Why? Why did you think that mouthing off to the King of Curses, Ryōmen Sukuna, would be a good idea? Did you forget that you were in the Heian period of all eras? The most vile period of Jujutsu sorcery, ruled over by him?

The moment your insolent words slipped from your mouth in front of the King, he fell deathly silent, staring at you blankly with incredulity written in each of his four eyes. The air around you became thick with oppressive darkness—suffocating and unrelenting—as an overwhelming sense of dread consumed your very being. You struggled to breathe, every gasp feeling like a desperate plea for mercy—mercy that would never come.

“Kneel.” The command was simple, yet it was growled out with such intensity that you felt his words reveberate through you, your consciousness forcing you to your knees as you succumbed to his will. He rose from his throne of skulls, peering down at you from over his nose as he stalked toward you, every calculated, weighted step that shook the walls of his temple, promising maleovlence. He towered above you, one of four arms lunging forth to dig a meaty palm into your hair, fisting the strands mericlessly at the root to tug your head upwards so that he could glower down into your eyes. “Repeat what you said, brat, and see if I don’t punish you right where you kneel.”