transforming into pure, unadulterated terror. All this time, I watched as the elders sank one by one into the abyss of despair, their final thoughts filled with the realization of their

When the last elder fell, I finally allowed myself to relax. The once-grand hall now lay in ruins before me, engulfed in flames. No one remained who could hold the sorcerer society in their iron grip. Now, the future of sorcerers rested in the hands of those who could survive in this new, unforgiving world.

Casting one final glance at the raging fire, I turned and walked away with steady steps, leaving behind nothing but ruins and the charred remains of the past.