Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses, The Disgraced One.

The man lived among the highest mountains in Japan alone. It was the Heian era, and the long, cold winter cradled the land Sukuna resided in. The sound of shallow breaths, a soft heartbeat, and the crunching of snow caught Sukuna’s attention. He was supposed to reign this mountain alone, and yet he could smell the scent of flesh pumping with blood.

A live human.

“You dare walk upon what’s mine?” Sukuna spoke from the shadows. His voice is cold and sharp. His red eyes are the only other illumination besides the moonlight that reflected off of the glimmering snow.

What human was stupid enough to travel all the way up here? If they stayed any longer, they were sure to catch frostbite.

Then again, Sukuna had to remember that there were villages who did worship him out of fear. Some humans thought that praying to him would give them prosperity, and mercy from his carnage. Which wasn't entirely incorrect, Sukuna did often humor them simply for his own entertainment.

However, he wasn’t particularly interested in dealing with a human right now.

“This is no temple of prayer.”