Domain clash {107}

A chilling laugh echoed through the crumbling warehouse as Mahito's words hung heavy in the air. "You can't run forever, old man!" His porcelain mask distorted further, mirroring the growing frustration beneath. As his words fell, the floor beneath him rippled, the concrete seemingly twisting in response to his will. It flowed like molten metal, solidifying into smooth, obsidian tendrils that shot towards Kenjaku, seeking to ensnare him like grasping vines.

Kenjaku, ever the enigmatic figure, remained perched atop his airborne cursed technique, seemingly unaffected by the shifting terrain. A faint smile played on his lips as he observed the display. "Fascinating indeed," he mused, more to himself than Mahito. "This manipulation of inanimate objects... and the enhanced shadow soldiers... The influence of Kenzo's power amplifies your transfiguration."

His amusement only fueled Mahito's fury. With a growl that ripped through the smoke-filled air, he reached within himself, twisting his own soul with a surge of cursed energy. Razor-sharp obsidian wings materialized from his back, propelling him skyward in a blur of black and fury. This time, his aim was true, his transfigured limbs lashing out at Kenjaku with pinpoint precision.

But the ancient sorcerer anticipated the attack. He danced through the air, his own cursed technique responding with uncanny agility. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a barrage of Grade 4 curses, each crackling with potent cursed energy and amplified further by his own reserves. Mahito, once so confident, was forced to defend in a flurry of transfigured shields and hardened limbs. Yet, the sheer volume of attacks overwhelmed him, one potent blast striking its mark and sending him hurtling towards the earth.

He crashed through the concrete with a bone-jarring thud, the dust settling around him in a choking cloud. Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the ragged gasps escaping Mahito's lips. He raised his head, his mask fractured and his eyes blazing with hatred. "Aren't you just a... disgusting parasite?!" His voice, usually laced with playful malice, held a new edge of venom. "Using tricks and stolen power... You're no better than the maggots you manipulate!"

Mahito, his grin replaced by a grimace, abandoned all pretense of games. His body morphed once more, taking on the grotesque, monstrous form that pulsed with raw power. Spikes erupted from his limbs, his teeth lengthened into fangs, and an aura of pure malice radiated from him. This was his true killing form, defense and offence boosted to their maximum.

Kenjaku, ever the observer, raised an eyebrow, genuine surprise flickering across his usually stoic face. "Evolved indeed," he murmured, a rare note of admiration coloring his voice. "Show me the fruits of your cursed evolution, Mahito."

The young curse wasted no time. He blurred forward, leaving an afterimage in his wake. One moment he was across the room, the next his grotesque hand was inches from Kenjaku's face. A powerful kick followed, a torrent of cursed energy and raw power aimed to send the ancient sorcerer flying.

Kenjaku reacted with preternatural speed, deflecting the kick with a raised forearm. Yet, the force sent him hurtling backwards, skidding across the rough concrete. Dust and debris rained down as he came to a halt, a slight grimace momentarily replacing his calm facade.

But before Mahito could capitalize on his advantage, a sickening crunch echoed through the air. His monstrous form slammed violently into the ground, the impact creating a crater as his body contorted with pain. Confusion flashed across his face, quickly replaced by fury. How? He had him! Victory was his!

Kenjaku straightened up, dusting himself off with a nonchalant air. "Impulsive as ever, Mahito," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "So focused on the winning blow, you forgot who you were playing against." He raised a hand, revealing a faint shimmer around him. Anti-gravity.

Mahito roared in frustration, realizing his blunder. He had been so consumed by the thrill of the potential victory that he had neglected the ever-present threat Kenjaku posed. This wasn't about brute strength, but about cunning and strategy, and in that realm, the ancient sorcerer reigned supreme.

The power of Kenjaku's technique faded, leaving Mahito sprawled on the ground, panting and seething. The tide had turned, and the predator once again found himself the prey. But would Kenjaku deliver the final blow? Or would he continue to play, to toy with the young curse whose anger burned brighter than ever?

As Mahito leapt back, his voice echoed through the black expanse of his domain, "Let's end this, now!" Kenjaku, ever unflinching, simply replied, "Be my guest." With a flourish, Mahito completed the hand signs, activating his Domain Expansion – Self Embodiment of Perfection.

Darkness bloomed around them, swallowing Kenjaku whole. In the blink of an eye, the world contorted into a macabre landscape dominated by a colossal, flower-like structure. Giant black hands, their fingers impossibly long and sharp, reached inwards, their tips interlaced to form a suffocating net. Kenjaku found himself trapped, the domain amplifying Mahito's Idle Transfiguration to its fullest potential.

But Kenjaku, never one to be outmaneuvered, countered with his own Domain Expansion – Womb Profusion. The darkness shimmered, revealing a towering monument formed from a grotesque amalgamation of twisted faces, each radiating immense cursed energy. This was a manifestation of Kenjaku's power, a chaotic labyrinth within which he held complete control.

The two domains clashed, their boundaries grinding against each other like tectonic plates. Kenjaku's faces writhed and snarled, spewing streams of cursed energy that lashed at the encroaching hands of Mahito's domain. The air crackled with the raw power of their conflicting techniques, the entire warehouse shuddering under the strain.