Curse Return: Demon Void Girl Doesn't Want to Be a Weakling

Mashiro got off the chair, her shoes making a soft sound as they hit the ground.

She walked straight to the long table, and the blood on the ground parted automatically as she approached, without staining her in the slightest.

"Next question," she said, looking at the trembling people in front of her.

They all looked at her, waiting for what she would say next.

Who were involved in Hisahito Itadori's execution?

No one answered, but it was clear that the crowd was starting to stir, and several people were breathing rapidly.

But Mashiro didn't care. She waited a few seconds and said, "Then let's all be executed."

Spatial rifts are generated at the neck of each person.

Instead of cutting directly in, she spread her arms around their necks.

It's like putting a collar on them.

A person lowered their head, their eyes rolling downwards, and saw the faint light in front of their neck.

His brain instantly understood that it was the thing that had blocked the door earlier.

His body stiffened, and he held his breath, afraid that an accidental touch would cost him his life.

Another person saw it too, and instinctively tried to tilt his head back to avoid it, but hit the back of his head and died on the spot.

Some people with poor mental fortitude closed their eyes and silently counted in their minds.

Count to three.

He told himself that as long as he counted to three and opened his eyes, everything would return to normal.

Blood, murderous attacks, Gojo Satoru, and the monster that looks like a little girl—all of it will disappear.

But when he counted to three and opened his eyes, he was plunged into despair.

Mashiro certainly didn't care whether they were desperate or not, or rather, she was the one who created this situation.

She clenched her fist, and the cracks closed in an instant.

A blade-like slit cuts into the skin, severing it.

Blood splattered everywhere, gushing out like a fountain.

A few people survived; they used their magical power to forcefully hold off the attack for a second at the last moment, thus escaping danger.

One of them got up from the ground, but he couldn't lift his left arm, and blood was flowing from the wound on his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth. If he didn't resist, he would die; if he resisted, he would have a sliver of hope!

The power of the spell surged from his palm and gathered into a point at his fingertips.

He rushed towards Mashiro.

"Sigh, wouldn't it be better to just die obediently?" Mashiro sighed, about to move but then stopped.

Gojo Satoru's figure disappeared halfway through his charge, and reappeared behind the other person.

He pressed his palm against the back of the other person's head and threw him forward, sending him flying through the air as he tumbled and crashed toward where Mashiro was.

Gojo Satoru flashed several times in succession, interrupting everyone's attack and then throwing them over.

Several people fell one after another in front of Mashiro. They tried to get up, but their arms slipped on the ground in the pool of blood.

A person coughed up blood as soon as he raised his upper body; his ribs were broken and had pierced his lungs.

A person arched their back, bracing themselves on their elbows, and the wound on their back reopened, causing them to fall back to the ground in pain.

When Gojo Satoru threw it at them, he had already seriously injured them, rendering them unable to get up again.

Mashiro looked at them, kicked an overturned chair aside, and walked to the person closest to her.

"Wait a minute." The person lying on the ground stretched out a hand.

His fingers were trembling, and blood kept seeping from the wound. "Wait, I can explain! I was forced to vote, the conservatives..."

"It doesn't matter anymore." Mashiro kicked him in the chin. "All I'm going to do now is kill you all."

"what!"

His chin was struck hard, and he slid backward from the ground, crashing into the corner of the wall. The back of his head hit the wall, and his eyes rolled back before he forced them open again.

Mashiro walked up to the next person.

The man had given up and stood up. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and opened his mouth as if to beg for mercy.

Shiro's feet stepped on his shoulders, pressing down.

He was pressed flat on the floor, and his shoulder bones made a faint cracking sound.

The third person crawled backward; one of his legs was immobile, and he dragged it, leaving a crooked trail in the pool of blood.

He climbed up to the wall, leaned against it, and looked up at the direction from which Mashiro had come.

He was trembling all over, and tears mixed with blood were welling up in his eyes.

"Please, I was wrong! Spare my life, I won't do it again, I promise—"

Cong Yu appeared in his hand, the cold light of the blade gleaming in the council hall where the blood mist had not yet dissipated.

"I hate apologizing afterward the most."

The rain fell.

Blood splattered from the cut and stopped half a meter away from Shiro.

Next cut.

Another cut.

She flung Cong Yu away, and the blood on the knife was flung off and landed on the wall. The three of them were now completely immobilized.

The blood floating in front of him was flicked by Mashiro and thrown towards Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru leaned against the long table. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

He didn't look at the corpse on the ground from beginning to end; he was looking at Mashiro's back.

He didn't react when the blood flew over, and it hit the bottomless pit directly before sliding down.

Gojo Satoru looked at the blood on the ground: "What does this mean? Revenge?"

"Tch." Mashiro, seeing that she hadn't managed to get the blame onto him, pouted. "You're right."

Gojo Satoru shrugged and moved away from the table.

He used the tip of his shoe to hook up an overturned chair and right it, then glanced at the reports and maps on the table that were soaked in blood.

"We can let Principal Rakuganji take over from here on out," Gojo Satoru said, then chuckled. "Should we call him the leader of Rakuganji now?"

"Call me whatever you want." Mashiro pulled Murasame back into her body, stood in the pool of blood for a moment, and looked down at the soles of her shoes.

Very good, no blood on it. It seems I'm getting more and more skilled at using my water control technique.

She nodded in satisfaction.

"Let's go." Gojo Satoru put his hands back in his pockets, stepped over the corpse at the door, and walked out.

Mashiro followed behind him, "Do we still need the meeting minutes?"

"Let Leyan Temple worry about this themselves, I can't be bothered with it."

"That's true, he'll have to clean up the mess himself once he takes over."

"Do you think Leyan Temple might appear calm on the surface, but is actually overjoyed?"

Gojo Satoru imagined the scene of Rakuganji jumping up with joy, and Muryu couldn't help but hold back.

"Anyone would be happy to get promoted, but it's not like it's you who should be jumping up and down, is it?"

"Mashiro-chan, aren't you being a little too malicious towards me?"

"You're right."

The two sorcerers standing outside the door stood ramrod straight, not daring to move, watching them walk out of the building while bickering.

Two monsters!

All the high-ranking officials inside died; it was incredibly lucky that the two of them survived.

How much do you get paid a month to work so hard for higher-ups?

The sorcerer on the left collapsed to the ground after watching them leave the building.

"I've made up my mind, I'm going back to my hometown to get married."

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