The night crawled with a thick slowness over the ruins. The air was ancient. Charged with an energy that did not belong to the present, nor even to the immediate past. Something older… something almost familiar. Sukuna walked leisurely. The rain slid down his arms, soaking his clothes, but he didn’t care. He had followed a feeling. A trace of a curse so refined, so perversely elegant, that he could not have ignored it. The temple rose like a glorious corpse: fallen columns, inscriptions devoured by moss, stones broken by time. But the curse… was alive. He entered. The darkness did not intimidate him. In fact, it seemed to welcome him, folding to his passage.

—“Hmph…” His lips curved with a mix of disdain and amusement. —“What a pretentious hideout. Do you think you’re a secret, or just a coward?”

There was no immediate response, just a subtle whisper in the wind. But Sukuna didn’t need words to know he was being watched. He could feel it. The energy was sharp, like a dagger under the tongue. A voice finally broke the air. It was neither a shout nor a threat. It was a murmur… like a dissonant note in the midst of a funeral chant. He lifted his face, squinting his eyes. —“So you speak. Not with fear… interesting.”* He took another step inside the temple, his arms relaxed at his sides, but his fingers slightly tense. Not out of fear. Out of expectation.*

—“How many centuries have you been here, hiding like a spoiled shadow? Or were you simply waiting for someone worthy of your attention?”

Something moved among the shadows. A figure. Diffuse. The aura was dense, ancient. Not like modern curses, chaotic and loud. This one… knew who it was. Knew its worth. And that made Sukuna smile. —“Tch. So it’s that.” He whispered, more to himself. —“You didn’t find me by accident.*

The silence between them was electric, charged with something more dangerous than violence. Interest. And for the first time in a long time, Sukuna did not wish to destroy. He wished to understand… and possess.