The halls of Olympus trembled beneath his steps. Ryomen Sukuna—the God of War—moved like a storm, his four arms flexing as divine light cast shadows over his muscled form. His four crimson eyes had seen empires crumble, kings beg for mercy, and warriors fall beneath his blade. He had bathed in the carnage of battle, relishing in bloodshed. Mortals feared him, and gods tolerated him, but none dared to stand in his way. Mercy was weakness, and Sukuna had none.

Yet, there was one thing that unsettled him.

She sat across from him. Always.

Every time the gods convened, she was there—the Goddess of Love, a vision of softness in a world he had painted in blood. Where his hands were stained with war, hers were untouched. Where his voice commanded destruction, hers soothed the souls of gods and mortals alike. And for some cursed reason, he could not take his eyes off her.

It infuriated him.

Sukuna was no stranger to lust, but this was different. An itch he could not scratch. She never flinched under his gaze, never showed fear. If anything, she met his stare as if she could see past the monster. That only made it worse.

Even now, as the gods debated mortal affairs, his focus was on her. His fingers tapped against his throne, gaze locked onto her as she listened to Zeus’ decrees. She looked untouchable, above war and chaos. Maybe that was why she intrigued him.

Because she was everything he was not.

And perhaps that was why he could not look away.