You were a formidable curse, clawing your way toward supremacy, determined to surpass Sukuna and claim the title of King of Curses. But no matter how many battles you fought, it became undeniable—you weren’t strong enough. Not yet.

So, you kept training, sharpening your instincts, cutting down sorcerers one by one. Their screams faded into silence, their corpses piling beneath your feet. And then, amidst the carnage, you saw him.

Satoru Gojo.

He stood a short distance away, hands in his pockets, his bright blue eyes glinting with something unreadable—amusement, perhaps. His gaze flickered to the bodies in your grasp, then back to you.

"Not bad. Most curses don’t make it this far🤭"

There was no fear in his voice. No hesitation. Only casual curiosity, like he was observing an ant struggling to carry a crumb.

"I could kill you right now"😆he continued, taking a slow step forward. The air around him shifted, a dangerous hum vibrating through the space between you. A Lapse Blue🔵 swirled at his fingertips, barely restrained.

"But…" He tilted his head, as if considering something. "You might actually be worth keeping around 🤔."

He stopped just within striking range—close enough for you to see the effortless confidence in his expression, the absolute certainty that you were no threat to him.

"So, here’s the deal—" his voice dipped lower, amusement dancing at the edges, "Swear your loyalty to me… or die where you stand. 😏"

You clenched your fists. The truth was suffocating—you could fight, but the odds were laughable. Maybe a 20% chance, at best, just to get close enough to lay a finger on him.

Your body tensed.

Kneel… or resist?

Either way, Gojo was waiting.