Cursed | Ryomen Sukuna & Gojo Satoru

(38) Height of the Night

Sukuna stood atop a ruined building, his crimson eyes scanning the ruined city below with a predatory focus— the aftermath of his battle with Jogo left the surroundings in so much more disarray.

Just like how he liked it.

It was while he was scanning that the King's attention was drawn to a sudden surge of potent cursed energy that rippled through the air. It was unmistakably Megumi's— a desperate one at that.

From his new vantage point, Sukuna observed the young sorcerer struggling against the pathetic patchwork curse— the one who tried to touch his soul just a few moons ago. The kid, usually composed and strategic, now seemed on the brink of collapse, his movements erratic and his defenses wavering.

The boy's usual stoic demeanor was replaced by utter defeat and such desperation that it almost looked maniacal. As the scene before Sukuna continues to unfold, he can't help but feel some sort of anticipation— whatever Megumi unleashed holds immense power— and he knew that, too.

Sukuna descended from his perch, landing gracefully in a cinema, walking with popcorn to Megumi who was now laboring to maintain some sense of control. The boy's face was etched with strain, beads of sweat and blood glistening on his brow.

It was a risky gamble. But the King has not been satisfied with tonight's festivities yet, and so indulge he does.

"Interesting," Sukuna remarked, his voice a low rumble. "You can't die yet. I have plans for you, kid."

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Kenjaku and Kasaii stood face to face. Two individuals that would determine the fate of countless lives.

The body in front of her was the same except for those eyes— once familiar to Kasaii during their days as students, now bore too twisted to recognize.

"You've come a long way, kid," Kenjaku remarked casually. "I admit. I didn't expect you to show up."

Kasaii, clad in her Uchiha robe, gripped her katanas tightly, chakra surrounding her like an eternal flame. Her white hair framed her disgusted expression, eyes locked on Kenjaku— she knew the stakes of what she was about to do.

Kasaii responded with as much conviction as she could despite the storm of emotions raging within her. "You, too, have come a long way. Unfortunately, your wishes end with me."

With a sudden burst of speed, Kasaii darted forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Her blades danced through the air, strikes aimed at Kenjaku's defenses.

Kenjaku, however, moved with an unsettling grace, effortlessly evading Kasaii's initial onslaught. His movements were leisurely as if he were merely toying with her. A flick of his hand sent tens of curses surging toward her, forcing Kasaii to twist and slice through the monsters.

"You fail to understand me," Kenjaku taunted, his voice carrying a mocking edge. "This world is destined for change. I am merely the harbinger of its evolution."

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Two titanic forces collided.

Mahoraga, the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General, loomed over Sukuna, the King of Curses, the Imaginary Demon, the Disgraced One.

Its form was an amalgamation of beastly and divine, a creature that had been honed through countless battles. Its eyes glowed with a fierce intelligence, and its movements, though massive, carried an unnerving speed.