The Fly Head nodded and backed out of the office.
Sōjun Minamoto's eyes flickered slightly. That mutt might act like a fool, but the results it delivered were solid.
Just needed a little polishing.
He turned his focus inward, carefully sensing the twenty-one cursed energy sources now integrated into his body. It sounded like a lot, but it was far less than he had hoped.
Still a long way to go.
The more curses, the better. Even scraps add up. That's why he hadn't abandoned his collaboration with Suguru Geto on collecting cursed spirits.
With one hand resting on the back of the sofa, he extended his perception all the way to the throne in Jujutsu High. Everything was stable. He mentally reviewed the structure of the energy-granting system once more...
Before long, the Fly Head returned with a middle-aged man in tow. Sōjun Minamoto could sense it—this one had high emotional value.
They knocked politely before entering.
The Fly Head moved to stand silently behind Sōjun Minamoto.
The middle-aged man stepped inside. The moment his eyes met those starlit ones across the room, he immediately looked away, not daring a second glance.
He stood at a respectful distance, visibly nervous. Even Beelzebub-sama himself had to seek this man's approval...
"My lord," he said, bowing deeply.
"Have a seat," Sōjun Minamoto said gently, gesturing to the sofa opposite.
The man hesitated, unsure whether to sit or keep standing. He didn't dare look straight at Sōjun Minamoto, only sneaking glances. But seeing the gentle expression on his face, he finally relaxed a little and sat down stiffly.
"Relax," Sōjun Minamoto said again, his voice carrying an almost magical effect that immediately calmed the man.
A surge of heat bloomed in the man's chest. He could feel something different about this moment.
Beelzebub-sama had always seemed divine, even holy, but there had never been a sense of distance. He was awe-inspiring but approachable.
This man, though kind in tone, radiated overwhelming distance. His gentleness didn't invite familiarity—in fact, even entertaining thoughts about who he was felt like sacrilege.
And those star-like eyes... combined with the sect's name, could it be... His emotions surged again.
Sōjun Minamoto, of course, didn't care about the man's inner thoughts. He could generally sense emotions now, and the stronger they were, the clearer they became.
This one's emotions were wildly unstable. Though he appeared respectful, that feeling was absent from his emotional output.
Which made sense. The average Church of the Stars follower usually held prominent positions in society. Their supposed reverence was just calculated humility, a means to an end.
Sōjun Minamoto didn't mind. Whether they had ill intentions or what kind of person they were didn't matter. As long as they met the conditions and provided enough emotional value, he had no reason to withhold power.
And in his perception, this man qualified.
He gave a subtle signal. The Fly Head stepped forward, guided by Sōjun Minamoto's own control, and came to stand before the man, eyes lowered.
The middle-aged man broke into a cold sweat, confused, glancing up slightly at the Fly Head. Strangely, its aura now resembled that of the man on the sofa.
"Close your eyes," the Fly Head said softly.
The man obeyed without hesitation.
The Fly Head gently took his right hand and placed its other hand on the back of it. Cursed energy surged, weaving black lines that formed a mirror-like sigil on the back of his hand—with a single star glimmering at the center.
It only took a moment.
The Cursed Energy Sigil was successfully engraved. The mirror symbolized the Fly Head's gluttony, and the star represented a 7-gram eyeball—the Golden Core—meant to stabilize the curse and prevent it from dissipating.
In essence, the eyeball had become the man's source of cursed energy.
He felt a sudden fullness within, as if he'd been floating all this time and had finally set foot on solid ground.
This was the power he had longed for.
"You're good. Open your eyes and take a look."
The voice snapped him out of it.
He opened his eyes and instinctively looked across the sofa. There, surrounding the man, was a dense black mist he hadn't noticed before.
What was that?
He tried to focus, and the moment he did, the man's figure disappeared. The bright daylight turned instantly into darkness. Day flipped to night, and in front of him stretched a starry sky. Constellations glimmered, rings of stars spun gently, their soft light illuminating his face.
Was he... face-to-face with the cosmos?
He kept focusing. Deep within the sky, a pair of strange eyes slowly came into view. Those eyes had an irresistible pull, drawing his mind toward them. As he stared, they grew clearer—filled with countless swirling vortices.
And he was being drawn in—deeper and deeper.
Snap—
A crisp sound echoed through the room, jolting the middle-aged man awake.
"Congratulations. You've stepped into the world of Jujutsu."
The starry sky faded. That man, still seated across from him, wore the same gentle expression, eyes shimmering like a sea of stars.
So this is what "stars" truly meant?
The middle-aged man was speechless. He slowly raised his right hand and turned it over, studying the mirror-like sigil etched into his skin. Black mist, faintly familiar, coiled around his hand.
A surge of power welled up inside him—he understood now.
"This is Cursed Energy. The source of your power." The voice confirmed what he already sensed.
He looked down at the single star within the sigil.
But... it was too small. Too little.
"How do I... get more?" His voice burned with yearning as he looked directly across at the man.
Sōjun Minamoto smiled slightly. The change in the man was significant—but exactly what he had wanted.
"Turn your palm upward," he said.
The man obeyed, staring blankly at his hand. Where once the skin was smooth and pale, a slit slowly opened across the palm. Rows of razor-sharp teeth revealed themselves, and a soft, scarlet tongue curled within the dark depth of the maw.
An instinctive understanding surfaced in his mind: The Mouth of Gluttony—devour curses to gain power.
It was a simple embedded message, one that Sōjun Minamoto had deliberately designed. But the man fully grasped its meaning.
He glanced at Sōjun Minamoto, excitement stirring in his chest.
With another snap of his fingers, a massive black mouth appeared in the air above the man's head. Two rows of jagged teeth opened and closed rhythmically, making a distinct click-clack sound.
The scarlet tongue flicked across the top of his head. Now that he could see curses, he noticed a puff of black mist pass before his eyes.
Cold sweat ran down his face.
Those who "believe" in the Fly Head gain the ability to devour curses—what Sōjun Minamoto called the Mouth of Gluttony. Of course, he didn't care if it was called the Glutton's Mouth, Devouring Mouth, or anything else. The name was arbitrary. Its power would grow as it consumed more curses, with Sōjun Minamoto as the upper limit.
"As you can see, one path to strength..."
Sōjun Minamoto leaned forward, and the middle-aged man instinctively lowered his head. In a low voice, he said:
"One—devour curses. The more you consume, the greater your cursed energy will grow. More stars will appear on your mirror."
"Two—indulge yourself without restraint. Sink into pleasure. The deeper your depravity, the stronger you'll become."
The man stared in stunned silence.
He'd heard of the Jujutsu world before. That greeting—"Welcome to the world of curses"—had confirmed it. But hearing that second method spoken aloud, especially from someone who seemed to be subtly encouraging it... he couldn't suppress the thrill rising inside him.
For someone like him, pleasure-seeking was second nature. Power and influence weren't lacking in his life. What else was left to chase?
Indulgence—he had more than enough of that.
Sōjun Minamoto, seeing the man slipping into another daydream of excess, maintained his soft tone.
"Spend some time getting familiar with your power. After that, the Mouth of Gluttony will guide you."
He added a final reminder.
"Just don't use your abilities on ordinary people."
Ordinary people?
Was he no longer one of them?
The man left, his heart filled with anticipation. His attitude had shifted entirely from when he first entered—though whether he even heard Sōjun Minamoto's warning was unclear.
That's the kind of reaction people have when they're suddenly granted power. Sōjun Minamoto wasn't disappointed. It's rare to find someone who instantly becomes a "master of power."
This one had been respectful at first, now arrogant. Sōjun Minamoto didn't mind. These were exactly the kind of people who would stop at nothing to chase strength. They'd hunt more curses, offer more emotional value.
But they also meant trouble.
Too many like him could destabilize the lower and mid-tiers of the Jujutsu world, potentially drawing the Higher-Ups' attention and suppression. That would go against Sōjun Minamoto's principle of discreet curse containment.
So rules were necessary—no harming non-sorcerers without cause, no displaying powers in front of civilians. Ideally, they'd evolve into a force that exclusively targeted curses, leaning slightly positive in nature.
Otherwise, there'd be friction not just with the jujutsu community, but even with Suguru Geto's faction.
That would clash with his original plan.
His goal was to root his system among ordinary people, drawing emotional value while not abandoning curses—developing both sides in parallel to accelerate cursed assimilation.
From a human-wide perspective, it benefited everyone.
As for their personalities or mental states... wasn't that normal? The Jujutsu world had never lacked for people like that.
Next, he would leave this clone stationed within the Church of the Stars. There, he would establish a "doctrine" and guide the development of these artificial sorcerers.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake