If I could burn this town (I wouldn't hesitate)
Gojo sat there for a time, absently running his fingers over the bumps and ridges of the skull. This skull was female, according to its rounder eye sockets and less prominent brow bone. There was a faint, faint echo of cursed energy still clinging to it: residuals left over from a long-dead sorcerer or curse user. This person had been powerful. Some kind of cursed speech user, but the echo of positive cursed energy meant they could self-heal their throat even as it was torn by their own power. Nearly invulnerable, like he himself was.That hadn’t saved them. Hadn’t saved any of the people who’d been imprisoned here. Invulnerability couldn’t save people from themseves.
(Gojo is stuck in the prison realm with nothing but his own thoughts and the skeletons of his predecessors for company. It goes about as well as you'd expect. Then he finds a way out, but the world he stumbles into isn't his own. Not even close.)