Another two years had passed, and in that time, Naoya discovered something bizarre—almost silly—about his Cursed Technique.
While experimenting inside his Domain Expansion, he had been obsessively trying to manipulate time. Using one of Geto's time-altering Cursed Spirits as a reference, he continuously altered the conditions of his domain to mimic it. Every attempt ended in failure. Still, it wasn't a complete waste—his understanding of Domains and their barriers had increased drastically.
One day, during another test inside his Domain, he suddenly got the idea to use the neutral application of his technique—Projection Sorcery—to try and target the "time" of that space directly.
The result was catastrophic.
The moment he attempted it, his entire cursed energy reserve was instantly drained. His Domain collapsed, and he suffered a massive backlash that nearly killed him on the spot. Barely clinging to life, he quickly healed himself with Reverse Cursed Technique... and then started laughing.
Because in that moment of failure, he became certain of one thing:
His Cursed Technique could target anything. No matter what.
Over the following weeks, Naoya ran more tests. He eventually concluded something groundbreaking:
The cursed energy cost of his ability depends entirely on the dimensional nature of the thing he's trying to freeze.
In basic cases—like humans, objects, or air, which exist in 3D—the cost was manageable. But when he tried to interact with higher-dimensional concepts, like time or space (which are 4D), the cost became incomprehensible. According to his calculations, even if he had the combined cursed energy of 100 Sukunas, it still wouldn't be enough to freeze time—even for one second.
Further experiments revealed more insights:
The higher the dimension, the more cursed energy it consumes.
The bigger the target (on a dimensional level), the cheaper the cost.
Freezing 2D entities required barely any energy.
1D entities? Practically free.
This discovery reshaped Naoya's entire understanding of his ability.
It wasn't just about speed anymore—it was about dimensional manipulation.
Then, the breakthrough happened.
One night, while driving his sports car and braking hard in one spot, he suddenly remembered something from a physics book:
"The Earth rotates at about 1,670 kilometers per hour at the equator. You're never really standing still."
That offhand remark lodged itself deep in Naoya's mind.
He began researching rotational momentum, angular velocity, and inertial force—fundamental principles governing motion on Earth. Then the realization hit:
Earth's rotational momentum—a 3D force governed by 4D physics—was a loophole.
Why bother stopping time directly (a 4D concept) when he could simply target the 3D kinetic energy caused by Earth's rotation?
By isolating a fixed area in space and using his cursed technique to momentarily cancel the rotational momentum within it, everything inside would be obliterated by the world still spinning at 1,670 km/h.
Buildings would collapse.
Humans would be torn apart.
It would be a localized apocalypse.
Just imagine driving a car at 1,670 km/h—and it suddenly stops instantly.
That became his Maximum Technique.
A terrifying application of his Projection Sorcery—not a special technique, just its natural extension.
But why he considered a Maximum Technique?
Because although it's just Projection Sorcery using the 24fps rule, Naoya can't normally perceive Earth's rotational momentum. Humans can't feel gravity or light directly, much less something like global spin.
So, he created a Binding Vow:
He would permanently sacrifice 20% of his cursed energy reserves, and in exchange, gain the ability to target Earth's rotational momentum.
This is so funny.
He could end civilization using this.
Because Earth's momentum is a massive 3D target, the cost to freeze it is laughably low. Even lower than freezing a human.
Just think about it.
You don't use your own strength.
You use the planet's own force against itself.
It's physics as a murder weapon.
And he figured out how to pull the trigger.
But there was a problem…
Targeting smaller areas.
Precision.
The smaller the area he tried to isolate and stop, the more cursed energy it consumed—exponentially. It wasn't a question of willpower or talent. It was math. Dimensional cost. A law of cursed physics.
So, Naoya carved a solution into his own flesh.
He forged a new Binding Vow—to make this world-ending technique even remotely usable without killing everyone. In exchange for power, he chained himself to ritual.
To activate the technique, Naoya must:
Stand still for 10 full seconds without interruption.
Chant each word slowly and clearly, one per breath:
"Spin. Axis. False Stillness.
Frame Break. Kinetic Theft. Celestial Dissonance.
Maximum Technique: Axis of Death."
And within those 10 seconds, he must also perform 150 precise hand signs.
Even then, the cost is devastating.
Eighty percent of his cursed energy, burned in an instant.
And the smallest possible effect?
A 300-meter radius.
That's the minimum.
A technique so brutal, it could annihilate the entire world—
and its weakest output still erases a city block.
A technique so delicate, a single missed hand sign, a single flinched syllable,
and the entire process collapses.
But when it lands?
It's not just destruction.
It's not a battle won.
It's the end of civilization.
…
Makima, now four years old and three feet of tiny tyranny, marched up to Naoya like she owned the entire Zenin estate.
"I'm four now," she said, arms crossed. "Do what you promised."
Naoya, halfway through shoving rice into his mouth while insulting a clan elder, choked.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Makima didn't blink. "You said you'd train me when I was four."
"I also said Santa was real when you were two. Doesn't mean I meant it."
Shee stared him down, unbothered. "You're stalling."
Naoya stood slowly, tossing his chopsticks onto the tray like a man preparing for war. "I don't train kids."
Makima tilted her head. "You said I'd be your legacy. I memorized that word."
Naoya narrowed his eyes. "Tch. I was drunk. And I only said that if you were a boy."
Makima just stared at him.
Naoya groaned, like his soul was trying to escape his body. "Tch... fine. Did you awaken your cursed technique yet?"
Makima tilted her head. "Cursed technique?"
Naoya blinked. "Wait. You don't even know what that is?"
She shook her head.
"You never explained anything to me."
"Agh, what a pain in the ass... fine, let me show you." He pointed lazily across the room. "You see those two bottles of sake over there?"
Makima nodded, curious.
Naoya rolled his shoulders, then began channeling cursed energy—the same way the Finger Bearer in the original show. He raised his arm, opened his palm, and aimed at the bottle.
Boom.
A burst of pure golden cursed energy exploded from his hand, striking the sake bottle dead-on and obliterating it in a single flash of raw force. The air trembled. The floor creaked.
Makima's eyes widened, but she said nothing.
Then Naoya lifted a single finger.
This time a tiny white rectangle appeared—an animated frame suspended in the air, delicate and glowing. Inside it, a single air particle froze in place.
Crack.
He flicked his finger.
The frame shattered like glass.
BOOM.
A precise shockwave exploded forward, slamming into the second sake bottle. It didn't just shatter—it vanished, disintegrated by the sheer pressure. The wall behind it blew open in a perfect circle, the wind howling through. Curtains flared. Makima's black hair whipped around her face like she'd stepped into a storm.
"The first one was cursed energy. The second—a cursed technique."
He looked down at her. "Now do you understand?"
Makima blinked.
"Hmm… not at all."
.............................................................................
Give me your power stones