Whispers of the Cursed Heir

Chapter 7:Whispers of Temptation pt.2

The atmosphere in the clearing was thick with tension, the oppressive silence only broken by the ragged breaths of the surviving sorcerers. Their fear was palpable, and as they looked from me to Sukuna, it was clear that they were struggling to comprehend the deadly game that was unfolding before them.

One of the remaining sorcerers, his voice trembling, finally broke the silence. "We... we must report this back to our clan. They need to know... they need to know what we've seen," he stammered, his eyes darting between Sukuna and the others as if seeking some semblance of support. His voice was weak, the fear choking him as he tried to muster the courage to speak. But even as the words left his lips, it was clear that he was already too late.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed, a flash of dark intent crossing his face. Without hesitation, he moved—swift and deadly, a blur of malevolent energy that left no room for escape. His hand cleaved through the air with the precision of a butcher's blade, and in an instant, the sorcerer's voice was silenced. Blood sprayed from the wound, the sorcerer's body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap, his message dying with him.

The remaining sorcerer, now the only one left, stood paralyzed in fear. His eyes were wide, his skin pale as death itself. He was as still as a deer caught in the gaze of a predator, his body trembling uncontrollably as he stared at Sukuna, who regarded him with cold, unamused eyes.

Sukuna raised his hand again, the same hand that had just ended the sorcerer's life. There was no hesitation, no mercy in his movements as he prepared to strike down the last of them. His gaze flickered with disdain as he looked at the petrified sorcerer, seeing him as nothing more than an insect to be crushed underfoot.

But before he could bring his hand down, I acted. My body moved on instinct, my weapon drawn in a flash of steel and cursed energy. I swung with all my might, the blade of my staff slicing through the air with a fierce, burning intensity. The strike connected, severing Sukuna's hand from his wrist in a swift, brutal motion.

The severed hand fell to the ground with a dull thud, but Sukuna didn't cry out. Instead, he looked down at the stump where his hand had been, and then back up at me. His eyes gleamed with a malicious light, and a slow, chilling smile spread across his face. It was a smile that spoke of twisted delight, of a challenge accepted, and of a darkness that could not be deterred.

"Interesting," Sukuna murmured, his voice low and filled with a dangerous amusement. He didn't seem angered by the loss of his hand—if anything, he seemed pleased by the attack, as if it had confirmed something he had suspected all along.

Ignoring Sukuna's smile, I turned to the lone sorcerer, who was still frozen in place, his eyes wide with terror. "Go," I ordered, my voice firm but tinged with urgency. "Leave the area. Report what you've seen, and be careful—Sukuna isn't alone."

The sorcerer's eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought he might be too petrified to move. But then he nodded, a jerky, fearful motion, and without another word, he turned and ran, his footsteps pounding against the forest floor as he fled into the night.

But as he disappeared into the trees, a new threat emerged from the shadows. Uraume stepped forward, their presence almost as chilling as Sukuna's, their androgynous features cold and impassive. Without a word, they opened their mouth, and a cloud of freezing mist began to pour forth, swirling through the air with a deadly, icy intent.

The mist coalesced into large columns of thick ice and frost, hurtling toward the fleeing sorcerer with terrifying speed. The air around us grew bitterly cold, the ground crackling with frost as the attack materialized into a trap that would ensnare its victim in an instant, freezing them in place before they even had a chance to scream.