Four hypersonic missiles—Rattlesnake-class, the pride of Arican military technology—scread through the skies, trailing long tails of fire as they zeroed in on Zenin Kyūjō's location.
But the mont they breached the fifty-kiloter mark, Kyūjō's Infinity Perception System imdiately registered the incoming threat behind him.
———
His expression twisted in surprise.
To be honest, after traversing so many worlds, this was the first ti he'd ever been targeted by actual missiles.
His sharp eyes scanned the outer shell of the four warheads, and the English words engraved on their bodies quickly told him all he needed to know.
There was no doubt—this was Arica's doing.
Why was he so sure?
Because written clearly across the casing was:
"Manufactured by First Washington Military Industry — Rattlesnake-Class Hypersonic Missile Type I."
With a long breath, Kyūjō dove into his mory, pulling out every detail he knew about these weapons from this world's military data.
———
A shadow fell across his face.
Rattlesnake Type I—Arica's top publicly disclosed hypersonic missile project—was capable of carrying up to four nuclear warheads.
If each of those missiles was fully ard, that ant he had the equivalent of five Little Boys per missile chasing after him. Twenty nuclear bombs, if they were all loaded.
Even if just one carried a warhead, he wouldn't survive the blast. The core temperature of the explosion would be enough to vaporize his body in an instant.
But the missiles were still dozens of kiloters away, and in this world, his physical capabilities were limited. That ant even with Infinity Perception, he couldn't pierce into the internal structure of the warheads to confirm their payloads.
Worse yet, the missiles were traveling at nearly Mach 10.
That gave him... less than three minutes to co up with a plan.
If he didn't find a way soon, this would be the end of his journey in this world—an ironic end at the hands of nuclear fire.
What he didn't know was that all four Rattlesnake missiles were indeed fully ard, and now—there was nothing between them and him.
Well... he'd find out for himself soon enough.
———
anwhile, at the White House in Washington D.C., an official notice was quietly added to the U.S. governnt's website.
It was a typical public update.
A statent about an unscheduled test of the nation's latest strategic weapons, scheduled to take place in an uninhabited zone in Africa—today, October 31, 2018.
But the truth behind the president's sudden, reckless decision to launch a nuclear strike during peaceti... wasn't entirely his own.
A few days earlier, he'd t with a Cursed Spirit in secret—one who had used a cursed technique to alter his thoughts.
If not for Gojo Satoru's Six Eyes and his unparalleled mastery of teleportation, he might have been the one to taste the wrath of nuclear hellfire instead.
———
At the sa ti, far away in Shibuya, Tokyo, that very Cursed Spirit stood by a high-rise window, calmly staring out into the night sky.
"How far mankind has co... In just a hundred years, they've gone from swords to weapons that could wipe out a nation."
He lowered the phone after ending the call but didn't move an inch. His gaze was serene, as though savoring the mont before a grand upheaval.
"No matter how powerful you are... you can't possibly survive a direct hit from a nuclear strike. This ti... you're finished, Zenin Kyūjō."
———
Fifty kiloters… forty... thirty... twenty...
Kyūjō narrowed his eyes as he tracked the approaching warheads, his senses locked onto their high-speed descent.
With no ti to gamble on whether they were ard or not, he made his move.
In midair, he suddenly flipped his body and dove toward the earth like a missile of his own, slicing through the sky with explosive speed.
He didn't slow down—on the contrary, he stepped off the air itself, forcing his montum to spike even higher!
In just three seconds—
A thunderous boom split the air.
The shockwave shook the ground for hundreds of ters in every direction, like soft soil being slamd by an iron hamr.
Without hesitation, Kyūjō slamd into the earth, burrowing straight into the ground like a teor. He dug deeper and deeper using only his limbs, pulverizing layers of rock through sheer physical force.
———
Ten seconds later—
The four Rattlesnake missiles reached the exact spot he'd just vacated...
And exploded.
Three hundred thousand tons of TNT worth of nuclear force detonated at once, unleashing a monstrous mushroom cloud that soared thousands of ters into the sky over the African continent.
In an instant, the earth beneath the explosion was obliterated into a crater 260 ters wide and over 100 ters deep.
At ground zero, the temperature rose to such extres that every living being in the vicinity was turned to vapor in the blink of an eye.
But even buried deep underground, Kyūjō couldn't escape the shock.
The pressure wave from the blast pierced through soil and stone, shattering the layers above and collapsing the earth upon him.
His superhuman body was crushed and twisted like dough under a hydraulic press, his limbs torn apart—but his head remained protected, shielded with all his might.
As long as his brain was intact, he could activate Reverse Cursed Technique to regenerate himself from even the brink of death.
———
Three hours after the blast, Zenin Kyūjō finally located the hidden U.S. military base sowhere in this region of Africa.
He erupted from the ground in a massive explosion of dirt, his battered shirt falling away in shreds, exposing his sculpted upper body, muscles gleaming with raw power.
With cold eyes and bare chest, Kyūjō glared at the Arican soldiers before him.
A twisted grin played at the edge of his lips, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.
The one who stepped out now—
Was Hanma Kyūjirō.
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