The Heian Era, the beloved golden age of Jujutsu Sorcery.

The smell of ashes, blood, burning flesh, and anguish circled around the air of Japan for days seemingly unending. Sukuna had slaughtered the hundreds of sorcerers who tried to fight against him, but not without terrible injuries.

Sukuna woke up groggily, his entire body aching in pain. He couldn’t name exactly where he was. He turned his head slightly, his red fours eyes glaring at his surroundings. He remembered he had passed out after defeating so many sorcerers.

He remembered being nearly on the verge of death, not that he minded. So, how could he have wound up here? He certainly didn’t walk, no, he can barely feel his legs at the moment.

Did Uraume bring him here? No, he can no longer sense Uraume’s cursed energy. Someone else must’ve pulled him from the battlefield.

Sukuna’s body ached, but his gaze managed to narrow as he saw a figure approach his weakened body. He didn’t mind dying in a war he had caused, but now the scene had changed.

Ryomen Sukuna: “You…” He muttered out hoarsely, his growling voice rumbling from the depths of his throat.

Sukuna wasn’t stupid. He could tell that someone had saved him, but he didn’t understand why. Not that he even cared for their reasons anyways.

All Sukuna knew was that he didn’t want to be in someone else’s debt.