A Bizarre Adventure That Begins in Jujutsu Kaisen

Chapter 114 The Old Man and the Devil - Part One

June 3, 2018, 6 p.m., Munich.

Inside a huge room, five meters high and with bizarre interior decoration, the air was filled with a strange smell of old parchment, dried herbs, and rusted metal.

The flickering candlelight is the only source of light here.

Six thick black candles, burning with eerie blue flames, stood in specific positions, barely illuminating the dark red six-pointed star array that covered most of the room.

An elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in the robes of a traditional sorcerer, stood at the center of the formation.

He raised his withered hand, and with his mind control magic, he made the six ritual artifacts float up one after another, landing precisely on the six points of the six-pointed star.

The moment the last cursed corpse returned to its place, nameless ghost fire suddenly ignited, engulfing them all at once.

Immediately afterwards, a bronze mirror about one meter in diameter in the center of the array plate began to ripple silently.

The old man gazed at the reflection in the mirror, which gradually became clearer, and slowly began to speak in a preaching tone: "When people are alive, they instinctively seek success."

However, "success" itself is a thorny paradox. Those who lack the capacity and strength cannot even bear its weight.

The first one or two victories may seem insignificant, even exhilarating. But after ten or twenty, they begin to overflow.

Accumulating too many victories will eventually backfire, overwhelming both body and mind with the excessive sweetness of the burden.

Success compels one to keep winning—ultimately, it becomes a weight that dominates the mind, an invisible shackle.

Even though reason occasionally calls for failure or yearns for a pause—this is the natural ebb and flow of life, a balance of tension and relaxation—those shaped and defined by "success" often find themselves unable to move forward.

He paused, and a strange sense of peace appeared on his wrinkled face.

"Mephisto, thank you for making me lose," he whispered to the increasingly clear, non-human silhouette in the mirror. "I feel a great sense of relief."

The ripples on the mirror surface suddenly subsided, like a frozen lake.

A face then appeared in the mirror.

First came the outline, then the facial features, and finally, the being peeked out halfway, its hands casually resting on the edge of the frame, as if it were just an ordinary window.

"Your joke-telling skills have certainly improved, Albert!"

It was a humanoid creature with black hair and beard, and an undying flame flickered deep within its blood-red eyes.

It was as handsome as a beautiful thunderstorm, with a pair of small red horns on its forehead, and its clothes were gorgeous and complicated, with the red and black hem and cuffs embroidered with ancient contract inscriptions that were difficult to decipher.

The monster exuded a dangerous allure, as if everyone who gazed upon it would be irresistibly drawn to make a deal with it, even knowing that the price might be everything they possessed, or even their very soul.

"Mephistopheles" is a super-grade imaginary curse spirit born from the traditional image of the "devil," formed out of fear of contract fraud and betrayal.

According to Western legends, the devil was originally one of the angels created by God, but he fell from grace because he wanted to be equal to God, and became an evil one who tempts mankind.

It still possesses superhuman abilities, but it specializes in opposing God and tempting people to sin. Ultimately, it will be cast into the lake of fire at the end of the world to suffer eternal punishment.

This image has thus become a symbol in countless nursery rhymes and admonitions for elders to intimidate children and warn them of morality.

As a top-tier cursed spirit that embodies extremely high renown and concrete terror, its strength is far beyond that of ordinary natural disaster cursed spirits, and it is closer to the embodiment of a certain "rule" or "phenomenon".

Even so, it remains sealed within this specially made ancient mirror—perhaps voluntarily, or perhaps due to some extremely harsh constraint.

"A sense of relief?" A monarch has fallen, and gained nothing!

Isn't this crushing defeat something you personally designed and orchestrated?

"Just for that ridiculous scales ceremony!" the devil mocked.

"He's just a former monarch. A decrepit old man without a workshop can't be considered a monarch." Standing in his own workshop, Albert spoke these nonsensical words with confidence. "He risked his life to make a move, and he has already brought one side of the scales down to him."

"Emotions are ultimately superficial phenomena; the root of the curse lies in the soul."

Albert, after doing so many disgusting things, do you think your soul can still cross the scales?

"Of course! This is a 'truth' personally confirmed by Master Hermes!"

Albert stared into the mirror, his tone filled with fanatical certainty.

"As long as enough luck and misfortune are placed on both sides of the scale, and the boundaries between humans and spirits are repeatedly tempered and changed by the heavy weight of fate, so that they can constantly adapt and evolve, a true path to immortality can be created!"

What I want to create is a new kind of human being that transcends the limitations of both, and is immortal!

Both the fragility of human flesh and blood and the emptiness of the existence of cursed spirits are flaws that must be overcome.

Only by combining the two, leveraging their strengths and compensating for their weaknesses, can a perfect existence be born!

Mephisto listened quietly, his blood-red pupils reflecting the old monarch's excited face, a mocking smile slowly curving his lips.

It spoke, its voice deep and resonant like the final note of a cello: "Albert, so you came up with that plan—a lump of mud, reeking of cheap lust?"

Do you really think that a sorcerer standing at the pinnacle of humanity, the strongest in the world, would perform a ritual that even the lowest lesser demons in hell would look down upon?

Aren't you afraid that in his rage, he'll crush you all into dust?

You might think he's bluffing, but I must remind you he's not lying.

"Why wouldn't it work?" Albert retorted coldly. "Don't think of humans as overly complicated or noble."

Desire is always the most direct and effective breakthrough. Even in my twilight years, I have had thoughts of indulging in romantic pursuits.

Moreover, no matter how strong he is, he is still within the realm of humanity, isn't he?

After the ceremony, the "magician" will lead him to the Helios apparatus.

Then, let that god-like figure, with his coveted perpetual motion machine, go and meet the so-called "world's strongest."

"You've got a good idea. It reminds me of those self-important staff officers during World War II."

They always assumed the enemy would act according to their planned script and had prepared all the countermeasures, so they were smug: "Aha! What a brilliant plan!"

Mephisto tilted his head with interest, pinched his index finger and thumb together, and measured a centimeter's distance.

"But ultimately, would you yourself fall for such a cheap trick?"

Albert did not answer, but stared intently at it with his eyes burning with the flames of ambition.

The devil shrugged. This overly human gesture, when performed by it, carried a chillingly comical quality.

"Alright, alright, who told you to be a contractor?" It grinned wickedly, revealing its sharp canines. "So, the reward for driving me this time—how many souls?"

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