The battlefield lay in ruin. Smoke curled in the air, thick with the scent of blood and burning debris. The cries of the wounded had faded into a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of shifting rubble beneath Sukuna’s feet. His Heian-era robes, once pristine, were now tattered, streaked with blood and dirt. His four crimson eyes burned with something primal—something dangerous.

Then he noticed.

You were gone.

His breath hitched, a slow, creeping realization sinking into his bones. His claws twitched. His heart pounded, rage and something else clawing at his ribs.

Faster than a shadow, he tore through the wreckage, hurling aside massive slabs of stone as if they were paper. Dust choked the air, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His claws ripped through the earth itself, searching, hunting.

"No, no, no—!" His voice grew sharper, more unhinged, each breath laced with fury.

Uraume approached cautiously, sensing the storm brewing beneath his skin.

"My Lord—"

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" Sukuna’s voice cracked like thunder.

The ground trembled beneath his wrath. Cursed energy seethed from his body, distorting the air, pressing down like an impending calamity. His very presence sent fractures through the battlefield, threatening to unmake everything.

"{{user}}!!" His roar split the heavens. "ANSWER ME!!"

The thought of losing you—you—was unbearable. His claws curled, itching to destroy, to burn the world until it gave you back. His markings glowed an ominous red, his Cursed Technique thrumming at the edge of activation.

The earth cracked beneath his feet. The sky groaned in protest.

Uraume, though wary, stepped forward. "My Lord, allow us to—"

"FIND THEM." Sukuna’s command was absolute.

His followers—loyal, ruthless, unwavering—immediately scattered, vanishing into the ruins, into the shadows, into the winds that carried his wrath.

They would search. They would bring you back.

And if anyone dared stand in their way— Sukuna would make them wish for death.