I'm particularly new to writing (this being my first story and all that), and I decided to write this on a whim. My writing might be bad, it might not. Time will tell.

The feel of grass on his skin. The cool breeze blowing through the air, rustling his hair. The chirps of birds in the air.

Gojo Satoru's eyes opened, staring up at the night sky.

He had died. He knew for sure. He had hesitated to kill Sukuna, knowing that Megumi was still in there somewhere.

And it had cost him his life. A Dismantle, enhanced by a binding vow, had cut straight through his Infinity, bisecting the white haired man. The King of Curses had praised him, as he lay on his deathbed, bleeding out.

To be praised by the strongest, when he himself proclaimed to be the Strongest. What a shitty joke the world played on him.

Oh well. Not much he could do now, could he? He could only put his trust in his students.

I have faith in them. They're my students after all.

The thought gave him some reassurance.

He was dead. He should be, at least. He had seen some other late friends and colleagues at a familiar airport, and was presented with a choice. North, or south. North, to be reborn anew. South, to stay true to his roots.

Naturally, he chose south. No way he was going to give up on Gojo Satoru and be reborn as some nobody (or even worse, a Zenin). He was not Gojo Satoru because he was the Strongest. He was the Strongest because he was Gojo Satoru.

Whether he was defined by his strength, or his strength defined by him, it didn't matter. It would be his legacy, his spot in the hall of legends of Jujutsu society, and his love for his students that truly mattered.

Gojo sat up. He was surrounding by trees, in a dark, lush forest. He quickly got up, dusting off his martial pants.

Ah.

Scars. On his arms, right below the elbows, vicious scars ran across his forearms. The same for his torso. Right below his belly button, another cruel scar. Remnants from the Dismantle.

Damn it.

His perfect body had been scarred. Gojo could only sigh. He welled up his cursed energy, attempting to remove the scars with reverse cursed technique.

What the hell?

The first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of cursed energy. His reserves were almost completely depleted, despite the fact that Six Eyes would never allow that. Perhaps it was expended to revive him, whatever weird technique was used certainly cost him a lot of energy.

Little less than 1% of his standard reserves remained. It'd take a while to replenish, maybe a couple hours at most.

Gojo let out another sigh, and summoned the little bit of cursed energy, transforming it into positive energy.

Sss...

Nothing. Despite the RCT relieving him of his soreness and any other small scrape or cut he got, presumably from having lied on the ground for so long, the scars remained. Seems like it was permanent. He stuck his tongue out in annoyance.

He started to channel his cursed energy, recovering it. His Infinity barrier was still up and running, so as far as Gojo knew, he was still invincible.

For the most part.

Sukuna truly was a crafty bastard. He'd have to refine Infinity again. But, how? Gojo had guessed that the enhanced Dismantle Sukuna hit him with targeted him directly.

As if it cut through the world itself.

He frowned. That would be tricky to tackle, especially considering all the implications that held. But for now, he had other problems to deal with...

Grr...

Pitch black wolf-like creatures creeped through the bushes and trees. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be more werewolf-like. Patches of white bone covered their body, the most noticeable being the skull mask that rested on their faces, sporting red markings, not too dissimilar from Sukuna's markings.

Their blood red eyes oozed with hatred, hunger, and malice as a pack of these creatures stalked Gojo.

They kinda look like Megumi's Divine Dogs... except they're way uglier. Gojo mused. Although, the most interesting thing was that they possessed cursed energy, albeit minuscule.

They don't seem like cursed spirits...

The creatures' numbers grew, to...

34. Gojo counted.

It reminded him of the Shibuya Incident. Hundreds of transfigured humans, courtesy of Mahito. Although, these seemed to be a fraction of a bit deadlier. One of the creatures lunged at him, swiping its vicious claw. The claw stopped right before Satoru, Infinity taking effect. The creature seemed confused, slashing with its other claw.

It couldn't understand. The creature tried to bite down, only to hit an invisible force. A wicked grin spread across Gojo's face.

Still invincible.

Another attempt of a bite was met by a cursed energy-enhanced punch, blowing off the creature's head easily. Gojo watched with interest as its corpse turned to ash, disintegrating.

Well then. He turned to the rest of the pack, scanning them. The creatures seemed to hesitate, wary of this prey that so easily killed one of their own.

Gojo rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and stretched his legs.

"Well, if it's gonna be like that..."

In a burst of speed, he suddenly reappeared in front of another creature. A punch blew a hole through its torso. A kick decapitated another.

"I'll have to make the first move!"

The creatures suddenly found themselves in the midst of a slaughter, with them being the victims. Gojo easily dispatched one after another with basic punches, kicks, and the occasional grab.

These guys are surprisingly fragile.

They were comparable to maybe a Grade 4 cursed spirit. In numbers, they might pose a threat, but Gojo was simply just better in every aspect. There was no need to use Limitless.

Their bodies crumpled like cardboard beneath his basic attacks and faded into ashes, leaving no trace. Their attacks did absolutely nothing to the man, stopped by Infinity as he utterly decimated the pack.

Soon enough, they were all dead, wiped out by the sorcerer, who hadn't even broken a sweat.

Is that it? Gojo wondered. It was a good warmup fight, but nowhere near what he had expected. He sighed, and looked up at the night sky again. His eyes widened momentarily, his brows furrowing.

A broken moon?

Around a fourth of the moon had been shattered, the chunks of lunar rock tied down by gravity to keep them from floating away. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't Shinjuku, or even Japan.

Is this even Earth?

There were no recognizable stars in the sky, except one that shone brighter than the rest. Maybe Polaris? The forest was also unfamiliar. Six Eyes couldn't detect any humans within the vicinity...

Only more of those creatures, the not-cursed spirits. This time, there seemed to be more variety. The wolf-like ones gathered in even greater numbers this time, followed up by bigger ones that looked like a bear, and some that looked like boars.

Larger versions of the aforementioned appeared as well, covered in more bone armor and more spikes as well.

Elite versions, huh?

The elites let out war calls, echoing throughout the forest, sending birds scattering. Howls and roars echoed back. More and more creatures began to appear. Eventually, the creatures' numbers reached well over a hundred.

259. Gojo counted. He cracked his knuckles.

Another warmup.

Not even ten minutes later, the entire horde of creatures had been utterly destroyed. The fodder died from one well-placed punch or kick, and the elites followed soon after, letting out weak groans of defeat as they disintegrated.

Infinity had done its job well, allowing no attack to ever reach Gojo. His cursed energy reserves had fully replenished during the massacre, but again, Gojo didn't feel the need to use his Limitless's more advanced applications.

He quite enjoyed brawling with his hands and feet, and the creatures posed no threat to him whatsoever, as they only used physical attacks, something that Infinity would never allow to even graze Gojo.

Gojo dusted off his clothes in a mocking gesture towards his enemies. The compression shirt and the martial pants were in tatters, and stained with blood.

My blood.

A sour expression crossed Gojo's face. His hand absentmindedly ran over the scar on his stomach.

At least the slippers are fine. I hate walking barefoot.

He took another moment to survey his surroundings. Six Eyes didn't detect any creatures. He took a deep breath of the crisp, cool night air.

Between his release from the Prison Realm, to his death, Gojo had been working and training nonstop to prepare himself and the other sorcerers to fight against Sukuna.

I wonder when was the last time I could do something like this.

Gojo began to walk in one direction, south. He didn't know why he picked this particular direction. He just felt like it.

A nice, calming little walk.

Gojo came across a little clearing within the forest, a small river running through it.

He knelt and dipped his hand in. Cool, clear, and running. It wouldn't help to just have a little sip, would he? The last time he had eaten or drank was a week before Shinjuku. Sure, he could use RCT to prevent his body's degradation from lack of nutrition, but where's the fun in that?

Gojo cupped his hands into the water, only for his eyebrows to shoot up all the way to his hairline.

Staring back at him was Gojo. Obviously, it was him. But, why did he look so young?

He reached up and poked himself in the face. He looked like a highschooler again!

Thankfully, his body seemed to have kept the muscle he had put on in the latter half of his short life, but the confusion remained.

Is this a side effect? Gojo assumed it was probably just from the technique that resurrected him... assuming it even was a technique.

Just what the hell is going on?

Gojo had many, many questions. Where is this place? What is this place? What were those creatures?

Who brought me here?

Gojo had gone south, expecting to revive on the battlefield to join in the fight against Sukuna through some sort of bullshit binding vow (which is what Gojo had been planning on doing), assuming Yuta didn't follow through on the plan he had suggested. But this, this was completely unexpected.

The strongest sorcerer, in an unfamiliar forest, beneath an unfamiliar sky with a broken moon. Gojo could only grumble as he began to use RCT to get his own blood off of him.

What a hassle.

This is my first time writing something like this, so criticism and reviews are appreciated!