Gruß Gott everyone! It's me Sp00k with a brand new Fanfiction to my fellow readers! Hoping to make you happy with this brand new Fanfiction! Without a further a do let's begin!
(4,200+ words)
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Third person POV:
As Sukuna stirred from his deep slumber in the shadowed depths of the Realm of Cursed Spirits, the air around him crackled with an ominous energy. His eyelids lifted slowly, revealing his crimson gaze that pierced through the surrounding darkness. The atmosphere was thick with malevolent energy, and the oppressive weight of the cursed realm clung to every breath he took.
Before him, sitting casually with legs crossed and a smug smile on his face, was Mahito. The eerie glint in Mahito's eyes reflected his delight, as if he had been waiting for this moment with bated breath. His twisted, youthful features gleamed with amusement, and there was an unsettling calmness about him.
"Sukuna, you got here first, huh?" Mahito's voice broke the silence, playful yet filled with malice. His smile widened, almost as if he found the situation too entertaining.
Sukuna's gaze narrowed with a smile of his won, the flicker of ancient power sparking within his eyes. The King of Curses remained silent for a moment, his imposing presence alone sending ripples through the cursed energy surrounding them. He stood tall, his aura dominating the space, but there was something more—something different—about this awakening. He could feel it deep within, as if the realm around him was shifting, changing in ways even he hadn't anticipated.
And still, Mahito grinned, his words hanging in the thick, cursed air like a challenge.
"Oh, you're here," Sukuna said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. A smile slowly spread across his face, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the cursed realm. His gaze locked onto Mahito, filled with a mixture of arrogance and cold calculation, as though he had expected nothing less.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his expression darkly amused as he let out a quiet chuckle. "Is this the third time we've talked?" he mused, as if recalling past encounters like idle memories. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying edge to it—a reminder of his absolute power and disdain for those who dared to challenge his authority.
Standing amidst the swirling cursed energy, Sukuna's presence was overwhelming, casting a long shadow even in the gloom. The ancient King of Curses found a certain amusement in the repetitive meetings, as if each interaction only served to remind Mahito—and everyone else—that no matter how many times they crossed paths, Sukuna was always a step ahead.
Mahito's grin widened as he leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees, the excitement in his eyes unmistakable. "Because my Cursed Technique affects the soul," he began, his voice rising with a twisted enthusiasm. The way he emphasized each word sent a ripple through the cursed air, his malevolent nature bleeding through every syllable.
"This is a kind of residue of that," he continued, gesturing casually around them as if the cursed realm they stood in was nothing more than a byproduct of his power. The pride in his tone was unmistakable, as though he reveled in the complexity and uniqueness of his cursed technique.
"This place is a passageway for the circulation of souls," Mahito added, his voice almost reverent now, as if speaking of some sacred, twisted truth. His smile never faltered, eyes gleaming with the sinister joy that came from his mastery over the manipulation of souls. He looked back at Sukuna, clearly relishing the idea that his technique allowed such an interaction between them, even in this strange and dark realm.
Here's an even more detailed version, enhancing the tension and atmosphere:
Mahito's voice pierced the stillness like a dagger, sharp and deliberate, echoing in the space between them. He stood with an almost careless confidence, his twisted smile widening as his eyes locked onto Sukuna's. There was something predatory in his gaze, a sadistic curiosity that seemed to revel in the idea of exposing whatever lay beneath Sukuna's powerful exterior.
"I wanted to ask you something, Sukuna," Mahito said, his tone laced with mockery, the words rolling off his tongue slowly, each syllable deliberate. He circled Sukuna as he spoke, his movements languid, as though savoring the confrontation. It was a dance, a game, one that Mahito intended to play to its fullest.
"You were lying, weren't you? To yourself and others?" His voice dripped with satisfaction, the question cutting deeper than the words themselves. Mahito's grin stretched wider, like a predator sensing its prey's vulnerability. The atmosphere grew heavier, the space around them seeming to constrict under the weight of the accusation.
"About just living as befits your nature?" he continued, drawing out the words, taunting Sukuna with their very simplicity. Mahito's eyes gleamed with a knowing light, as if he had already unraveled the truth but wanted to hear Sukuna admit it, to tear down the mask of indifference and expose whatever was lurking beneath. He stood still now, his gaze never wavering, locked onto Sukuna like a hunter watching for the slightest movement, the slightest sign that his words had struck a nerve.
The tension in the air was palpable, the silence that followed his question only amplifying the weight of it. It was as though the very air between them had thickened, charged with unspoken challenge and malice. Mahito reveled in it, in the possibility of seeing even the smallest crack in Sukuna's armor.
Mahito's voice broke the silence again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he were piecing together a puzzle right in front of Sukuna. His grin never faltered, eyes flickering with a dark amusement, as though savoring the weight of his words before unleashing them.
"I think your life was about revenge..." Mahito began, his voice smooth but dripping with malice, each word laced with intent. His tone carried a strange mix of curiosity and certainty, like he was speaking a truth he was unearthing from deep within Sukuna's soul. The air between them grew colder, the tension tightening like a noose.
He took a step closer, his presence invasive, like a shadow creeping into every corner of Sukuna's mind. "...against everyone who scorned you as an abomination." Mahito's voice fractured at the end, deliberately emphasizing the break in the word, twisting it like a knife. His eyes glittered with cruel satisfaction, feeding off the tension, daring Sukuna to react.
Mahito's grin widened as he let the accusation hang in the air, thick with unspoken truths. He was no longer asking questions—he was making a statement, one that cut deeper than any blade. His gaze remained locked on Sukuna, eager to see how the King of Curses would respond to the claim, to the idea that his existence had been nothing more than a twisted pursuit of revenge against a world that had cast him aside.
The atmosphere between them felt electric, charged with a dark energy that seemed to coil tighter with every breath. Mahito, as if relishing the silence, waited with bated breath for any flicker of emotion, any sign that his words had struck true to Sukuna.
Sukuna's expression remained unreadable at first, his eyes narrowing as Mahito's words echoed in the stillness. Then, without warning, a slow, menacing smile spread across his face, as though the very notion amused him. His presence, already suffocating, seemed to grow even more oppressive, his aura dark and consuming.
"It amounts to the same thing." Sukuna's voice was deep and unwavering, laced with a calm certainty that exuded power. He spoke with the confidence of someone who had long accepted the truth of his existence, someone who had embraced his nature without hesitation. His gaze pierced through Mahito, as if the younger curse's probing accusations had been nothing more than child's play.
"That is my nature," Sukuna continued, his smile widening, eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement. The weight of his words filled the room like an overwhelming tide, each syllable heavy with the inevitability of his being. "I know no other way."
There was no remorse in his tone, no hint of self-reflection—only the cold, unshakable truth of who and what he was. Sukuna's smile lingered, as if daring Mahito to question him further, to challenge the very essence of what made him the King of Curses. The tension between them crackled, but in that moment, it was clear who held the upper hand.
His words hung in the air like an iron decree, immovable and absolute. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a fact. Sukuna had never needed to justify himself—his existence, his power, his cruelty. It all stemmed from the same source: his unrelenting, immutable nature.
Sukuna's once cruel, triumphant smile faded, as if a shadow had passed over him. The shift in his demeanor was subtle at first—just the barest flicker in his eyes, but enough to alter the entire atmosphere. His aura, once heavy with confident malevolence, now carried an undercurrent of something deeper, something more conflicted. It was as though a long-dormant realization had finally surfaced.
His eyes, no longer gleaming with their usual sadistic light, darkened. "No…" Sukuna murmured, the word laced with something almost foreign—doubt. His voice, usually dripping with arrogance, now carried a weight it hadn't before. The room seemed to still, the oppressive energy swirling around them shifting, as though responding to the change in him. "That's wrong."
Mahito watched him closely, his grin faltering slightly, sensing the sudden shift in Sukuna's presence. There was something dangerous about this moment, but it wasn't the usual threat of violence. It was the unpredictability of a man—no, a monster—confronting a truth he had long buried.
Sukuna's gaze was distant now, as if he were no longer speaking to Mahito, but to himself. "I could have chosen how to live," he said, the words quiet but carrying the weight of centuries of choices, centuries of bloodshed, and centuries of pain. It was a rare moment of self-reflection, one that seemed to hang in the air like a slow-moving storm.
For the first time, Sukuna was acknowledging that he wasn't just a force of nature—he wasn't bound to his fate as others had believed, or as he had convinced himself. He had agency. And with that agency came responsibility for the path of destruction he had carved. The realization was not liberating; it was suffocating. Every life he had taken, every moment of cruelty, was now a choice rather than a necessity.
The silence that followed was deafening. Sukuna stood there, unmoving, as if the weight of his own words had frozen him in place. This was the moment where everything shifted—the moment he began "going North," veering off the course that had defined him for so long. It was subtle, not a grand gesture, but a crack in the foundation of his being.
His voice, when it came again, was quieter, almost contemplative, as though he were standing at the precipice of something vast and unknown. The smile was gone, and in its place was a haunting stillness—a moment of vulnerability that made Sukuna more terrifying in his transformation. He was changing, evolving, and with that change came the unknown—a shift in direction, a path that even he had not fully anticipated.
And as the silence stretched, the air around them seemed to tremble, as if the very world was responding to this turning point in the King of Curses. Something in Sukuna had begun to move, and there was no telling where it would lead. But one thing was clear: the monster that had once been a slave to his own nature was now confronting the possibility of something more—something different.
Here's a more detailed version of that moment, building up the emotional depth and the surreal atmosphere:
Sukuna's voice cut through the thin silence, softer now but laced with a rawness that hadn't been there before. His expression was distant, as if the weight of his next words was pressing down on him, something he had long buried now surfacing. "I had two chances."
As he spoke, two shadowy figures materialized behind him, like specters from a past long forgotten. One was a woman with long, flowing black hair, her presence haunting yet serene, her eyes downcast, the weight of untold stories held in her silence. The other was a small child with white hair weeping by theirself, delicate but fierce in their gaze—it was Uraume, his loyal servant and chef, unwavering in their devotion. Their appearance was ghostly, more memory than reality, but their presence was undeniable, a reminder of the lives once intertwined with his own.
Sukuna's gaze didn't falter as he looked at the figures, his face betraying a flicker of something—regret, or perhaps understanding. The tension around him thickened, as if the very air had been drawn into this moment of confession. His voice, now lower, more resigned, carried the weight of a realization that had gnawed at him for centuries.
"But I had to vomit out the curse writhing in my entrails." His words were visceral, brutal, each syllable tinged with the revulsion he felt toward the very essence of his being. The imagery was stark, a violent expulsion of the curse that had festered within him for so long, the very thing that had made him the monster the world feared. His hand instinctively moved toward his abdomen, as though remembering the torment, the writhing malice that had eaten away at him from the inside out.
His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over them. "I was afraid of immolation by my own curse," he admitted, his voice raw with the truth of it. Fear—something he had never shown, never admitted to, not even to himself—had driven him. The fear of being consumed by his own power, of being reduced to nothing but ashes by the very thing that had given him dominion over the world.
For a moment, his gaze flickered back to the two figures behind him—the woman and Uraume, both silent, both tethered to his past. They were witnesses to his truth, reminders of the choices he had made and the price he had paid. The figures, though still, seemed to radiate their own quiet presence, as if they were the embodiment of the paths not taken, the lives left behind in his quest to stave off his own destruction.
The air around them was thick with tension, as if even the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for what came next. Sukuna stood there, no longer the untouchable, invincible monster, but something more complex—someone who had faced fear, regret, and the consequences of his choices. His words were not just a revelation to Mahito; they were a confession to himself, one that marked the beginning of his change.
And in that moment, it became clear—Sukuna wasn't just confronting the curse that lived within him. He was confronting the person he might have been, the paths he could have walked, had he not been driven by fear and the hunger for power. And now, standing at this crossroads, with the ghosts of his past looming behind him, Sukuna was beginning to see the truth: he had always had the power to choose.
But now, would he choose differently?
Sukuna's gaze lingered on the two figures behind him—silent, yet filled with the echoes of lives once intertwined with his own. The air around him felt heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken possibilities. Slowly, deliberately, he extended a hand and rested it on Uraume's shoulder. The simple gesture held an unexpected tenderness, one that seemed almost foreign to the King of Curses. His grip was firm yet gentle, a rare moment of connection that spoke of the loyalty and devotion they had shared for so long.
Uraume stood still beneath his touch, their expression unreadable, but there was a sense of quiet understanding between them—one forged not through words, but through years of unwavering loyalty. Sukuna's eyes softened, just for a moment, as if acknowledging something deeper, something he had never fully allowed himself to feel.
"If there's a next time..." Sukuna began, his voice low and contemplative, the words hanging in the air like a promise whispered to the wind. His hand remained on Uraume's shoulder, grounding him in the present while the weight of his past loomed behind him. It was not a promise made in haste, but one born from the slow, painful realization that perhaps, just perhaps, his existence could be different.
He hesitated for a brief moment, as if choosing his next words carefully, not out of fear but out of the gravity of what they meant. His eyes, usually so sharp and merciless, now held a flicker of something else—possibility. "…Perhaps I'll change how I live."
The words were quiet but carried the weight of centuries of destruction, of choices made out of fear and anger. They weren't spoken with the usual arrogance that accompanied his proclamations but with a deep, quiet conviction. It was not just an idle musing—it was a declaration of intent. A seed of change, small but potent, had been planted within him. And in that moment, Sukuna was no longer just the King of Curses, bound by the cycle of destruction he had wrought for so long. He was something else, something more—someone who had realized that even he, with all his power and cruelty, had the ability to choose a different path.
The figures of the woman and Uraume stood silently behind him, witnessing the shift, their presence a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the future that now hung in the balance. Uraume's eyes flickered with a glimmer of recognition, as if they too understood that something had changed within their master.
The world around them seemed to pause, holding its breath as Sukuna, for the first time in his long, cursed existence, entertained the thought of change. A different path, a different way of living—one not dictated by fear of being consumed by his own power, but perhaps by something greater.
And as Sukuna's hand remained on Uraume's shoulder, the moment stretched, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. In that instant, the future, once so dark and certain, now shimmered with the faintest possibility of something new.
Mahito's voice erupted with fury, his anger boiling over as his brows furrowed in disbelief. His entire being seemed to tremble with frustration, the twisted joy he once took in Sukuna's cruelty now morphing into something darker. He couldn't understand it—this shift, this departure from the path of destruction and chaos that defined their existence.
"But that's boring!!" Mahito shouted, his voice raw and desperate, a violent protest against the idea of change. His fists clenched, the veins in his neck standing out as he glared at Sukuna, unable to comprehend what was happening before his eyes. The King of Curses—the being he admired, the embodiment of power and cruelty—was slipping away from him. "You're just gonna settle down?!"
Mahito's words echoed through the space, thick with disdain and disbelief. The idea of settling down, of choosing anything other than carnage and chaos, was incomprehensible to him. In Mahito's world, there was no room for peace, no room for acceptance—only the relentless pursuit of power and destruction. Anything else was weakness.
Sukuna, however, remained calm, almost serene in the face of Mahito's anger. His hand gently held Uraume's, who was still quietly weeping beside him, their tears glistening in the faint light. Uraume's tears weren't loud or dramatic, but there was a palpable sorrow in them, the kind that comes from long-held emotions finally released. Sukuna's grip was firm yet gentle, a rare moment of tenderness, as if he was anchoring both himself and Uraume in the present.
As Mahito's fury continued to burn, Sukuna merely began walking forward, his stride slow and deliberate. He didn't bother turning to face Mahito, didn't waste time trying to explain what couldn't be understood by someone like him. Instead, he spoke with the calm finality of someone who had made peace with his fate.
"Of course," Sukuna replied, his voice even and resolute, as though he had already come to terms with his decision. His eyes were fixed ahead, unwavering, as Uraume walked beside him, still trembling with emotion. "After all, I lost."
Those words, so simple yet so profound, carried the weight of a man who had lived through countless battles, endless destruction, and relentless pain. For Sukuna, it wasn't about settling down in the conventional sense. It was an acknowledgment of defeat, not in battle, but in his pursuit of endless power. He had sought to escape his own curse, to stave off the fear of being consumed by it, but now, he understood that even he couldn't outrun his own nature forever.
The admission, "I lost." wasn't one of weakness but of understanding. He had come to the end of a long road filled with violence, and in the quiet aftermath, he saw the truth: there was no victory in it, only emptiness. Sukuna's steps were steady as he walked with Uraume, the two figures moving forward together, leaving behind the chaos and fury of Mahito's world.
The silence that followed was deafening. Mahito stood there, still fuming, but his rage seemed hollow in the face of Sukuna's calm resolve. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, but Sukuna did not look back. His path had been decided, and for the first time in his existence, it wasn't one fueled by fear or power—it was simply a choice.
Mahito's expression turned manic, his eyes gleaming with wild excitement. His voice, already laced with amusement, rose to a fever pitch as he declared, "But then I'm the only unruly child left!!" There was a crazed glee in his words, the kind of reckless joy that only Mahito could embody. He was savoring the chaos, embracing the very thing that defined his nature—disorder, unpredictability, and destruction.
Without warning, Mahito launched himself into the air, limbs flailing wildly as he leapt with reckless abandon. "Arrgh!" His shout echoed, a sound somewhere between exhilaration and madness, as his body twisted and contorted midair, as though the chaotic energy within him had exploded outward. His movements were erratic, arms and legs whipping through the air in unpredictable arcs, like a puppet whose strings had been violently cut.
His figure spun and writhed, defying all semblance of control or restraint, a perfect embodiment of his own philosophy. He reveled in the freedom of his form, unbound by the laws of nature or convention, a living testament to chaos in motion.
As Mahito descended, the tension of the moment hung in the air, the wildness of his actions leaving an unsettling aftertaste. It was as if the very atmosphere had been infected by his chaotic energy, charged with his unpredictable and dangerous nature.
As Sukuna was consumed by the radiant light, he felt the world around him shift and distort, the familiar weight of his curse swirling into a vortex of brilliance. Moments later, he awoke, disoriented, the light fading to reveal a strange new world.
"Where... am I?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with curiosity as he surveyed his surroundings. The air was cool and crisp, the night sky above a deep indigo sprinkled with stars, he was alone. He could hear the gentle mist of water nearby, the sound of flowing liquid drawing his attention.
He looked down, his brow furrowing as he observed the body he inhabited. This isn't my true form, he thought, recognizing the familiar features of his second host, Megumi Fushiguro. "This young one's body…" he muttered, a bemused smile creeping onto his lips. "Interesting. A different vessel for a different world."
Glancing around, Sukuna took in the scene: a picturesque fountain at the center, water glistening under the soft glow of ornate street lamps that lined the cobblestone streets. The architecture was unlike anything he had ever seen—elegant and intricate, with a charm that felt both inviting and alien.
"What is this place?" he asked aloud, his tone a mix of intrigue and bemusement. The air was filled with an unfamiliar scent, a blend of sweet pastries and distant sea salt. "Am I trapped in some sort of illusion, or is this reality?"
He stepped closer to the fountain, its water cascading in a mesmerizing pattern, reflecting the light from the lamps and the stars above. Leaning over the edge, he caught sight of his reflection, the face of Megumi staring back at him. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "How peculiar," he mused, his demeanor shifting from curiosity to contemplation. "To think I'd find myself in this vessel once more, but perhaps this world has its own merits."
Sukuna felt an odd sense of peace wash over him. The thrill of chaos and destruction no longer beckoned him; instead, the allure of understanding and discovery ignited a different kind of excitement within him. "This realm seems to promise new experiences," he whispered, the promise of exploration glimmering in his eyes. The shadows of his past life as the King of Curses felt distant, replaced by the potential of what lay ahead in this strange, enchanting world.
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This prologue is now done! I brainstormed alot for this chapter! So I hope you can enjoy it! Tschüss everybody!